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“We are changed, you and I,” Ilse said. “Changed by death. We fall into each new life weak and helpless, and yet we overcome. This is no different, my love.”
She leaned over Raul once more. This time, he did not turn his head away. Their lips brushed, his were fever warm and dry. She started to pull back, but Raul lifted a hand to her cheek. “Not yet,” he whispered. “Not quite yet.” And kissed her once more.
* * *
ILSE SPENT THE next three days recovering, while Nadine and the Kosenmark sisters tended to her needs. The Kosenmark family had taken her under their protection within their extensive suite of rooms, with the assurance that once she had recovered, she might petition the Regent Councillors for her own quarters. Until then, they would provide her with whatever she needed.
What Ilse needed was sleep and information. The sleep she could manage for herself, but for the information, she depended on Raul’s sisters. From them she learned what had transpired during that mad and chaotic night and the five days after. Duke Kosenmark had survived, battered, bloody, and more than a bit bruised, but alive. Baron Mann had vanished, only to reappear two days later from the depths of the sewers, his strange manic energy having leaked away and leaving him subdued.
“He is very glad to know you have returned,” Marte said. “If I did not know him better, I would say he was smitten with you. As it is, I can only say that you have earned his allegiance.”
Ilse ignored her comment. “What about Galt? I struck him down, but—”
Olivia smiled grimly. “He lives. The guards took him prisoner, and the council holds him as a vital witness to the events that night. For that reason alone, I am so glad you did not kill him, though I would have understood.”
Ilse wanted to laugh, but her throat hurt too much. She had spent all her courage and strength. Even weeping was beyond her.
Raul himself mended more slowly. Benno Iani healed the worst and most obvious of his injuries—the burns and broken bones. The fever took longer to expel and even once he could eat without vomiting it back, he was unable to stay awake longer than a few hours at a time. They had had to shave off his hair to dress his wounds. After that, he had insisted on keeping his hair shorn close to his skull.
Three weeks after Armand’s death, the trials commenced.
Ilse received her summons at night, after her daily visit with Raul.
“Do they think me guilty?” she said to Olivia.
Olivia shook her head. “I doubt that. But the city is in a panic. Our king is dead. We … I had not told you yet, but we have no heir. The queen and her children have vanished. My father believes they have escaped, but we’ve had no reliable news about them, only wild gossip. Lord Alberich de Ytel has organized a search for the heir and has vowed to uncover all plots against the king. That is in your favor, and my brother’s. Once we prove your innocence, no one can accuse you in the future.”
Ilse was not so certain, but the following day, she dressed in her new clothes, provided weeks ago by Duke Kosenmark, when she first appeared in his household. She would not give her own testimony until the third day, but she wanted to learn more about the events of the night Armand died and the days after.
The palace guards were summoned first. From them, the council learned of orders, ostensibly given by the king, commanding them to arrest Duke Kosenmark, his family, and other nobles connected to a supposed plot to murder the king. Did they have the orders directly from the king? Lord Ytel asked. No, but that was not unusual. The orders carried the imprint of Armand’s thumb, and came from Lord Markus Khandarr or his secretary.
A straightforward explanation, except that other squads had been ordered to arrest various different squads. The soldiers, those who had survived the night, remembered nothing more than a vague accusation of treason. Except the commanders for those squads testified to their loyalty, and insisted they had never received notice for such an arrest.
He wanted to create confusion, Ilse thought. He wanted to disguise his own actions while he eliminated all his enemies.
On the third day, Ilse was called to give her own story.
“Why did you come to Duenne?”
“To deliver a letter from Duke Karasek of Károví and to give evidence of Lord Kosenmark’s innocence.”
“When did you last speak with Duke Kosenmark?”
“The night before I stood before the king and council.”
“And with his son?”
“Before I brought the letter? On Hallau Island, where we hoped to send the queen of Morennioù home. If you mean in Duenne, I last spoke with Lord Kosenmark when he stood in chains, with a false order for his execution.”
A loud chatter rose from the audience. The council had to wait until that subsided before they could proceed with their questions. When they did, they were far gentler than Ilse expected. They requested, and she gave them, a precise account of that night, from the moment Nadine came to warn the family, to Ilse’s inspection of the orders for Raul’s execution, and then the events outside and within the king’s offices.
“Do you wish to know what happened in Anderswar?” she asked.
The chief questioner shook his head. “That is not necessary.”
Ilse held her breath a moment. Did that mean they knew how Markus Khandarr had died, and did not care? Or did they have other witnesses, to argue against her testimony? All the guards had died …
Dismissed, she took a seat in the gallery beside Nadine and Heloïse Kosenmark. “I should go.”
