Chapter 21
Liana
Amron ran and Liana followed him to Amril’s bedchamber.
It looked like a street brawl, not a wedding celebration.
Amril was on his knees, restrained by his friends, looking sick, a puddle of vomit soaking into the carpet before him.
The ladies of the court cowed in a corner, one was sobbing.
There was no trace of his Seragian bride.
Invisible in her uniform, Liana retreated to the shadows in the corridor. Guards marched in, then her father rushed out without noticing her, followed by stunned courtiers who scurried away, pretending not to see each other.
Amron talked to his brother in the voice he used to calm down skittish horses and belligerent soldiers. For the second time since Perun dropped her in Abia, Liana was on the brink of believing that the damage could still be absorbed and Amron could still make everything right.
Then Melia came out, turned her head left and right, failed to notice Liana, and dashed down the corridor. Liana wanted to run after her and break her treacherous neck like a twig, but then Amron stepped into the corridor and said, “Liana?”
“You let her go,” she said. “You know everything I told you was true, and still you let her go.”
Behind him, servants entered the royal chambers to clean the mess. Amron motioned her to follow him to a quiet alcove, out of their sight.
“I’m going to see the king now and I want you to come with me,” he said.
“But your wife—”
“She’s gone to tell her father to get away from Abia right now, shut himself in Syr, and never show his face again.”
“In spite of his treason?”
Amron looked tired in the pale light as he massaged his temples as if staving off a headache.
“It’s been mostly ineffective so far. The attack in the alley, your skirmish with that woman, Amril’s drunken escapade.
Nothing irreversible or catastrophic. Tomorrow morning, Amril will be his most charming, humblest self when he apologizes to his wife, and what his charm can’t fix, my mother’s diplomatic skills will.
Darin and his men will guard Abia against anyone who still wants to break the treaty.
And my father—I hope—will do the reasonable thing and hush everything up. ”
“And you’ll just let Roderi of Elmar go, unpunished?”
“The alternative is worse. If we admit we let a traitor wreak havoc among us, the Seragians will think us weak, or they will think we did it on purpose, and the peace treaty will be dead in the water. And if my father publicly accuses Roderi of Elmar of treason and proves his guilt, he’ll have to punish him.
He’ll execute the Defender of the South to appease the Seragians.
The whole Elmar will be up in arms in a heartbeat. ”
Liana saw reason in his words, but the injustice burned her like acid. “And your wife?”
“My wife will be my worry.”
Liana’s heart sank. Always reasonable, always loyal. Why couldn’t he be rash and furious, for once in his life?
“Come, we need to find my father,” he said.
It was only a short walk to the king’s quarters, but when they reached them, a guard shook his head when Amron asked to see his father. “His Majesty is not in.”
“I see.” Amron nodded. “Is he where I think he is?”
“I’m sure Your Highness knows where to find him.”
“Did he take any guards with him?”
The guard shook his head. “He never does.”
A mixture of annoyance and resignation ran over Amron’s face, and Liana was certain it wasn’t directed at the guard.
“Let’s go,” Amron said. “We need to find him.”
Liana didn’t ask where they were going—she could guess.
They passed the queen’s quarters and turned into a shadowy corridor.
Amron stopped before a narrow door, took a deep breath, and released it slowly.
If the king was doing what Liana supposed he was doing, it was no wonder that Amron was hesitating. Still, he raised his hand and knocked.
The door remained closed.
Amron knocked again, harder, and this time a muffled female voice said, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Amron. I need to speak to my father, please. It’s urgent.”
The door opened a fraction, just enough to show a lovely female face surrounded by chestnut waves. She rubbed her eyes. “I was sleeping, I’m sorry.”
“Lenka, is my father here?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He promised he would come tonight after the feast. I waited for him, but then I fell asleep.”
“Do you know where he might be?”
“No. Is he not in his room?” She addressed Amron with little deference, as if she’d known him for a long time.
Liana had never bothered with the inner workings of the royal court, but someone once told her—mistaking her for Amron’s mistress—that being a royal mistress was a job. This young woman probably treated it as such, with practical, efficient self-interest.
“No, and the guard told me he was with you.” Amron frowned. “Lenka, when you talked to my father tonight, did he seem strange? Was there anything odd?”
The lady twisted a long curl around her finger, thinking. “I don’t think so. He was tense about Amril’s wedding, but he was just his usual impatient self. He hardly ever shares anything with me.” She raised her eyes to Amron’s face. “Is there trouble?”
