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Raul inhaled sharply. “Why did Armand release you, Benno?”
Iani shook his head, still smiling. “Armand had nothing to do with it, my friend. It was Markus Khandarr who released me. That’s how the court works, you know. Khandarr speaks, the king obeys. I kept disbelieving it, and so does everyone else. Otherwise the entire court would—” He broke off, frowning at his hands.
“Was he like this last night?” Raul asked Emma.
She met his gaze with hard bright eyes. “Oh no. Last night he couldn’t speak at all. Khandarr wouldn’t let him.”
Iani shuddered. “I told him. I told Markus that one man should not have that much power. No one.” Again he blinked, as though trying to clear his vision. “Khandarr struck me then. Odd how he likes to use his hands instead of magic, or magic when hands would do. Ah love, I should not have told you that part,” he said softly to Emma, who had begun to weep. “I will survive.”
“What happened?” Raul said, just as softly as before.
“Treachery,” Iani whispered. “Ambition. The ingredients of any court. A heady mixture edged with poison.” He paused, chafed his hands. “No, let me tell it properly. From that first day, when I arrived in court. Markus Khandarr summoned me at once to his private chambers. He said that if I practiced magic without his permission, especially if I crossed into Anderswar, that he would have Armand execute me for treason.”
“He is a monster,” Raul said, his voice close to breaking. “I knew that years ago. Benno, you have not answered my first question. Why did Markus let you come back to Tiralien?”
“To bring you a letter. A very important letter. Here, read it. I know the news—he made me watch—but I will not … I cannot not say it. Not yet.”
Iani slid an envelope from his shirt and offered it to Raul. Even a few steps away, Ilse could see that it was thick expensive parchment, the color of new cream. Warily, Raul leaned over the table and took the envelope from Iani. Almost at once, he gave a startled exclamation and dropped it.
“What is wrong?” Ilse said.
Raul did not move except to rub his hands together, over and over until Ilse’s skin crawled. Emma Theysson was silent. Lord Iani waited with preternatural patience. Finally Ilse bent down and picked up the letter from the carpet.
Magic. Magic so thick and strong it stung her fingers. She recognized the signature, too—Markus Khandarr’s.
Silently, she handed the letter to Raul. “Open it,” she whispered.
He took it, shuddering. When he broke the seal, light flared along the paper’s edge, and Ilse felt a gust of air against her face. Raul gave no sign that the magic had affected him, but she could see the effort it took for him to fold back the flap and open the letter. She caught a glimpse of a few short paragraphs written in a square black script, before Raul turned the letter so that only he could read it.
His jaw tightened. Then, abruptly, his face turned gray.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Lord Dedrick has …” Raul spoke with obvious difficulty. “This is a letter to inform me that Lord Dedrick died two weeks ago. He … chose to ride a stallion that he could not master and lost control. The stallion pitched him over the side of a cliff onto the rocks below. Lord Khandarr wished me to hear the sad news as quickly as possible.”
Ilse reached toward him, but Raul shrugged away from her touch. “There’s more.”
Of course. There was always more. “Go on.”
“When questioned, Lord Dedrick admitted that he and I had been lovers. He also admitted that he loved me still, in spite of how I betrayed him, and would do anything to regain my affections.”
“That was hardly a secret—”
“No.” Raul smiled thinly. “But Markus likes to hear people confess their secrets. I learned that in court.” Then he glanced at the letter, and his face went blanker than before. “Would you like to hear the rest?”
She wanted to wrap him tightly in her arms and shut away the world, but he was beyond any such refuge now. “Tell me,” she said as calmly as she could. “What else does the letter say?”
“He said he knew about Dedrick’s spying. He knows everything about our couriers and our agents. Faulk is dead, by the way. So are Faulk’s brother and Rusza Selig. You might not know her name—”
“I know her.” A round-faced woman who had a deep gurgling laugh. Dead now.
“She was a merchant,” Raul went on, ignoring the interruption. “She carried letters for us sometimes. The charge for all of them was possession of treasonous documents. Armand had them executed and their bodies thrown into the garbage pits. He even mentions you, my love.”
Ilse’s throat closed. Of course he would. She and Raul had not hidden their love from the world. Quite the opposite. “What does he say about me?”
“He remembers you from Lord Vieth’s banquet last winter. He also questioned Dedrick about everyone in this household, and of course, poor Dedrick could not hide anything. He said …” Raul paused and closed his eyes. “He said I loved a woman named Ilse Zhalina, beyond all reason and hope and honor.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
