of this. If I speak again, it will be to order them all executed.” He strode to the windows, ripped back the tapestry, and clasped his hands behind his back. He was shaking.
Ianthe sat down, the baby in her lap. “I don’t understand, my Lady. You saw me with this child, and then Pandsala came with another. What’s going on?”
“Shall we find out?” Andrade asked calmly enough, but Ianthe had a moment of raw terror as piercing blue eyes searched her face. She had faced that same look from Rohan a few nights ago. She forced herself to relax, for even if Andrade figured out the whole plot, nothing could be proven against her.
“Those vipers!” Palila suddenly screamed. “They stole my son!”
“First you know nothing, and now you know whose fault this is,” Andrade said. “How interesting. Pandsala, explain this little comedy.”
“I—” She flung an anguished look at Ianthe. “It was her idea! She planned that we would exchange a girl for the boy—”
“What?” Ianthe exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“Be silent!” Andrade snapped. “Go on, Pandsala—from the beginning.”
Ianthe listened as the story gushed from her sister’s mouth, delighted by Pandsala’s guilty incoherence. Andrade’s expression slowly changed from cool composure to shock. Palila lay back against her pillows looking as if she wished herself dead. Roelstra turned and stared at Pandsala as if she had grown talons and a tail. Ianthe sat, cuddling the baby.
“If I understand you,” Andrade said heavily when Pandsala had sobbed to a halt, “things progressed as follows. Ianthe suggested substituting girl for boy, should Palila have a son. To this end you arranged for those poor women to be brought along, and induced labor in them when Palila began her own. I’ve no doubt we’ll find the appropriate herbs in your things, Pandsala, not Ianthe’s.
“But then you struck a bargain with your father’s mistress. In exchange for her help in winning Prince Rohan for you, you would substitute a boy for a girl, should Palila produce yet another daughter. Because the only woman who had given birth thus far had a daughter, you had no choice but to bring her up, just in case there was a son to be rid of. Palila would have been no use to you in such a case, so you reverted back to Ianthe’s original plan. Is this the essence?”
Pandsala nodded, tears streaking her face. “Father—I’m so sorry—I only meant to give you the son you wanted—”
“Roelstra!” Andrade called out sharply as he took a threatening step toward his daughter, arm raised to strike her. Ianthe saw the white bandage as his sleeve fell away, and wondered if that bitch Sioned had given him the wound while defending her nonexistent honor. Her lip curled, and she bent her head to the child.
“We have yet to hear from you, Ianthe,” Andrade said.
She looked up. “What can I say? I never heard so ridiculous a scheme in my life! How could anyone be sure those women would have babies of the right sex for whatever exchange Pandsala seems to have planned? Quite frankly, I’m confused. Am I supposed to have plotted to give Father a son, or deprive him of one?”
“Go on,” Andrade invited icily.
Ianthe shrugged. “What kind of monster would give over a royal prince—and her own brother!—to be raised by common servants? I’m not so base as that, Father, nor so stupid. Do you truly think me capable of so horrible a plot? And one which, moreover, is so incredibly impractical?”
“No,” Roelstra said very softly, his green eyes glittering. “If it had been a boy, you would have arranged to have him killed. I know you, Ianthe.”
“Father!” And for a moment she was terrified.
“Stop it, both of you!” Andrade surveyed them in disgust.
“You’re all vipers, every one of you. What do you plan to do about this, Roelstra?”
“I’m more interested at the moment in what was planned for the women down below.” He kept on staring at Ianthe. “What would you do, my dear?”
“Nothing, because I have nothing to do with it,” she replied promptly.
“But if you did?” he pressed.
“Father—do you seriously think I could have those women murdered?”
“I thought you’d see the necessity. You’ve always been clever, Ianthe.” He turned to Pandsala then and asked, “Do you know the penalty for treason?” His gaze flickered to Palila, who gave a wordless cry.
“Father—no!” Pandsala slipped to her knees, shuddering.
“Treason,” he repeated softly.
Andrade stepped between them. “Roelstra,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t do this.”