Page 83 of In the Ravenous Dark
This man killed my mother. Or at least ordered her deathandmy father’s. The urge to throw Kineas aside like so much trash and fly at the king with sigils and dagger alike is almost as strong as my thirst.
Because while killing Kineas might be one of Alldan’s goals, I don’t really care about him. The king, however… he’s mine. Alldan wants him dead, anyway. Ivrilos might want to stall to see where his brother is hiding, and I’ll help with that if I can. But if all I can do is end Tyros, that’s good enough for me.
“I need to talk to you,” I force myself to say instead, nearly ascalm as him. “Just you. And him out of necessity.” I nod toward Kineas without moving the dagger. “Otherwise he’s not worth the air he breathes.”
It’s my only chance to get the king alone. And I need to get him alone. I’m not going to be able to get close enough to kill him if he’s surrounded.
Tyros cocks his head at me, and for a brief second—very brief—he reminds me of Ivrilos with his predatory focus. The gold laurels in his hair flash. “Why? And why would I agree to that?”
“Because I have a few things to say to you alone, and because you want your heir to live?” I pull Kineas’s head back harder, and he gasps as if on cue. “Or maybe you don’t care. Let me tell you now: I don’t care ifIsurvive this, and so I’ll do whatever I must to get your attention.”
The king’s blunt eyes don’t leave mine. And then he smiles, which nearly makes me shiver. “Trust me, you have it. But where is Ivrilos in all of this? Why hasn’t he stopped you?”
Ivrilos is standing by my side, but of course Tyros can’t see him.
“He can’t,” I say. “I’ve blocked him.”
“You figured it out. Clever girl,” the king says. And then he blinks slowly. Once. Twice. “All right.”
Tumarq and Marklos both look at the king in surprise, but it’s Penelope, in full fighting attire, hand on her sword pommel as if ready to cleave me in half, who says, “You can’t honestly consider humoring her?”
Tyros doesn’t even look her way. “I’ll consider what I wish.”
“But, Your Majesty—brother,” Penelope insists, “she’s wearing a death shroud. She may have been to the necropolis. What of Delphia—yourdaughter—or…” She doesn’t say the name, though Crisea is obviously her primary concern. Ever the warrior mother. “Aren’t you worried this girl is taking revenge on our family for the perceived wrongs against hers?”
The king shrugs a single shoulder, barely. It’s like a boulder shifting. “Check the necropolis,” he says to Penelope, without taking his eyes off me. “See if anything is amiss. Report back and don’t dawdle.”
She doesn’t look appreciative of his dismissive tone, but hers is unmistakably grateful. “Yes, Your Majesty.” She peels off, heading back down the hallway, a few of the guards accompanying her at her signal. I don’t miss the flash of relief on Tumarq’s face, even as worry flickers through me.
Bethea, Delphia,Japha—I hope they’ll all be fine. That’s all I can do. At least Crisea should be safe, because she’s royalandnot plotting to escape. As safe as she can be in the necropolis. But the king seems to mark how little he cares about them when he adds, “Marklos, go find Lydea. Guard her with your life.”
I guess I’ll have to kill Marklos later, if I survive.
The captain bows his head, flashing the sigils that climb up the side of his neck, and departs immediately, with only a glare for me. He doesn’t take anyone with him. He probably doesn’t need to. His bloodline is long and powerful enough to guard…
Lydea. I hope she can still get herself out of the city. In making my move, I’ve drawn attention toher, too, not just myself, and now she has Marklos to deal with. Whatever the outcome, by attacking Kineas so soon I’ve betrayed her importance to Thanopolis. It’s not just Skyllea that understands it now.
I’m still selfishly hurting her, even as I’m trying to give myself up. The thought makes me sick. I try to swallow the feeling.
“Care to step inside with us?” I ask, as if this is a casual encounter in the streets and not a standoff in the royal palace—with the king, no less. I begin backing toward Kineas’s destroyed apartment doors, dragging the crown prince with me.
Tyros follows slowly, step by careful step, his tunic’s gold embroidery glinting, his eyes unblinking. It’s unnerving. WhenTumarq and Acantha make a move to follow, he waves them off. “Stay,” he says.
Now I know where Kineas gets his tendency to treat people like dogs.
I slip back into the outer room of the crown prince’s chambers, dodging debris. Ivrilos is somewhere behind me, but I face forward, holding Kineas and watching the king. Tyros traces my steps without looking down, like we’re dancing. Once we’re fully inside, I use some quick sigils to drag the doors closed and brighten the lamps.
“Well.” The king smiles, holds out his hands, palm up, as if in offer. “What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me why you killed my mother.”
He doesn’t even bother denying it. “She had no use other than reining you in, and I believed we could do that well enough without her.”
“How’s that going for you?” I spit, holding the knife tighter against Kineas’s throat. His indrawn breath is harsh. Frightened.
“Yes, I admittedly overestimated Ivrilos’s abilities as your guardian,” Tyros says, unconcerned, folding his arms, “as well as underestimated your father’s influence. I didn’t end him quicklyenough, apparently, before he could put ideas into your head.”
I don’t glance at Ivrilos. “My father wascooperatingwith you! First for Cylla’s sake, and then for my mother’s and mine. And you betrayed him. You only wanted his bloodline.”
