As I watch him, only one question plagues my mind: Did he kill his father?
I’ve done my research. Kishori—the poison the imposterShadow Queen claimed she used to kill Arliss Vale—is a thick, purple liquid that acts quickly. It’s harmful in small doses, but not deadly. In large quantities, it’s lethal within an hour. When I saw Arliss’s body, he was already dead, and he hadn’t eaten breakfast. Which means he must’ve received the deadly dose in his dinner the night before. Kaidren was already living in the Vale manor at the time—it would’ve been all too easy for him to slip poison into his father’s meal.
“Lucien Kyler is unqualified for his current role,” Kaidren says. “He sits on the throne and yet he’s never won a Tournament himself. He hasn’t had to earn his position. He’s not like us—hardworking people who have had to fight to get where we are.”
There’s that expression again.People like us.
Kaidren is nothing like the Virdeians who fill this temple. He lives in a manor at the top of the mountain. He just inherited more money than any of these people will ever see in their lives. Despite that, his words strike a chord. The quiet crowd buzzes around me.
Virdei calls itself a Republic, but we rarely have elections. Unless scandal forces an Honorate out of the council, seats hardly ever open up, and the people seldom get to vote on anything. For one of the godlike beings on top of the mountain to descend from Widow’s Hall to speak with them is more than a rarity—it’s unheard of.
I crane my head, trying to estimate just how many people are here. It must be over fifty. Maybe even close to a hundred.
As I scan the crowd, I catch a flash of an indigo cloak. A Petruvian.
“Lucien Kyler does not care about you,” Kaidren says. “He does not care about anyone but himself. He has not failed on his promises—he failed to make you any in the first place. When was the last time someone in Widow’s Hall cared enough tovisit? Let alone cared enough tolisten? Never. Because everyone else at Widow’s Hall is a coward. They care only for their interests and the interests of their friends. I intend to be the opposite. To usher in a new future for our Republic.”
People start clapping. The energy within the temple swells with his words.
I keep an eye on the Petruvian cloak as it leans to the side. Its wearer mutters something to the person next to them, in a similar cloak. Their head turns as they speak. Lorwen Night. Whispering something to her husband, Taelon.
I push through the crowd to stand closer to them, hoping to overhear their conversation.
Kaidren is giving his signature waxy smile that shows off his perfect teeth. He doesn’t cheer with the crowd. He has a calm, quiet confidence. The kind that comes with the knowledge that he already belongs here and doesn’t need to shout in order to prove it.
I’m a row behind the Petruvians when the crowd has quieted enough for Kaidren to keep going. “This great Republic deserves better than what its current Praeceptor has done. When I win the Tournament, I will make it a priority to expand the academies. Right now, Virdei has two, and both are above the Collar. When I am Praeceptor, myfirstpriority will be getting the Honorate to fund more schools throughout the mountain.
“Right now, the council of honor that determines which Honorate are too disgraced to carry the title is composed only of those who live above the Collar. I will expand this so all of Virdei has a say in its leaders.”
Each of his pretty proclamations is met with excitement. The energy in this temple is tangible. I have to admit, in another context, I might be swayed.
The only issue: I’m on fire. Every word out of Kaidren’s mouth is a lie, and I’m the only one here who knows it.
People often say things they mean in the moment, but when the time comes to follow through, they balk. Luc does it to me all the time. Kaidren is different. He’s disingenuous from the start. Heknowshe won’t change anything, even now, but he says it anyway.
I press forward until I’m right behind the Nights.
“Remind me why we must make a farce of negotiating with these people,” Lorwen mutters. “They don’t even respect their king—”
“Praeceptor,” Taelon corrects her.
Lorwen brushes it off. “Same thing. Is this not treason?”
“They’re a Republic, Lo.” Taelon sounds bored. “They can say what they want.”
Kaidren is still speaking, but I’m less interested in his platitudes than I am in the Nights.
“Well,Isay that it’s freezing,” Lorwen mumbles. “When can we leave?”
“When it’s over. His Majesty expects reports. It’s our job to keep him apprised of the Tournament. Especially considering his upcoming plans for—” He cuts himself off and looks around, ensuring no one is nearby.
I duck my head, keeping my hood low.
Taelon continues, voice even softer than before, so much so, I have to strain to hear. “Ophera,” he hisses.
“I don’t know why His Majesty insists on playing games,” Lorwen grumbles. “This bastard here has more acclaim than their king. If the people don’t respect their leaders, why should we respect the treaty?”
“Because it is treason otherwise.” Taelon sounds less borednow, and more annoyed. “Thesepeople have no respect for their rulers. Butwedo. You’d do well to remember that.”