“Perhaps.” Amron shuffled in the doorway. “Did he seem interested in someone else? Some other girl, a guest taking his fancy?”
The king’s mistress didn’t seem offended by the suggestion. “You know what he’s like—if he wants something, he gets it.” She frowned. “I heard him mention the orange garden, though, to someone. I don’t know who it was.”
“A woman or a man?”
“What do you think?” Lenka bit her lower lip, plump like a cherry, and her eyes switched to Liana, studying her in the weak light. “And who’s your new friend? I haven’t seen her before. I know you like them rustic, but this might be too coarse even for you.”
Liana bit her tongue, reminding herself that the arrow wasn’t meant for her.
“That’s none of your business,” Amron said. “Thank you for your help, Lenka. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
She pouted prettily but didn’t persist. “Well, good night then,” she said, threw one last incredulous glance at Liana, and closed the door.
That left Liana and Amron alone in a dim corridor.
“He might have returned to the feast,” Liana suggested. “People will be dancing and drinking in the great hall till dawn. Perhaps he was in the mood for company.”
“No, when the king leaves, he doesn’t return.
” Amron pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking.
“If I order the guards to find him, they’ll raise the alarm, and Darin has his hands full with the Seragians as it is.
If my father went for a quiet meeting in the orange garden, or—gods forbid—a tryst, I’ll end up looking like a massive, incompetent fool. ”
“Could he be in the garden, taking a quiet walk, then?” Or fornicating among the potted citruses, more likely.
“I don’t know. He does whatever he pleases. Perhaps he’s alone somewhere, perhaps he’s meeting someone, who knows. Oh, damn.” A faint note of desperation slid into his voice. “If Darin figures out it’s the Elmarrans before the king can hush it up, Abia will burn.”
“Find Darin, then, and worry about your father’s preferences later,” she said.
“If I tell all this to Darin, he’ll understand what I’m doing, but he won’t have any choice but to go after Roderi, and I won’t have the authority to stop him.” He shook his head. “Gods, I wish my father were predictable for once in his life.”
The palace was nothing like a forest, but still, Liana was a huntress and a tracker, and the prospect of hunting someone down made her heart beat faster. “Come on, we won’t solve anything by standing here,” she said. “Let’s check the garden, we have nothing to lose.”
Garden was too generous a word for the terrace filled with oranges, lemons, and other citrus trees in large pots glazed in white, blue, and yellow swirls.
Cascading jasmine covered the walls, providing the illusion they were surrounded by nature.
A small, dolphin-shaped fountain in the center provided a soft background murmur which couldn’t disguise two quarreling voices.
Amron touched his lips with his index finger, sliding silently around the massive pots, Liana at his heels.
The quarrel turned into a struggle, followed by a curse and a cry. Amron ran.
A figure sat on the gravel, pressing his belly, blood leaking through his fingers and dripping on the gravel.
“Father!” Amron fell to his knees beside the king.
From the corner of her eye, Liana saw the other figure running between the trees. She recognized the shape, the movements, in an instant, and dashed after her.
“Liana, don’t!” Amron called. “I need help.”
Trembling with frustration, she watched Ferisa slip over the wall, and then she rushed to Amron, who was pressing the wound on his father’s belly with a bundle of cloth.
“Raise the alarm! Let the guards bring the physician here,” he said.
“No!” his father ordered. His breath was ragged, his face deathly pale in the moonlight, but his voice was stern and clear. “Sit beside me for a second.”
“Father, you must—”
“Don’t argue with me, boy. Sit down.”
Without further arguing, Amron sat on the gravel.
“How did you find me?” the king asked.
“Lenka told me where you were, I came to tell you that Roderi of Elmar…”
“…Is a traitor. I know.”
“What were you doing here, then?” Amron asked.
“I thought I could get to Roderi by reasoning with her. More fool me.” The king coughed weakly. “Where’s your wife?”
“I sent Melia to tell her father to run from Abia and hide in Syr. We can’t let the Seragians know he’s behind it.”
“You want to hide the treachery?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause.
“Did you conspire with your wife and father-in-law to bring your brother down?” the king asked.
“No!”
“You’ve always been jealous of Amril. That strange attack yesterday—how convenient that you weren’t hurt.”
“Father, you can’t believe—”