20. Sneaking Around and Stabbing Things #3
The execution of a scapegoat wasn’t about justice at all. It was about burying the truth.
My mind churned with frustration. All I had was a king who maybe orchestrated the assassination of his brother, a queen who possibly helped him do it, and a convicted assassin who definitely did it.
And then there was me. A girl with no relevant skills except the annoying propensity to piece together inconvenient truths.
I flopped down to sit on the ledge of the sunken lounging area and sighed in frustration.
“You know what the problem is?” I didn’t wait for an answer from my stone-faced audience.
“The people who are good at sneaking around and stabbing things are either sitting on thrones or in prison cells. The rest of us just stumble through life hoping not to be the next person they stab.”
Laith’s eyebrow twitched.
Progress. “I saw that,” I gloated, pointing at him. “But don’t get too carried away. If you crack an actual smile, the universe might tilt a little.”
A choked cough escaped from the younger guard, who unconvincingly turned it into a throat-clearing sound.
I grinned despite my problem rapidly proving itself unsolvable.
The Festival of Light was in three days.
Just three days before Griffon would burn.
Just three days to…do what? Break him out of prison?
Expose some treason? Achieve world peace?
Propping my elbows on my knees, I buried my face in my hands.
Each of them was equally impossible. But doing nothing was absolutely unbearable.
Maybe I could argue that executing Griffon would cause diplomatic tension.
He worked for the Queen. I doubt it had made it across borders yet, that he and the queen weren't currently on the best of terms. But Solis was no longer desperate for a trade agreement. Their people were no longer starving. The famine was over. Grain and cattle were no longer needed as they once were. Closing the borders again wouldn’t be as detrimental as it once was.
Their victory in capturing their former king’s assassin would far outweigh the possible fallout. The Soli were a proud people whose failures weighed heavily on them. Considering the way Salma reacted when I asked her about the tapestry, you’d have thought I suggested we use it as a tablecloth.
It’s interesting that the tapestry was a stereographic projection.
And with the twin stars encircling it. Caster and Pollux, white and black, opposites but balanced.
Except it was sideways. They hung it so that the white Castor star flew across the top of the circle and the black Pollux star soared around the bottom.
Castor is no more important than Pollux, even though Castor points to the north and Pollux points to the south. One is light, and the other is dark.
But the Soli wouldn’t see it that way, would they? They believed light was good and darkness was evil. They wouldn’t see that it was supposed to be balanced. Like a Sideri would. Or an Empyrean monk.
Air lodged in my throat at the realization.
Griffon mentioned Hermes opened a weaving shop in Solis. Could Hermes have woven that tapestry? If he did, the stereographic projection could be the coordinates for the headpiece he stole. The headpiece of the Staff of Helios.
My eyes went wide. I could bargain for Griffon's life with the location of the headpiece!
I shot up. “YES!”
Both guards jolted as if I'd snapped a whip between them.
Jumping up and down, I punched the air with both fists.
Taking a defensive stance, the younger guard brandished his staff as if he would fend off my joy before it could spread. Laith moved with surprising speed for a man of his size, closing half the distance between us in three swift strides.
“No!” I thrust out my hands to halt him. “No, everything’s fine!” I tried to be calm, but I was still bouncing on my toes, unable to stifle the manic excitement surging through my exhausted body. “Just solved world hunger, I swear.”
Still looking deeply uncertain about whether he should tackle me or just leave me to ride out my episode, the younger guard slowly returned to his station.
Would it be enough? Would they execute Griffon anyway? I didn’t know, but I had to try.
I looked up to find Laith exactly where he’d stopped moments ago, halfway across the room and convinced I was going to bolt for the exit.
“Just so we're clear,” I said as a smile spread across my face. “I’m definitely up to something. But don’t worry your pretty little turban-covered head.
It’s purely theoretical. Barely worth mentioning.
You can put it in your report as ‘walked in circles for an hour while muttering to herself and pondering the crushing monotony of palace life—while under the guard of those who have no sense of humor.’”
This time, the corner of Laith’s mouth lifted.
Victory.
The next challenge is going to be convincing a king to spare the life of his brother’s killer in exchange for some seriously mad math skills. How hard could it be?