by Emma Fenton
She frowned. It made some sense, she supposed, especially considering the warning he had given her earlier in the evening. As far as she knew, Izan was the only person who actively wanted to kill Feodor. And it was almost too much of a coincidence that he would threaten that her suitors would be hurt if she didn’t distance herself from them, and then mere hours later, Feodor was attacked.
“But then what about the Elder Scholar?” Ria sank into the nearest chair and rested her head against the back. Peryn took the seat across from her. “He had to have been the real target. He was in the secret room, so far out of the way that nobody would have just stumbled across him. No, the assassin had to be looking for him. Feodor was only there because he followed me.”
“Two targets, then: Feodor and the Elder Scholar.” Peryn tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. “And just luck that brought the two of them conveniently to the same part of the palace.”
Luck, Ria thought bitterly. No, it was just her. Maybe she was the one who was cursed, not Keffleton. Were the people around her destined to be pulled into the worst sort of plots? Her whole family was gone, and now the Elder Scholar, too. If Feodor didn’t leave soon, he’d end up dead, and only Peryn’s immortality would keep him from a similar fate. Maybe Mikhael had the right idea of getting out before I dragged him down too.
“First Keffleton, and now the noble prince,” Peryn said with a huff. “Does he not take me seriously? Does he not think I’m a threat?”
“Are you offended that Izan hasn’t tried to kill you yet?” Ria asked incredulously, rubbing at her temples. Maybe I’ve reached the stage of exhaustion where I hallucinate things.
Peryn gritted his teeth. “He ranked Keffleton above me, Ria. Keffleton.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Am I not important enough to be murdered?” The demon scowled.
“Keep talking and I’ll save him the trouble,” she grumbled. Dear gods, she was tired.
He ignored her. “The Elder Scholar wasn’t even courting you—”
“Thank the gods.” Ria shuddered. That was not a pleasant thought. The man was her teacher. He was like an uncle to me.
“—and even he was higher up on the list than I was.”
Ria froze. If Izan was behind it as they suspected, why had he gone after the Elder Scholar? Master Ameer had always presented himself as a cooky hermit to the rest of the palace, only letting Ria see behind his mask. Unless Izan found out somehow about the prophecy, or that the Elder Scholar could see into the future. That’s the only reason Izan would be threatened by the older man.
“And fine, I guess I can understand why he’d kill your prince. He does follow you around like a lost puppy—”
“Shh,” Ria hissed. If Izan knew about the Elder Scholar’s ability, it wouldn’t be a huge leap for him to figure out that the older man had been advising Ria. And if he suspected that Ria might know what his plans for the future were, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. After all, she thought bitterly, why keep around a pawn who knows they’re being played?
“Defend him all you want, Ria, but it’s ridiculous how he clings to you—”
“We have bigger problems,” she snapped. She took a calming breath. “I’ve already spoken to Feodor. He’ll be returning to Rüm Bokai soon.”
Peryn paused, mouth halfway open as he stopped mid-speech. He snapped his mouth shut, opened it again, shut it, and frowned.
“You’re not going to marry him,” he said, almost like he was realizing it for the first time.
“What?” Ria shook her head. And I thought Peryn wasn’t stupid. “No. Of course not. I told you; I don’t want to get married.”
“I thought you might have changed your mind, with how much you seemed to like him.”
“No. I mean, I do like him, but not as one loves their spouse.” Ria cleared her throat. “If Izan had the Elder Scholar killed, it’s because the man was a threat to him. And the only way Master Ameer would have been seen as a threat is if Izan found out that the man could see the future.”
Peryn cursed, his magic flaring to fill the room.
“My sentiments exactly.” She sighed. “I don’t know what he’ll do.”
And now she didn’t have the Elder Scholar to warn her. She had been trying so hard not to think of the man ever since she’d found his body, to somehow distance herself from her grief so that she could make it through talking with the Council and Peryn without breaking down. But it was catching up with her now. When was the last time she saw him alive? She could barely remember it. If only she’d been a minute sooner, she might have saved him.
“You need rest,” Peryn said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. “Izan won’t do anything tonight.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, even though she thought he was probably right. But then again, she didn’t know anything for sure anymore.
“Then I’ll keep watch.” He nodded over towards her bed. “Go sleep, Ria.”
She didn’t have it in her to protest more. She was sore: achy in her chest and throat, her cut on her hip still stinging every time she moved too much, and something deep inside her that twisted in grief. The physicians had been kind enough to give her some soft, blue robes after disposing of her ruined dress, and she didn’t bother changing into her nightgown before crawling into her bed and pulling the covers tight around her.
Through the foggy haze of her already half-asleep brain, she realized that Peryn was still sitting in her chair across the room, legs propped up on her desk as he flipped through a book. She probably should have told him to leave, but her tongue felt too heavy to move. She couldn’t think clearly enough to string a sentence together anyway.
And perhaps there was a part of her, too, that was glad he stayed.
