A Court of Lies

by Kate Avery Ellison

  Kael lifted Briand enough that she could pull herself into the saddle, and then he speared Auberon with a look that held the Seeker by the throat.

  “Ride with her,” Kael commanded coolly.

  “What?” The Seeker blinked at him, shock crossing his face.

  “You heard me. Ride with her. Work your magic and keep her from total agony,” Kael said. “But if you hurt her in any way, or if you try to use her as a hostage or to give you a chance to run away, you’ll be dead before you hit the ice. I swear it.”

  “Seconded,” Nath said.

  Tibus grunted something that might have been, “Agreed.”

  “Well,” Crispin added. “I’m probably going to watch from a safe distance. But I am certain you’ll be dead before anyone needs my help.”

  “I get it,” Auberon said. “I’ll be dead.” The Seeker wasn’t sneering as he gazed at the Monarchist commander. “I won’t hurt her,” he added.

  Kael nodded once.

  Auberon mounted the horse behind Briand and put his hand into hers, his fingers entwining with hers. He wrapped his other arm around her waist.

  Nath gazed at them both with faint horror, as if Auberon had a knife to Briand’s throat.

  She leaned back against the Seeker and felt the erratic thump of his heart as his power began to flow through her again.

  He was nervous. Why was he nervous? Did he think Kael was going to make good on his threat and kill him? Did Auberon have some sinister plan waiting to be unleashed when they were on the ice?

  She had a stab of fear at the thought, but it abated. She trusted him. Why, she couldn’t say. She shouldn’t trust him.

  But she did.

  But what if she were wrong?

  Then, the rush of memories that came with Auberon’s power swept through Briand’s head like a waterfall of sights and sounds that drenched her in a dozen emotions, whirling her away from her thoughts and into a memory that overtook her completely. The frozen sea and Kael and his company, the blinding blue sky and the horses, all faded as she fell into the skin of Auberon’s memory.

  She was swept into a vision of a darkened room, the walls made of stone with slitted, stained glass windows, the floor polished marble, the furniture dark wood and velvet coverings. A Seeker house. Was this in Tasglorn? She saw Kael, standing dressed in all grays and blacks at the far end of the room, his face in profile, his jaw bruised. He looked somber, but Briand knew that gleam in his eye. It was quiet determination.

  This must have been during the time Kael was working as a spy with the Seekers, when he’d pretended to turn traitor against the Monarchists. Her heart swelled with love for him. He’d followed his orders with no idea what the outcome might be. No idea if he would survive at all.

  Auberon’s voice filled the space between them. “So, traitor. I see they did not take my suggestion to cut your throat immediately.”

  “You heard the cleric,” Kael said softly, referencing some earlier conversation, no doubt. “We are to depart for Kyreia tomorrow. I need the documents.”

  “I do not trust you.” And with those words, she—Auberon—felt a wave of suspicion. Suspicion, and… envy.

  He knew of Kael of Estria. The former right-hand man to Prince Jehn. The whispered exploits of this one had traveled through the halls of the Citadel and into even the drawing rooms of Tasglorn’s finest lords and ladies. He was regarded as a sort of dashing outlaw. An intriguing legend. And here he stood, alive, not in chains. Dressed like a nobleman. Lord Axtrum and the rest of the Citadel’s inner circle had swallowed every lie this conniving snake had fed them.

  The Citadel had become lazy, complacent. They must have missed something in their interrogations.

  On the heels of the envy came rage that wrapped around his spine and crackled along his veins. Rage that this man had thrown away what the rumors whispered that he had—a deep and abiding bond with his prince, the one he had previously served as loyally as a dog. Envy that anyone would have such a bond. If this traitor had truly thrown away such a thing for mere money and power, then he deserved the torture he’d gotten at the hands of the Seekers the previous day. Torture he had apparently withstood to their satisfaction, judging by his lack of bonds.

  It was a lie.

  It must be a lie.

  He locked eyes with the traitor, and his lip curled in disdain.

  “Read my mind for yourself. You’ll see that I am telling the truth,” Kael said evenly.

