Page 8 of The Stolen Throne
My heart plummets to the floor. I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have told her about that book. Eidolon kept a diary for centuries. Reven described it to me once. That book has to have answers. Answers for why Eidolon steals and kills our queens. What his end game is. Maybe even how we defeat him.
We’ve fought him and failed once already.
The book is important.
I would have been looking if I could, but the king has a way of keeping me locked up without anyone else knowing. I’m not even sure how. But any time I leave any room, he appears at my side. And of course, I have to pretend like I’m thrilled at his attentiveness rather than alarmed.
This “under his thrall” thing has been a pain in my royal ass.
I told Achlys about the book only a day or two ago. I’m guessing that while Eidolon and I and the rest of the palace were distracted with my celebration, she must have gone searching in here, the most likely place he’d keep it.
The question now is, what kind of response is he expecting from me?
I try to make a show of goggling. “Is this true?” I demand of Achlys in my most queenly voice, channeling my grandmother, who was ruler of Aryd before Tabra and me.
She doesn’t answer. Why doesn’t she answer? Why doesn’t she whimper or make a noise? Blink? Something?
After a beat, I face Eidolon. “Was anything taken?”
The way he’s watching me… I can’t tell if it’s with amusement or suspicion. Is he toying with me? “No.”
“Let’s be thankful for that, at least.” I fluff my fancy, floral skirt, trying to play the part of a frilly, empty-headed royal.
“But you know the punishment.”
My heart rate kicks up another notch, because I do. “Are you sure she wasn’t simply cleaning? I mean, she must be punished, of course, because you’ve made it quite clear that your rooms are off-limits even to servants unless one of your advisors is here.”
He only hums. I can’t get a read on him, but he’s definitely watching me.
I try a tentative smile. It feels wrong on my face. “Death does seem a little…excessive.”
He clucks his tongue like a nanny scolding a toddler. Then slides an arch look at Achlys. “Answer my next questions with the truth, and I won’t kill her.”
The words drop between us like a Devourer bursting from the ocean to swallow me whole. The truth? What does he know? What is he trying to get me to reveal?
My knees are wobbling so hard, I press my thighs together so I don’t fall over.
Pull yourself together.
That’s Omma’s voice in my head—my great-aunt who raised me and trained me to be who and what I am. She wasn’t what I’d call a soft woman. Stone-cold bitch is closer. It doesn’t help.
Eidolon sobers, no longer hiding behind the sham of charm. “Was she in my chambers at your order?”
Goddess save us. What do I say?
Achlys did this without my knowing, but she did it to help me. To help Tabra.
I touch the signet ring on my pinkie. The one bearing the striking snake sigil of our house. The one identical to my sister’s. I can’t let the king kill Achlys, which he’ll definitely do if he thinks she did this on her own. The problem is, confessing to giving an order would expose my own deception of being on his side.
He needs me, for now, so I don’t think he’d kill me. But resort to other means of making me do what he wants? Tell him what he needs to know? I’m pretty sure torture of some sort will be in my future.
I don’t have any choice here.
I close my eyes. “Yes. I gave her the order.”
“Quinten, you know what to do.”
At Eidolon’s command, I jump and open my eyes. “What?” My gaze swings between the two men and then to her. To my loyal friend, who stayed with me here in the palace when she didn’t have to. She could have run. Could have saved herself months ago. Could have gone to find Tabra, who I know she worries about desperately every single day.
