The king muttered groggily, “Trei . . . my son. Where is he?”
Mage Marna met Rangar’s gaze. Bryn felt a ripple of fear. King Aleth was the only one who could absolve Rangar and had just heard proof of his innocence, and yet he still seemed to believe in his delirium that Trei wasn’t even dead.
“Aleth.” Mage Marna rested a hand on the king’s chest. “Alain of the Mirien has cleared Rangar’s name. Rangar had nothing to do with Trei’s death. It was a Mir spy by the name of Broderick, whose life fate has now taken in turn. Rangar is innocent. Do you agree?”
King Aleth turned to cough again. His eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were white. Bryn felt as though she could see the life fading out of him before her own eyes, disappearing into the steam.
“He’s so cold,” Rangar muttered, smoothing a hand over his father’s brow.
Mage Marna’s jaw slackened. Her eyes darted as she murmured, “His aura is changing. It’s . . . fading.”
“Val!” Rangar barked, and his brother immediately returned to the table.
“Aleth,” Mage Marna tried one more time. “Declare that Rangar is innocent! You must speak it!”
The king mumbled a few unintelligible words before breaking into coughs again. Bryn clutched her hands around her necklace, praying to the saints and gods alike to give him a moment of clarity with which to spare Rangar.
His coughs slackened into a moan, which transformed into a hiss, which then became silence. Bryn stared, jaw parted.
He’s dead.
For a moment, no one spoke. Steam continued to rise in loud bursts from the boilers. The room felt shrouded by it, like they had all escaped into the secrecy of a storm cloud.
Mage Marna tossed a quick look toward the bathhouse’s curtain door to ensure the soldiers and Alain were outside. Then she extended a long look between Rangar, Valenden, and Bryn.
She raised her voice loud enough so that the soldiers outside would hear. “Yes, my king. Understood, my king. Rangar Barendur is absolved of all accusations.”
A current of danger crackled in the air.
She lied for Rangar’s sake.
Bryn could hardly fault Mage Marna—in fact, she was grateful for the deceit—but it was a chief sin, even treasonous, to make false claims for a king. Mage Marna could be hung for it. Yet it was only the four of them in the room—Bryn, Rangar, Valenden, and Mage Marna. They exchanged silent looks for a few breaths until Valenden gave the first nod.
Then, Bryn nodded.
Then, Mage Marna.
Finally, Rangar dipped his head.
Mage Marna took a few deep breaths, then let out a low wail. “He’s gone . . . Aleth is gone!”
The soldiers rushed into the room to see for themselves. They immediately removed their helmets, bowing their heads.
“May his spirit be guided,” one said.
“May his spirit be guided,” the other echoed.
Mage Marna took a moment of grief and then cleared her throat. “Fetch Ren and the Deathkeepers to perform the rites on the body. Send word to the royal messenger to relay the announcement that the previous king has passed and that—” Her eyes snapped to Rangar, “—Prince Rangar shall be crowned as his successor on the morrow, after which the month of grieving shall commence.”
Dimly, Bryn registered that they’d missed their opportunity to get married. Her hurry had been in vain. Now they would have to wait an entire month to wed, opening them up to possible accusations of illegitimacy.
If we could have wed today, she thought,nothing further could stand in our way.
But as grave as those concerns were, she set them aside and focused on the tragedy in front of her. King Aleth had been like a father to her. She felt his loss keenly, and she knew Rangar’s heart must be breaking. She crossed to him, folding herself into his arms, and held him fiercely.
He pressed a trembling kiss to the top of her head. “May his spirit be guided,” Rangar whispered.
She closed her eyes.It’s okay, she told herself.Rangar is back. He’s safe. He’s cleared of the charges . . . granted, because of a lie.
