Chapter 56
My father looks the same as he has my whole life, the same as he has for thousands of years: broad-shouldered, bronze-skinned, with dark red hair that’s a touch lighter at the temples.
He’s wrapped in molten gold robes, a gold circlet gleaming on his brow.
He fills the huge marble throne with his legs and arms draped wide.
Seran stands to the right of the dais, hands clasped at his waist. He looks older than I remember, his weathered face sallow next to his typical olive robes. As the advisor assigned to my keeping and care, these last months couldn’t have been easy on him.
I thought I would be able to walk before my father with my back straight, but my knees feel like they are going to give out, and I have to hide my shaking hands in my skirts. I feel like a child again: small, flameless, weak.
I stop at the edge of the heat emanating from the throne, and bow low, pressing my palms to the stone. I relish the moment to cool my forehead before I lift my face to him. I don’t raise my eyes until he speaks.
“Daughter. Lysandra. Where have you been?” His voice booms in the space by design, without him having to raise it. I look up then.
If he has any warm feelings at my safe return, they don’t show on his face. His chin is tilted back, his gaze holding something like anger mixed with boredom.
I’ve been an inconvenience.
“Father, forgive me. I was taken from my room. After that I…I’m not sure how to tell it.
” I don’t have to fake the fear and nerves filling my voice.
“I was taken by boat and carriage, kept in cellars, and other dark places. They wanted a ransom, so they left me unharmed, but…it was horrible. I thought I would never survive it.”
It seems like a pathetically shallow summary of months that doesn’t do the intricate story Karns crafted justice. But Nykiri skulked in the corner during a few of my rounds of practice. She didn’t hesitate to correct me, eyes flashing yellow.
Don’t over-explain, she said. Liars always feel the need to give too many details. People who tell the truth expect you to believe them.
My father watches me down his nose. I don’t even blink, ready for any hint of a spark, any sign he is going to use his power.
“Orso,” the emperor says, his bored tone bone-chilling. “Why in all this time have you brought me none of this? I should have had heads roasting on spikes long before some shadoward sovereign had to get involved.”
Orso falls to one knee. “It is my failure, your majesty. I will take full responsibility, if the story proves true. Before you pass your judgment, there are other facts I must report.”
My heart stutters. Other facts?
I glance at his blocky profile, bent in perfect submission.
“Then report,” my father says, leaning his head back against the throne.
Orso stands and clasps his hands behind his back.
“Princess Lysandra disappeared in the beginning of autumn, and reports she was taken against her will and kept in hiding. A strange woman joined Lord Alaris’s staff just after Somnus.
She did not act like a servant and was treated differently from the rest. My informant’s guess was that the woman was a noble in disguise or in hiding.
I didn’t think it was connected to the princess.
But now Princess Lysandra has returned to us with Lord Alaris as an escort. ”
I clench my teeth, trying to hide it, trying to keep my breathing calm. After all I’ve done to get here, with everything at stake, I cannot let this story muddy my own. Or Alaris will end up in the Crimson Square that much faster.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Captain,” I stammer, managing to keep my tone controlled. “Why would I lie about what happened to me?”
“This is a disgrace, Orso,” Seran says, his voice as smooth as ever. “What are you accusing the princess of, exactly?”
“I make no accusation,” Orso says gruffly, chin directed squarely at the throne.
“I’m simply reporting the facts to my emperor for him to decide.
I uncovered no evidence of kidnappers that night, and this report from my informant came a month ago.
I suggest more investigation before we accept the princess’s account as true. ”
“Surely you have some other evidence aside from one vague account,” Seran says, unruffled. “It sounds to me like you’re bringing up this servant woman to cover your own failures.”
I know he’s not defending me out of care, but still, I’ve never been more grateful to Seran in my life.
My father doesn’t move, his eyes sliding between Orso and Seran, not revealing who has his ear. We don’t have time for an investigation, and if Orso is granted it, he will easily figure out I’m lying. I need to jump in before the emperor makes up his mind.
An idea sparks.
“Captain Orso.” I turn toward him. “What did this strange woman look like? Did she look like me? Is that the source of the confusion?”
He doesn’t even glance my way. “In general, yes, though there was one feature that stood out as bearing a possible resemblance: her hair. It appeared to be a light color, poorly dyed darker.”
