Page 27 of The Winner's Crime
“I trust my ability to ruin you if you don’t.”
He laughed. It wasn’t quite a disbelieving laugh, only the kind that the aged sometimes have for the young. “Then speak, my lady. You have my word.”
Kestrel told him about Thrynne and what the tortured man had said.
The minister pressed a palm to his mouth, thumb rumpling the wrinkles near one eye. As he heard more, his hand shifted into a fist, still covering his mouth. He had the look of someone trying not to be sick.
His hand fell away. “You think that Thrynne had something important to tell Arin. What did Thrynne overhear during the emperor’s meeting with the Senate leader?”
“I don’t know.”
“You could find out.”
But Kestrel was already walking toward the door. “No.”
Tensen spread his hands. “Where’s the harm?”
She shook her head at the obvious absurdity of such a question.
“Are you afraid of the risk of finding out more?” said Tensen. “I hear that you love a gamble.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“Yet you’ve played it well so far. You’re playing it now.”
Kestrel set her hand on the cane blocking the door. “This kind of conversation won’t happen again. I am not one of your people. I have my own country and code … and no reason to become your spy.”
“Then why tell me anything at all?”
Kestrel shrugged. “Valorians see little point in the sacred, but we honor the last request of the dying. I’ve told you what I know for Thrynne’s sake.”
“Only for him?”
Kestrel handed Tensen his cane. “Good night, Minister. Enjoy the remainder of the ball.”
* * *
Verex found Kestrel in a corner of the ballroom pouring a glass of iced lemon water with floating sprigs of mint. “Where have you been? And why are you serving yourself? Here.” He took the cut-crystal dipper from her and poured.
But Kestrel wasn’t really watching him. Her mind was a curtained balcony. It was filled with the memory of warm movement. Of almost coming undone. Coming close, pushing away, letting go …
Verex set the cold cup in her hand. The lemon-mint water tasted alien: piercingly sweet and clear.
He took his time pouring a cup for himself. His movements were tense. He seemed constantly on the point of saying something.
“Thank you,” he finally murmured.
“For what?” Kestrel’s heart was made of treason. Didn’t Verex sense that? Couldn’t he tell? Why would he ever thank her?
“For the Borderlands game. You helped me win.”
She’d forgotten about that. “Oh. It was nothing.”
“I’m sure to you it was,” he said bitterly. His eyes roamed the ballroom, then settled on the emperor. Verex drank. “I couldn’t find you earlier. I looked everywhere.”
Kestrel’s cup was cold and sweating in her hand. She ran a quick thumb through the condensation. She was aware that some courtiers lingered nearby, as close as politeness would allow. They were drawing closer.
“Did a senator corner you?” Verex asked. “They’ll do that. They’ll try to worm their way into your good graces for a chance to influence my father. Well, Kestrel? Where were you? And what…” He frowned, peering closely at her. “Your mark has faded.”
