“I thought maybe Longley could use some help. And I went to return the mugs.”
“It’s a security issue. We can’t have unauthorized servants in the kitchen where the king’s food is made. His food could easily be poisoned that way.”
“Longley never mentioned it. I apologize.”
Cydra grimaces. “Seems you’re forever apologizing.” She stares at her foot. “How long do you plan on making yourself a bother to everybody else?” She doesn’t wait for my reply, but continues up the stairs and rounds the corner, out of sight.
I race quickly to Berrel’s room and knock on the door. Rhydian opens it and gestures me inside without a word. As the door closes behind me, he rubs his hands together in excitement. I can’t help but notice that he’s dressed in his finest; a black silk overcoat atop a silver and green vest, his blond hair more controlled than usual.
“Do you have the dragon scales?”
I didn’t even think about grabbing them after we found the corpse. “No. It looks like I have a place to stay in the castle for now so I don’t need the money. Yet.”
He nods. “I’ve got a dress and a wig. And I borrowed Celeste’s handmaiden to help put it all together and dress your face.”
“Dress my face?”
His smile almost touches his ears. “All part of the disguise. Malandre is gone, but we don’t want any of the servants recognizing you. This way.”
A demure servant stands in his bedroom, eyes on the floor and fingers entwined. The dress is laid out on the bed. It perfectly matches Berrel’s attire, with the same shades of black, silver, and green, in lace and silk materials and black tulle underneath the skirt.
Berrel excuses himself while the handmaiden helps me to change, and then she directs me to a chair and proceeds to decorate my face with powder, kohl, and glittering mica. She holds a mirror out so I can see her handiwork as she paints my lips with red paste. I refuse the wig, so after lightly oiling the tips of my hair to force it to cooperate, she expertly twists it into a braid and fashions it into a bun on one side of my head. While she works, Rhydian wanders into the room again.
“Don’t say a word,” I say flatly. “This isn’t exactly fun for me.”
“I learned my lesson the last time I paid you a compliment,” he replies.
“Good, because there are more important things to discuss.” I fill him in on the body, and how Patience and Ryrick took it to her clinic to identify the victim. I tell him we think it might be Lord Darton. Lord Berrel takes it all in solemnly hands in his pockets, back against the wall.
“It could be enough to convince King Siles,” he says. “Coupled with everything else.”
I chew on the sides of my nails, thoughtful. “Rhydian, do you know much about Count Malandre’s past? Where he comes from? When he started appearing in public?”
He nods. “His family was prominently visible when I was much younger, but then the Count, Malandre’s father, became senile and reclusive and the name all but vanished from the court. The current Count reemerged when his father passed away.”
“Do you remember the family?”
“I think I saw them once, when the king was crowned. There were only three of them; the father, mother, and the boy. The former Count was a business partner of my father.” Rhydian touches his temple. “Now that I think on it, I do have an odd memory of my father recounting a visit to the Malandre estate. He said it was unsettling. When he arrived, a boy was chained like a dog to the gate, naked and covered in mud. And on all fours. When he got out of the carriage, a heavily pregnant woman dressed in rags peered out at him from a dilapidated cabin beside the manor. My father swore the woman was Countess Malandre and the boy was the son, but he couldn’t make sense of their treatment.” Rhydian laughs. “My father. Mystified by how another man treats his family. Quite like him.”
So Adom chose to murder and replace a man who abused his family. Why does that make my heart blossom with relief?
Celeste’s handmaiden puts the finishing touches on my hair; a sprinkle of shimmering mica powder, and dried baby’s breath tucked between the loops of my braid. She steps away, admiring her artistry with a satisfied smile.
“Are you ready, Lady Elanor?”
I rise and take his extended arm. “Never more ready.”
~ * ~
Blank, unimpressed stares meet my own and while people part for Lord Berrel, they scarcely move aside to let me through. I meekly follow Berrel inside the room, avoiding the hard scrutiny of the guards as the doors swing open, and we wait to be announced.
