Page 15 of Vow of the Shadow King

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at her. “We must allow for the message to travel to and fro. Even I do not control the passage of time.”

“And yet time works against you, my King. Time which leaves you bound to a human’s whim.”

“I am bound to no human.” My voice drops an octave, a growl as low as the droning prayers of the priestesses. “The alliance is not sealed. Larongar holds no sway over me.”

“It was not Larongar of whom I spoke.”

Ice pulses through my veins. I stare at my minister of war even as my hand slowly slips from the table down to my belt and the dagger sheathed there.

Parh leans across the table again, her eyes burning with the intensity of her words. “You must follow through on your original intent, my King. You must free yourself, once and for all. Send the girl’s head home in a box. Rid us all of any further dealings with humans.”

Ice in my limbs. Ice in my head.

But down in my gut, fire burns. My hand firmly grips the dagger hilt. The council chamber fades from view, lost in shadows that close in tighter and tighter until I can see nothing but Parh and her hideous, leering face. I want to lunge across this table. I want to plunge this blade into her throat. I want to watch her blue blood gush as her eyes widen in shock and her purple tongue protrudes through her teeth. It would be so easy. My knife is halfway drawn already. I could—I should—

“Where is Lord Rath, by the way?”

I blink, give my head a quick shake. Dropping the dagger back into its sheath, I turn to my brother. He’s taken his seat beside me, propped one foot up on the table, and laced his hands behind his head. He tips an eyebrow my way.

My throat is tight, dry. I clear it roughly. “Lord Rath is currently recovering in Madame Ar’s infirmary.”

“Oh? Did the oldguthakugmeet with some accident?”

“He was poisoned.”

The air in the room tenses with a collective intake of breath. Every member of my council looks at one another then away again quickly.

I smile, a grim, hard curl of the lips. “And I will soon find out who did it. So, you’d best ready your excuses, my friends.” With those words, I look into each of their eyes, one after the other. Brug and Sha barely hold my gaze for the space of five beats. Gol cannot look up from an earnest contemplation of his own hands. Lady Parh tries to be strong, but even her eyes skirt away at last, her brow stern, her jaw hard. Only Roh remains unaffected. My stepmother, who has spoken not a word. Her face is strangely vacant, as though she, like the two priestesses, has sunk into herva-state. The only sign of life is a single, slow blink.

I rise. My ministers push back their seats and stand as well, inclining their heads respectfully. “We shall convene again thelusterlingafter next,” I say, “at which time, we will not discuss the matter of the human princess. Until we receive Larongar’s response, that subject is forbidden.”

Something in my tone and demeanor must have struck a chord, for each minister holds his or her tongue in check as I step away from the table and stride swiftly from the chamber.

Once out of their sight, I allow my shoulders to bow. My jaw relaxes just enough to exhale a long, slow breath. Members of my guard stand by. I cannot let them see me as anything less than strong, stern, and commanding. Guards are the worst gossips in the kingdom by far, and I don’t want them carrying tales. So, I pull my head a little higher and stride down the passage.

“Vor!”

I pause, look back over my shoulder. Sul hastens after me, his expression wry as always. “Well done, my brother. You’ve got the old stone-feet shaking in their boots. I liked that bit about readying their excuses. Very nice indeed. Granted, it’ll make my job rather more difficult when it comes time to question them and their households. Butjuk!”He shrugs. “Such is the life of a spy master.”

“You’re not a spy master, Sul.”

He pulls a face. “Informal gatherer of delicate information then.” Tilting his head, he studies me narrowly. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.” I fold my arms. The shadows on the edges of my vision retreat somewhat. I wonder if my brother knows just how close I was to murdering Parh in cold blood right there in front of my entire council? “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I know.” My brother claps me on the shoulder, turns me around, and marches me down the passage with him. “Tell me, brother, when did you last eat? Or sleep? Or”—he sniffs loudly, his lip curling—“bathe?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “Um . . .”

Sul groans. “Too long, dear King, too long! Come. We shall feast. We shall snore. But first, away to the baths with you!” With a quickening step he guides me toward the bathhouse, a series of rooms full of steam, hot-springs, masseurs, and crystalline cool bathing pools. I consider protesting but why bother? I’ve not properly slept in a full turn oflusterlinganddimness. Not since ensconcing Faraine in the Queen’s Apartment. My own chambers connect to hers via a conjugal door. Somehow, I cannot relax knowing she is so near. Knowing nothing but a single door separates us. That I could simply walk through, and none would know save her and me . . .

So, I’ve filled the hours with work. Of which there is always plenty. I stopped once to try to catch an hour of sleep in my private chancery, only to be rudely awakened by the stirring. This left my household in a state of mild upheaval. Much of my attention has been taken up with reports of minor damage both within the palace and in the city abroad, not to mention our nearest sister cities. Prior to meeting with my ministers, I spent several hours walking the palace foundations with my chief engineer. Before that Chancellor Houg carried a report that the sacred statue of Saint Hurk the Rock-Smasher had been damaged by a falling stone, before that . . . the list goes on.

Yes. A bath sounds good. Wash. Food. Sleep. The cares of the kingdom can wait until then.

“Tell me, brother, what has happened to our friend Hael in the short time since I’ve been away?” Sul asks before we’ve taken more than a few steps. His voice is light, but I hear the tension underscoring his words.

“Hael has been reassigned.”

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