Page 54 of Among the Burning Flowers
CÁRSCARO
DRACONIC KINGDOM OF YSCALIN
CE 1004
Of course, the idea had occurred to her, in the darkest hours of night. That her father had executed his queen consort in secret, then made up a lie to cover her death. King Jantar would likely have declared war on Yscalin if he learned that his sister had been harmed with intent.
I did it to protect you.
Words that made no sense, that never had. Marosa could think of reasons why Sahar might have taken her own life – to spare herself the indignity of exile and disgrace – but not how it would have protectedher. How could the sudden loss of a mother ever aid her child?
So for years, the idea had seeped into her, like poison taken by the drop. That her father was a murderer, a fiend. But she could not flee the man who had sired her, so she had never dared to look her idea in the face. Instead, she had turned very still, trying not to be noticed.
For surely a man who killed his own queen could also kill his own daughter.
Now she could be still no longer. For the first time in a decade, the Knight of Courage, her patron, had overtaken her body, driving out the fear that had kept her silent for so long.
Marosa did not go to Fynch. Instead, she marched up the stairs to the Royal Apartments. Four of the Vardya guarded the doors, all wearing cloths over their noses and mouths.
‘Let me through,’ Marosa said.
‘His Majesty is not to be disturbed, Your—’
‘I am the Donmata of Yscalin. I can go where I please in my ancestors’ halls.’
Something about her manner must have reminded them of the king, for both of them looked taken aback. She countered their gazes without blinking, turning the force of her eyes on them all.
‘Your Radiance,’ one said, ‘His Majesty is … indisposed.’
‘I am well aware.’
‘Then take this, at least.’
She offered Marosa a handkerchief, which she accepted before sweeping past them.
King Sigoso lay on his canopy bed. The room smelled of bonfires and unwashed skin. The Royal Physician lurked in the corner, wearing a beaked mask with glass eyeholes, the sort that kept out the pestilence.
‘Leave us,’ Marosa said to her.
‘Donmata, you should not be here.’
‘I told you to leave us.’
The Royal Physician obeyed her without further protest. King Sigoso did not move, his grey eyes fixed on the ceiling. His face was blank and slack.
‘I have long suspected that you murdered my mother,’ Marosa said, very softly. ‘Now I believe I know why.’ Sheheld up the vial in a gloved hand. ‘This is basilisk venom. Is it not?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you somehow used it to kill Queen Rosarian.’
‘I knew your mind was sharper than you wanted me to see. You truly are my daughter, though you look so much like Sahar.’
Marosa stiffened. She had not expected her father to admit to murder at all, let alone do it so quickly.
Perhaps the Draconic plague was rotting his wits, breaking down his judgement and inhibitions. He likely had a fever. And yet, for the first time in her life, Marosa thought she was seeing his true self. The underpainting of the man, leaking from beneath the royal portrait.
‘Come, then, Father. Confess it all,’ she said. ‘It must have been hard to keep it a secret. Tell me how you did it.’