“The princess’s hair is her most recognizable feature,” Seran interjects. “Kidnappers could have also made modifications to her appearance. We’ve barely given her a chance to tell her story. Lysandra?”
“My hair isn’t dyed,” I say.
Seran nods. “Then the servant can’t be the same woman.”
“Dye can be removed.” Orso rounds on me, his steely eyes flicking up to my scarf.
It doesn’t escape my notice that he could have asked me to remove my scarf the whole ride here. Seran has him pinned: Orso doesn’t know if he’s right or not. Maybe he really doubts me, but he also wants to cast doubt. The truth could be the difference between his life and mine.
He wants time to investigate, but I’m not going to give it to him.
“What length was it?” I press, keeping my most polite and innocent tone. “That wouldn’t be changed so easily.”
Orso pauses now. He either has to lie to the emperor, look like he didn’t gather basic details, or tell the truth and risk contradiction. “Short. Crudely chopped to the shoulder.”
He’s my father’s man. I’m not surprised he told the truth.
I hold his eyes a moment. “Short hair? You’re sure?”
“That was the report.”
“Forgive me, Father, my hair is still a mess from travel.” I slide off the scarf, then pull the pins, letting my braid fall free.
I untie it, just so there can be no doubt that the length reaches to my waist. The muscles in Orso’s neck pop out, but I turn to the throne, ignoring him.
“I don’t even understand what he’s implying.
That I left the palace of my own volition?
To work as a servant? Or that I was forced to? ”
There is something different in Seran’s gaze. A rare look of…surprise?
I’m not quite acting like the old Princess Lysandra. He probably expected to have to get me out of this.
Seran recovers his look of perpetual calm. “Lord Alaris is famous for having women come and go. Is it really so surprising that he might be…hosting…a lady who doesn’t want her true location known?”
Thank goodness for Alaris’s terrible reputation.
My father is completely still another moment, then laughter booms out. “A silly, silly thing to bring up, Orso. How could a laborer bear any resemblance to my youngest? She may be pale, but she is of the flame.”
“Of course, Majesty,” he says, stepping back. “I only aim to—”
Flame leaps out, scorching the marble in front of Orso. To his credit, he doesn’t even flinch, although I do.
“It seems the failure is solely yours.” My father’s lips lift into the first curve of a smile, anger and joy sharing his face, like all he truly craves is a reason.
“I had seven daughters before, and I have seven daughters now, so I won’t take your life for this.
But since you failed to protect my blood and then bent my ear with this ridiculous story… I’ll take your ear.”
I stumble back as a blast of flame shoots from the throne, knocking Orso to the marble. His sword and cape splay as he clutches the side of his head. He moans, lifting his hand, shock clear on his features.
Bubbling flesh and bloody skin take the place of what was previously his ear, and a good part of his scalp.
“Now, leave us. And let our guest in.”
The emperor settles back as Orso picks himself up off the floor and staggers out. I think I hear him retch, and I hope for his sake he can hold it in. My eyes flick up to Seran, but his face, as always, is unbothered.
The doors swing open, and cool air rushes in. I take a deep breath.
I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
I keep my eyes fixed on one gold swirl in the marble, as Alaris’s steps echo through the hall.
“Your majesty,” he says, dipping to one knee and bowing his head. He’s darkness in the corner of my eye. “Thank you for receiving me.”
“It’s been too long since you visited the Citadel, Lord Alaris.”
“And it’s my loss. As I’m sure you know, the climate here is far superior this time of year.”
My father hums assent. “I believe you’ve met my daughter.”
“Of course.” Alaris stands and bows in my direction. “Princess Lysandra. It’s good to see you back where you belong.”
I raise my eyes briefly and nod, not yet trusting myself to speak.
“It seems I owe you gratitude.” My father’s eyes burn. “Who would have thought the Sovereign of Arastos would ride out personally to deal with criminals? And in another province, no less.”
“I admit my advisors might call me impulsive for taking up the sword myself. I did not know how far the trail would lead.” Alaris’s lips curve into a smile, like he’s just a bored pleasure seeker, after sport. “But now I’m grateful I did.”
“And the traitors?” My father drums his fingers on his armrest. “I was disappointed to receive the report that they all died.”
“It was quite a skirmish. I lost two horses. But some of them wore distinctive rings. My men are bringing hands in case they can be traced.”
A slight pulse of heat emanates from the throne. “I would have preferred heads.”