Page 102 of Hellbound

“Who was the first?”

“Vezna Beranek, my aunt.” Her voice was proud and strong.

“Your family has a deeper history with the Sevrant and the royal family than I had expected…” She sipped from a mug of warm tea mixed with lemon and honey.

“She had a tenuous relationship with Karsan and mysteriously died around the same time as my mother.” Varka’s eyes grew sharp and looked through Ksenia, instead of at her. “But we’re going to find the truth.”

“Aren’t you concerned that he’ll catch on and execute you as a traitor?”

“I’d be a fool to say I’ve never considered the possibility. But my family is well-connected. Karsan knows this, and I suspect he wanted to use us in some way.” A harsh bitterness edged Varka’s voice. “Here we are now. One bastard son, two dead matriarchs later.”

Something snapped in her, and she reached her hand forward across the table to grasp Ksenia’s.

“Senka. No matter what happens behind those walls, don’t forget that I am your ally.” She leaned closer; Ksenia could smell the wine on her breath. “People will try to influence you or attempt to gain influence. Be wary of who’s nearby.”

Ksenia moved her food around her plate, appetite gone. “What about your brother’s motivations?”

Clearly, he was loyal and obedient to Karsan. But at the same time, he seemed more cogent than the rabble, even around his father.

“The crown, I would assume. Karsan has no official heirs. Ravenka died in childbirth. He’s the only son Karsan has, albeit illegitimate.” She swigged the rest of her spiced wine, then wiped her mouth on a napkin. “Though he will never sit on the throne. Karsan keeps him strung along like a puppy doing his bidding, but never in the twenty-eight years since he was born has that man told him explicitly that he will succeed the throne.”

Ksenia frowned. “Karsan will eventually die. What will he do with the throne then?”

Varka’s fingers rapped on the table. “Exactly. It’s been a topic of speculation in the court for the last decade. It’s why so many nobles trip over themselves to please the butcher king.”

Well, that and because of Radegast’s compulsion, but Ksenia didn’t interrupt Varka’s explanation.

What a pitiful existence. For Bohdan to dedicate his entire life to one man’s whims, only to come up empty-handed.

Ksenia felt a little sorry for him.

But her sympathies evaporated when she remembered how she ended up here in the first place.

She turned over another question in her mind. “Is it true that Prince Radovan was Envorsen?”

Varka stilled. “Radovan and Bohdan were thick as thieves growing up. Sort of like brothers, commiserating in Hearth, but then separated by opposite sides of the war.” Her knife sliced through a veal cutlet. “Bohdan was the one to turn him in for treason.”

Ksenia stilled. She tried to imagine the reasons for which she might betray Danika, but hit a dead end.

“Now, are you ready to get to business?” Varka waggled her brows, her lips stained with wine, already pushing her chair away from the table.

“Lead on…” Ksenia followed suit.

“Dear Sevrant, freshly born…I daresay that you’ve been hiding something from me…” Varka tossed over her shoulder before she spun around to face Ksenia on their path to the library.

A massive, circular table had been placed in the center of the room. Carved from solid dark and light wood, the tabletop design resembled a compass with radiating spikes pointing in the cardinal and diagonal directions.

Strewn over it were open books, random assortments of missives and parchments, inkwells, and pens, all in a complete disarray.

Varka had been busy.

Ksenia quirked a brow. “And what might that be?”

“One of the key reasons I chose you to be my champion: you are a bondsmith, and you are immune to Karsan’s compulsion—aren’t you?” Varka peered up at her, her chin tilted down.

Ksenia bit the tip of her tongue. She knew she hadn’t been subtle, but she wasn’t sure if Varka deserved the whole truth.

Ksenia held her gaze, impassive. “You know about his compulsion?”