Page 13 of Court of Vipers (The Lady of Innislee)

“I expect to receive a hero’s welcome upon our return to Torch. The minstrels will recite ballads in my honor.” Auberon straightened, fingers tapping idly on the railing, as the city faded in the distance. Far below, waves lapped against the ship, sparkling under the sun’s rays. The sight would have been beautiful if he weren’t already feeling ill. He sought a distraction and seized the first topic of conversation that came to his head. “We’re sailing all this way so you can marry a woman you’ve never met, which strikes me as a truly terrible way to begin a relationship. Tell me, what do youactuallyknow about the Lady of Innislee?”

“Not much,” Drystan admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable. “We’ve all heard the rumors of her beauty. I know some of the details of what happened in Beltharos during the civil war, but not much about her role in it. News travels too slowly across the Tranquil Sea. Apparently, she was made queen, but she gave up the crown to fight for the rightful king.”

“I meant in terms of her personality.”

Drystan went quiet.

“Are you truly interested in marrying her, Drystan? Or are you just doing this because you’re the Crown Prince and you want an end to the war?”

He shifted, tugging at the sleeve of his doublet. “Regardless of my opinion on the matter, marrying her and ending the fighting is the right thing to do. We shall see if she and I warm to each other when we finally meet, but I have a very clear idea of how the Lady of Innislee will greet the men responsible for her mother’s murder.”

They fell silent at that, each consumed by their thoughts. Auberon wasn’t sure which of them had the more difficult task: Drystan, having to navigate court politics in the heart of a kingdom that would rejoice to see his blood spilled, or Auberon, who would spend every day and night trying to uncover a secret that could prevent the slaughter of his people.

Eventually, Drystan spoke, staring toward the horizon as if he could see all the way to Rivosa’s distant shore. “One day, I’ll be the ruler of the greatest empire in history. It is an incredible privilege, and I need a wife who will rule by my side and care for our subjects as if they were her own. I don’t know if Lady Riona and I will ever fall in love—you and I have witnessed too many unhappy political marriages to believe that is a certainty—but if she serves our people well and rules them justly, that will be enough.”

“A noble response. Well, for now, we have a week of doing nothing ahead of us, and I’d like to have some fun before seasickness entirely incapacitates me.” Auberon slung an arm around Drystan’s shoulders and led him toward a group of sailors sitting around a makeshift table. “Come, play Seven Deadly Kings with us.”

“I don’t know that game.”

Auberon drew back. “Everyoneknows that game.”

“Need I remind you that I’m the Crown Prince? I have better things to do with my time than sit around seedy taverns and gamble all my money away, unlikesome.”

He grinned conspiratorially. “It’s only a gamble if you lose.”

Drystan shook his head, chuckling, as Auberon dragged him over to where the sailors were sitting. Four piles of worn cards were spread out across the table’s surface, the faces of the royals faded from age and use. Auberon gestured for Drystan to sit on one of the crates, then turned to the crew and pulled the bag of gold regents from his pocket. The coins clinked against one another as he tossed it onto the center of the table.

“Gentlemen, let’s teach our Crown Prince how to have fun.”

* * *

Unfortunately, years of traveling had failed to instill in Auberon a tolerance for long voyages. Day and night, his stomach churned with no hope of relief. Most days, he could barely keep his meals down—a fact which amused Drystan to no end. He reveled in the crumbling of Auberon’s usual haughty, sarcastic façade. Even so, there was an undercurrent of pity in the Crown Prince’s laughter.

When the coast of Rivosa finally appeared on the horizon, a cheer rose from the ship’s crew. Auberon would have wagered every gold regent he owned that no one had ever been as happy to see that slender strip of sand as he was in that moment.

He gripped the railing tightly as the ship approached the harbor of a town called Crafford. What little he could make out of the land was beautiful, the coast dusted with sand that gleamed a pale pink under the late morning sun. In the distance, barely visible, rose the range of limestone karsts that spanned the northern coasts of Beltharos and Rivosa—the Howling Mountains, purportedly home to the fearsome stone creatures known as the Rennox. According to rumors, the king and queen of Beltharos had been attacked by the Rennox earlier that summer, but Auberon doubted there was any truth to the story. He prided himself on a rather grand imagination, but the thought that there were creatures of living stone lurking within the dark caves was a stretch, even for him.

Two other royal vessels already sat in the harbor. Auberon shielded his eyes with a hand to better make out the sigils emblazoned on their sails: the soaring griffon of Kostos, and Kenter’s rearing stag, wreathed in flame. The sight of the latter sent a pang through Auberon, memories of a country of rolling hills and luscious verdure flooding his mind.

He turned away and returned to his cabin, donning an embroidered doublet and leather boots. They still had a four-hour ride to the capital city, but he was much too vain to be seen in sailor’s roughspun by any save for the ship’s crew.

By the time he returned to the deck, the ship had docked, and the crew was already unloading their belongings. Auberon followed Drystan down the gangplank and let out a sharp breath of relief when his feet hit the dock. It felt good to be back on land, even if the ground swayed beneath him and the reek of fish made his stomach turn. He paused, waiting for the world to right itself before joining Drystan and their retinue of royal guards at the carriage awaiting them on the street. Its doors bore the crest of the Rivosi royal family: a dragon with wings outstretched, a column of flames pouring from its mouth.

Auberon climbed in behind Drystan and claimed the seat opposite him. Their guards mounted the horses they had brought from Torch, then fell in behind the carriage as it pulled onto the road, joining the rush of traffic around the harbor.

“Kostos is half the size of Erduria,” Drystan scoffed, gazing at the Kostori ship through the open curtains. “Prince Eamon is going to have quite the time trying to convince the king to accept a marriage alliance.”

“Yes, but his father’s health has been failing these last few years, remember? Many speculate it will not be long before Prince Eamon ascends the throne. By marrying him, Lady Riona would also have jurisdiction over the Duchy of Kenter. It’s a vassal to Kostos.”

“And yet poor Duke Valerian has come to try his luck at winning the lady’s hand.” He shook his head in feigned pity, then paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Do you think he hopes that by marrying Lady Riona, he would be able to use Rivosi forces to reestablish Kenter’s independence?”

Auberon shrugged. “Could be. Kenter has only been a vassal to Kostos for, what, fifteen years? Many in the court remember what it was like to be independent, and there’s bound to be some tension between Valerian and Eamon. Use that to your advantage.”

Drystan sat back against the wall of the carriage, grinning as he appraised Auberon. “Remind me never to attend court without you. You’re much better at remembering all the intricacies of court politics than I am.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

“Oh, that it is.”

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