The boy shot Hevren a resentful glare then turned and ran to the dais, scampering up the steps to his mother’s side. Watching how she drew him into a protective embrace, her eyes still fixed on me, I realised her detestation was at least partly inspired by the closeness I had always enjoyed with her son. Appointed the boy’s tutor in Imperial history by the Emperor, we had spent many hours together, and, though I tried to dissuade him from it, he had come to call me uncle. “You and father were like brothers,” he said. “So you will be my uncle. I don’t have any others.”
The Empress smoothed a hand through the boy’s hair, speaking softly. “But I want to stay!” he protested. The Empress’s tone became harder and Iveles gave a sullen pout before stomping off to the rear of the dais, his rapid footfalls echoing through the chamber as he sought other amusements.
The Empress sat in silence for a time, regarding me with practised detachment before turning her gaze to Fornella, her mouth twitching in momentary disgust. “Lord Velsus,” she said to the Imperial Prosecutor. “The prisoner has the right to hear the charges levelled against him.”
Velsus bowed to her before turning to me, producing a scroll from the folds of his robe. “Lord Verniers Alishe Someren, Imperial Chronicler and First of the Learned, is hereby charged with treason,” he read. “Be it known, as established by credible testimony, Lord Verniers conspired with the Imperial Prisoner Vaelin Al Sorna to effect his release and evade just punishment for his crimes. Be it also known that Lord Verniers did conspire with agents of a foreign power, to wit the Volarian Empire, to injure the person of the Empress and her son Iveles.”
So there it was, not one lie but two. I cannot truly account for the icy calm that possessed me then, much as I remain unable to explain the presence of mind that allowed me to sink a knife into the base of General Tokrev’s skull. It could be that there are occasions when fear becomes redundant. “Credible testimony?” I enquired.
Lord Velsus blinked and I deduced he had been expecting some outraged protestation of innocence, no doubt to be shouted down by a well-prepared, and suitably theatrical rebuttal. He recovered his composure quickly, however, and gestured to the guards at the door. “Bring in the witness.”
I was expected here, I realised as we waited in silence. The trap is too well laid.
