Page 55 of Among the Burning Flowers
‘A gown made of Eastern watersilk, which resists the corrosive nature of basilisk venom – as does Northern diamond glass, the substance used to make the vial. All so very expensive.’
He delivered all this – the specifics of murder – in a cold and impassive voice, not so different to the one he always used to address her. Her body prickled with chills.
‘How did you acquire the venom?’ she asked, forcing herself to sound calm.
‘A merchant prince in Samana,’ her father said, ‘who purchased it, I believe, from a culler.’
‘Youexecutecullers.’ She chanced another step towards his bed, moved by her wrath. ‘You have accused so many of heresy and wrongdoing, all while you have wallowed in hypocrisy for years. You have failed to adhere to the Six Virtues. Were you ever true to the Saint?’
‘The truest of all.’
‘You barefaced liar.’
‘I have no need to lie to you, daughter. The Saint I loved so dearly has abandoned me.’
‘You never loved the Saint. You only ever loved yourself.’
‘I was his most devoted servant, willing to do what others would not. See how he rewards me?’ He licked his cracked and bloody lips. ‘The lining of the gown was impregnated with the venom. My Inysh ally could touch it, to conceal it in the Privy Wardrobe, but once it was on Rosarian … well, there was no getting it off. She burned like a heretic.’
His faint smile twisted her stomach. She saw the wood again, the venom eating straight through it.
‘This ally. The Cupbearer,’ she said. ‘Who in Inys would kill a descendant of the Saint?’
‘Someone who saw Rosarian for the shameless harlot she was.’
‘You dare nameanotherqueen an adulteress?’
‘This one spurned a king for bedsport with lordlings and commoners. Even pirates knew her well.’
‘Enough with these baseless accusations. Did you seek revenge on her because she spurned your suit?’ Marosa demanded. ‘Saint on high, what did I do to deserve such a father?’
Her eyes were the proof, the eternal reminder, that she had been reared with no will of her own. To be no one while he still lived. His blood was in her veins, and she could not burn it away.
‘Rosarian had lost the right to represent the Saint on earth. She contravened all of the Six Virtues,’ her father said, unmoved by her outburst, ‘but most of all, she indulgedin carnal lust and conceit, defiling his house. Even a holy bloodline can be fouled by vice and bastardry.’
‘Not hers. Her blood chains the Nameless One.’
‘Rosarian had given birth. The next link in the chain was forged. What was her purpose after that?’
The words struck Marosa like a hammer to her chest, driving the breath from her.
‘Did you think the same of my mother?’ she forced out. ‘Once she had given you an heir, was her life worth nothing to you, Father? Or less still, because she was not a Berethnet?’
‘Sahar was a Southern spy, sent to my court to fill it with heresy.’
‘You say this only because she found the same evidence I did. And drew the same conclusions.’
‘She did,’ King Sigoso said. ‘Some might say I was foolish to keep the documents, but they were the proof of my love for the Saint. And I liked to imagine Rosarian dying.’
He had slashed her portrait long before Fýredel woke.
‘Sahar believed that if I could kill a queen in Inys, I might also harm my own flesh and blood,’ he said. ‘She always was unable to control herself. A heathen to the end.’ He sat up, so she could see that his eyes were grey, without the spark. ‘Aryete Feyalda informed me that your mother was planning to leave, though she did not know why. I assumed Sahar had simply grown tired of the West … but I could not let her abscond with the Donmata of Yscalin.’
Marosa, hurry, we must leave.
‘After I had Sahar imprisoned, she pleaded to speak to me, to beg for mercy and forgiveness. I was fool enough to let her back into my bedchamber. I had not realised what she knew.’
Marosa watched him, heart thudding. She was there again, in the dark, glimpsing the red fire.
