But Breda’s already gone, the cell door clanging shut behind her.
I wait until her footsteps fade before letting my smile drop.
My fingers find the false gold again. Its weight feels heavier now, like all my failed schemes condensed into a single worthless rock.
But I’m not finished. Not yet.
They can lock me in chains, stuff me in this hole, but they can’t stop the plans already taking shape.
I may be the spare, the second son, the false gold, but even fake currency has its uses. You just have to know how to spend it.
Chapter Eighty-One
Jasce
A monthafter we return to Sharhavva, two guards drag Aleksander into the throne room.
My fingers tighten on the armrests as I take in the shell of the man before me. His black hair hangs in strands around his face. The rich clothes he once wore with such pride now hang loose on his frame, and blood crusts around his wrists, where the shackles have rubbed his skin raw.
The guards force him to his knees before my throne, and he sways slightly, as if the simple act of kneeling requires more strength than he possesses.
“You’re being exiled,” I say, my voice emotionless.
Aleksander remains silent, his eyes distant and unfocused.
I reach for my goblet of wine, needing something to wash away the acrid taste of this conversation.
“Don’t drink that wine.” His voice cuts through the air, stopping me. “It’s poisoned.”
My hand freezes mid-reach. I study his face, searching for deception, but find none. With deliberate slowness, I pick up the goblet and pour the wine into a potted plant. The petals shrivel and blacken instantly.
Heat pulses through my veins as I turn back to him. “How did you know about the wine?”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Do you think I’m a fool, Jasce? That I’m no threat to you?”
“I’ve always thought you were a threat,” I say as memories flood back unbidden. “From the time I was fifteen summers old, and you pushed me into that bear cave.”
“I got you out later.” His face remains impassive, but something flickers in his eyes.
“That doesn’t negate what you did.” I study him, this brother who has been both ally and enemy. “Who is behind the wine?”
Aleksander leans forward, his chains clinking softly. “Brathen. He wants your throne.”
“Impossible. He’s not even here. So, how can he poison my wine?”
Aleksander shrugs. “Believe me if you want or choose not to. I don’t give a damn what you think.”
I study my brother. Even in chains, even defeated, there’s still that serpentine grace about him. “Tell me the fucking truth. How do you know about the wine?”
“The color. It’s darker than normal, and I’ve seen it before when Brathen used it on his enemies.”
So, now you save me?
What are you really up to, Alek?
“Why tell me this now?”
That familiar smirk tugs at his lips as he tilts his head to the side. “Perhaps I’ve grown fond of you, brother.”
