The door opened a fraction, just enough to show a lovely female face surrounded by chestnut waves. She rubbed her eyes. “I was sleeping, I’m sorry.”
“Lenka, is my father here?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He promised he would come tonight after the feast. I waited for him, but then I fell asleep.”
“Do you know where he might be?”
“No. Is he not in his room?” She addressed Amron with little deference, as if she’d known him for a long time.
Liana had never bothered with the inner workings of the royal court, but someone once told her—mistaking her for Amron’s mistress—that being a royal mistress was a job. This young woman probably treated it as such, with practical, efficient self-interest.
“No, and the guard told me he was with you.” Amron frowned. “Lenka, when you talked to my father tonight, did he seem strange? Was there anything odd?”
The lady twisted a long curl around her finger, thinking. “Idon’t think so. He was tense about Amril’s wedding, but he was just his usual impatient self. He hardly ever shares anything with me.” She raised her eyes to Amron’s face. “Is there trouble?”
“Perhaps.” Amron shuffled in the doorway. “Did he seem interested in someone else? Some other girl, a guest taking his fancy?”
The king’s mistress didn’t seem offended by the suggestion. “You know what he’s like—if he wants something, he gets it.” She frowned. “I heard him mention the orange garden, though, to someone. I don’t know who it was.”
“A woman or a man?”
“What do you think?” Lenka bit her lower lip, plump like a cherry, and her eyes switched to Liana, studying her in the weak light. “And who’s your new friend? I haven’t seen her before. I know you like them rustic, but this might be too coarse even for you.”
Liana bit her tongue, reminding herself that the arrow wasn’t meant for her.
“That’s none of your business,” Amron said. “Thank you for your help, Lenka. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
She pouted prettily but didn’t persist. “Well, good night then,” she said, threw one last incredulous glance at Liana, and closed the door.
That left Liana and Amron alone in a dim corridor.
“He might have returned to the feast,” Liana suggested. “People will be dancing and drinking in the great hall till dawn. Perhaps he was in the mood for company.”
“No, when the king leaves, he doesn’t return.” Amron pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. “If I order the guards to find him, they’ll raise the alarm, and Darin has his hands full with the Seragians as it is. If my father went for a quiet meeting in the orange garden, or—gods forbid—a tryst, I’ll end up looking like a massive, incompetent fool.”
“Could he be in the garden, taking a quiet walk, then?”Or fornicating among the potted citruses, more likely.
“I don’t know. He does whatever he pleases. Perhaps he’s alone somewhere, perhaps he’s meeting someone, who knows. Oh, damn.” A faint note of desperation slid into his voice. “If Darin figures out it’s the Elmarrans before the king can hush it up, Abia will burn.”
“Find Darin, then, and worry about your father’s preferences later,” she said.
“If I tell all this to Darin, he’ll understand what I’m doing, but he won’t have any choice but to go after Roderi, and I won’t have the authority to stop him.” He shook his head. “Gods, I wish my father were predictable for once in his life.”
The palace was nothing like a forest, but still, Liana was a huntress and a tracker, and the prospect of hunting someone down made her heart beat faster. “Come on, we won’t solve anything by standing here,” she said. “Let’s check the garden, we have nothing to lose.”
Gardenwas too generous a word for the terrace filled with oranges, lemons, and other citrus trees in large pots glazed in white, blue, and yellow swirls. Cascading jasmine covered the walls, providing the illusion they were surrounded by nature. A small, dolphin-shaped fountain in the center provided a soft background murmur which couldn’t disguise two quarreling voices.
Amron touched his lips with his index finger, sliding silently around the massive pots, Liana at his heels.
The quarrel turned into a struggle, followed by a curse and a cry. Amron ran.
A figure sat on the gravel, pressing his belly, blood leaking through his fingers and dripping on the gravel.
“Father!” Amron fell to his knees beside the king.
From the corner of her eye, Liana saw the other figure runningbetween the trees. She recognized the shape, the movements, in an instant, and dashed after her.
“Liana, don’t!” Amron called. “I need help.”
