Page 62 of Court of Vipers (The Lady of Innislee)

Riona was silent for several long moments, haunted by the memory of Cathal’s body, his chest shredded to bloody ribbons. When she finally found her voice, all she could say was, “You rode all the way here in your condition?”

“What other choice did I have? The bastard was going to come after me once he killed Cathal. I had to leave the city, and a carriage was too slow and too expensive. I’d grabbed a cloak on my way out to cover my face and my belly, and I ran. I… I left him to die alone.”

“I am so sorry,” she breathed when Faylen met her eyes. Through the sorrow and pain in their depths, Riona saw unparalleled strength. “I promise I will do everything in my power to find Cathal’s murderer. What did he look like?”

Faylen shook her head. “The hood of his cloak was up, and I never got a good look at the bastard’s face. I can tell you that he was tall and fair-skinned, broad-shouldered like a sailor or laborer. His eyes were dark—green, maybe? Blue? I don’t know. I wish I’d seen more.”

Riona nodded, masking her disappointment. “Do you mind if I look at the documents?”

“Please do. I never learned how to read, so I can’t make sense of them. I’ve been driving myself mad wondering what information they hold.”

Riona grabbed the bag, pulled out the sheaf of parchment within, and spread the papers across the table. Faylen fetched the lantern and carried it over, holding it up so Riona could read. Most looked like regular treasury records—figures written in neat little boxes across the parchment—but the last two were maps. One was of a section of Rivosa’s northern coast, where a place called Portcross Castle was marked with a little black X. The other map detailed the wide expanse of the Howling Mountains, stretching from Crafford to the border Rivosa shared with Beltharos. In the pitted, jagged peaks, Riona counted a half-dozen Xs. Five were red, crossed out so many times that the nib of the quill had torn through the parchment in some places. The last X was black.

Riona’s heart dropped. “He was right…”

“What?” Faylen’s brows furrowed. “What do they mean?”

There was only one reason anyone would brave the Howling Mountains.Eudorite mines. Auberon was right.

Riona examined the rest of the papers, her stomach twisting. Many of them were records of the kingdom’s accounts—expenditures, taxes, debts, and the like—and dread swept over her as she looked over the numbers. Her kingdom was bankrupt. Her uncle owed hundreds of thousands of aurums to the Selannic Isles, and he was well behind on payments. Every banquet, every outing, every bite of food she and the suitors had enjoyed had been bought with the Selannic king’s coin.

That must be why Cathal burned the treasury records.He knew that the guards would search his office after his death, and he needed to make sure no one discovered that the kingdom was bankrupt. At least, not untilaftera marriage alliance had been secured. None of the suitors would enter into an alliance with a kingdom in crippling debt.

And that’s why my uncle is in such a hurry to marry me off. He needs an alliance before everyone learns that Rivosa is dying.

“Why did Cathal want to take these documents to the Isles?” she asked, looking up at Faylen. “Did he tell you?”

“He said something about showing the king and buying more time for something, but he was in such a panic I couldn’t make sense of half of it. Please, what do they say?” Faylen shifted closer, her voice thick with grief and desperation. “Tell me he didn’t die for nothing.”

“…I don’t believe he did,” she responded softly.Buying more time…Cathal must have been planning to show the Selannic king proof of the mines, perhaps in an attempt to restructure the repayment of the debt. Eudorite ore was priceless, and striking a deal with the Isles would have saved her kingdom from ruination.

She moved on to the next page, which was a log of prisoners at various prisons across the country. At first it seemed out of place, until she noticed that a steady stream of prisoners was recorded as being transferred out each month, and always to a place identified only by a pair of coordinates. Riona didn’t need a map to tell her that it was the location of the mine, or that her uncle was the one running the operation. For something this large-scale, he had to know. He had to be aware that he was sending those prisoners to their deaths.

Riona recalled the day she had found her uncle kneeling in the castle’s private chapel, silvery lines of tears trailing down his cheeks. The memory struck her like a blow to the gut. The guilt and grief in his eyes. The bitterness in his voice. The responsibility he’d felt—not for failing to prevent his Treasurer’s murder, she now saw, but fororderingit.Her uncle mourned Cathal, she did not doubt that, but when he’d been faced with the choice between keeping the mines a secret and allowing the truth of their existence to spread, he had elected to silence the man who had served him faithfully for decades.

We will find the man responsible for Cathal’s murder,Riona had promised him that day,and we will bring him to justice.

Will we?her uncle had asked, bitterness and self-loathing lacing the words.If the world were just, the man who committed this crime would suffer for it a thousand times over. But you and I both know the world is rarely that fair.

ChapterForty-Two

The Liar

One look at the king’s face, and Auberon knew something was terribly wrong.

He picked up his pace and gripped Drystan’s arm as they approached the throne room’s dais. “Something has changed,” he whispered. The king, Lord Lachlan, and the Crown Prince were stone-faced, but Auberon could read the tension between them like words on a page. “I don’t know what, but it is enough to completely shake them. Use it to your advantage.”

Drystan nodded once, and Auberon released him, falling a few steps back as court etiquette dictated. When they reached the space before the dais steps, they dropped into low bows, and the king dismissed the servant who’d summoned them with a flick of his hand.

“Your Highnesses, I believe I have heard everything you have to say on the subject of an alliance, and I have made my decision quite clear,” King Domhnall said, leaning forward in his throne. “We have nothing further to discuss.”

Drystan inclined his head and offered him a disarming smile. “Your Majesty, my brother and I are your guests, and we will respect whatever decision you make regarding Lady Riona’s marriage. But, betrothed or not, I seek a peaceful end to the war.”

“You expect me to make peace with your father? The man who has spent the last thirty years sending my subjects to the depths of the Tranquil Sea? Whose orders killed my sister-in-law, her family, and my eldest son?” the king said, his fingers tightening around the arms of his throne. Behind him, the Crown Prince’s concerned gaze flicked to his father, but he was wise enough to hold his tongue. “I will not spit on their graves by making peace with my enemy.”

“We have all been touched by the war, both by the loss of someone we held dear and by the blood of those our men have killed in the fighting. With a treaty, we can spare more innocents from losing their lives to these ceaseless battles, Your Majesty. Your people are begging for an end to the fighting.”

“Because you and your brother have seized every opportunity to turn them against me and against this war,” the king responded coldly. “They do not realize that I am doing this for their protection. Give your father an inch, and he will take everything from us.”

---