Page 100 of To Dance with Death

“General,” he says, “the Syndicate does not gather here until tomorrow, and I don’t believe you were invited to my court.”

General, not king.

Gustav’s refusal to acknowledge my father’s position does not go unnoticed. Not by my father, and certainly not by his men.

I bite back a grin, proud at his boldness. Beside me, Anton scoffs. But I notice he’s stopped trying to get me to leave. He wants to know what’s about to happen.

“Yourcourt? Laughable,” says my father, “considering so many have asked you to step down.”

“Have you come here to sling insults, Maksim? Childish, even for you. My guards will escort you out at once. A shame you traveled all this way.”

“It’s only an insult if you take offense to it, Regent. I speak only the truth.”

“State the reason for your presence or see yourself out.”

“It would be my pleasure,” my father announces loudly, gesturing broadly to the room. “I have come as an act of mercy. A gesture of goodwill. I have for you an offer that might spare your lands from further discord.”

“We will not entertain an offer that puts Miridran in debt to Brisendale.”

“Ah, but my offer is not foryou,Regent.” Before Gustav can interject, he adds, “I know your true king is not here. In fact, I have it on very good authority that Anton Orvere isdead.”

Because of what Sundar had told him.

“In addition, I am told you have my daughter, Vastianna Stova, in your custody; my men spotted her here in Ansa just yesterday.”

My heart stutters. Had someone seen me? Or is that a lie, too?

“You had her kidnapped from Brisendale—right from beneath my nose!”

My father turns from Gustav, addresses the court. “Force your lying regent to step down. Denounce Miridran’s alliance with Razam. If you do, I will not punish the people of Miridran for acting in league with those who killed our king.” He swings his gaze back to Gustav, dismissively, then pivots on his heel. “Choose wisely,” he tosses back over this shoulder. “Tomorrow, when your king fails to appear, your doom will be sealed.”

The blood drains from my face. He came to instigate a civil war—or force Gustav into surrendering to those who might ally with him—one day ahead of the Syndicate deadline.

Worse, if Miridran abandons Razam, Razam has no chance against a Brisendali invasion.

I swing my gaze toward Anton. Did he hear all of that? I suppose he would have, when it doesn’t contradict what he believes—that Gustav and Sadira are allied. That they stole his crown. Yet his expression is unreadable.

Then the shouting begins. I turn just in time to see my father exit, furious courtiers pushing toward Gustav, his guards rushing forward to keep them back. Of course my father wouldn’t need to stay; he knew his plan would work.

Whether Gustav steps down, or his court splits into a civil war, it doesn’t matter. My father achieved what he came to do. He came to sow discord. To cleave his enemy’s court in half. Divide the people and make his war easier.

“You had His Majesty killed! I knew it!”

“Just as we suspected!”

The cries of outrage only multiply.

“We refuse to shed Miridranian blood on Razam’s behalf!”

“Imprison the regent!” someone else shouts.

“No,” a lord says, his voice booming above the others. “We should have his head!”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The chaos only multiplies.

Some call for Gustav to step down. Others call for his death.