Page 119 of Thorn Season
Keil stood taut as a bowstring, fists clenched, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Shouldn’t this be handled in private?”
“I don’t recall asking for your advice, Ambassador. Why don’t you settle in with the rest of the audience.”
“Audience?” Keil hissed. “This is to be a show?”
“This shall be whatever I want it to be,” Erik said softly. “Welcome to Daradon.”
Keil’s eyes darkened. “Think well on what you’re about to do.”
At that, Erik turned fully. “Careful, Ambassador. That almost sounded like a threat. Remember, your immunity only protects you so long as you remain passive.”
“Erik,” I said, dizzy with panic. “You have diplomatic relations to think about.”
“Lady Alissa is right,” Keil said, his stare fixed on the king. “My empress extended a hand of friendship toward you. I wouldn’t recommend knocking it aside.”
“Hmm.” Erik looked him over blandly. “That would be quite the tragedy. Especially since you’ve been so very amiable with my court, Ambassador. Attempting to foster all manner of...friendships.”
The king increased pressure around my hand, and my breathing quickened. Keil must have heard the change, because he glanced at me for half a second—his only giveaway that Erik had touched upon a truth. But the brief locking of our eyes was worse than a continued stare; our gazes skimmed like flint and steel, with a spark-forming friction.
And I feared it had given away enough.
“Your empress knew our laws before sending you here,” Erik said with a calmness that contradicted my thumping pulse against his palm. “If she’s as smart as you say, she wouldn’t risk future peace because her ambassador doesn’t like how we handle lawbreakers.”
Keil faltered, and I knew: The empress wouldn’t back him in this.
He had obeyed her once before—had held back at her command—and his sister had suffered for it. What would it take for him to defy his empress now?
His eyes flickered, like he was trying to work out the answer himself.
With a cold smile, Erik turned back to Junius. “Well?” he drawled. “Nothing more to say?”
Junius held the king’s gaze for longer than he should have. With pained reluctance, he unfastened his bonestone earring and sank to his knees.
“I submit to your judgment,” he said quietly, mechanically. “On behalf of the Jacombs, I beg forgiveness, my king.”
His mother must have said those same words at the Jacomb trial—must have set her jewelry on the marble floor just as Junius did now, in ultimate submission. She had pleaded ignorant of housing Wielders, and Erik had pardoned her.
But now, the Jacombs couldn’t pretend. They had voluntarilyexhumed those Wielders. They had knowingly taken the risk.
And I’d given them the means to do it.
The room held its breath as Erik considered. Then he cocked his head and said, “I think I’ve had my fill of Jacomb jewelry.”
My stomach dropped. Erik nodded to his guards, and Junius didn’t struggle as they hauled him forward.
He would die because of me.
I tugged on Erik’s hand. “Exile him from court,” I said, desperate. “Let him endure the humiliation.”
Before Erik could answer, Carmen’s voice trilled out: “Be reasonable, Cousin.” She elbowed to the front of the crowd, her face ashen. “Junius is one of us. Give him a slap on the wrist and let us enjoy the evening.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
As the gentry murmured in agreement, and a hopeful smile pulled at Carmen’s lips, Erik’s expression sharpened.
“Does my court agree with the princess?” he called. “Do you all believe that treason should go unpunished?”
That quickly, the courtiers ducked their heads. Some whispered, while others cleared their throats as if preparing to speak up. But just like when Erik had aimed that arrow at Perla’s foot, nobody spoke up.
