Free Shadowforged (Light & Shadow) by Moira Katson Page B

said under torture that it had been the Conradines who sent him.” Miriel did not even flinch at the mention of torture; sentiment was far from her. She knelt gracefully on the floor of the room, at his side, her skirts pooling around her.
    “Who tortured him?” she asked.
    “I don’t know who.” The King shook his head. “But what does it—”
    “Was it Kasimir’s men?” she asked, delicately. “For we know that a man will say anything, under torture.” From her knowing smile, she expected the King to understand her, but he only frowned.
    “We can discredit him, but that gives us nothing,” he said, frustration rising in his voice. To her credit, no irritation showed in Miriel’s eyes.
    “Perhaps not. But Kasimir is power-hungry, and he has been outspoken about many things. One of them: Voltur. We know that Vaclav desired only peace, he would not have regained Voltur to avenge Kasimir’s father. Say…” Miriel paused, and looked off into the distance. “Say that Kasimir approached Gerald Conradine: in return for Gerald’s help in assassinating Vaclav, so that there should be no trace leading to Kasimir, and in return for Voltur, Kasimir would help the Conradines reclaim the throne. Gerald refused, and Kasimir vowed revenge.”
    “Is that true?” the King asked, astounded. I tried not to sigh at his ready belief, but Miriel was more controlled. She only shrugged her slim shoulders and smiled up at him.
    “It could be,” she said, with a cunning smile. “That is all. It is highly plausible, is it not? Who benefitted most from Vaclav’s assassination? It was not Gerald Conradine, it was Kasimir. If you tell Dusan of this, he will be unable to name you as wrong. And—” she held up one finger “—were you to convince him, Dusan would choose another heir. A more peaceful heir.”
    The King gnawed at his lip, and I remembered how quick his mind was, when he was not staring into Miriel’s eyes. I saw, too, that he was not above this lie. He did not have the look of a man who objects on moral ground, but instead the look of a man who fears only that his lie might be found out.
    “How could I explain why I did not warn him of Kasimir’s treachery?” he asked, at last. I turned to look at Miriel; I could not have answered it myself. But she was equal to the challenge.
    “You were ill,” Miriel said simply. “ You were never told. Gerald Conradine took the offer directly to Guy de la Marque, who did not wish to trouble you with it.”
    “That would cast Guy in a poor light,” the King observed, and for a moment, I thought Miriel had gone too far in her uncle’s interests. The King would see that she was undermining every other powerful player in the Court.
    “Truly?” Miriel asked, as if surprised; she had anticipated this. “Think a moment—Guy de la Marque and Dusan fought against each other in battle. De la Marque has no reason to love Dusan, nor protect him, and would Dusan have believed such a warning from the mouth of his enemy? Would he not have seen it merely as an attempt to sow discord? I think many on the Council would believe that he had done the right thing. Even Dusan should understand that.”
    “Ah.” The King settled back in his chair, and Miriel gave a little smile to herself. She was correct, of course—such an action would be understandable. And yet, with the littlest change of inflection as she told the story in the maidens’ chamber, with the most casual comment dropped at just the right place in a conversation, Guy de la Marque would come to be known as the guardian who embroiled his King in a political fiasco, and exposed his rival to shame and suspicion.
    “I would have to take this to the Council,” the King said, finally. I marveled at his ability to discard the notion that a councilor of his might have assassinated a future head of state. The fact no longer mattered to Garad at all; did the Court warp all it touched? “Gerald would agree, of course, but