It felt as though the temperature in the room abruptly plummeted, and Keris struggled to ask, “What do you mean?”
“It seems there was a reason for Ithicana’s silence of late. Plague has swept the nation, and reports say that the casualties are high.” William sighed. “May God have mercy on their souls.”
Zarrah sucked in a sharp breath and pressed a hand to her stomach, but all Keris felt was rage. “You’re lying.”
Alexandra pushed a folded piece of paper across the table, and Keris’s eyes latched onto Sarhina’s seal. With shaking hands, he picked it up, reading and rereading the lines, but his eyes kept catching on certain words.Plague. Quarantine. Fatal.
The page fell from his hand back to the table, and next to him, Zarrah whispered, “This is your fault. You blockaded them and starved them. What did you think would happen?”
William’s lip curled. “Blame Aren, if you must blame someone. Though he’s probably dead.”
The world turned red, and Keris balled up a fist to strike, only to be dragged backward by Cavendish. “You keep giving us more reasons to execute you, Veliant.”
It was just noise in Keris’s ears, because if his family was dead, he’d never forgive himself.
“Weather willing, we’ll send in ships to investigate,” William said. “But if it’s plague, we’ll need to keep our distance until it runs its course.”
“Or you could help them,” Zarrah shouted, leveling a finger at Alexandra. “You claim to be a follower of the faith, but you will be judged for this. The deaths of an entire nation stain your hands red, because this is all the result of your greed. There will be a reckoning.”
Alexandra had to have done this. Had to have somehow sent sickness into Ithicana the same way she sent infected cows into Valcotta. They couldn’t be dead. Lara. Aren. Delia…Keris clenched his teeth, feeling sick on grief and anger and guilt.
William coughed, then took a sip of his drink. “Emotions are high, which is understandable, but practically speaking, something will need to be done about the bridge. Trade must flow, and the fact remains that we cannot allow the bridge to be managed as it has been in the past.”
“You greedy Harendellian prick.” Keris struggled in Cavendish’s grip, but more guards moved to restrain him. “You did this. Youfuckingkilled them.”
“No, he did not.” Lestara’s voice filled the room, and Keris turned in his grip to watch her enter the room, dressed in a gown marred by travel. “But I know who did.”
79
James
It had been one ofthe most grueling ordeals of his existence getting Lestara to Verwyrd, and James had never felt more anxiety in his life than he did watching her ride alone across the bridge. Everything he cared about rested in the hands of a woman he had no reason to trust beyond the fact that they shared an enemy.
The type of hate that Lestara felt for Alexandra was not the sort that could be feigned, but more than anything, she feared the dowager queen. Lestara was Cardiffian. Her reputation was dark beyond measure. But worst of all, Lestara was of Edward’s choosing, and that was something Alexandra would never tolerate.
“I’m only safe as long as I’m pregnant,” Lestara had told him time and again on the journey, pressing her hand protectively to her stomach. “She won’t harm William’s son. But once he’s born…”
Hate, James could trust. Fear, he could trust. Yet as days passed and the Sky Palace remained silent, it became clear to him that he’d put his trust in the wrong place. Either Lestara had betrayed him or Alexandra had stymied her, but regardless, Ahnna and Ithicana still stood on a knife’s edge.
Which meant he needed to find a way to speak to William himself.
Georgie trotted his horse out of the gates, heading into Verwyrd, passing James where he stood hidden in the shadows. James took in his old friend’s expression, which was as grim as he’d ever seen it. Shadows of exhaustion darkened the skin beneath Georgie’s eyes, and his cheeks were hollow, as though he’d gone weeks or longer eating not quite enough food. Alexandra’s schemes had taken a toll on everyone, even if no one knew she was the one to blame.
With his hood up, James followed Georgie through the streets of Verwyrd to the large home belonging to the Cavendish family. His father, the Earl of Elgin, rarely left their estates in the north due to poor health, so the only other people likely to be here were the servants.
James climbed the stone fence, dropping to the soft turf right as Georgie dismounted his horse and led the gelding into the stables. Glancing around the shadowed yard to ensure no one was watching, James followed his friend inside.
“Boy!” George shouted. “Boy, where are you?”
James rested a hand on Georgie’s back. “Give the stable boy the night off, will you?”
His friend jumped as though he’d been stung by a bee, his horse sidling sideways. Georgie reached for his sword, only to freeze at the sight of James’s face. “Jamie? Good God, everyone thinks you’re dead!”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
Boots pattered against stone, and Georgie shoved James into a stall before the stable boy appeared. “There you are, lad. Here’s a silver to go buy yourself a drink with the other boys.”
“You don’t want me to stable your horse first, my lord?” the boy asked.
