Page 14 of Vow of the Shadow King

“Nothing. Thank you. I’m all right.”

Another pause. This one longer than the others. Finally: “Very well, Princess.” These words are followed by the sound of retreating footsteps, and I’m left with a strong sense of aloneness once more.

Prying my fingers free of the post, I climb back into bed. It’s relatively free of debris, thanks to the canopy. I lie back on the pillows, stare up at those embroidered stars in their blue-silk sky. There are numerous little indentations where fallen pebbles have caught. Someone will need to climb up there and sweep them away at some point.

For now, however, I lie here and wait for my heartrate to calm. Counting the stars and twisting the chain of my necklace round my fingers.

6

VOR

“By all that is dark and deep and holy, whatareyou going to do with the human creature?”

I train my gaze on Lady Parh, my minister of war. She doesn’t blink or budge but stares right back at me. Violence and vengeance spark in her eyes.

Once again, my ministers have gathered at the crescent council table to press their many and conflicting opinions upon me. Umog Zu and another priestess sit at the far ends of the table, deep in prayer. The low drone of their voices is meant to sustain us throughout our deliberations, but Zu is perhaps not as far sunk into herva-state as she would like us to believe. Every now and then I catch the glimmer of her eye peering out through a mostly-shut lid.

The other ministers take great care not to look at the conspicuously empty seat which should be occupied by my minister of tradition. Only Lord Brug, my blunt minister of agriculture, dared ask after Rath’s whereabouts. When I offered no answer, he turned to his fellow ministers, his brow puckered, curious. He was met with nothing but blank stares. No one else has dared take up his question. Good. Let them wonder. Let them fester in worry and speculation. For now.

Parh, however, isn’t about to be intimidated by an empty chair. She leans one elbow hard on the table, as though pressing into the throat of her enemy. “You had the right idea to begin with, my King,” she urges. “The blade. The box. And all your court gathered to observe. Now what is it they have seen? A fickle monarch, undecided and easily swayed by a mere slip of a girl. Ahuman,no less. Is that the image you want to project to your people?”

I sit back in my chair, assuming an easy nonchalance which belies the pulse of my heart. I should not let such disrespect stand, but to reveal any fury or frustration will only further compromise my standing in the eyes of my ministers. I must remain untouchable, unreachable.

So, I let the silence last for just long enough that even Lady Parh’s burning gaze begins to falter. Only then do I look from her to Lord Gol, seated on her right, then on to Lady Sha. One by one, I stare down each member of my council. One by one, I silently ask the question:Was it you who poisoned me? Was it you who poisoned Rath? Is it you who seeks to force my hand?One by one, I watch their eyelids flicker until finally they drop in silent submission.

Only one person holds my gaze without flinching. Roh. The dowager queen, my stepmother. She has chosen her place on the right curve of the half-circle table, several places down from her former position beside the king’s own seat. When my father died, and I ascended to my throne, Roh made every show of deference. She removed herself from the queen’s quarters, took a lower place at the table, abdicated all the privileges of her former station as the king’s wife. Instead, she turned attention to the practice of her faith in the Deeper Dark.

Yet I know how dearly she wished to see her own son—a full-blooded trolde, not a half-breed like myself—on the throne.

She sits now with her hands folded, her face a perfect mask. For all her serenity, I know how adamant she can be. Roh was opposed to an alliance with humans from the beginning. When Faraine’s deception came to light, hers was one of the foremost voices urging me to take swift and brutal action. Still, she is my stepmother. Would she really stoop so low as to poison me?

The silence has gone on long enough. Lady Parh’s question still needs to be answered. I blink and turn a measured gaze back to her. “I am still giving the matter some thought,” I say at last.

My ministers wait. Breath held, expectant. I seal my lips, rest my head against the back of my seat, drape my arm easily across the table. Offering nothing. Finally, Lady Parh growls. She’s just opening her mouth to begin yet another tirade when a sudden burst of applause interrupts. Parh starts in her seat, turns. We all swivel our gazes to the door.

There stands a figure leaning one shoulder insouciantly against the frame. He claps his hands with gusto. “Oh, well done, good King!” he says nodding approvingly. “That’s the way to shut them up! Who can question a thoughtful monarch after all? There’s not a fair lord or lady present who couldn’t do with an extra thought or two of their own!”

“Sul.” I lean back in my seat once more, idly rubbing one finger along my upper lip. “So, you thought to join us at last.”

My brother grins, pushes away from the door, and saunters into the room. “Wouldn’t dream of missing a party such as this!” He casts a beaming smile round with a particular nod for his mother. Then he swivels his head to one side, eyeing the guard who stands just within the door. “How now, Toz!” he says, giving the big stone-hided man a once-over. “What are you doing, lurking there? Did our stalwart Captain Hael wriggle out of this dull duty in favor of head-bashing a few new recruits?”

Toz pulls himself a little straighter. He’s a big man, more troll than trolde, and obliged to wear customized armor. It creaks as he offers a quick salute. “I’ve been promoted, sir,” he answers in his deep, rock-hard voice.

“Promoted?” One eyebrow slides slowly up Sul’s brow. “And what of Hael herself? Has she finally decided to take that holiday to Hoknath she keeps going on about?”

“Reassignment, sir.”

“Is that so?” Sul’s head turns sharply. His pale eyes flash as they catch hold of mine. “Is that so.”

I keep my expression a careful blank. “Was Lady Lyria safely given into Prince Theodre’s keeping?”

A muscle in Sul’s cheek twitches. “Aye.”

“And what of my message for Larongar?”

“My man Hurg is to journey with the prince’s party to Beldroth where he will deliver the message in person. He’ll return to the Between Gate in seven days’ time with Larongar’s answer.”

“So that’s it then?” Lady Parh barks, her big hands clenched. “We wait at the leisure of human kings now?”

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