The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2)

For the first time since seeing Kestra again, she wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts. I saw Basil’s hold on her, the expression of victory in his eyes when he knew I’d seen it, but I’d also seen Kestra squirm. She knew she was being used as a tool to bolster his bargaining power. Or I hoped she did.

But no matter how I wanted to see Kestra continue to resist him, for now, Tenger was standing in front of me, relishing this moment.

Did he think I’d beg? That I’d do anything he asked to get back into his good graces? I was here only because I had to be, and he’d be a fool not to know that.

Tenger tsked. “I had to hit you that night, Simon. It wasn’t personal.”

“Yes, sir.” If I said what I really thought, he’d make me regret my words, probably with that grip glove on his right hand. He had taken that from Kestra the night we captured her carriage. I wondered if she had recognized it, or even known what it was.

Tenger continued, “I admit it, I thought Trina would be the Infidante. Indeed, I still believe she would have been chosen had Kestra not claimed the dagger first. And yes, if Trina had been chosen, she would have named me king over the Halderians, and future king of Antora, once Endrick was defeated.”

“Yes, sir.” I noticed a small knife on the floor at the corner of his desk, three steps ahead of me. It must have fallen without him noticing.

Tenger nodded toward Gabe, who’d been standing watch at the back of the room. “Wait in the corridor.” When he’d left, Tenger sighed like the disappointed parent he believed himself to be. “We were friends, Simon. I had your respect, your loyalty.”

“You crashed a rock down on my head … sir.”

“I did what had to be done, based on what I knew at the time. We needed a king among the Coracks, some way of controlling the future of Antora.”

I remained silent while Tenger leaned down behind his desk. I used the distraction to walk forward until I could place my foot over the knife. Tenger sat up with my sword in his hands, which he laid out across the desk. He said, “Little did I know then that the Halderians already have a king.”

My muscles tensed, but I kept my head down, unwilling to risk any betrayal of my thoughts.

“Did you think I’d miss the look exchanged between you and Kestra when she was asked to name the next king? I’m embarrassed that she figured you out before I did.”

“It’s not what—”

“I knew you carried a Halderian sword. But it never occurred to me that you have the sword. Then Trina informed me she saw King Gareth’s ring in your satchel. Did he name you his successor?”

“I’m not Halderian.”

Tenger grinned. “That wasn’t my question.” When I remained silent, he added, “Never mind the answer—with these two items, you have enough claim on the crown. So I suppose my real question is: Why haven’t you

claimed it?”

“I already gave you an answer.”

“Because you’re not Halderian? Thrones have been claimed over thinner justifications than that. Nor do I believe that’s your true reason.”

I shifted my stance. “You didn’t summon me here to understand the way I think. What do you want from me … sir?”

“Obviously, I want you to claim the Halderian crown.”

That hadn’t been obvious at all. I’d expected to receive some sort of punishment, or to be assigned to a district as far from Kestra as possible, or to be forced into begging for his mercy. This possibility had never occurred to me.

“Claim the crown? Why?”

Tenger gestured to the area of the table where Reddengrad’s border with Antora had been carved into the wood. Tucked in a little pocket immediately to the west of both countries was an unclaimed and largely unwanted area known as the Hiplands, the refuge where most Halderians had gathered.

Tenger tapped a knuckle on the Hiplands. “If Endrick takes Reddengrad, the Halderians will be trapped. One day, Endrick will figure out how numerous they’ve become, and how prosperous. The Halderians must defend Reddengrad if they also expect to survive.”

The fact that the Halderians had survived the last several years was a miracle in itself. The Dominion referred to them as the Banished and believed that only small colonies of that clan remained, struggling for survival. But they were wrong. The Halderians had far greater numbers than the Dominion knew, and had built a thriving city in the Hiplands due to their trade with Reddengrad. Once Endrick discovered them, he’d slaughter every last Halderian before they had any hope of mounting a defense.

And suddenly the pieces fit together in my mind. Basil wanted the Coracks to help defend Reddengrad. And Tenger wanted my help in getting the Halderians to join that fight.

“No,” I said.

Tenger arched a brow. “No?”