Page 132 of The Endless War

“She’s lying,” Royce shrieked. “I am loyal! Please!”

The mob was pressing toward them, the women without weapons bending to pick up rocks, expressions feral.

“My God, Keris,” Lestara cried out. “Why didn’t you execute him when you had the chance? You might have saved us all!”

If he hadn’t been so angry, Keris might have admired her perseverance.

“Executing my idiot brother would not have spared us,” Keris shouted above the noise of the crowd, “because it would not have stoppedyoufrom conspiring with Petra Anaphora in a twisted plot to make yourself queen!”

His words rippled over the mob, shocked silence following in their wake.

“Lies!” Lestara snarled. “Desperate lies! While you were gone, I watched over Vencia. I am the Savior of the People.”

“Tell that to the dead,” he said, and when she refused to look at the corpses, he caught her by the hair and forced her to her knees. “Look at them. Look at the people who died because their lives were worth less than your desire to be queen.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Lestara said between her teeth. “I’m innocent!”

Keris laughed, knowing he sounded like his father and not caring. “There is nothing innocent about you, Lestara. But if you confess, perhaps I’ll show mercy.” Then he shoved her.

Lestara toppled forward, falling to land on her knees on the pile of bodies. She screamed in horror as her hands sank into rotting flesh, the pile shifting and moving beneath her weight.

“Confess your treason and I’ll let you out,” he said, watching as she crawled to the sides of the pit and tried to climb out. But the women in the mob surrounding them had been the ones with the shovels, and they’d dug deep.

“I’m innocent! Please, Keris. Please, you know I’m loyal,” she howled. “You know I love you.”

Keris glanced down at his brother, who was on the ground beneath Athena’s booted foot. “Ah, yes. How better to show your love than to conspire with my enemies and then jump into bed with my brother.”

“I’ve conspired with no one.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she looked to the mob. “He said he didn’t want me. Broke my heart and left me alone. What would you have done?”

“I doubt any of them would have picked up a pen to conspire with Petra Anaphora.” Keris rocked on his heels, his calmness gone, rage having taken its place. “But that’s what you did. When I refused to make you queen, you tormented my little sister until she gave you my plans; then you sent the information to Petra. Forged a letter with orders that would leave Vencia ripe for the taking.” Bending down, he met her gaze. “Petra got what she wanted, but given that I still live and breathe, it appears you did not.”

“That’s not true! Why would I conspire to destroy Vencia and then provide warning that the Valcottans intended to attack?”

“So that you would be namedSavior of the People?” Keris brushed dust off one of his sleeves, then gave Royce a long look. “Thereby making yourself a valuable ally to the man next in line to the throne just in case your bedroom skills weren’t incentive enough.”

Royce paled. “Lestara, is this true?”

“It’s not true! He’s lying because he needs a scapegoat!”

Their conversation was repeated back through the mob, the same accusations and denials over and over, but Keris kept his eyes on his brother. “Didn’t you question why one of our father’s wives just happened to receive critical intelligence about Petra’schangedbattle planjustin time to evacuate?”

“She said her father has spies. That they give her information.”

“You really believe thatCardiff’sspies discovered information that ours failed to learn?”

Royce appeared ready to be sick in the dirt. “Sarhina has the spy report. She can show it to you.”

Keris regarded the second document Athena had given him. It was written in the language used in northern Cardiff, so he could only read some of it, but in truth, the language didn’t matter.

The handwriting did.

“Petra wrote this herself,” he said, handing it to Sarhina. “I’ve seen her writing before, though there are others who can confirm if you choose not to believe me.”

“A forgery!” Lestara shouted.

“Why would one of your father’s spies forge Petra’s writing in a report to you?”

Lestara didn’t speak, but it was far from silent. The mob was in the thousands, perhaps in the tens of thousands, the camps full of the survivors having emptied to come hear the explanation of why their home was ash and rubble.

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