Page 49 of Court of Vipers (The Lady of Innislee)

“The Erdurian court changed her, didn’t it?” she asked, gripping her eudorite pendant until the edges began to cut into her fingers.Remember who he is. Remember who you are.

“One could say that.” Auberon crossed the stage and offered her a hand up from where she sat on the piano bench. She accepted it and rose, but he didn’t let go.

“Make no mistake—a court as large as my father’s is a dangerous place. There are always whispers of revolt among the border cities and vassals,” he said, his voice low. “When you marry Drystan, his allies will become your allies. His enemies will become your enemies. But if anyone comes for you, I swear, I will make them wish I had given them the mercy of a swift death.”

ChapterThirty-One

The Liar

The pale light of dawn was just beginning to grace the eastern sky when Auberon stepped out onto the King’s Road. His clothes were rumpled and worn, smelling of whiskey and cheap perfume, and the coin purse in his pocket was noticeably lighter than it had been when he’d left the Royal Theater. After walking Riona home, he had wandered into the first tavern he’d found and challenged the patrons to countless rounds of Seven Deadly Kings. He had been doing the same thing almost every night for the last few weeks. In addition to giving him an excuse for leaving the castle late at night, it provided him the opportunity to earn the trust of the commoners. He charmed them with jokes and rounds of drinks, and as their inhibitions eased, they told him what the people of the city were saying. Duke Valerian and Riona had made a half-dozen trips to the markets and poor neighborhoods in the last fortnight. A man had been dismissed from the city watch after speaking out against the king and denouncing the war with Erduria. Prince Eamon had made an attempt to get to know the people in the market, but his words had rung as hollow as his intentions.

No news of Faylen, save for the fact that the royal guards and city watch were still searching for her. No whisper of eudorite mines. Nothing about the Treasurer’s death save for the usual rumors.

Nothing. He had been in Innislee for three weeks, and he had nothing to show for it. So, he had decided to drown his disappointment in alcohol—not enough to get terribly drunk, of course, but the world had a pleasant haze to it as he started up the King’s Road toward the castle. Drystan would be furious, but frankly, he didn’t care. He was allowed one night to lament his lack of progress.

At this hour, the roads were already starting to fill with traffic: carriages carrying nobles to the castle, carts laden with goods heading to the market, and workers bustling to their various jobs. Most of the people he passed paid Auberon no heed, thinking him just another tavern patron stumbling home after a night of gambling. A few recognized him, however, and waved or offered a greeting as he made his way to the castle. He was glad to see that the wariness with which they had regarded him and Drystan on their first few days in the city had vanished. At least one thing was going their way.

After a few blocks, he slowed, his skin prickling. Someone was watching him. Feigning a nauseous spell, he stopped and set a hand on his stomach, taking the opportunity to scan the street. Initially, all looked as it should. Then his gaze snagged on the mouth of one of the closes. Someone was lingering just within the alley. His face was concealed by shadow, but his muscular build made it evident that he was a man. A city watchman or royal guard, perhaps? Auberon wouldn’t have been surprised if the king had ordered someone to tail him, but it didn’t make sense. If the man had been following him long enough to see Auberon meet Riona in the theater or walk her to her father’s estate, he would have reported it to the king immediately. Auberon was certain that King Domhnall would waste no time in forbidding him from speaking to Riona, lest he somehow taint her with his Erdurian blood.

His pursuer had been sent by someone else, then. Auberon frowned, trying to wade through the haze in his mind. Creator curse him for drinking so much, and curse him again for not sensing his pursuer sooner. He was still in an enemy kingdom, and he could not afford to let his guard down. Auberon turned toward the castle and started walking, pretending he hadn’t noticed the man on his heels. Even so, he did not allow his hand to stray far from the dagger sheathed at his hip, a simple blade to replace the one he’d given Riona.

He abruptly turned and started down one of the side streets, shoving his hands into his pockets and whistling a Kentari drinking song as he wandered in the direction of the brothel where Cathal had been killed. He did not look behind him, but he could feel the weight of the stranger’s gaze on his back. It never wavered. He continued down two more streets, then ducked into one of the closes and pressed flat against one of the doorways halfway down the alley, hiding himself from view. The close was cluttered with sewage and refuse, rotting food and the contents of emptied chamber pots leaking along the edges of the narrow footpath. Auberon had to hold his breath to keep from upending the meager contents of his stomach.

