Chapter 21
Liana
Amron ran andLiana followed him to Amril’s bedchamber. It looked like a street brawl, not a wedding celebration. Amril was on his knees, restrained by his friends, looking sick, a puddle of vomit soaking into the carpet before him. The ladies of the court cowed in a corner, one was sobbing. There was no trace of his Seragian bride.
Invisible in her uniform, Liana retreated to the shadows in the corridor. Guards marched in, then her father rushed out without noticing her, followed by stunned courtiers who scurried away, pretending not to see each other.
Amron talked to his brother in the voice he used to calm down skittish horses and belligerent soldiers. For the second time since Perun dropped her in Abia, Liana was on the brink of believing that the damage could still be absorbed and Amron could still make everything right.
Then Melia came out, turned her head left and right, failed to notice Liana, and dashed down the corridor. Liana wanted to run after her and break her treacherous neck like a twig, but then Amron stepped into the corridor and said, “Liana?”
“You let her go,” she said. “You know everything I told you was true, and still you let her go.”
Behind him, servants entered the royal chambers to clean the mess. Amron motioned her to follow him to a quiet alcove, out of their sight.
“I’m going to see the king now and I want you to come with me,” he said.
“But your wife—”
“She’s gone to tell her father to get away from Abia right now, shut himself in Syr, and never show his face again.”
“In spite of his treason?”
Amron looked tired in the pale light as he massaged his temples as if staving off a headache. “It’s been mostly ineffective so far. The attack in the alley, your skirmish with that woman, Amril’s drunken escapade. Nothing irreversible or catastrophic. Tomorrow morning, Amril will be his most charming, humblest self when he apologizes to his wife, and what his charm can’t fix, my mother’s diplomatic skills will. Darin and his men will guard Abia against anyone who still wants to break the treaty. And my father—I hope—will do the reasonable thing and hush everything up.”
“And you’ll just let Roderi of Elmar go, unpunished?”
“The alternative is worse. If we admit we let a traitor wreak havoc among us, the Seragians will think us weak, or they will think we did it on purpose, and the peace treaty will be dead in the water. And if my father publicly accuses Roderi of Elmar of treason and proves his guilt, he’ll have to punish him. He’ll execute the Defender of the South to appease the Seragians. The whole Elmar will be up in arms in a heartbeat.”
Liana saw reason in his words, but the injustice burned her like acid. “And your wife?”
“My wife will be my worry.”
Liana’s heart sank. Always reasonable, always loyal. Why couldn’t he be rash and furious, for once in his life?
“Come, we need to find my father,” he said.
It was only a short walk to the king’s quarters, but when they reached them, a guard shook his head when Amron asked to see his father. “His Majesty is not in.”
“I see.” Amron nodded. “Is he where I think he is?”
“I’m sure Your Highness knows where to find him.”
“Did he take any guards with him?”
The guard shook his head. “He never does.”
A mixture of annoyance and resignation ran over Amron’s face, and Liana was certain it wasn’t directed at the guard.
“Let’s go,” Amron said. “We need to find him.”
Liana didn’t ask where they were going—she could guess. They passed the queen’s quarters and turned into a shadowy corridor. Amron stopped before a narrow door, took a deep breath, and released it slowly. If the king was doing what Liana supposed he was doing, it was no wonder that Amron was hesitating. Still, he raised his hand and knocked.
The door remained closed.
Amron knocked again, harder, and this time a muffled female voice said, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Amron. I need to speak to my father, please. It’s urgent.”
