returned in a small silver box, fitted with priceless jewels.
He died by order of the king and his councillor. And no one grieved for him. No one. They uttered the most ordinary of platitudes and then continued with their lives, grateful that they were untouched by the scandal.
“No, my lord.”
“Your voice says you guess, however. He died…” Kosenmark drew a shuddering breath. “He died at the hand of Lord Markus Khandarr. It was magic. Lord Khandarr demanded the truth. Dedrick gave it to him, but his answer was not the one Lord Khandarr desired. He wanted proof of my treachery and used magic to force a different confession from Dedrick’s mouth. And so Dedrick, my friend, my once lover, died for his honesty.”
Kosenmark turned around. The brilliance had faded from his complexion. He looked older, and the late-afternoon sunlight, slanting in from the windows by the garden door, threw the lines beside his mouth and eyes into sharper relief than in days past. His cheeks were wet with tears.
“So,” he said, “you have the truth. My truth. What now?”
The question caught Gerek by surprise. “I … do not know.”
The other man smiled. “A fair answer. What do you want, then? What did you want?”
“Justice.”
He flinched, expecting laughter, but Kosenmark was nodding. “Justice for the dead. I can understand that. How do you propose to achieve it?”
No explanations. No long tirades to justify himself.
“I don’t know,” Gerek said. “I-I thought— I meant— Dedrick was very trusting, my lord. Too trusting. He loved you.”
There. He’d said it.
“You believe I convinced him to commit treason.”
Gerek dared a soundless yes.
Kosenmark blew out a breath. “Words are useless. Mere sound of flesh and air. Yes, the poets were right, as always.” In a softer voice, he said, “I knew someone who felt as you do. She— They argued against my convictions—called me arrogant and— Well, never mind what they said. Their disbelief was good for me, urged me to do better, at least for a time…”
Silence filled the room, except for Gerek’s pulse in his ears. The groan of pulleys, the hissing of sand as the hourglass turned end over end, its luminescent grains spilling through the narrow aperture. Time, time, time slides away from our fingers, even as we try to grasp the moments and seconds.
“We are at an impasse,” Kosenmark said. “So let me propose a new idea. Let me tell you my intentions. Believe me or not, but listen. Stay in my household a few weeks longer and share my work. Judge for yourself if I am a traitor to the kingdom or not.”
He went on to speak of the kingdom, of old Baerne of Angersee, and his son who died of drink and despair. Of the present king, Armand, who desired to outshine his grandfather’s deeds. And how Lord Markus Khandarr fed the young king’s desire for glory, provoking him toward war with Károví without regard for the kingdom’s welfare.
“Armand is not the first king to disagree with his councillors,” Kosenmark said. “Nor is Lord Khandarr the first councillor to use his position to further his own ambitions. However, I would not see thousands die. Nor can I stand silent while another man drives the king toward such a war, so that he might seize the kingdom for himself. If that is treason, then I am a traitor.”
Without another word, he walked to the farther door and onto the rooftop garden. As the door swung shut, a breeze filtered through, carrying the scent of warm air, of green growing things bursting free of the earth. Of the outer world.
Gerek stared at the blank desktop for several long moments. Considered the man Dedrick had spoken of with such admiration. (And love. Let us not forget they loved each other once.) Considered what he’d observed himself over the past eight days. Kosenmark trusted no one. And yet he had offered to open his secrets to Gerek. Was that proof enough of his good intentions?
You came for truth and honor.
I did, Gerek thought.
He stood. Entered the garden and carefully shut the doors behind him. Twilight had fallen. A dusky violet veil covered the sky, brushed by smoke-black clouds. Light speckled the rising hills; lamplight illuminated the city spreading toward the shore. From there, the seas were only visible as a dark expanse.
Gerek made his way between the rows of budding trees, the beds of newly sprouted flowers. Spring had arrived without his being aware.
Kosenmark sat on a bench at the far end of the