Page 65 of The Uncrowned Prince

Karreya could have explained that it was not that simple. Shame was a complex emotion, and more so when it involved family. Whether others believed blame should be shared by blood or not, convincing oneself of innocence could be the hardest task of all.

“I never once considered that you might betray me,” Vaniell returned mildly. “But I thought it very likely that you could be subjected to torture for information if it was discovered that you knew me. Or that you might hate me. I do not exactly jump at every chance to admit that the man the world believes to be my father is a cunning and dangerous murderer and a would-be tyrant.”

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, and Vaniell’s eyes closed for a moment, his face pinched with regret.

“I’m sorry.” He turned to Karreya with a grimace. “That was wrong of me to say. Wrong and thoughtless.”

“But not untrue.”

“Not every truth needs to be said.”

Their eyes held, and he seemed to be on the verge of saying more when Boden returned, with a familiar face in tow.

“Jarek.” One of Vaniell’s brows twitched, but he was once more in control of his emotions and gave away nothing of what he felt about the intrusion. “What brings you to my humble establishment?”

The bartender glanced at everyone in turn, clearly on his guard as he took in the number of onlookers. “Just dropping in for a chat.” His words were casual, but his shoulders were tense, and his eyes seemed hard and questioning.

“Which I might believe if you’d ever done anything of the sort before,” Vaniell retorted, clearly uninterested in wasting time on pleasantries. “You don’t leave your tavern for anything, as we are both aware, and at this hour of the day, you’re either sleeping or cooking.”

Jarek remained stubbornly silent until Vaniell added: “They all know.”

“Then one of them must have betrayed you,” the bearded man growled, “because now, so does all of Viali.”

Vaniell did not seem visibly surprised. “And which part, exactly, does Viali know?”

“Word is circulating on the streets that Prince Vaniell of Garimore has been seen in the city. No one seems to be sure why you’re here or what your intentions are, but it’s only a matter of time until the palace finds out, and with the ambassador here…”

To Karreya’s shock, Vaniell turned to look at her and cocked his head, a question in his eyes.

She nearly gasped when she realized what he wanted. What he was asking her to do.

Confirm the truth. He was asking her to tell him whether Jarek was trustworthy. Which meant he still trusted her not to lie.

It was not the same as saying he did not hate her. Nor was it a promise that he did not hold her father’s actions against her. But it was better than she’d feared, so she nodded, keeping her expression serene and her gaze unworried.

It would not do to allow the vast well of her relief to show on her face.

“I suppose that does complicate things, doesn’t it?” Vaniell mused, propping his hands on his hips as his forehead creased in thought. “I wonder whatwouldhappen if I were to return to Hanselm? I know the imposter meant to kill me originally, but I thought perhaps he’d changed his mind since Danric’s defection. Losing both of us would mean Garimore has no heir. However, with this new information…” He trailed off, looking pointedly at Senaya.

“He won’t care about heirs,” she said bluntly. “His goal is not to found a dynasty here in Abreia.”

Vaniell appeared taken aback. “Then whatishis goal? It seems clear that he intends to establish himself as the sole ruler of all five Thrones, as if he’s building a sort of shadow empire here on Abreia’s shores. If that is not, in fact, the case, it is vital that we understand his true aim in order to choose the correct path forward.”

Senaya shook her head. “I am not yet ready to tell you that.”

Vaniell’s eyes glittered, and his lips curved in a smile Karreya had come to recognize—dangerous, calculating, and false. He was gathering up every piece of emotion—every hint of frustration, anticipation, fear, or hope—and hiding it deep, behind the glittering shards of that icy expression. It was his weapon and his armor all in one.

And for one cold, dreadful moment, she feared he meant to ask her the same question. But he did not. Whether it was pity or compassion or some darker reason, he turned instead to Jarek.

“I suppose allowing them to drag me home is out, then. You know this city as well as anyone. What are my options? How long do I have?”

“Unpredictable.” Jarek rubbed one hand over his bald head, worry in his dark eyes. As if he genuinely cared what became of this prodigal prince. “All it will take is one person who recognizes your description. Which likely will not take long—you have not made any attempt to hide your face on these streets.”

Niell allowed himself a deep sigh. “Then it is time to calculate whether there is any value to remaining here in hiding, or whether I must once again disappear in order to continue my efforts.”

“You can’t leave, Master Niell!” Boden looked genuinely panicked at the prospect.

But Jarek remained firmly stoic. “Have you done what you came here to do?”

---