  Auberon did not want to read his mind. He did not want to look inside and see the things that had been lost by this coward’s treachery. Things he had never dared dream of having. Friendship. Trust. Loyalty.

  He’d thrown those things away like they were garbage.

  And yet, this traitor dog stood with his shoulders back and his head up. His eyes were clear.

  Evil of evils. Such a loathsome creature should skulk and cower, not stand so tall.

  Auberon drew back as if in disgust. But what he felt was fear. Heavy, suffocating, hole-in-his-stomach fear.

  “Are you trying to trip me up with illegal activity?” he demanded. “You are under the protection of the Citadel. You have sworn your service to the Grayrobe Rodis of Gorn. Reading your mind without an official ruling would be against Seeker laws.”

  “Even if I invite you to do it?” Kael asked softly, taking a step forward. He was like a panther, sleek and dark. Ready to fight. His smile was sharp. Angry. As if he was daring Auberon to try.

  Auberon clenched his gloved hands into fists. The traitor was bluffing, he was sure of it. “You are trying to trap me. Trying to catch me in disloyalty to the Citadel. I won’t fall for it. You’re a threat. I know it.”

  Kael’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly in a sardonic expression. Cocky, confident. “I’ve sworn my loyalty to the Citadel. Are you saying you question their judgment? Perhaps you are the threat.”

  Auberon lifted his hand to strike the traitor across the face. Just then, the door opened, and two Seekers, their dark hair threaded with gray and their cloaks a pale, luxurious silver, stepped inside the room.

  Auberon froze at their entrance. Judging by the fear that skittered through him in the memory, Briand guessed these men were high Seeker officials.

  “Auberon,” one of the officials said in a gravelly voice, lifting a gloved hand to beckon to him. “You’re here. Good. Come with us, both of you.”

  Auberon grabbed Kael’s wrist and leaned close enough to whisper, “I know what you are, traitor.”

  The memory gave way to the lake of ice, and Briand found herself in her body once more as she pulled away from Auberon, the wind pummeling her cheeks and lips and whipping through her hair, and the pain of the dragon’s mind wrenching at hers from where it swam circles below the ice. She blinked, dizzy with the sudden shift in consciousness. She looked at Kael, who stood before her, concern in his eyes.

  “Briand,” he said, as if he had already said her name once. As if he were reining in panic behind that controlled expression. “What is it?”

  “I’m all right,” she said. The words tasted strange on her tongue. The memory hung in her mind, jarring and evocative.

  Behind her, Auberon was tense as a bowstring. He had dropped his hand to his leg, and the pain of the dragon raged in Briand’s body once more. She almost reached for his hand again—she needed the relief—but she hesitated. She was torn.

  He knew she’d seen something. She could feel the wondering in him. The fear.

  She felt a flutter of new understanding ripple through her, as if a curtain had fluttered away from his deepest self, and she’d caught a glimpse.

  But the knowing scared her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to keep understanding. Because understanding led to sympathy. Empathy.

  If she empathized with him, she couldn’t hate him anymore.

  She needed to hate him.

  Kael mounted his horse and steered the animal alongside hers. “Ready?” he asked softly.

  “Ready,” sh
e replied, sounding more confident than she felt.

  His jaw was tight with concern, but when he spoke to the others, Kael’s voice came out calm and controlled.

  “Let’s ride,” he said.

  The horses started across the expanse of silver and white, led by Tibus and Crispin. Kael rode beside Briand and Auberon, leading Auberon’s horse, and Nath came last, muttering about wanting to keep the Seeker in his sights, the packhorse tethered to his mount.

  A crust of snow covered the top of the sea in places, allowing them to ride safely and without slipping.

  Beneath the ice, like a great long shadow, the dragon slowly followed them.

  ~

  As the company advanced across the frozen sea, the wind blew fierce and cold, flinging tiny shards of ice against every inch of exposed skin. Briand buried her face in the mane of her horse and squeezed her eyes shut against the chill and the wind and the ice and the pain. The PAIN. It howled through her again as she pulled at the dragon and felt the dragon pull back. Her limbs felt as if they were wrenching apart. A whimper escaped her mouth before she could clamp down her lips fast enough.

