“I’m not entirely sure what happened,” she said. “I bribed the princes’ bodyguards to dispose of the boys and I’m not sure I trust their account of what happened. They were supposed to kill them in the forest and blame it on the rebels. But somehow, the boys escaped. I understand there was a chase and the youngest prince died in the chaos.” Dalatteya shook her head with a wince, rubbing at her temples. “Poor thing. I truly didn’t want to harm him, but at the time I thought I had no other choice. I probably wouldn’t make the same choice now—little Eri was innocent, and I’ve always been very fond of him, even though he was his spawn—but back then, I simply panicked and acted when Warrehn started asking questions.”
Samir looked at her searchingly. “What about Warrehn?”
A faint grimace touched Dalatteya’s lips. “In an ironic twist of fate, it appears the rebels truly were in the area, and they kidnapped him. Warrehn somehow ended up on a remote colony of the Third Grand Clan, Tai’Lehr, and has been living there as a reluctant guest all these years. I found out about it with the rest of the Council—I truly thought that he was dead until then.”
Samir sighed. He didn’t know what to think. How to feel. Objectively, he understood why his mother had done it, and even subjectively, he had no issue with her killing the man who had sexually coerced her for years and killed Samir’s father. But the princes… He was more conflicted about it. Rationally, he felt disgusted by her ruthlessness toward children, yet he still couldn’t hate her. She was his mother. He loved her, despite everything. She was his mother. He would die for her.
“All right,” he said. There was no point in dwelling on her past choices and mistakes. They had to deal with the consequences now. That was more important. “Can Warrehn prove your involvement in his parents’ deaths?”
“No,” Dalatteya said confidently. “I’ve made sure to erase all the evidence in the years since then. Nothing can be traced back to me now.”
Suppressing the urge to snap that she should have simply done that instead of panicking when Warrehn had started asking questions and deciding to dispose of him, Samir took a deep breath and said in an even voice, “All right. What about the attack on the princes? Can he prove that you were involved?”
Dalatteya chewed on her lip, her eyes narrowed in thought. “I do not know,” she said quietly. “It’s possible that he overheard his bodyguards and that’s why he bolted. I don’t know what he might have overheard.”
“Great,” Samir muttered under his breath, heaving a sigh and running a hand over his face.
“It doesn’t signify,” his mother said. “He will have to die.”
Samir lifted his head and stared at her.
She stared back calmly.
Chapter 2
There was a real possibility that his mother was a little insane.
There was a real possibility that Samir was insane too, because he was humoring her. For the time being. Or at least that was what he told himself. He was humoring her insane idea to get rid of Warrehn—kill the rightful king—until Samir could come up with a better solution.
Was there a better solution though? He had to work with the hand he’d been dealt, and that hand was terrible. He didn’t want his mother to be arrested. He had to protect her. She might have been misguided in her actions, but he knew she meant well, even if her sense of justice was extremely lopsided. Or maybe he just couldn’t be objective about her. She was his mother, his only family.
“Don’t do anything rash, Mother,” Samir said, keeping a pleasant smile on his face as he and Dalatteya stood by the main entrance to their palace.
Warrehn’s palace, he corrected himself mentally.
“Of course not, my dear,” his mother said, her slim hand resting on his bicep. Her face was a perfectly pleasant mask that likely fooled all the nobles surrounding them. All of them were watching them like hawks—or rather, like vipers looking for some juicy gossip.
Samir was determined not to give them anything to talk about. He kept his expression neutral as the aircar landed on the front lawn.
The man who emerged out of it was tall. That was the first thing Samir registered. He was very tall and muscular, making everyone else look short in comparison. The man’s hair glimmered bronze in the early sunlight, but Samir had a feeling it would look more brown in other circumstances.
He studied the man’s face curiously. He had trouble seeing the easy-going ten-year-old boy he remembered in that grim man with hard blue eyes. He was handsome, Samir supposed, or he would be if he weren’t frowning so much. He looked distinctly unhappy as he surveyed the small crowd gathered to greet him before his heavy gaze finally fell on Samir and his mother.