Page 12 of The Endless War

One of the servants nodded, and Keris shut the door again. Taking the seat across from Sara, he swallowed a large mouthful of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “I need to travel to Ithicana straightaway. I meant to leave already, but the storm was too fierce.” She stared at him silently, so he pressed onward. “I need to speak to Aren. To negotiate.”

“Father never went to negotiations himself,” she said. “He always sent others. Why can’t you send someone else?”

“Because I’m not Father.”

Aren’t you?his conscience whispered.

A knock sounded at the door and Keris twitched, covering the motion by reaching for his drink. “Come in.”

The door opened, but instead of a servant entering, Lestara appeared. His father’s wife carried a tray with a steaming glass of milk and a plate of cookies, a throw draped over one of her bare arms. “Your Grace.” She dropped into a deep curtsey, the front of her gauzy dress cut low enough that, at this angle, he could see down to her navel. Annoyance flickered through him, and he pointedly looked away.

“Sara, we were so relieved to hear you were all right.” Lestara’s sandals made soft pats against the floor as she crossed the room, settingthe tray down on the table. “And so happy to hear that His Grace has brought you back to live with us.”

“I’m going to live in the tower with Keris.”

Lestara laughed as though the idea of it were utterly ridiculous, tucking her blond hair behind one ear. “You must refer to His Grace by one of his titles now, darling. Circumstances have changed.”

Keris snagged the cookie that Sara’s fingers hovered over, giving her a warning glance. She tucked her hands into the fold of her wet dress, the childish greed in her eyes replaced with trepidation as she was reminded that eating in this palace always meant the risk of poison. “It’s fine, Keris,” she said. “I’m not really hungry.”

The faint growling of her stomach belied that statement.

“Sara may call me whatever she wants, because, as you say”—he bit into the cookie, marzipan roses crunching beneath his teeth—“circumstances have changed.” Picking up the glass of milk, he took a long swallow, nearly gagging at the sweetness. He hadn’t the training to taste poison, but it made his sister’s importance to him clear to Lestara. “Sara will take rooms in the tower.”

The daughter of a king, Lestara had been as raised on politics as he had himself, and she switched tactics without blinking. “Of course! It was presumptuous of me to think otherwise. As most favored sister, Sara deserves every privilege.” Slipping the blanket off her arm, she draped it around the girl’s wet shoulders. “I’ll order the dressmakers to come, as I’m sure none of your old gowns will fit, much less suit.”

Straightening, she met Keris’s gaze. “I’ve made arrangements for Royce’s care and eventual imprisonment, as well as ensured his mother understands that he brought his fate down upon himself, which she has accepted gracefully. I’ve also sent compensation to Greenbriar to pay for the sister’s service, as well as to repair any damages inflicted on the property during the incident.”

This had been the way of things since word his father had died in the battle of Eranahl had arrived in Vencia. Lestara running the household, much in the way Coralyn once had. It was a monumental task, managing the needs of so many, and not one Keris was well equipped to do, so he should have been grateful.Wasgrateful. Buthe also knew Lestara had an agenda, which meant every time she did something like this, it put his nerves on edge. “Thank you, Auntie.”

Annoyance passed through her amber eyes, but Lestara inclined her head. “Will you be joining the harem for dinner?”

He considered Sara, who was sipping at her milk, expression unreadable. “Thefamilywill have to forgo my presence tonight, but thank you.”

“You will be missed.” Lestara curtsied, then swanned out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Keris slumped back in the chair, resting his drink on his knee. Not knowing quite why, he asked, “What do you think she wants from me?”

Around a mouthful of cookie, Sara answered, “To get in your bed.”

He jerked, nearly sending his drink crashing to the floor. “What did you just say?”

Taking a large sip of milk, Sara said, “I’m not entirely certain why, but all the aunties used to say Lestara wanted to get in your bed. I assumed you had a particularly comfortable mattress.”

Keris knew as well as anyone that growing up in this palace meant hearing things not intended for the ears of children, but that didn’t make it any more palatable. “Such things are not fit for your ears, young lady.” Then he frowned, a thought entering his mind. “What else did they say about her?”

“That Aunt Coralyn was grooming her.” Sara picked up another cookie, frowned at it, and then put it back in favor of one with more marzipan. “I never understood that, because the aunties have servants to do their hair, so perhaps I misheard.”

“No.” Keris bit at his thumbnail, more than one piece falling into place as he remembered past events. “You didn’t mishear.”

Coralyn’s strategies for the family, and for him in particular, were likely more far reaching than he realized. Part of him wondered if he’d be seeing the results of all the little strings she’d pulled for the rest of his life, almost as though she were still here.

Though in fairness, the rest of his life might not be long.

“Do you like being king?” his sister asked, and he focused on her, noting the cookie plate was now empty.

“Not particularly, but it’s better than the alternative.”

In the way of children, she didn’t acknowledge his answer, only asked another question, more softly. “What happened to Zarrah?”

---