Page 112 of A Dance of Lies

“A year after, he sent a troupe of assassins to greet me when I returned from Razam. He wanted that war, and he was rather displeased that I had managed to prevent it.” He leans back, resting his elbows against the oars. “Unfortunately for him and his little miscreants, I had an escort: the queen’s own sons. Since, he’s tried and failed to kill me multiple times. Deathnettle vipers in my bed, suspicious rockslides, and the like. Alas,” he says, “this time is different. He hasn’t just changed his game. He’s brought in new players.”

Players, like my father.

Or perhaps the Fate of Morta herself.

“Because of my reputation, I have to tread very carefully around the Crowns. Already, they struggle to take me seriously. And I can’t make a move against him publicly without cause.”

“But you could warn King Rurik,” I point out.

“After our little poisoning incident?” He shakes his head. “If I were to tell Rurik that his beloved general plans to betray him, he’s likely to laugh in my face.”

“But the prophecy. Surely you could—”

“Even if I share the prophecy with them, they would have no reason to believe it. Not without proof, which is why I’ve sent a crew to retrieve the prophets my brother captured. Their testimony—well, it would be a start.”

“And if they’re dead?”

“A possibility,” he admits. “Which is the reason I’m here in search of tangible proof. I need to expose the general and my brother not for what a supposed prophecy says but for what they plan to do. I need concrete evidence.”

But that isn’t good enough. Time is slipping away. “What happens when you can’t find enough?” My palms grow damp. “I won’t watch this happen—won’t.” I’d rather sneak into the tunnels and slit their throats myself than risk them rising to unthinkable power.

“I know where those thoughts are taking you, but you must resist,” he warns. “There is no victory in that.” Then he leans forward, his jaw set. “I have no intention of bowing before my brother oryour Fates-damned father, Minnow. I asked you once before, and I am asking you again. Work with me. Help me stop them.”

My fingers tighten, curling into themselves. “What do you need me to do?”

He considers me. “Is my brother aware that you are the general’s daughter?”

“He isn’t,” I say. “He would use it against me if he found out.” Maybe even against my father, too. I have no doubt that should either of them have leverage over the other, they wouldn’t hesitate to wrangle that control.

Anton nods. “What else can you tell me about your history with Illian?”

“Other than his framing me for murder as an excuse for tossing me in prison until I begged for death?” I blow out a breath.

“Before that,” he clarifies.

A wave rocks the craft, and I grip the rough wood edges. The glass palace floats into view, dimly lit, studded with torchlight from within the arches like a multitude of stars.

I tell Anton what happened. I tell him about the day Illian found me, what he offered, how I worked for him and earned my place and title. The King’s Jewel.

“And he never took you? In . . . that way?”

“Not once. He has never touched me, not even a pat on the back. It’s why I trusted him. He never took advantage of me, and he shielded me from the lustful eyes of the court. He took care of me. He . . .” I take a breath, waiting for the lump in my throat to dissolve. “He promised to always protect me. He lied.”

And that’s the reason I can’t hand my trust to the king before me, even if I help him. Words mean little, and promises even less.

We reach the post and he secures the boat with the rope, then he leans in, catching my gaze. “Helping me is dangerous, and foolish, probably. But I don’t make offers I can’t keep, so listen carefully.” He hops out of the craft and into the water, then holds out his hand. “I cannot protect you, Vastianna Stova. But Icanarm you.”

PART THREE

Queen of Souls

Chapter Twenty-Eight

By the time we make it back into the tunnels, I’m so weary I can hardly stand.

I follow Anton until my legs crumple beneath me. Then I feel myself being scooped up and carried, but only for a moment until my vision blots and I see no more.

Only when he slides open a pane in the tunnel wall, a lambent glow falling over me, do I come to. I glance about as he sets me gently on my feet, somehow knowing to wait before releasing me so that I do not fall.