  Kael’s head swiveled toward hers. His brow creased. “Auberon,” he said sharply. “Your power?”

  Auberon’s hand squeezed hers once, as if asking if she were still awake. She lifted her head in response. “I need more magic,” she rasped.

  With the rush of power came another cascade of memories. Briand tried to climb above them, to stay conscious and with the others, but she fell headlong into the cold deluge that overwhelmed her and pulled her under.

  She saw a dark sky riddled with stars. The air was crisp and smelled like perfume and cut flowers. She heard the tinkling laughter of those who are desperately trying to appear witty and interesting to everyone around them as she—looking through Auberon’s eyes again—stepped through a doorway and into a garden. She felt Auberon’s boredom and annoyance at the pretenses of the nobles. Men and women in glittering cloaks and gowns stood in clusters throughout a garden with soaring trees and meticulously maintained shrubs and vines. A glass fountain as tall as three men spewed water that was lit with glowing stones that lay scattered in the basin below, and torches lined the footpaths, bathing the grass in flickering shadows. Servers rushed between the guests with silver platters of food and drink that looked delectable, and it seemed every hand held a goblet.

  But they were all anxious. It showed in their eyes, which were wide and ringed with white like deer caught by a hunter in the woods. As Auberon passed them, the noblemen and women gulped their drinks or lowered their voices. He cut a swath of silence through the grounds as he moved.

  He didn’t care about their vacuous, petty lives or their stupid words. He didn’t want to be privy to their conversations or their laughter. He swept past them, his expression imperious and uncaring. He took a goblet from a server and slurped at the wine. He was a Seeker. He could do anything he wanted.

  Nearly anything.

  Massive stone walls rose at the edge of the garden, and he halted before them, staring at the vines that crawled over the sides.

  “I’m thinking of climbing out of here too,” a voice said at his elbow.

  Jade.

  Auberon turned to lift an eyebrow at his sister. “Those vines are poisonous. Prince Cahan had them planted in the hopes that assassins would attempt to use them to climb into his royal gardens.”

  Jade lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She wore a dark green dress beneath her silver cloak, the fabric a sumptuous velvet threaded with pale white threads that glimmered in the near-darkness. Her shoulders were bare, and a web of jewels glowed around her neck. “What’s a little poison compared to this miserable evening?”

  Despite her playful words, she had dark shadows under her eyes. He looked her over with concern, and she half-turned away. “Please don’t,” she muttered.

  He said it anyway. “Are you all right? You look—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “We’ve had a very good thing going the last few months, brother,” she said. “Not quite a friendship, but we’ve gotten along well, I daresay. Don’t remind me of the reason why I’m hurting by bringing it up as you pretend to care. I’ve been working very hard to put it out of my mind this evening.” To punctuate her words, she took a long drink from her cup, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.

  She was still unhappy about the chef.

  “I saved his miserable life, didn’t I?” Auberon said.

  Jade lowered the cup with a jerk, making the liquid inside slosh. “Did you listen to what I just said?”

  He sighed. “Jade…”

  “Don’t ‘Jade’ me, Ari. I’m entitled to miss him. We aren’t all like you. Made of ice. Some of us have hearts in our chests.”

  Her words hit him like a slap. He wanted to wince, but instead, he laughed in her face. “And are you better to show for it? No.”

  “Lords,” she said, with the same laugh-sigh their mother had always used when she was feeling exasperated at him. “I only came to this miserable party because I wanted to see that new fellow—what is his name?—who’s working for Rodis now. Most of your ilk are intolerable, but this one was different. He had something about him that I liked. A kind of …I don’t know, a stillness to him. Like when he looked at me, I felt seen.” She laughed again, nervously now, as if she had divulged a secret.

  “Most of my ilk? You’re studying to be a Seeker too, sister,” Auberon said, annoyed.

  Her face pinched. “But I won’t be like you. I’m going to be a Healer. Not someone who tears others’ heads apart.”

