Page 2 of To Dance with Death

We had hoped to petition the Syndicate and show them thestills,but my father beat us to it. He summoned them instead, calling for war, for permission to invade Razam in retaliation for the death of King Rurik. The Syndicate set sail at once for Brisendale.

But I was responsible for Rurik’s death; Illian was going to haveAnton slain had I not done it. And that death was blamed on Razam on account of the Razami outfit Illian had insisted that I wear.

Yesterday Gustav sent word that he, along with his royal envoy, was leaving for Brisendale at once. He plans to demand an audience and prove both Anton and Queen Sadira’s innocence through the images thestillsdepict.

But I worry that might not be enough.

The Syndicate needs to know the full truth about my father and how he rose to power. How he murdered his own wife and threw her off a balcony when she tried to protect his daughter from an arranged marriage to Illian after overhearing his plans.

The testimony of an eyewitness.

I board a ship at first light.

After buttoning my bag, I curl my arms around Ishu one last time, scratching a spot on the back of her neck. Anton’s pet tiger—a gift from Queen Sadira from when he first visited Razam—has been my only real source of comfort since Gustav and Laurent returned to Miridran. Since arriving, she’s opted to sleep with me as opposed to anywhere else—though I attribute that more to my room being Anton’s whenever he visited Razam in the years previous.

I wish she could come with us. At least when I leave, Sadira intends to send her to his new suite.

As I pull back, I notice the sheaf of paper crumpled underneath her large white paw. A piece of parchment. With great effort, I lift her paw and pull it out, only to wish I hadn’t. It must have fallen from the shelf above, where I’d left it to gather dust—the paper with the written prophecy Anton had shown me weeks ago. Without my consent, my eyes dip to the scrawl.

From Beauty foretold, a trap unfolds,

A return to the living, a plight of souls,

Eyes of shadows, glazed like mist,

Whose touch will kill, and lips will kiss,

Consumed by darkness, His heart a snare,

Those around Him will remain unaware.

Beware, beware, His time is near,

Through one of three sons, He shall appear,

A jewel in His palm, a path divine,

With the Fate of Morta, He will align,

When Crowns divide, and nations collide,

Blood will run, high as tides.

During the Gathering, I had thought it referred to Illian. But so had everyone else. I had been unaware that Anton was the one who came back to life. Though Gustav had known that, as had Basile, neither thought Anton could ever be corrupted.

I’m not sure I believe it still.

“Your escort awaits.”

I straighten at Queen Sadira’s voice. She pauses at the threshold of my room, her regalia a stretch of flowing, fuchsia silk that sweeps the floor. Warm lamplight flickers dimly over her features, softening them when she tracks the paper I hold.

“We are not condemning him to this fate, Vastianna.”

I swallow. It’s as if she read my thoughts. “I know. It’s just…hard to leave him like this. Alone, secluded, thinking everyone betrayed him, abandoned him…”

She comes to sit beside me, prying the parchment from my hands. “It’s what he asked for. A warning he chose to heed.”

He had demanded we prevent him from getting free and becoming Moranya’s pawn—though we still don’t know what she wants from him. Why she made this bargain in the first place.