I smiled. “An agreement? The Komizar chose his fools well.”
“It’s too late,” he said, still denying the reversal of our fortunes. “You can’t stop us. But I could—”
“You’re right about only one thing, Lord Viceregent. It is too late. For you. I have done exactly what you always feared. I have exposed the wicked.”
I stared at him, my breath seething, and I let go of his head. My blood-soaked bandage left a bright red stain against his white-blond hair. “Lock him up,” I said, and Rafe’s soldiers dragged him away. The room grew hot, my head light.
“Lock them all up,” I ordered, waving at the rest of the cabinet. “And the Citadelle Guard. I’ll parse out later which of them is innocent and fit to serve.”
A lord stood. “You have no authority to order high-level—”
Rafe cut him short. “Princess Lia is ruling Morrighan for the time being. She can order anything she wants.”
A flurry of objections erupted, Lord Gowan’s rising above them all. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, this is not your kingdom, nor is it your decision to make. You are suggesting anarchy. Protocol and Morrighese law dictate that—”
“Until my husband recovers, my daughter assumes the position of king’s regent and will appoint her own cabinet.”
The room snapped silent, every head turning toward the queen on the balcony. She looked at me and nodded, guilt shimmering in her eyes. “Jezelia is now carrying out the king’s judgments. She is a soldier in his army and will be true to his wishes.” She looked pointedly at Lord Gowan. “Does anyone object to this?”
Before he could answer, Andrés called out “Jezelia” and fell to one knee. One by one, the soldiers with him did the same—a vote, a public count and long-ago tradition I had heard of but never witnessed. The soldiers in the north hall did the same, and the rumble of my name rolled through the room. Jezelia. The sister of their fallen comrade. My mother, and those on the balcony around her did the same, repeating the name I had never heard publicly on their lips. Half a dozen lords followed suit.
“It’s decided, then,” my mother said, rising again, and Lord Gowan and the rest of the lords reluctantly nodded. In a matter of minutes, their world had been turned upside down. The upheaval was only beginning.
I stepped forward, their faces blurring in and out of focus, the floor shifting unevenly. “Exposing the traitors is only the beginning of the work ahead of us,” I said. I heard my words, echoing in a strange, remote way, and then the sound of my knife clattering to the floor. “The conclave is not adjourned. You need to know exactly what we’re facing—and what we need to do to survive. We’ll reconvene again tomorrow, but for now, I—”
I wasn’t sure if I finished my last sentence. The last thing I remembered was Rafe’s arm slipping around my waist and my feet lifting from the floor.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
I heard weeping.
Felt the sweep of soft hands across my forehead.
The scent of roses.
Weeping.
The trickle of water.
The whisper of doors opening.
Hushed voices.
A cool wet cloth on my brow.
Numb tugging on my arm.
Will she lose it?
Something sweet on my tongue. Warmth.
I’ll keep the next watch. Go.
A heavy throb in my chest.
Guarded footsteps.
Weeping. Husky and strained.