Chapter Fifteen
Ria had only been to the dungeons once, back when she was seven years old and too curious for her own good. The memory was hazy, so old and insignificant that she’d had no reason to remember it until now. Jaya had dared her to sneak down there—were we still friends back then, or did she already hate me—because Jaya claimed that’s where the palace guards kept all the monsters. Ria had argued that Jaya wouldn’t know since neither of them had ever seen the dungeons before, but the older girl said she could prove it. If, that is, Ria wasn’t a coward.
Now she ventured down the narrow stone steps by herself. Her guards had been easy enough to ditch; the two on duty this morning were easily distracted by a few kitchen maids, and Ria had taken the opportunity to escape them. They wouldn’t be happy when they found her gone, but if all went well, she might be back before they noticed.
The dungeons weren’t quite as grimy or poorly lit as she remembered. The stone walls were the same white-washed marble as the rest of the castle and there were lanterns hanging across the walls. It was a bit damp and chilly, and the floor looked like it could use a good mopping, but this wasn’t the terrifying pit of despair she remembered from her childhood. Fear can distort your impressions, a voice that sounded painfully like the Elder Scholar said in her mind. She closed her stinging eyes for a moment; perhaps there was too much dust in the dungeon after all.
At the far back wall, there was one lone prisoner in the cell. The dungeons were reserved for crimes against the crown directly, not a general prison, and so there was hardly ever anyone down here. In fact, in Ria’s lifetime, there had only been one other: the assassin who had tried to kill Jaya eight years ago. One day, Izan will sit in this cell, Ria thought with grim satisfaction. Once she had proof, she would see him destroyed.
The assassin in front of her now had been stripped down to the simplest of essentials: just a pair of black pants and a shirt. Without the weapons strapped to his sides, or the fabric draped over his head and mouth, it was even easier to see how young he was. She had guessed fifteen last night, but now he looked even younger. He was hunched over in the corner, shivering against the chill. There was little comfort for prisoners: no loose fabrics that t
hey might use to hang themselves or strangle a guard, a thin straw mattress to lay on, and a bucket to relieve himself.
He doesn’t look like a killer, Ria thought. But she supposed she didn’t look like one either, so perhaps that didn’t mean anything. The boy seemed to hear her approach and looked up at her, dark eyes wide and frantic. His gaze locked around her neck where a hand-shaped bruise purpled across her skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked away.
Ria frowned. That wasn’t the look of someone proud of their work. She had expected something like triumph, or maybe a dismissive sneer. Not shame. Not this quiet, withdrawn child who acted like it pained him to look at what he’d done.
Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure why she’d been so determined to come down to the dungeons and see the assassin again. Perhaps it had been a mistake; this boy, no matter what he may look like, had killed the Elder Scholar and very nearly killed her too. Whatever his regrets were, they would not erase his actions.
“Who hired you?” she asked. She wanted information, at least. Confirmation of her suspicions.
The boy shook his head.
“Was it Lord Izan?”
Again, the boy shook his head, confusion clouding his features. Maybe he doesn’t speak Helish. This was probably a useless endeavor anyway. The boy wasn’t likely to tell her anything unless she physically dragged it out of him, and she wasn’t so morally bankrupt that she would torture a child.
Ria turned to go.
The boy muttered something in Pesh, just loud enough for Ria to hear: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.
She turned back to him, fighting to keep her temper in check. “You killed someone,” she spat back in his native language. “Did Lord Izan hire you?”
“I don’t know who that is,” the boy said, eyes pleading with her. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…I don’t remember killing no one. I don’t know how I got here. Please.”
Ria watched him, brow furrowed. He’s the enemy, one part of her brain whispered. The other part, the side that sounded like the Elder Scholar, said, Seek the truth. You don’t have all the facts.
“Please,” he continued, desperate and teary-eyed. “Please. I was in my city one moment, and the next I woke up here. I don’t know…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”
“Come closer,” she said, waving him towards her. She knew, on a logical level, that this was incredibly stupid. She had only just barely survived her attack the night before, and only because of some sort of freak accident, apparently. Now she was alone, and no one knew she was down in the dungeons. If the boy tried to kill her again, he was almost guaranteed to succeed.
The boy eyed her warily but stood on shaky legs and inched closer to the prison bars. She kept waving him forward, holding both her hands up to show that she was unarmed. For now, she thought. Her knife was no longer hidden away under her skirts. She’d dressed sensibly: a loose-fitting dress that she could move easily in, knife strapped to her waist and easily accessible, and sturdy boots. If he attacked, at least it wouldn’t take her forever to get to a weapon.
When he was only three paces away, Ria stiffened. The unmistakable singe of dark magic clung to the boy. It was faint, but distinct. She would know it anywhere; the smell was burned into Ria’s brain forever.
“What’s your name?” she asked, her brain whirring. Had the boy used magic? Probably not, otherwise he would have been using it when he attacked me and Feodor. He killed the Elder Scholar with a knife, for the gods’ sakes.
“Tiv, ma’am.” He swallowed nervously.
Why didn’t I notice the magic last night? Ria had been a little distracted. She had been more focused on surviving and her grief for the Elder Scholar, and it was possible that she just hadn’t been paying close enough attention.
“What’s the last thing you remember, Tiv?”
