Page 8 of To Dance with Death

She’s listening to me. Questioning him. That counts for something. My shoulders relax, if only a measure.

“I met with Illian, yes,” he says. “However, it was merely to ensure the man I was marrying my daughter to was worthy of her. We discussed what our relations might look like moving forward, and how he might take care of her. As you can see, she is not well—though I did not know that he was the cause of her ills. And I certainly did not instruct him to kill King Rurik, of all the ridiculous stories! But such is the problem with these so-calledstills.They provide little context. One cannot derive the full truth from them.” He swings his gaze around. “Can you not see what is happening here? Can you not ascertain the truth? My daughter was part of Illian’s court, was abused by him, and so fell for Anton’s manipulative charm. Because I could not see the man Illian truly was—and because I refused her wishes to end an engagement that I had, unbeknownst to her, arranged when both parties were much younger—she now strikes out at me.

“She has been brainwashed by Anton’s court of liars into doing their bidding—a court that has always sought to weaken Brisendale. And now they seek to dethrone me by blaming me for their own horrific acts—and by rewriting the past, including the passing of my beloved wife, may she rest in peace…” His voice breaks—an excellent performance, I must admit.

The worst part is that some of them seem to buy the act. Eachmember of the Brisendali council, at least, looks aggrieved on his behalf. He intends for them to dismiss my claims entirely—and for a moment, I worry they will.

Except perhaps for Sofya.

“So far, all of this is all hearsay,” says a delegate from the Karithian Isles—a slight man with deep red-brown curls that flow over his floral robes. “May I remind the Syndicate to look at the facts? It is King Maksim’s word against Regent Bayard’s and Vastianna’s. Thestillsare interesting, but they only prove Illian’s crimes, and Illian is dead. And King Rurik was slain by a man in a Razami uniform.”

“If I may,” Prince Sundar cuts in, “I wish to also corroborate Vastianna’s story, and to speak on my mother’s behalf. Razam has no reason to have murdered King Rurik. Beyond that, we have never wished ill will upon Brisendale. We have no reason for it.”

“Was it not King Rurik who first denied your mother aid when the southern lands encroached on her border?” says the man.

“It was indeed, Lord Dameron,” says the Brisendali councilman beside Sofya. “I was there.”

“As was I,” says another from across the table.

“And what, I might ask, is Miss Stova’s motive for such claims against her father?” inquires a Kasimi delegate, her braids threaded with indigo silk as rich as her garments. She doesn’t look at me, though; hardly anyone does.

As if I’m not even here.

“Why, clearly, she has designs on the Brisendali throne,” Maksim thunders, gesturing back at his seat.

I grit my teeth.

“And yet,” says Sofya, “if the young Miss Stova wished for your crown, surely she would realize that her actions today would achieve the opposite. If her claims are true and you are indeed behind my brother’s death, your kingship would be revoked, as would her position as your heir.”

“Lady Sofya is correct to point out that Her Highness Vastianna has little to gain in coming forward,” says Prince Raiden, seeming far older than his seventeen years.

“Aside from bedding another king to faster gain a crown?” says a man beside Lord Dameron. “And we all know Anton’s reputation.”

My mouth falls open and I step forward, but Sundar halts me with a hand on my shoulder, leaning in. “Show any semblance of a temper, and they’ll use it against you.”

The room erupts into an uproar, voices piling on top of one another—so much it makes me dizzy.

“Calm yourselves,” the Lord Sovereign’s voice booms over the bustle. “We will accomplish nothing like this. Let us instead recount what we know so far. The evidence against Illian is clear. But while thestillsshow King Maksim and Illian together, they alone are not proof enough to condemn Maksim. And while Vastianna’s tale is compelling—and certainly plausible—the death of the late Lady Stova is one the Brisendali council may choose to investigate at another time. We must remember that we are here on account of the murder of aCrown—and King Maksim’s request for retribution. And thus far, we have forgotten there was another eyewitness to all of this.”

Anton.

My heart hammers.

And indeed, the Lord Sovereign turns to Gustav. “If your tale is true, why is Anton not here to confirm this story? Was he not the one to take the majority of thestills—and a direct observer to many of these claims? Was it not his seal clearly being replicated by Illian in letters that claim Anton was allied with Razam against Brisendale?”

“Letters,” Lord Dameron says, “that—as King Maksim has already pointed out—could have been Illian’s only way of bringing his brother’s treachery to light.”

I squeeze my hands into fists. To even suggest such a thing…

“So whereisAnton?” the Lord Sovereign demands of Gustav.

“Yes, and why did he name you regent?” asks Lord Dameron. “You have yet to explain.”

“That’s just it,” Gustav says. “Your Majesties, Anton regrettably fell ill. It’s why he felt he wasn’t fit to oversee Miridran for the time being—”

“Awfully convenient,” says a councilman. “Almost as if this is all another ploy.”

“Convenient indeed,” says my father, “when my reports say he was alive and well and last seen crossing the border into Razam with Sadira! Which is more proof of conspiracy between Anton and Razam.”