Soon enough, he heard his pursuer turn into the alley, and Auberon pulled the dagger from the sheath at his hip. He waited until the man had almost passed him, then lunged, shoving him up against the wall. The edge of his blade dug into the man’s throat.

“Who sent you?” Auberon snarled. It was dark, but he could make out the fact that the man had an unremarkable face, with fair skin, thick brows, and a clean-shaven jaw. He wore plain black clothing, without a single mark that might betray his identity. “Who ordered you to follow me?”

The man brought his knee up into Auberon’s groin, then rammed his fist into Auberon’s stomach as he doubled over. Searing pain ignited within him. He had enough presence of mind through the alcohol and the pain to lash out with his dagger, catching the man’s upper arm with the edge of his blade. His pursuer hissed an expletive and grabbed Auberon’s wrist, wrenching it until the dagger slipped from his grasp and landed somewhere amidst the puddles of foul-smelling liquid at their feet. With almost comical ease, the man shoved him into the wall of the alleyway and knotted his fingers in Auberon’s hair, pressing his face into the rough stone. Auberon squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing at the scrape of the cold, dank stone against his cheek, and spat a string of oaths. He should have been able to avoid that attack with ease. The whiskey must not have been as watered-down as he’d thought.

Drystan was going to befurious.

“Stay away from Lady Riona,” the man hissed into his ear. “This is your one warning.”

Auberon would have come up with a sharp retort, if he weren’t entirely focused on keeping the contents of his stomachwithinhis stomach. Apparently satisfied, his pursuer released him, shoving him into the doorway where he’d originally hidden. Auberon caught his balance on the frame and turned just in time to see the man leave the alley. He didn’t bother trying to follow him. There was no point.

His pursuer had been wearing plain, simple clothing, and his face had had no distinguishing scars or marks, but he had made the mistake of speaking. The man had softened his vowels and rounded his words, attempting to adopt a neutral Rivosi accent, but it hadn’t fooled Auberon. After all his traveling, he had an ear for accents. The man who had pursued him was Kostori.

Prince Eamon had sent one of his guards to spy on him.

ChapterThirty-Two

The Lady

“How can there be no news yet? The king’s men have been searching for Faylen for weeks, and as far as I’ve been able to discern, they’ve gotten no closer to finding her,” Riona said to Amaris and Prince Domhnall as they crossed the great hall, following the current of courtiers and advisors who were making their way toward the banquet hall.

Amaris shook her head. “I still can hardly believe what’s happened. First Prince Auberon, then Cathal, and now that servant? And to think the guards have no leads! I know the circumstances are unusual, but one would expect that they’d have narrowed it down to a few suspects by now. What does Master Kaiden say, Domhnall?”

The prince ran a hand through his hair and let out a long, weary breath. “He’s doing his best with what little information we have. The prostitute is missing, Treasurer Cathal’s body and office have proved useless, and the search of that servant’s body yielded no clues.”

“Have they questioned the council members again?” Riona asked, thinking back to the suspicions Auberon had shared so many weeks ago. As unwilling as she was to believe one of the king’s most trusted advisors—or, Creator forbid, the king himself—was behind the murders, they had the most resources at their disposal to do so. “I thought you suspected one of them was working with Cathal to steal from the treasury.”

“More accurately, I had ahunch, and I cannot go demanding the financial records of every member of the council without cause, as my father and Master Kaiden have both informed me,” he huffed. “Until we have evidence of wrongdoing, my hands are tied.”

“I just want this all to be over,” Amaris said, slipping an arm around Domhall’s waist and pulling him close. “I never expected Cathal to frequent a brothel, and that has somehow become one of thelesserrevelations of the past few weeks. I’m eagerly awaiting the day the assassin is found and brought to justice.”

Domhnall draped an arm over her shoulders. “The most important thing is finding Faylen.”

“Finding her, or finding her body?”

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