“I was in the city, Kilpepper, in Pesh. It’s right near the northern border, just a half league from Helhath. It gets tense ‘round there at times. I was lookin’ for work; it’s just me and my sisters, see. But there’s not a lot to do unless you’ve got a trade skill, and I haven’t. But sometimes I run errands for Dover—he owns the tavern—and some man was there at one of the tables. He said he had a job offer for me, if I was wanting work, and I said I was. He told me to sit down with him, and he bought me a drink. And then it’s all black. I can’t even remember what he looked like.”
Ria nodded. It sounded like the boy had been drugged, if he was telling the truth. But drugged people couldn’t walk around and kill people, and the boy had seemed fully cognizant when he had his hand around her throat. Yet she didn’t think he was lying when he said that he couldn’t remember. And she didn’t think he was lying when he said he was sorry.
There was one solution that Ria thought was almost too horrible to consider, if only because the very idea was terrifying. Mind control. In the Spell-book from Hell, there had been a mention of spell that would allow control over a body. She wanted to laugh it off, claim it was impossible and be done with it, but she knew now that impossible things were often not so. She had summoned a demon spirit, after all, and so she knew the book held real power. Lord Izan, if he possessed a talent for witchcraft like she suspected, would be able to do any number of impossible things.
How easy would it be for him to control me like that? A cold chill swept over her body. He could simply force her to marry him, take the throne. He wouldn’t even have to kill her; she would just be his puppet, a body without a mind of its own, subservient to his will. Ria felt sick. She had thought death was the worst he could do to her, but this…this far surpassed anything she had ever imagined.
Stop it, Ria told herself. If he could have done it easily, he would have by now. It must be a complex spell or ritual. There might be some way to protect against it.
Research, yes. That was something she was comfortable with, something that would put all of her nervous energy to good use. Of course, it would be more difficult without the Elder Scholar to guide her, but that was something she’d have to get used to.
Another thought sunk like a rock to the bottom of her gut. What if Izan hasn’t just been taking out suitors because they’re competition? What if he’s trying to kill off anyone who would know me well enough to notice that I’m not myself when he puts me under his control?
Keffleton, of course, didn’t count. But Feodor, aside from being Ria’s most obvious choice for a husband, also spent enough time around her to know her pretty well. The Elder Scholar was another person who knew her better than most. Sofi could become a target, too, because even if they weren’t particularly close, they had known each other for years. And the Council, although she suspected even Izan couldn’t get away with killing the whole Council.
Unless he already has the Council under his control, she realized with no small amount of terror. It would explain a lot. Why they refused Mikhael the dowry. Why they forced her to follow the antiquated law that pitted her against Jaya in a fight to the death. Why they tried to keep her away from politics even now that she was queen. Why they were so desperate for her to take a husband. How long had he been manipulating them?
She had to warn Peryn. He would be furious that she questioned the assassin on her own, but she could handle his anger. He needed to know that Izan’s plot went even deeper than they had imagined.
Ria didn’t bother excusing herself as she raced back up the stairs and out into the hallway of the palace. She only slowed once she was at risk of being seen—she didn’t want to have to explain to anyone why she was running through the castle as though death itself was at her heels. Peryn. Where would he be at this time of day? Eventually, she was sure he would show back up at her room, but that probably wouldn’t be until this evening, and she wasn’t sure she could wait that long.
She was halfway to her room when suddenly her guards from this morning caught up with her, neither of them looking particularly pleased.
“Your majesty, you can’t just disappear like that, please,
” one of them said. “We can’t protect you if you do that.”
“I assure you, I was perfectly fine,” she said, forcing a polite smile.
“But—”
“Your highness.” Sofi came hurrying up the hallway, interrupting the guard without even noticing. “The Council is asking for you. They said it’s urgent.”
Is it really the Council, Ria thought, wondering if Lord Izan was the one pulling the strings. Did he suspect that she’d figured it out already? Her stomach tied itself into knots as she allowed the guards to escort her down to the Council’s meeting room.
“Ah, Ria, thank you for joining us,” Vili said. She was unsurprised to see the rest of the Council already there along with Izan, but she wasn’t expecting both Feodor and Peryn to be present as well. Whatever the Council had to say must have been extremely important if they willingly allowed outsiders in.
She took a seat at the head of the table and nodded for Vili to continue. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could warn Peryn. Maybe he will know a way to protect against mind control, she thought. He was a demon, after all. There was probably lots he knew that she didn’t.
“We have gathered to discuss two very important issues,” Vili said. “The first is the matter of the Pesh assassin in our dungeon. The Council has unanimously agreed to sentence him to death at dawn tomorrow morning.”
Ria clenched her jaw. Izan wouldn’t allow for anything else. He’s covering his tracks.
“He should get a fair trial,” Ria said, though she knew it was pointless. The Council would never concede to a trial because Izan couldn’t afford to risk that the boy might remember something incriminating.
“Your generosity is always astounding, your majesty,” Nasir said. “But there’s no need. We all witnessed him trying to kill you, not to mention the fact that his knife matches the puncture wound found on the Elder Scholar.”
“It is not about my generosity, Nasir. All criminals deserve the right to offer defense, no matter how obvious their crimes may seem.”
