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“No,” Nadine said. “We must hear this ne
xt man. That includes you, my love. Especially you.”
The next witness was a prisoner, bound in chains and surrounded by a half dozen guards. Ilse could not fathom who that might be. Another mage? An influential noble, once aligned with Markus Khandarr? It was an older man, with hair streaked in gray and white, and dressed in the same dun-colored prison garb Raul Kosenmark had worn.
The guards took hold of their charge and thrust him into a wooden chair, where they bound him securely.
Ilse drew a sharp breath as she recognized the man.
Theodr Galt.
He had changed since that evening, long ago, when he entered her father’s house. No longer the finely dressed gentleman, he sat bent and broken in the witness chair. His face was gaunt and discolored by bruises. His hair lay in gray and white clumps. He scanned the council chamber with furious eyes. When his gaze caught on Ilse’s, he stopped. His mouth moved and he attempted to rise. The guards thrust him back into his seat.
“Do not be afraid,” Olivia said.
“I am not afraid,” Ilse said. “I am angry.”
Galt did not wish to testify, that was obvious. He clamped his mouth shut. When the guards slapped him, he laughed, a high-pitched laugh that made Ilse grow cold.
“Why should I give you the satisfaction of obeying?” he said. “You will execute me no matter what.”
After a brief consultation, the council summoned a mage. Ilse could not tell who she was. She had silver-white hair, and her robes were dyed in the deepest blue. She laid a hand on Galt’s forehead. He struggled to escape her, but she merely smiled. “Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ei rûf ane strôm…”
She bound him with magic and ordered him to tell the truth.
“The truth?” he whispered. “All of it?”
“Everything,” she said.
He did. He talked of his desire for Therez Zhalina. His fury at her escape. How he joined the trade delegation from Melnek and how his path had crossed that of Lord Markus Khandarr. Many of the details sickened Ilse. She forced herself to listen, however, as he recounted his dealings with the Mage Councillor, Markus Khandarr. Treason, she thought. Treason to the king and kingdom, all for the sake of a few coins in taxes, and the satisfaction of revenge.
“Ilse, Ilse are you well?”
Marte, sounding anxious.
Ilse nodded. “I am. But I wish to go.”
“So do we all,” Heloïse murmured.
They hurried out a side door, and up the stairs to their private chambers.
* * *
THE INTERIM COUNCIL sentenced Theodr Galt to death. His execution would not take place immediately, however. He would spend a year in prison, in a cell deep below the palace, where he would be permitted no light, nor any visitors other than the guard who brought him a daily meal of bread and water.
Ilse heard the news without any joy. Death only meant death, not redemption. Would he comprehend, in his next life, the mistakes he had made in this one? She doubted it.
A week after that, the queen’s body was discovered in the river. The children’s bodies, all three, were recovered from a grave outside the city. Ilse tried not to consider which political factions would benefit from these deaths.
To her relief, the next few days distracted her from the matter of Theodr Galt and the queen. At Duke Kosenmark’s request, the council had assigned her new quarters, and the duke himself had settled a temporary allowance on her. When she protested, the duke waved away her objections. “You cannot be beholden to us. You do not need to be. The council knows you have served Veraene, and they are happy enough to provide. Besides,” he smiled at her with a dry amused smile that said he was nearly recovered, “you will have money from your family soon enough.”
Money. From Ehren.
A letter confirmed the duke’s words. The money she had inherited, which Ehren had in turn inherited from her when everyone thought her dead, returned to her once more. She accepted the new rooms gladly and hired a maid to oversee her clothes and the rest. Theda had served other nobles in the palace. She took on the task of hiring the several underservants Mistress Ilse would require.
Those were the easiest decisions Ilse faced. Soon after she gave testimony, a runner came to her with a letter requesting her opinion on matters between Károví and Veraene. It was signed Duke Feltzen.
I know you, she thought. You came to Raul asking for his advice. When he did not prove an easy target, you attached yourself to Armand of Angersee.
