“Don’t make such reckless oaths!” said Eda sharply before she could stop herself.
He looked at her quizzically, but went on. “The Emperor was sickly. He had no heir. It was the ideal time for a transference of power. And they thought that a peace treaty with Enduena’s greatest enemy would go far toward easing the people’s minds about the change. So they set it in motion, before you announced yourself as the Emperor’s heir last year.”
“And the marriage alliance?”
“That was Rescarin’s idea,” Domin confessed.
Eda frowned, tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair. “He isn’t even the heir.”
“Your Majesty?”
“Prince Ileem. He’s last in line for the throne, apart from his sister. They couldn’t have sent a more complimentary suitor?” Vow to Tuer aside, such a low-ranking prince was a horrific insult.
Domin squirmed. “Prince Ileem and his sister spent the last year in Halda on a religious pilgrimage, but the whole truth is they were sent away from Denlahn for causing trouble for the rest of their siblings.”
Well, that was unexpected. “What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty. But a Denlahn ship collected them earlier this year and brought them here instead of taking them back home.”
“So his own family is trying to get rid of him and sent him to try his hand at being Emperor?”
Domin shrugged. “Perhaps an oversimplification, Your Majesty, but … it seems so.”
Or perhaps Tuer himself had had a hand in it, though Eda didn’t particularly want to pursue that line of thought. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. “And when do treaty negotiations commence? Or was I to be included in them at all?”
Domin flicked his eyes briefly up to hers. “Tomorrow morning, Your Majesty.”
She rose from her seat and he did too. He shrugged. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. They made me swear. And you should know …” He shifted his feet, wary and uncomfortable. “The Barons are questioning your legitimacy. If the marriage alliance isn’t realized, they’ll investigate. Turn the people against you. Take the throne, one way or another.”
“My legitimacy? I have my father the late Emperor’s documents, signed in his own hand. I have the ring he gave me.”
Domin avoided her glance. “Documents can be forged, rings stolen. There are some who don’t believe the Emperor died of a natural illness.”
“Who doesn’t believe that?” she demanded.
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. “Rescarin,” she said. “Damn him.”
“He also finds it suspect that the attendants who supported the claim of your rival, Miss Dahl-Saida, have all vanished.”
“She was a traitor and I sent them away.”
“What proof do you have of her treachery?”
“She was conspiring with Denlahn—”
“Your Barons had dealings with Denlahn all along,” said Domin carefully. “Don’t you think they would have known if Miss Dahl-Saida did, too?”
Eda had no answer for that. She reined herself in, giving Domin a smile and lightly brushing her fingers across his wrist. “Thank you for the warning, Domin. You’re my most faithful supporter, and I will continue to repay you handsomely.”
Domin grinned, suddenly all boyish relief. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
She offered him another smile. “Until the morning.”
She left his room via the balcony, and climbed back onto the roof the way she had come, quickly, before he saw how angry she was. She told herself none of the Barons, not even Rescarin, could prove the Emperor’s death had been at her hand. Nor could they prove that she wasn’t the Emperor’s daughter.Shedidn’t even know if she truly was or not, a fact that haunted her during many a sleepless night. She’d told herself, over and over, that hewasher father, that all the evidence pointed to it, that he would have told her so himself the night he died.
That is, if he hadn’t already been so weak when she administered the final dose of poison.
Chapter Four