  “Careful what you claim you’ll never do, sister. You may find yourself a liar one day.”

  “It’s your father’s fault,” she said suddenly. “Before he left, you were my Ari. Not this miserable, moody monster—”

  “Don’t talk about him,” Auberon snapped.

  “Oh, so you can talk about Greff if you like, but I don’t dare mention D—”

  “Stop,” he roared.

  A few heads turned their way. The chatter quieted.

  Auberon was breathing hard. Jade’s eyes were wide with alarm.

  “Don’t even say his name,” Auberon hissed.

  With that, he spun on his heel and stalked back toward the nobles, who parted before him. He could feel Jade’s stare stabbing into his back as he walked.

  She was the only person he loved in this miserable world, and for the last few months, she’d been icy to him. He hadn’t been able to fix it—everything he’d tried had crumbled like the thoughts of a madman beneath a Seeker’s palm.

  The futility of it all simmered along his skin. This party. This mansion. Loyalty to this and that. Admiration. Power. Did any of it matter? Did anyone care? The faces of the nobles looked like masks to him—vacant, the expressions frozen as he passed.

  He wanted to shove them all aside. He wanted to overturn the platters in the servers’ hands. He wanted to break something.

  The glitter and the chatter and the false, stilted laughter closed around his throat like a chain of gold, threatening to choke the life out of him.

  “Ari,” Jade said behind him, her voice splintering.

  Auberon turned. She stood uncertainly an arm’s length away, her face set with anger but her eyes pooling with regret.

  People were watching them. Auberon wanted to yell for everyone to go away, but it was not just useless nobles. A few men and women in gray and silver cloaks, their hands politely gloved, had drawn near to watch the unfolding drama.

  “I don’t want to fight,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Ari. You’re the only one I have now.”

  “You’re making a scene,” he said. “Stop.”

  She swallowed hard. Was that a trick of the light, or did a tear glimmer in her eye?

  “Stiffen up, sister,” he said in a voice only she could hear. “Remember what our mother always said. They only know what you show them. And we show strength.”

  Jade jerked her chin
in a nod. As he watched, she straightened and arranged a smile on her lips. She was an astounding actress when she wanted to be. Just like his mother. Just like him.

  Nobody ever saw how broken they really were.

  The crowd dispersed, bored now that the fun was over. Across the lawn, a woman squealed in rage at a man who was kissing another woman’s fingers. Attention slid toward another promising scandal.

  As the partygoers moved on, Auberon was half of a mind to reach out his hand in reconciliation when Jade’s expression changed. She stared over his shoulder, her mouth turning.

  “There’s the man I spoke of,” Jade said. “Do you know him?”

  Auberon turned to see what she was looking at, and at the edge of the crowd, he spotted a familiar figure stealing away. His heart grew hard.

  The traitor.

  Of course his sister would admire that wretched snake.

  “I wonder where he’s going,” Jade said.

  Kael of Estria stole along the edge of the garden wall, half in shadow, a cloak curling around his ankles as he stepped between a pair of columns, scanned the party, and then moved on. No one glanced his way as he strode deeper into the maze of gardens that surrounded the palace.

  Auberon’s lips thinned.

  Kael of Estria deserved to be hanged from the wall, and Auberon would like nothing more than to be the one to make it happen. Was this a gift from fate?

  No one else seemed to notice the traitor strolling away.

  Auberon tossed his drink into the glass fountain with a growl and started after him.

  He followed as Kael crept along the wall, moving between trees across the lawn. The gardens extended for hundreds of acres beyond this point, branching into orchards, water gardens, and the infamous poison gardens that Prince Cahan had ordered built the previous year.

  Where was the traitor going?

  Long, purple shadows enveloped them both. The gardens here were massive, with towering shrubbery trimmed into formidable and imposing shapes—griffins, lions, and dragons loomed over Auberon as he tailed the traitor. Lanterns that burned in blue, green, and white cast pale circles over the path. A moon gate, round and covered in vines, signaled the entrance to another quadrant of the royal gardens.