“What about…”
“I’ll deal with that,” Damia jumps in, striding into the corridor and shutting the door behind her.
And she does. I’m not sure how, exactly, but by the time we’ve all said our thanks once again and prepared to leave, the body is gone. Most of the blood, too, though there is still a faint stain on the wood if you know where to look.
We step back out into the small street and lead our horses away. We’re more uneasy than when we arrived, and there’s little conversation until Damia catches back up with us.
“Is it done?” Leon murmurs.
“He’s Mariste’s problem now,” Damia says, her voice low, though the backstreets we’re traveling on are empty thanks to Fairon’s sensic magic.
She must’ve found some waterway to dump the body in. She catches my expression. “Don’t worry, I know a good aquari who’ll make sure the currents carry him far away. Whoever hired him won’t know what happened to the Ghost. They’ll likely just assume he took his payment and abandoned the job. Assassins can be untrustworthy like that.”
“Thank you, Damia,” Fairon says tightly. “Although I suspect the man who sent him was wise enough not to pay him up front. He usually is.”
“So are we going to keep dancing around the fact that we’re all thinking the same thing?” Alastor sighs.
“You mean that it looks like our grandfather knew the stone was dangerous and didn’t care that Fairon might get hurt?” Leon says.
“Oh, I think he cared very much,” Fairon says abruptly. “In fact, I think he wascountingon that stone killing me.”
Chapter 8
Leon
“So. They know,” Tira says to Fairon.
She adjusts her crossed legs on the bench she’s claimed underneath a broad-branched oak tree. Coincidentally, I think it’s one of a few Palquir gifted my grandfather as thanks after the war. They litter the palace grounds, which is where we’re currently meeting to avoid prying eyes and ears. Damia and Alastor are stationed as guards further out, between us and the palace, ready to alert us if anyone starts heading our way.
“Youknew?” Ana asks Tira.
“Don’t look so surprised. Fairon had to havesomeonehe could confide in when he realized his grandfather tried to kill him. Why do you think I didn’t come with you to see Frinach? I’ve already heard her story.”
“It’s true,” Fairon says, settling down on the bench beside her, his posture notably perfect beside her slouch. “I wasn’t sure who I could trust in Lavail after what I’d discovered. Tira was the one person I could be completely sure wasn’t in His Majesty’s pocket.”
“I don’t think I even understand what you’ve discovered,” I say. “I know he’s no saint?—”
Tira snorts. “Understatement of the century.”
I ignore her interjection, needing answers. “Why in the gloam would Grandfather want to killyou, Fairon? You’ve always been his favorite. The perfect heir. It was a nightmare for him when you were sick.”
Fairon grimaces. It’s so unusual for him to put his feelings on display that my dread deepens. “Because I found something—something he didn’t want me to see—and it was the first clue in a much uglier tale.”
“You’re going to have to start with three years ago, and Agathyre,” Tira says.
Fairon nods. “I was working on a project on military restructuring when I stumbled across old plans of the king’s detailing a strategy to invade Agathyre.”
If this is where itstarts, I have no idea where it’s going. I stare at him, and it’s up to Ana to break the stunned silence.
“He can’t do that. What about the treaty?” she says.
“A piece of parchment signed thousands of years ago?” Fairon shakes his head. “He doesn’t care about the treaty—or at least, he didn’t at the time he made the plans. He knew the dryads wouldn’t fight back, and back then, the Trovian monarchs were still massively in his debt from the civil war.”
“But why would he do it?” Ana asks. “What did he want out of it?”
“I asked the same question. He claimed it was so we wouldn’t have to rely on the dryads’ charity to heal our sick. He said we could put an end to the Agathyrians’ selfishly hoarding their viatic secrets and force them to share their knowledge with everyone. But he said he’d put the plan to rest decades ago, that I had nothing to worry about.”
“And you believed him?” I ask incredulously.
