“Well, you are a fool. After I was passed over, Alarice means nothing to me.”
“I suppose you have been my enemy for some time now,” Dietan says thoughtfully. “I know that you sent your raiders after me and that you tried to kidnap and kill my bride. And that you’re working with the Kilandrar.”
The symbol Lydia drew in blood wasn’t a mountain; it was Osian’s crest. The very same that flies high on the flags above the castle. She was clever till the end.
Namreth smiles. His teeth look like fangs. “You will tell me where the Rings of Fate are, nephew.”
“I will do no such thing. Ever.”
My heart leaps in my throat as Dietan stands his ground.
Namreth’s laugh echoes throughout the chamber. “You will give up the Rings of Fate, one way or another. I know you have them on your person. I can feel them on you. The Whisting calls to me.”
Shit, shit, shit.This is bad. I ball the front of my skirt in my fists under the table and glance at the guards, who stand motionless but alert around the room.
Namreth narrows his eyes on Dietan. “Tell me, nephew, how does it feel, knowing you’ve come so far only to fail in your quest?” He takes another sip of his drink, waiting for an answer. “I think I shall enjoy watching you suffer. Slowly.”
“Do what you will to me, but Aren has nothing to do with this. Let her go.”
Namreth puts a hand to his heart. “Now, why would I want to separate you two lovebirds? By the goodness of my own heart, I allowed you to share quarters last night. Did you not enjoy it? Am I not merciful?”
“If you are merciful, let her go. Aren is as useless to you as the desert to a fish.”
Here he goes, trying to get rid of me again, trying to keep me safe. But I won’t let him. The Oracle told me to never leave his side for the good of Albion. Did he forget that already? I want to shout at him, tell him he doesn’t speak for me, but Namreth shifts in the throne and leans forward, never taking his eyes off Dietan.
“Useless to me? I think not. She is very dear to you, isn’t she, nephew? And that ismostuseful.”
Dietan barks a laugh as if it is the most ludicrous thing he’s heard at this most surreal luncheon. “Aren? She means nothing to me.”
Excuse me?
I stare at him, body buzzing with alarm, and then slowly, I realize what he’s doing. He’s still trying to protect me. Trying to make Namreth believe a lie.
Right?
But Dietan doesn’t even look at me. His gaze is firmly on Namreth.
“Nothing?” Namreth’s smile is crafty. “A strange thing to say about your bride-to-be, isn’t it?”
“Aren and I aren’t really getting married. It was a cover so I could travel through the country without sparking suspicion. I don’t love her. She’s nothing to me. Just a country serving wench. I was just using her to get where I needed to go.”
Well, that’s harsh. He wants to protect me—that’s why he’s saying all this. Loveless marriages are common among royalty—just look at his own parents. But why would Dietan have admitted to the whole ruse?
I glance around the room at the servants. Surely, he knows it’d be disastrous for the truth to get out that the Wedding March was a lie from the start.
Hold on… Wait… My gaze flicks to the water in the goblet. So does Namreth’s.
No, it can’t be. But then I realize that my brain itches, just like it did in Katharine’s home.
She’s nothing to me. Just a country serving wench. I was just using her to get where I needed to go.
All three of us drank the henbane water.
Dietan is telling the truth. I’m nothing to him. He’s finally admitted it. I can barely sit upright. It’s like the world is toppling underneath me.
Everything he said to me last night was a lie.
I turn to Dietan, who sits rigidly in his chair. His face is solid, impassive, turned away.