Gold threaded furniture catches my eye. It matches the gilded paintings that adorn the walls with flawless perfection. In the center of the room, a table with elaborate centerpieces of the finest gold and silver draws my attention. Statues fill every corner, and a fountain stands by the door. Its melodic trickling serves to reinforce my will and still the trembling in my knees.
There are several nobles in the room, some I recognize from around the castle while others are new to me. The banquet table is set with sizzling meat, red wine, and about twelve different platters piled with colorful vegetables. The serving man gestures for us to sit and begin eating. I look across the table but do not see anyone wearing a crown.
“Where is the king?” I ask Berrel.
“I don’t see him,” he replies behind a napkin. “That’s unusual.”
“I don’t see your sister, either.”
“No, she declined to come at the last minute,” he says. “Although many of these families will be at her wedding, she doesn’t really know them well. Not like King Siles does. Besides, her ankle is still hurting from yesterday’s fall. That’s why I was able to use her handmaiden.”
“So, who are these others?”
“Lords Kennon, Pressley, Rilford and their wives. They’re the king’s private counsel.”
“Are you part of his private counsel?”
“Not officially, but since my sister’s engagement, I’ve been included in their meetings.”
Rhydian introduces me to the other nobles, but once the pleasantries are finished I have nothing more to say to them. We make small talk with the other nobles, but as the hour slips by, I grow more agitated and anxious. Where is King Siles? Why isn’t he here at his own banquet? We fall into a tense, sullen silence that is thankfully filled by Longley’s wonderful meal.
The door to the banquet hall opens, and two men enter together. The first, I have never seen. He’s a young man wearing a gray cloak and a gold crown, one crimson ruby set in the center. His hair is blacker than night, forming tight, wiry curls around his head, and his face is dark and gaunt. My eyes fall on the second man, the one speaking. Adom. My throat constricts.
Beside me, Rhydian curses.
“We’re going to die,” I mutter.
Everyone at the table stands. I sigh, set down my napkin, and push out of my chair as well. Rhydian grabs my hand, his fingers tightening in encouragement. I glance at him. This is it. I think. This is the night Adom will finally eat me.
“Pardon my lateness,” says the king. “Please take your seats.”
Adom’s eyes scan the group of us. They briefly touch me, then move on to the next person. I suck in air. He has to know it’s me. My disguise isn’t that good. But if he notices, he doesn’t say a word. He follows the king to the head of the table and takes a seat to the monarch’s right. A servant sets down a heated dish in front of the king, then another in front of Malandre. They spend a few silent moments eating, as if nobody else is in the room.
Then the king dabs his mouth with a napkin and looks across the table. “Thank you for joining me this evening. My apologies that the night didn’t turn out as planned.” He settles back into his seat. “Lord Darton…” He coughs, covers his chest with a pounding fist, then tries again. “Lord Darton has been murdered. Count Malandre and I have just
gone to see his family. Funeral arrangements are underway. It is an unfortunate day for us all.”
Murmurs of concern and expressions of grief buzz around the table. I glance at Adom and catch him staring at me. His gaze slips away smoothly, almost as though he doesn’t care that I’m here. My eyes sink to the table, and I notice that Rhydian and I are still holding hands. For some reason, the exchange between Adom and Rhydian echoes through my head. I remove my hand from Rhydian’s, perturbed. It doesn’t matter to me that Adom is bothered by Lord Berrel’s sudden interest in me. But I don’t need another poker to stoke the fire.
“I’ve also received news that Princess Ora was delayed in her journey. We were expecting her late tonight, but it looks like she will not be arriving for a few more days.”
More murmurs. This time, of disappointment. I glance at Rhydian. He will have to tell me who this Princess Ora is sometime soon. Assuming we survive the night.
