Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (47 page)

“It would've pained her to miss His Majesty's sending off,” Lord Adiur said, sweeping out an arm in the direction of a refined woman by the table, white-gold jewellery blending against the white of her suit. “She'll be over to see you in a moment, I've no doubt. But I'm afraid I don't know your companion, Lady—?”

Lord Adiur fixed his eyes on me, graciously attempting to draw me into the conversation, and I wondered how I was supposed to introduce myself without lying or demoting his estimation of me. The presence of a farmer with no ties to the capital at a King's wake was likely as undesirable in Isin as it was in Thule, but Katja took it upon herself to say, “This is Rowan. She's as new a friend as she is dear.”

“Well,” he said, standing straight and clasping his hands in front of him. “I shan't say it's a pleasure to meet you. Not on today, of all days. I'm certain you'll understand my wish to save such praise for the next time we meet, under thoroughly different circumstances. Although I would be remiss if I didn't tell you how glad I was to know Lady Kouris has a companion at such a time.”

I smiled at Lord Adiur, but didn't dare to speak. Thankfully, Katja reclaimed his attention, and their conversation turned from pleasantries to those of a more personal nature. They spoke in the sort of hushed whispered that implied a pretence of privacy in such a crowded hall, and Lord Adiur was convinced that Katja must know something about who was to take King Jonas' place. I did my best to seem lost in my own thoughts, lest Lord Adiur try enticing me to reminisce about King Jonas with him.

He left after some minutes with a bow, claiming that he'd taken up more than enough of Katja's time.

“I
do
wish I got to see him more often,” Katja said, sighing wistfully. “He's a cousin of Uncle Atthis, actually. The resemblance isn't striking, I know, but they have always been on good terms. Ah—Rowan, dear. I do apologise for presuming to speak for you just now, but it's better that you don't say anything. Your accent would give you away immediately, and there'd be no end to the questions we'd have to endure. It's for the best. Wouldn't you agree?”

I'd been doing all I could to keep my lips pursed together, but I found myself reluctant to agree with her. Sinking back into the seat, I listened for any more snippets of conversation between Kouris and King Atthis, but I made nothing out over the din, until the servant who'd interrupted them before returned once more.

“King Atthis, Lady Rán,” he said, short of breath. I turned in my seat to hear Kouris called Rán once again, and saw her horns rise over the backrest. “I apologise for interrupting you, but—”

“For the last time, it's just
Rán
. Or
Representative Rán,
if you must give her some title,” King Atthis said, clicking his tongue in irritation. “If you're here to update me on the wine situation, I strongly suggest that you turn on your heels and do all you can to avoid me for the rest of the week.”

“Be easy on him, Atthis,” Kouris grumbled. “Can't you see he's all out of sorts? What is it, lad?”

Curiosity getting the better of me, I leant towards Katja's seat, looking between our two chairs. King Atthis' elbow blocked much of my view, but I saw the servant clearly enough. It was the boy who'd brought me breakfast at Claire's behest.

“I beg your forgiveness, You Highness, but please—” He paused, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. “Ianto Ires has come to seek an audience with you.”

The name meant as much to King Atthis as it did to me.

“And you have brought this to me
now
because... ?”

“Pardon, Majesty. Ianto Ires, he claims to speak for—for the rebels.”

There was a decided pause. In the balcony, a cellist drew his bow across the strings, sending a low, resounding note through the hall.

“Why today, of all days? Does he believe me so weakened by grief that I would tear my country apart and condemn the scattered pieces back to war?”

“I-I'm afraid not, Your Majesty. He wishes to claim responsibility for King Jonas' death.”

A dozen people overheard the servant, and a murmur rippled throughout the room, catching Queen Kidira as it went. She rose to her feet, long white dress trailing behind her as she outpaced Akela across the hall. She didn't stop to question the servant, and the guards didn't have the chance to open the doors for her. She thrust them open herself, and Katja grabbed hold of my hand, pulling me along after her.

“Now, now. If everyone would remain where they are,” Lord Adiur said to the rumbling crowd, no doubt convinced that an assassin was within their midst. “Their Majesties will have this attended to in no time, I assure you.”

