Page 15 of The Uncrowned Prince

Her golden stare never wavered. Not even an inch.

“Fine.” He sighed theatrically. “So I take it there was no actual stabbing. Did you return because you missed me or because you have reconsidered the acceptability of my most generous offer?”

Her teeth seemed to clench for a moment before she answered.

“It seems my timing has become inconvenient.”

“How so?” He knew his face hadn’t so much as twitched. Feigning ignorance was one of his most spectacular talents.

“Why do you pretend not to understand, Abreian?” Her tone suggested that her patience had been trod upon one too many times that day. “You are clearly not a simpleton, so your pretense makes a mockery of us both.”

So she wanted plain speaking…

“Then I suppose you are referring to the assassination of King Trevelian and Queen Atalia? Deaths that occurred within less than a day of your arrival from Zulle and have been named the work of an enemy assassin?” Vaniell allowed his gaze to rake her from head to toe in a cool, deliberate fashion. “I can’timaginewhy this might have inconvenienced you.”

Their eyes locked, but hers gave him no clues. She did not appear wary or triumphant, only annoyed as she turned away and paced across the room.

“I attempted to enter four establishments today. In each case, I was attacked on sight. Six different guard patrols stopped me in the street, and three of them seemed determined to detain me, despite the fact that I had done nothing to incriminate myself.”

Nothing but dress like an assassin and threaten to stab people.

“So youarereconsidering my offer,” he said softly.

“As I said, Abreian, I am not a fool,” she responded. “The situation has changed, and I require the aid of someone who will not be suspected of a crime merely because they are a stranger.”

Perhaps she was correct that she was not a fool, but was he?

“The situation has indeed changed.” Turning to the fireplace, Vaniell set his back to the potential assassin, crouched low to place his hand on the dimly lit hearthstone, and began renewing the enchantment.

When it stirred to life, he rose and turned, fixed her with a piercing stare, and addressed her flatly.

“Did you kill the king?”

For the first time, she appeared startled by his words. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”

Because he believed that shecouldhave done so. That her confidence in her own abilities was entirely justified. He was an astute enough judge of people to feel sure of it.

But he felt sure of one other thing, too, and in the end, it was by far the most important.

“Because I think you do not like to lie.”

He seemed to have robbed her of speech—an encouraging sign.

“Promise me that you did not kill Trevelian or Atalia, and that you mean no intentional harm to the people of Iria.”

“How did you know?” she demanded. “Does your magic tell you these things?”

His smile felt twisted and humorless. “No. Not my magic. I suspect it’s because I’ve met too many liars. Now can you make me that promise, or do we duel with daggers at dawn?”

“I could have killed you many times over, Abreian, with no need for duels.” A statement of fact, as far as she knew it, and her golden eyes burned with certainty. “But no, I have committed no violence against your king or his queen. Nor have I come with the intention of harming anyone, unless they present an immediate threat to me or my errand.”

Vaniell held her gaze a moment longer before nodding. “Very well.” He raised his voice a trifle. “Boden, you can come in now.”

The boy ducked through the curtain, fixing Karreya with a murderous glower as he did so.

“How can you trust her?” he muttered darkly. “She’s a filthy imperial, that’s what she is. And it’s an imperial what killed the king.”

Vaniell’s attention sharpened as he regarded Boden’s mutinous glare. “And what makes you say that?”

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