The king takes a moment more to talk business with those at the table who came to discuss things like proprietary holdings and estate taxes and the plague that has infected the southern part of the country. No one mentions dragons, and it is all mostly nonsense to me, so I stir the food around my plate until Rhydian switches our plates so it looks like I have eaten everything. Even then, I still can’t stay still, my knee bobbing up and down until he puts a hand on it. I glance at Adom and his nostrils are flaring, but he isn’t looking at me.
“Again, I apologize for the way this evening went. I see most of you are finished with your food. The news about Lord Darton’s murder has deeply affected me, so I’m afraid we will have to end our night here. Please, fill your wine glasses before you leave.”
Rhydian and I exchange glances. My stomach rolls. King Siles waves us away. The nobles stand, and Rhydian moves more slowly than the others. While the others take their leave, Berrel strides toward the king.
“Didn’t you hear what I said, Lord Berrel?”
“Sire, this woman has information I think you’ll want to hear.” He glances at Adom. “In private.”
“Not now.”
“But, Sire—”
“I said not now. I have other crucial matters to discuss with Count Malandre.”
“He isn’t who he says he is,” I speak up.
King Siles turns his chin toward me. “Who are you?”
I glance at the back of the room to make sure all the nobles have left. It’s now just me, Adom, Siles, and Rhydian. It’s hard to breathe past the terror in my throat. I glance at Adom again. He’s sitting straight in his seat, fingers steepled, eyes on me. I look away. I didn’t plan for him to be here. He was supposed to be gone from the castle. I was going to tell King Siles everything I knew about the dragons, about Onyx, about the Tranar children who came and went from the island. About how “Count Malandre” kept me as his slave for twelve years. How he brought me to Trana to find more changelings. I could have helped King Siles train his army—the Scalers, Rhydian called them—in finding and defeating the changelings who were scorching Tranar villages. That was the plan. But now that Adom is here, everything is all muddled.
Then a horrible thought wheedles into my head: Am I betraying him?
Lodin’s mercy. I’m not betraying him. He kidnapped me.
But Muuth has done rotten things as well, my stubborn mind argues.
Yes. Muuth did atrocious things. The stories he told me about his past life sickened me. And he spared Adom and brought him to the island. And he may have lied about the boat.
The difference was that Muuth never hurt me. He wasn’t the one who stole me. He didn’t bring me to an island full of violent dragons that used me as a slave and a toy for their wicked offspring. That wasn’t Muuth’s fault. It was Adom’s.
I owe him nothing. Yes, he may have spared me from some of the violence. So did Muuth, by teaching me how to take care of myself. That doesn’t mean what Adom did to me was in any way excusable. I take in a breath, shoving away the guilt. Adom’s eyes burn, but I refuse to look his direction.
“I was his captive, Sire,” my voice trembles a little, and I hate myself for feeling weak. “He kept me imprisoned for twelve years.” Beside me, Rhydian gasps in disbelief. “I know things about Count Malandre that will make your blood curdle.”
The king leans forward in his seat. “You didn’t answer my question. You also didn’t listen to me. I said I’m in the middle of important business. Kindly take your leave.”
My stomach turns into a hollow, quivering pit. I take a step backward. Didn’t he hear what I said? Doesn’t it matter? I lock eyes with the king, willing him to change his mind, but he waves his hand again and then focuses on his plate of food. I spin on my heels and head for the door. Time to leave. I’m not waiting around for Adom to come and kill me now that I’ve exposed myself. And now Rhydian’s in jeopardy, too. I was a fool to think the king would—
“Her name is Elanor Landis,” Adom’s voice cuts across the room. “And she’s telling the truth.”
A chill crawls across my skin. Every instinct urges me to flee. But I can’t run. I have to face him. It takes every ounce of courage to meet his probing gaze
He points at Rhydian. “You, go.” At last he really looks at me. “You, stay.”
“Majesty, if what she says is true, I don’t wish to leave her with this man,” says Rhydian.
“I’m here,” replies the king. “It sounds like this dispute is a private one. Unless you have any related information to share?”
“I do,” says Rhydian. “Count Malandre threatened me. He found out I was working with Lord Darton to open a factory. I think he murdered Lord Darton.”
