“Palace guard will take her from here,” he shouted. “Get yourself some libations in the barracks and lift a toast to the end of the Crimson Widow of Amarid. Huzzah!”
“Huzzah!” all the soldiers around her shouted, and Ahnna managed to choke out ahuzzahas the gates slowly closed behind Katarina’s carriage.
She stared at the spiral, her eyes climbing higher and higher to the palace barely visible in the clouds. The palace where her enemy lurked, so close and yet so painfully distant.
But not out of reach from someone born in Ithicana.
84
Keris
“Queen Katarina of Amarid, YourGrace,” the herald repeated, as though the silence in the room was due to confusion over the Crimson Widow’s identity. “She is in the custody of Lord Archibold Bennett.”
“What?” William gave a sharp shake of his head. “He was supposed to execute her after she was captured.”
Keris heard the words, but it was not William’s response that interested him. Alexandra’s expression was blank, but all the color had drained from her face, her lips an alarming shade of gray.
Whereas Lestara’s skin was flushed pink with triumph.
“Well, well, well,” Ronan said. “It would seem proof has arrived. I wonder, Alex, do you think Kat will keep your confidence now that you have stabbed her in the back?”
The way he spoke reminded Keris abruptly of how his father had spoken about Petra, and Petra about him. Rulers in the old guard who knew their enemies so well that they were almost like friends.
“I think she will say whatever she needs to stay to save her own neck,” Alexandra replied. “Her word is worth even less than yours.”
Getting to his feet, Keris said, “I, for one, would like to hear what the Crimson Widow has to say. If what you say is true, Your Grace, she murdered my family, and I would have justice.”
Ronan gave a sharp nod. “I would have the same.”
William hesitated, then waved one hand. “Bring her in.” Then he leveled his finger at Ronan. “You will be silent. If you lead her with accusations, you will render her testimony useless and all here will know you to be a faithless liar. The stakes are high, Ronan—Cardiff needs this alliance more than Harendell.”
It was like watching a pot on the verge of boiling over, but rather than exploding, Ronan inclined his head. “As you like. We will hear the Crimson Widow speak.”
Uniformed soldiers brought Katarina into the throne room, and though she was tiny and old and frail, it struck Keris that no one in the entire room, not even Ronan or Alexandra, held the gravitas of the queen of Amarid.
In deference to her rank, servants had dressed her as befit a queen. Katarina wore a crimson brocade gown with a train that fanned out behind her. Her wig was an identical hue, and it had been styled into a tower above her head and woven with chains of gold, giving her at least an extra foot of height. Her cosmetics were heavy, skin painted white and lips red, eyes rimmed with dark kohl. To cover what were rumored to be rotten teeth, she wore a false set made of gold and jewels, the feral smile on her face causing it to glint in the sunlight.
The epitome of defiance, and though nothing she could say would save her life, Keris was struck with the sense that the Crimson Widow yet had a card to play. Though Fiona didn’t move from Keris’s ankles, she leaned toward the queen, nose sniffing the air, but remained silent.
The soldiers pushed Katarina to her knees before the Twisted Throne, but instead of lowering her head, the queen of Amarid stared William down and said, “You look like a child sitting upon his father’s throne playing at king, Your Grace. The crown does not fit your head half so well as Edward’s.”
William’s jaw tightened, but he showed uncharacteristic restraint as he said, “Be silent, woman. There are laws in the conduct of war inthe north, Katarina, and in poisoning innocent civilians, innocentchildren,you have violated them all.”
William’s voice caught on the last, as though emotion had gotten the better of him in the face of such awful acts, and it made Keris wonder what sort of man he might have been if he’d been born to a different life.
A young noble stepped forward, presumably Archibold Bennett. “We caught her in the midst of making a deal with the Maridrinians, Your Grace. Plenty of graves on Midwatch, and if there is an Ithicanian alive, we did not see them. We put a few of her soldiers to the question, and they all admitted to knowledge of the poison plot. She herself has been silent.”
Shehad been meant to be permanently silenced, judging from Alexandra’s pallor, but William only nodded. Lestara’s face was blank, but Keris didn’t miss how Bennett’s eyes flicked to her and then away again.
“There is no judge or jury, nor king, nor empress who would pardon you for what you have done, Katarina of Amarid. There are too many witnesses, too many corpses, and far too much proof of your guilt. It is fair and right that you be condemned to death.”
“Did you murder my sister?” Ronan stepped forward. “And my brother as well?”
“Ahh, we get to the true accusations,” Katarina murmured. “No one cares about the Ithicanians, they’re just an excuse.”
“Answer the question!”
“Well, I didn’t personally kill them, but yes, I gave the orders.” Katarina tilted her head. “But no one in this room cares about Cardiffians either.”
