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“Not yet, but I’m sure he’s closing in.” They suitably terrorized the entire castle staff in their zealous search.
Adley hums. “They have so much on their plates already. I would be more than happy to enlist my soldiers to help.”
“No need. I prefer them right where they are.” Half of them outside Cirilea’s wall, the other half scattered across the east, hunting for poison.
“Very well.” He smiles, as if my continued refusal to allow Kettling’s army inside my city doesn’t make his teeth grind. “I do applaud you for your swift actions. It was wise of you to close the castle to outsiders, and limit the opportunity for your enemies to act again.”
I have plenty of enemies still left within the castle. I’m looking at one now. Thankfully, I’ve relegated them all to the west wing to minimize contact. “I’m pleased to receive your approval. I do seek it so.”
If he catches the sarcasm in my tone, he ignores it. “And the tributary? Has she provided any insight?”
“Besides that she never took the poison willingly? No. There was nothing out of the ordinary in her days leading up to last night.” If there had been, Boaz would have gotten it out of her. I told him to go easy on her, but I don’t know if those words exist in his vocabulary.
“The culprit knows what they’re doing, then. When will you hold her execution?”
The thought of watching Sabrina hang stirs my anger. The mortal has only ever wanted to satisfy me. She’s an innocent pawn in someone’s game, and now she sits in a dungeon cell, awaiting judgment. “I haven’t decided yet.” But I will miss her, regardless.
“You mustn’t wait long. Swift and severe punishment, visible to all, is critical.”
“I haven’t lacked in that regard.” I make a point of sighing heavily. “Is there another reason for your visit, Adley?” He hates when I drop his title. I do it as often as possible.
“In fact, there is.” He pauses, notices Kazimir standing nearby. “Surely, you have something more important to do than eavesdrop on His Highness’s courtly conversations?”
“No, actually, I don’t.” Kazimir’s expression remains stony.
I give him a nod to move away, struggling to hide my amusement. We both know I’ll repeat everything Adley says the moment he’s gone, but giving the lord the illusion of respect—albeit reluctantly—is to my advantage.
Satisfied, Adley shifts his focus back. “Given all that is transpiring in the kingdom, I feel it would be prudent of His Highness to reevaluate things.”
“In what way?”
“The royal wedding, for one. You have arbitrarily set it for Hudem, but I would advise there is no need to wait—”
“We are not moving up the date of the wedding. Do not suggest it again.” If it were up to Adley, we would have been married within an hour of announcing the union. He’s stopped just short of accusing me of stalling. But I’m walking a fine line here, and I do need to keep up pretenses. “The castle staff is working hard to prepare for the date we’ve set. I do not want to overburden them. They’ve already been through so much.”
His fleeting grimace morphs into a smile. “Very well. Might we also discuss Islor’s traditions of Presenting Day?”
“Presenting Day isn’t until next Hudem.” The first of the year, when mortals of a certain age are offered for bidding as tributaries.
“Precisely. Which gives the mortals more time to organize, more time for this poison to find its way into their veins. If we were to move Presenting Day up to this Hudem and lower the age requirement, we could claim the children—”
“The children.” I glare at him as I repeat his words.
“Yes. Before they are corrupted by the Ybarisan poison that your predecessor allowed to run rampant.”
I don’t know what Zander allowed—how much he knew about this poison—but I know he didn’t want what’s happening in Islor. But Adley takes any and every opportunity to highlight all the ways my brother went awry. “And what age would you suggest is suitable?”
“Well …” He frowns, pretending to consider this question. “It is really a matter of what age a mortal parent may dose their child, is it not?”
“So you are suggesting we pry babes from their mother’s arms.” An image of my mortal baker with her three little children hits me, and my anger swells.
“It is these very mothers who are dosing their unwitting children and condemning them to death. Need I remind you of Hawkrest?”
My mouth sours with a bitter taste. “You need not.” Zander fled, and I was forced to witness the life drain from their young bodies until the glowing marks Wendeline branded on their hands faded. What choice did I have, hours after overthrowing him from his seat, but to do the opposite of what he wanted? What Romeria wanted. “And what would the keepers do with these children until they reach a respectable age to serve as tributaries?”
