“Such a convincing liar. My dear, it really is an exceptional talent. I almost believe you myself.”
Jiarine froze. She knew that voice. She knew it as well as she knew her own. “M-master?”
The man in the corner threw back the hood of his cloak to reveal a face she knew. A face she had known and loved and hated since she was a foolish teenage girl who sold her soul to a handsome Mage in exchange for wealth and power.
Kolis Manza cocked his handsome face to one side and gave her the charming, slightly quizzical smile that had won her heart so long ago. “You know, I had almost forgotten how truly beautiful you are.”
“Master Manza! Thank the gods you are alive.”
His expression hardened instantly. “The gods had nothing to do with it, I promise you.” He took a breath and forced another small smile, but this time she realized there was something different about him. A coldness to his eyes that hadn’t existed before.
“M-master? Why are you here? Why did you have me brought here?”
“As it so happens, this is one of the few rooms in the prison with privacy wards woven into the stone. With a Mage on the loose, the Fey are scanning every fingerspan of the city, looking for magic that might give away Master Nour’s position. But thanks to the construction of this room, any magic woven in here is undetectable outside these walls.”
He sighed and walked towards her. “You see, Jiarine, in exposing himself, Nour has cast the light of suspicion upon you as well. Given our past association…and my upcoming return to court, this will not do. Your integrity must be beyond reproach so that no hint of suspicion should fall on me. Unfortunately, no matter how skilled a liar you are, there are ways to elicit the truth from you. Which is why, my sweetumagi, as much as I regret it, I must permanently erase from your memory every delectable moment we have spent together as our true selves.”
“Master?”
He leaned towards her. “Don’t worry, Jiarine. This won’t hurt.” He smiled coldly. “That part comes later.”
“Tortured?” Annoura stared in disbelief at the Dazzle kneeling before her. “You expect me to believe that Lady Montevero—a Favorite in my personal court—wastortured? You must be mistaken, Ser! She was simply taken for questioning, and to be detained until a Truthspeaker could arrive to verify her word.”
The Dazzle bowed deeply and kept his eyes lowered. “I went to visit her this morning, to bring her a few trinkets to help pass the time. There isn’t a fingerspan on her poor face that isn’t bruised and mottled…and her hands, her poor hands. All her fingers were broken. She was barely conscious. All she kept saying was, ‘I am innocent. Tell the queen I am innocent.’”
Annoura rose to her feet. She clenched her hands at her waist to keep them from shaking. “Get out. All of you. This instant!”
The courtiers knew that tone of voice. Every last one of them leapt to their feet and beat a hasty retreat.
Annoura began to pace, her mind a whirl. First, Master Fellows’s near death, then the revelation about Lord Bolor, then the manhunt across the city that still—even a full day later—had turned up nothing.
All that had been upsetting enough, but this news…this defied all belief.
After Master Fellows had named Lord Bolor as his attacker—and an Elden Mage to boot—she had, of course, wondered if Jiarine’s fervent attempts to insinuate him into Annoura’s presence were part of some plot. That was why she had not objected when Dori insisted on taking Lady Montevero to Old Castle for questioning.
Buttorture! She never would have approved that. Not for Jiarine. At least, not without some sort of proof, beyond baseless supposition and guilt by association! After their last months of friendship, Jiarine deserved that much, at least.
Annoura marched over to the wall and yanked on the bellpull. Her Master of Chambers arrived a few chimes later, just as she was pressing her royal seal at the bottom of a parchment. “Your Majesty?”
“Summon my son this instant. And send Lord Hewen and a carriage to Old Castle Prison with this.” She held out the sealed parchment. The ink was still damp, and the handwriting her own rather than the royal calligrapher’s flowing script, but that seal on the bottom made the document as legitimate and binding as any law of Celieria. “Have him deliver this royal writ of release to the prison master. I want Lady Montevero under this roof and in Lord Hewen’s care before dinner this evening.”
The Master of Chambers bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty. I will see to it personally.”
Three bells later, she and half the court stood waiting in the courtyard as the royal carriage carrying Lord Hewen and Lady Montevero rolled across the paving stones and came to a halt at the foot of the stairs.
Her skin mottled, her blue eyes dazed with pain, Jiarine Montevero clung to Lord Hewen’s strong arm as she made her trembling descent from the carriage to the courtyard.
“Lady Montevero!” Annoura swept across the remaining distance, her arms outstretched. “You poor dear. I sent the release the moment I heard.” She had intended to clasp Jiarine’s hand, but seeing the mangled state of her fingers, Annoura chose to grip the lady’s face instead and deliver a light kiss upon her cheeks.
“Good gods!” a rich, masculine voice declared. “What’s happened to her?”
Annoura’s heart stilled for a moment. She turned her head to see the familiar, stunningly handsome nobleman standing beside the open door of a second coach she hadn’t noticed coming in after the first. Her eyes drank in the long-missed sight of his face, his eyes, the careless tousle of his hair as it fell across his brow.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Hewen murmured, “we need to get Lady Montevero inside. In her current weakened state, she could easily catch her death of cold.”
The admonishment snapped her back to her senses. “Of course.” Turning to the courtiers, she waved two of her current Favorites to her side. “Come quickly. Help Lady Montevero to her rooms. You there…” She caught sight of the dim-skull Dazzle. “Mairi, have the servants stoke the fire. Tell cook to send hot tea and keflee—and something warm and nourishing for the lady to eat. Quickly!”
As the courtiers carried Jiarine Montevero inside, Annoura turned to the unexpected new arrival to court, the handsome, too-long-absent Favorite who had occupied her thoughts far more than was prudent. “Ser Vale.” He still had the power to make her pulse pound when he fixed his gaze so intently upon her. He looked at her as if she were the center of his universe.
