“What sorts of tutors did you have in Palmerin?” King Rayan asked, incredulous. “An ambassadorship is an honor, not a punishment.”
“A punishment this severe will have everyone asking what his crime was,” Cas pointed out. “Do you truly wish that question asked?”
King Rayan glared. Half a minute passed before he spoke again. “Fifteen years. An ambassadorship.”
No! Ventillas would be in his forties by then. An old man, a relic. “Fifteen years is a life gone. I am owed a life.” His voice trembled on the last two words.
King Rayan resumed drumming his fingers. “This is how you would use your boon?”
“Yes.”
Here the silence dragged on even longer. King Rayan turned away, to the tapestries covering the wall. Cas was shocked to see the Palmerin tapestry. Six feet in height, two hundred paces long, it hung in the center. A place of honor.
“My first impulse was to burn it,” King Rayan said, seeing Cas’ expression. “As you said, I do not want certain questions asked.” He propped a hand on his chin, deep in thought. Finally, he stated, “An ambassadorship. Five years. To be funded from his purse, not mine. That is final,” he added very quietly, when Cas would have protested.
Five years. Cas closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he said, with difficulty, “Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll inform the men they’re free to leave. I’ll send word to Master Jacomel.”
King Rayan regarded him with a frown. “You have not been punished. You may ride with them. Tell Master Jacomel yourself.”
Cas looked at the rings on his right hand. The royal emblem, anchored by his father’s seal. It was not just for Ventillas that he had come. “I am the queen’s man. My first duty is to see her safe. When she rides south, I will too.”
King Rayan stared at him. “Your service was requested under false pretenses. I will not hold you to it.”
“She’s still my queen. That hasn’t changed. And Lady Mari . . .” Cas did not know what to call her. “She is still out there.”
King Rayan’s face tightened in anger. “Do you think I would send my family off without protection?”
“No,” Cas said immediately. “Of course I don’t. Only . . . she’s found a way through our cracks, more than once. I worry she’ll try again. Your Grace”—Cas bowed deeply—“I will keep them safe for you.”
For one terrible instant, King Rayan’s heart lay bare for Cas to see. Pain and rage. A terrible despair. Cas had to look away. “You may go,” King Rayan said to him, and Cas bolted.
“I’m being sent to some godforsaken island called Coronado,” Ventillas said.
Cas had never heard of it. “Where is it?”
“West,” Ventillas said with a shrug. He was thinner than Cas remembered. His eyes were bloodshot. Like Cas, he wore black. “That’s all I know. It’s to be a new ambassadorship.” His lips quirked. “Death might have been the better choice.”
“Don’t joke.” Cas threw himself into a chair opposite his brother. They were in Ventillas’ chamber at the palace, which looked like a room set aside for unwelcome guests. Rickety furnishings, threadbare rugs. The cups on the table were heavily chipped. The fire in the hearth could have been extinguished with one well-aimed glob of spit. It was cold in here. There were bars on the windows and burly guards outside the door. “Why did you do it?”
Ventillas reached for his mug with a sigh. “When we brought Princess Jehan to the hospital, I did not think she would last the night. She had the boils, she was bleeding . . . Every symptom of the pestilence, she had. And I knew then that it was over. With her died any hope for peace.” He shifted in his chair. It creaked alarmingly under his weight. “Father died because of the war. Grandfather, too. I have lost countless men, and I was sick to death of it. When Princess Jehan asked Mari to take her place—”
Cas bolted upright. “She asked Lady Mari?”
“Yes,” Ventillas told him. “Princess Jehan was dying. She wanted an end to the war as much as the rest of us. What do you say to a friend’s dying wish?”
“You say no.”
Ventillas regarded Cas over his cup. “Well, Mari said yes. And so did I. I swore I would keep their secret. I knew it meant lying to Rayan. I did it anyway.”
“Why? One envoy visiting from Brisa and we are doomed. How did you think you would get away with it?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” Ventillas said, his expression full of self-disgust. “Clearly. At the time, it felt like a risk worth taking. I would never have done it if I’d known you were alive. I would not have risked your home.”
Cas stood up, restless. “Palmerin’s still ours.”
For now, his brother’s expression said. “I am sorry, Cassia.”
Cas went to stand by the fire. “Faustina and Abril had to stay silent too.”
“Yes,” Ventillas admitted. “Faustina was no trouble. Abril had a hard time with it.”
Cas thought about the sad, quiet artist who had not wanted to share her story with Lena. Now he knew why.
The fire was worthless. Cas fetched his cloak off a hook and put it back on, which amused his brother. Returning to his chair, Cas said, “If this was what Princess Jehan wanted, why is she so angry?” Before the last word was uttered, something occurred to him.
Cas reached into his cloak and pulled out a gold coin. The queen had given him the three coins in Palmerin. She had not asked for them back. He set it on the table so that the two-faced god Zacarias was visible. One face looking forward to the future, the other looking back to the past. The god of doorways and transitions, of new beginnings. Seeing the image now put it in a sinister light. He tapped the coin in wonder. “Two faces,” he said.
Ventillas nodded. “She’s been terrorizing her friend. Taunting her by leaving these coins for her to find. Her body may have healed, Cassia, but her mind has not.”
The rumble of voices outside the door quieted their words for a time. Ventillas held his cup with both hands, not drinking, only looking down into its contents, lost in thought.
Cas had dropped his head into his hands. “Five years, Ventillas. How am I supposed to manage without you here?”
“I was eighteen when Father died and Palmerin became mine. Remember?”
Cas lifted his head. His age now. Could that be? “You seemed older.”
A small smile. “Because I had to be. I had a little brother who had lost everything. Except me.”
Cas could not speak. His throat felt raw. A great pressure was building behind his eyes. “The king might have agreed to three years if I’d pressed him. I should have pressed.”
“Stop,” Ventillas ordered him softly. “He might have changed his mind entirely and been within his rights. I have not been a good friend to him. I will regret it always.” He set his cup down. “I’m grateful for what you did, don’t think I’m not. But I’m glad to go.”
Cas scrubbed at his eyes. “Why?”