‘I have to go,’ he said, heading for the chamber door.
His mother didn’t try to stop him.
Outside, Kaidon straightened, watched him march by, then jogged to catch up with him. ‘That bad, huh?’
The corridors of the palace were quieter than usual, but Tariq walked as if he were being chased.
Kaidon fell into step beside him, reading his mood. ‘What the hell happened in there that has you in such a state?’
‘I want you to find out everything you can about the herb nightbarrow,’ Tariq said without preamble. ‘Every known use. Every known source. Who handles it.’
‘Understood. Am I permitted to ask why?’
Tariq stopped at the doors to his private quarters, a hand pressed to the carved wood. ‘She didn’t do it.’
‘Who didn’t do what?’
He took a few painful breaths before looking at him. ‘Aisha didn’t kill my father.’
Pity flashed on Kaidon’s face. He stepped back from the door. ‘I’ll bring you everything I find.’
It was late in the afternoon when the knock came at Tariq’s door. He rose from behind his desk, where he had been trying to work since the meeting—and failing. ‘Come in.’
Kaidon entered, looking windblown and still in his riding cloak.
‘Well?’ Tariq asked.
The guard closed the door behind him before launching into his findings. ‘It’s indigenous to the highlands of Slevaborg. We don’t grow it here, and trade was banned nearly forty years ago. Even on the black market, it’s rare.’
Tariq leaned on the desk, waiting for him to continue.
‘If someone wanted to smuggle it in, they’d have to know how to dry it properly first. It rots within hours unless treated using a very specific process.’
The tips of Tariq’s fingers pressed against the table. ‘What sort of process?’
‘That’s the interesting part.’ Kaidon walked closer. ‘No one knows. The method’s kept by the imperial alchemists in Slevaborg.’
Tariq’s mind raced. ‘Then it’s highly unlikely that Aisha or her sisters would have access to the herb or know how to process it if they did.’
‘Slevaborg alchemists sharing their secrets with covenweavers? It would never happen,’ Kaidon said.
Tariq exhaled, slow and steady. The relief was as heavy as all the lies. But then the anger hit. The Emperor had found a way to kill his father, destroyed his marriage, and severed their alliance with Avanid, all without blame or consequence.
‘I gather from all this that the delegates knew things about your father’s death they shouldn’t have,’ Kaidon said.
Tariq closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, his vision sharpened. ‘We were duped.’
Kaidon crossed his arms with a sigh. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’
‘Stop playing the Emperor’s game.’ He straightened. ‘Halt all trade with Slevaborg, effective immediately.’
Kaidon appeared taken aback by this. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘That will be viewed as an act of open defiance.’
‘That’s exactly what it is.’ Tariq knew it would send shock waves through the empire, but he didn’t care. He moved around his desk and sat on the edge of it. ‘Let him feel it. Let the whole empire feel it.’ His mind was no longer heavy with doubt, but with something far more dangerous: resolve. ‘Fetch the scribe. I have some messages to deliver.’