“Is that all?” the king asks. “If so, you may go.”
“Sire, if you think on it—”
“It doesn’t match the timeframe. The physician reports that Darton died yesterday morning. Count Malandre was working for me during that time. He was across town.”
“Couldn’t he have hired—?”
“A what? A dragon? I thought you didn’t believe in dragons, Lord Berrel.”
Rhydian’s voice takes on an edge of desperation. His eyes go wide, his pupils dilated. “I don’t, but Malandre does. Wouldn’t you suppose he’d do anything to secure his lands and prove to other nobles that building a factory is risky business in a land of dragons?”
“I don’t know how killing Lord Darton would secure those lands,” replies the king. “Now Darton’s assets are frozen and no business transactions will be resolved until after the murderer is caught. And, it’s my understanding Darton rebuffed you. If anything, it looks to me like you have motive to remove Darton from the picture. Didn’t he tell Malandre you approached him?”
Rhydian’s jaw works, but he can’t form the words. I put a reluctant hand on his shoulder. “I’ll find you later,” I say softly. “You’d better go before this sours.”
“It’s already soured,” Berrel growls. He takes my hand in his. “Are you certain you’ll be fine alone with him? I didn’t know about your history. It explains so much.”
“I’m fine,” I say, giving Adom my stoniest look. Rhydian moves toward the door. As the slab thumps shut behind him, I curse under my breath. Adom will never let me leave this room alive. The king and I will die. Then what? Will Adom control the throne?
The king tips his goblet and swallows a sip of wine, never releasing my gaze. When he drinks to satisfaction, he returns the goblet to the table with calm elegance. “So,” he breathes. “You’re Elanor?” His look grows intense. “Why are you parading as a servant?”
I cast my eyes to the table. “Your Majesty,” I blurt out, before Adom can stop me. “He brought me to Trana to spy out changeling dragons. I tried to escape and he caught me and took me back to the island, my prison. I had to get away.” I take in a breath. “Your army is hunting dragons who are scorching the farmlands and—more lately—noble
men. But full blooded dragons aren’t the ones you need to be concerned about. It’s the changelings. I’ve read a communication between Count Malandre and someone who calls himself Fire Breather. I believe this person is a changeling hiding in your court.”
No explosion comes from Adom, as I fear. Perhaps he isn’t as confident as I first assumed. If I dive in front of King Siles and cry out for the guards before he has time to respond, he might find himself overcome and subdued, his plan foiled. I glance uneasily from one to the other. Siles doesn’t appear angry. He lifts his goblet and drinks deeply.
“Changelings? I’ll admit it’s a compelling story. But do you have proof outside your word? Anything tangible that will convince me?”
Nothing tangible except the body in Patience’s office. And I can’t even link that to Adom, definitively. Exhaling, I utilize my best defense. “Count Malandre is a changeling dragon, Sire. And if you send a boat to Onyx Island, the place where he kept me you’ll find a herd of wild dragons there. Malandre is their leader.”
Siles’ forehead furrows. He surveys Adom again. “Is this true?”
I wait with baited breath, my whole body tense. Adom will finish us off now. His secrets are out, his guise demolished. He can no longer continue this charade.
He bows his head with such timidity I almost scream. He should rip my head off for my betrayal. “I am a changeling, my lord,” he admits, in a voice so soft I almost can’t hear him.
“And are you working with another changeling, a man called Fire Breather?”
“I am, Sire.”
Siles stands. He slams his fists on the table in a singular display of fury. “And do you plan to overthrow me with this Fire Breather creature so your dragon herd can decimate Trana?”
“I’m your servant, Majesty. My only wish is to honor and protect you.”
“He’s lying,” I interrupt. “On Onyx Island, he has a cave full of gold and priceless artifacts. He scorches your lands and steals your cattle to feed the herd.” I begin fumbling with the hooks on my dress. “If you want tangible proof of his villainy, I can give it to you.”
Slither Page 17
