Karvek’s head tilted, like a predator amused by its prey. “No, you don’t.”
The dancers moved out of the center of the room as Karvek took over their space.
Sheshar didn’t seem to recognize the warning on Karvek’s face.
“Are you going to bare your neck to him, make the 18th submit to his rules?” the man demanded, face red with anger.
“Of course not.” Despite his words, Karvek did not sound like he was trying to comfort the man.
“Is this just because you were reje—”
Karvek’s face hardened, growing even sharper than usual, his eyes nearly black. And he moved quickly, lethally, forming his dark forged blade and dragging it across the man’s neck.
Sheshar’s mouth gaped, coughing up blood, as his hands flew to his neck.
Iryana could only stare, struck by the sudden violence.
The man fell, the soldiers near the door catching him by the shoulders and dragging him out of the room. There was another pool of blood on the floor.
She knew he could kill, had seen it firsthand; but this felt different, unexpected. She’d seen soldiers talk back in the hall, heard them challenge Karvek’s authority. He’d dealt with it harshly, but she’d never seen him moved to violence over it. He was always calculated. But why did he need to kill this man? Was it to keep him from revealing something about Karvek? Her mind spun. Something concerning the King Commander, or was it his daughter that Sheshar mentioned?
“I apologize for the interruption,” Karvek addressed his officers. “Continue.”
The music struck up again, the dancers taking back the floor, ignoring the blood, while Karvek walked back to his chair. To Iryana.
She sat stiffly, composing her face.
After Karvek sat down, his body had none of the casualness it had held before. His muscles were tense, his jaw tight. After a few moments he turned to her, the look somewhere between a demand and a question.
She searched for the right answer. “They must learn to trust you. You take care of what is yours.”
The words felt like sawdust in her mouth, but Karvek was clearly pleased by them. His body relaxed, still intentional, but more at ease.
“I’m glad you can see that. And I am glad to see you can keep your composure in a situation like this.” He swept his hand out to the room around them. “I hoped you would. I find it a valuable skill.”
She swallowed. Was this a test? For whatever he was going to ask of her next? Iryana’s eyes flicked to Karvek’s other guests as she tried to imagine what it could be.
He leaned closer to her, voice dropping low. “I’d like to share a secret with you, but you can’t tell anyone—yet.”
She nodded quickly. Another chance, another test. “Of course. You know I won’t tell a soul.” She had proved that to him, at least.
“I will be meeting with this man who has named himself King Commander, and with the generals under his control, at Redni Castle.”
She’d heard people talking about the castle; the place the King Commander had set as his seat of power. His trust in her twisted her gut, because she knew it wasn’t freely given. He’d want something from her. And she doubted she’d truly understand what it was until it was too late.
She couldn’t ask for an explanation; this evening had made that clear, so she just nodded. “I look forward to seeing your plan play out.”
But she worried it would be like when he visited Midmarket. That it would be the start of the war.
“My plan?” he asked, amused.
“Yes,” she forced a slight smile. “You always have a plan.”
His smile widened. “We know each other so well.”
Then he leaned closer. “I know you’re in a rush to earn your place. But don’t worry. You’re so close.”
“I am?” her voice was thick with hope.
