“For this night,” he said.
For her moon night? Or simply because they attended a royal dinner? He had bathed, too, and unbound his braids. His hair hung heavy and wet, as if he wore even more silk loose around his shoulders. In all that luxury, he ought not look as dangerous. Yet he did. He wore no sword or armor, but still an expanse of powerful muscle was on display, and his leisurely stroll seemed as quietly lethal as a long-toothed cat’s.
Flushed with heat, she looked forward. They were nearing the prince’s chambers, so no time could she waste ogling her would-be husband—and another warning still needed to be given.
She had not wanted to say this to Maddek, for he and the Tolehi minister were friendly and had served together in the march against Stranik’s Fang. Yet it must be said. “Do not look to Gareth as an ally.”
Maddek’s face darkened in a frown. “He is a good man.”
“He is. But he has spent at least a tennight with my brother upon the road. We cannot know what poison Bazir has told him and how it will influence his view of us.”
His firm lips twitched. “As your words have influenced my views?”
“I have told you nothing but truth.”
There his smile died, but he said nothing as they reached the prince’s apartments. She was not surprised that they were led to the prince’s private solar, where they could dine in a less formal setting than a royal hall. Cadus would stand firm, but he also liked smooth progression, and he would hope to ease tensions.
The two Parsathean guards did not enter the solar and would wait outside that chamber until Yvenne and Maddek emerged. Already present were Bazir and Gareth.
With heavy heart, she saw that her brother had already worked not only on Gareth but also on Cadus. So different was the prince’s manner—still polite, yet now wary. He introduced her to the Tolehi minister, who regarded her in the same way.
She had thought it would be Maddek whom Bazir would turn them against. But she should have known. As a disciple of Tolehi reason, Gareth would be more persuaded by what was seen with his own eyes, and a brother would have seen a sister more than he would have seen an alliance commander who had spent the better part of ten years upon the Lave. Almost any lie Bazir could say about her, however. That she was of unsound mind, prone to fantasy. That she was bloodthirsty and murderous, fell to fits and rages, and had been locked away for her own protection. Whatever the affliction of her brain that he chose, Bazir would claim that her existence had never been acknowledged because a mad queen upon the throne would endanger all of Syssia and the alliance.
They were led out onto a balcony, where a low table surrounded by plump sofas and cushions waited beneath an airy tent. The sound of the waves and scent of the sea filled the air. Breezes fluttered through the transparent curtains.
It was not yet sunset, but the sun was sinking over the western horizon, painting the sky in brilliant orange. Never had Yvenne seen anything of the like, yet she could not bask in the beauty before her. Not when the danger her brother posed was so near. She would be a fool to take her eyes from him.
Cadus indicated that they settle at the table, which was shaped in a deep crescent that allowed everyone a view of the sea and of each other. The prince sat at the head, facing full west. Maddek took the seat between her and the prince. Gareth and Bazir sank into the cushions at the other side.
She was glad to see the fish brought in and prepared nearby—their meal still flopping as it went beneath the cook’s knife and onto the coals. She caught Maddek’s eye and grinned.
“You will not leave so hungry now, I think,” he said.
She sat opposite Bazir and gave him a thin smile as he sipped from a goblet of wine, looking pleased with himself. As well he might be. “What lies did you tell them, brother?” she asked lightly. “They look at me as if I am a demon incarnate.”
There was suddenly such delicate frozen wariness in the prince’s and minister’s expressions, Yvenne realized she had aimed perfectly without even intending.
And Bazir was clever and persuasive but had not much original thought. In his attack tonight, he likely meant to copy their father’s way of discrediting Maddek’s father—and now Bazir copied the story that Zhalen had used to destroy every strong house within Syssia.
“Is that the tale you spun to them?” She laughed and addressed the prince and Gareth, who sat nearer to each other. “When asked why he kept his sister imprisoned in the tower, he must have spun the same lie our father did after he poisoned our mother. For our father claimed that after our mother slew the demon who reanimated Queen Venys, the demon then possessed her. But now the story is that I am the possessed daughter.”
With a heavy sigh, Bazir sank deeper into his cushion, regarding her with a sorrowful stare that he could only hold a moment before averting his eyes and addressing Cadus and Gareth. “I told you that she would use truth to speak lies.”
Eating his fish with his fingers, Maddek grunted beside her, a sound of deep laughter—as if amused that her brother gave them the same warning she’d given him.
Bazir’s gaze shot to him. Leaning forward, he said in a grave voice, “I have already told the others what happened to our beloved mother. But you have been in Yvenne’s presence these many days and under her influence, so it is no surprise that you take her side. You and I have no love for each other, but listen and you will see how she has twisted truth.”
“Do not open your ears to him, Maddek. Nothing he says will deserve the respect of your hearing,” Yvenne said, and knew the frustration of even that sounding, through her brother’s frame, as if she feared that Maddek might see through her deceptions.
Eyes gleaming, Bazir knew it, too. “You do not want him to hear how it was our mother who took the poison herself, so that if the demon inside her gained hold of her, it would never have the strength that her demon-queen mother did? Years she spent battling that evil inside her, locking herself away to keep safe her sons and her people—and my father ruled with her blessing.”
“He poisoned her wine with fellroot,” Yvenne said flatly. “It was not a demon’s evil that kept her trapped in that tower. Instead it was his greed and ambition.”
“The corrupt greed of the man who refused reward after he smote the Smiling Giant? The selfish ambition of the man who risked his own life to hold the line at the Fourth Ridge? You would cast such aspersions on an honored warrior?”
“As he ruined the name of Ran Marek with his false accusations,” she said, then looked to Maddek, hoping her brother’s words were not provoking him to anger.
He seemed to be not even listening. Calmly, he ate his fish.
“That is only partial truth.” With an expression of soul-deep pain, Bazir sat back, his gaze returning to Maddek. “Did you never question why a woman born of a legendary line of warrior-queens, each one tall as Rani herself and possessing the strength of ten men, was so weak and small? It is because her own mother recognized what was growing in her womb and took the half-moon milk before it was fully formed. And when the babe emerged with its heart still beating, our mother attempted to strangle her.”