With his cousin handling the sudden discord, King Atthis slipped from the hall, and did what he could to keep up with Queen Kidira. Kouris and Claire followed, and I had as little desire as I did choice to go with them. Katja's fingers dug into my wrist, and she was too busy vying for her mother's attention to hear me say, “Katja, I don't think...”

We tore through a corridor and turned sharply, heading across a bridge connecting two parts of the castle. Katja's hand slipped from my wrist, and when she entwined her fingers with mine, I didn't pull away. I was caught up in it, now. I followed along, glancing over my shoulder at Claire. She had less of an idea of what I was doing there than I did, and I shrugged my shoulders when she tilted her head to the side, questioning.

I thought that Queen Kidira was storming blindly through the castle, but it became apparent that there was only one place these sorts of visitors were taken; it was the same room Claire and I had been interrogated in by Akela, door swarmed by a dozen guards. The servants who weren't in the kitchens, busy cooking up course after course for the wake, flooded the corridor, sharing descriptions of the man within for those who'd missed his entrance.

Those who caught sight of Queen Kidira scattered, and the few who'd not been so lucky held their breath in her presence. The Queen, however, was not concerned with them. Akela dismissed all but two of the guards, and slowly, silently, the crowd around the door skulked back into the castle's winding corridors, not yet daring to whisper amongst themselves.

“I am having this man brought before Your Majesties in the throne room, yes?” Akela asked.

“We speak with him here. He wants a spectacle, and I will not give it to him,” Queen Kidira said, and King Atthis nodded in fierce agreement. Akela was about to unlock the door, but paused when Queen Kidira caught sight of Katja and said, “Why are you here? Return to the hall.”

“I will not,” Katja said defiantly, eyes brimming with tears once more. “This man, he... he's responsible for what happened to uncle, isn't he? I need to see him for myself.”

“
Kouris
,” Queen Kidira warned in a low voice.

“
Mother
,” Katja returned, not flinching under the Queen's gaze.

Frustrated, Queen Kidira shook her head to herself, and turned on her heels. Katja squeezed my hand, taking it to mean that she'd won the right to follow her mother in, and Akela twisted the key in the lock, unfastening the bolts.

Ianto Ires had been left alone in the room, wrist shackled to one of the bars in the window. He sat at the table regardless, arm held high, doing what he could to act as though it was of no discomfort to him. Regardless, he shifted in his seat more than he would've liked to. He was a neat looking man, well-dressed, dark hair meticulously combed into place, but more than that, he was unspeakably calm. Ianto didn't panic at the sight of the King and Queen, nor did he cower when Akela walked up to him, spear still in hand.

Katja tugged me into the far corner, as out of the way as we could be in such a small, crowded room. Queen Kidira and King Atthis stood in front of Ianto, neither one of them saying anything, both content to let Akela handle the interrogation. Queen Kidira refused to give Ianto the satisfaction of anger flaring within her, but the King was having a harder time remaining calm. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists, teeth grinding together.

Claire was the last into the chamber. She pulled the door shut behind her and Kouris charged across the room, hands slamming down on the table.

“You did it, did you? You put a knife in Jonas?”

Ianto flinched, but seemed more confused than alarmed.

“I made my terms clear to the servants,” he said, leaning to the side to speak around Kouris. “I will only speak with the unlawful rulers of these lands.”

Akela blocked his view of the King and Queen, mimicking Kouris' pose with a little less force.

“What? You are not understanding who you are seeing?” Akela asked, sounding utterly bemused. “Do not tell me you are thinking your northern Queen dead!”

Ianto stared up at Kouris, lips parting, eyes narrowing. After a moment, he brought his free hand to cover his mouth, letting out a sharp, breathy laugh between his fingers.

“Dear me. I was but a boy of ten when you were
executed
for your crimes—that is, if you aren't simply another pane, propped up by these frauds. I would not be surprised either way! They have kept you hidden in some cellar all this time, I expect,” Ianto said, laughing until it tangled in his throat, leaving him choking. His eyes watered and he pounded a fist against his chest, doing what he could to clear the last of it out of his throat. No one in the room stepped forward to help him. “I am a sick man, a very sick man indeed. I shall waste neither your time nor mine, whether or not you are who you claim to be.”

Despite what he said, he pursed his lips together, looking between Akela and Kouris, waiting. He wanted to be questioned. He wanted them to have to grasp for answers. I stared at him, no longer wondering what sort of man would stab another to death in cold blood; I wondered what sort of man could sit there, brimming with pride, eager to brag about it.

Kouris raised her brow when Akela glanced at her, giving her the go ahead to continue the interrogation.

“You are saying you are the one who is sneaking into the castle and murdering the King, yes? You are coming here and claiming responsibility for it all?”

“
I am saying
that I am
claiming responsibility
, but I am not
killing your King
with my own two hands,” Ianto said in a mockery of Akela's accent, leaning towards her. Akela held his gaze, and his lower jaw trembled, as though his lungs were on the verge of betraying him again. “I set the plan in motion, but I cannot claim to have a drop of Jonas' blood on my hands. I'm merely here as a formality.”

No one but me was surprised to hear that. King Atthis stepped forward, but Queen Kidira gripped his arm, pulling him back.

“You are not doing it yourself, you are saying? Well, I am certain you are wanting to tell me who is doing it, yes? You are not wanting to face the gallows alone, are you?” Akela asked.

“Indeed, indeed. The man you are looking for goes by the name of Tom,” Ianto said plainly, slouching in his seat.

“Tom,” Kouris repeated, standing as straight as she could, horns clipping against the low ceiling. “How many Toms do you reckon you know, Commander?”

“Too many to be counting! Two of my cousins, they are named Tom. At family gatherings, it is very confusing—and to be making matters worse, one of them is naming their son Tom. And there are many Toms in my squads, and all of them, they are good, honest men. Well! One of them, I think I am living without him quite easily, but he is not having the guts to skin a rabbit, much less to be stabbing a King.”

Kouris put a hand on her chin, nodding thoughtfully for effect.

“Can't be saying it's a particularly common name amongst the pane, and there's a shortage of Toms down in Canth, but I could probably draw up a list of ten or eleven knocking around Asar.”

Irritated that Akela and Kouris were entertaining themselves at his expense, Ianto cleared his throat, attempting to pull their attention back onto him. While they were busy mulling things over, Queen Kidira took matters into her own hands. She stepped forward, parting Akela and Kouris with an outward sweep of her arms.

Queen Kidira stood in front of the table. She didn't slam her hands down on it, or even lean towards Ianto, and still, the chain around his wrist rattled, chair legs scraping across the stone floor.

“Ires. You've had your fun,” Queen Kidira said in a low voice, more exasperated than exhausted. “Tell me who Tom is, lest you force me to find out whether the Commander's aim with a spear is as good as it is with an axe.”

“A threat!” Ianto was nothing short of delighted. “But I needn't tell you who Tom is. He works – worked, I suppose – here. For no fewer than nine months, as it happens. But you never took the time to know him. The people who work for you are nothing but insects, are they?”

Queen Kidira didn't rise to the bait. She sighed, turning back to King Atthis, and said, “We'll have to talk to Ocari. They'll know who he's talking about,” and had no more questions for Ianto.

He shuffled in his seat, eyes darting around the room. He caught my gaze for half a second, debating whether it was worth riling me up, and when Akela and Kouris began talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers, Ianto leant forward, and said, “Well. Too proud to ask me why I did it?”

King Atthis scoffed, and when he spoke, his voice was more controlled than I'd expected it to be.

“The blanks are easily filled. You are part of the rebel group intent on tearing Kastelir apart, and you assassinated King Jonas in order to send a message—that your people are numerous and far-spread. You do realise you'll be executed for your part in this, don't you?”

“As I said, I'm a very sick man,” Ianto grumbled, and when King Atthis said nothing more, he took the opportunity to keep on speaking. “My organisation wants you to know what we're capable of. For thirty years you've sat on the throne—and what claim did you have to our old territories, much less to this farce of a Kingdom? You made your own borders, ignored the treaties set up between other clans. Executed those with better claims to power than you, and declared that your rule would be short-lived. That others would be voted onto the throne, that we'd all get a chance to shape this new land. And look what came of that. Three decades later and we're having to carve the crowns off your heads.”