Page 31 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

Roksana

T he modest surroundings chosen for my interrogation surprised me.

Instead of a cold interior dripping with opulence, the room had a cosiness that felt comforting.

The only sign a king used this room was a slightly larger chair sitting on a small dais, tastefully accented with gold leaf.

Everything else was . . . homely. Wooden benches were covered in throws and furs, providing comfortable seats; tapestries softened the plain stone walls, depicting hunting scenes and court life; while a thick rug underfoot silenced the sound of footsteps.

I felt the tension melt from my shoulders, and I involuntarily smiled at Reynard. He watched our entrance with an intense focus, documents piled on his lap and the table beside him.

‘You wanted to see me, Viper,’ he said in a casual tone, gesturing for me to sit. ‘What’s so important that I had to dismiss the Privy Council early?’

‘You know my name, sire. I would be grateful if you used it,’ I answered dryly, mildly annoyed by his use of the strange moniker in front of Riordan. ‘Roksana or Mistress Regnav will do.’

His eyebrow lifted ever so slightly at my retort, and he leaned back, supporting his chin on his fist. Reynard’s lips lifted in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

‘Not “Sana” anymore? Well, the name is a little gentle for such a sharp-tongued woman, I suppose.’

I grimaced at his teasing, but shrugged it off, trying to stay calm.

‘Sana is for friends, and I don’t think friendship is any way to describe our relationship,’ I answered.

A corner of the king’s mouth twisted into a lopsided smile.

‘Foolish me. I thought we’d reached an understanding. Right, Viper, it is then,’ he said, gesturing to Riordan, his gaze never leaving mine. The mage walked over and stood beside the king. ‘Riordan told me you chose this interrogation over my hospitality. Does that mean I can expect the truth?’

‘Have I lied to you even once since you imprisoned me?’ I snapped, the tension between my shoulder blades returning. ‘I have enjoyed your hospitality, but not the delay or being locked in this admittedly very comfortable prison.’

‘I haven’t asked any questions worthy of your lies.

As for the delay, Riordan only returned this morning, and Ciesko was busy in the city.

Please forgive me for prioritising Dagome over my private business,’ Reynard answered, his jaw set in a hard line, as if he were scolding a spoiled brat demanding attention.

I bit my lip, wishing the earth would swallow me whole.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . .’ I stuttered, taking a step back when he stood up and approached me, his towering presence forcing me to look up.

‘If you want me to interrogate you now, I’ll do it. But it’s a path of no return, and for some unknown reason, the thought of executing you has lost its appeal . . .’

‘Well, thank fuck for small mercies,’ I said before I could stop myself, but instead of anger, mirth lit the king’s features.

‘Fuck? What an interesting choice of words. Is that on your mind, Viper?’

‘Nooo . . . for some unexplained reason, the thought of fucking a complete stranger doesn’t hold much appeal,’ I quipped.

‘Because of your “friend” who likes to come over uninvited?’ he said, jaw tightening, but despite the sharpness in his voice, he didn’t lash out. However, when he looked away, his smile was gone.

‘ No . . . Because you told me you hate my guts, and I won’t let anyone trying to teach me a lesson touch me,’ I said, shrugging. My body stiffened when he studied my face, searching for a hint of mockery, but I held his challenging gaze.

‘Hmm . . . That’s a good rule to have, but rest assured, you would enjoy any lessons I chose to give.’

‘I guess we’ll never find out,’ I said, hoping he missed the hitch in my breath when his gaze drifted to my lips.

I was suddenly aware of how close he stood.

Reynard continued to search for something in my face while the tension grew between us, forcing me to look away.

Slowly, his smile returned, and before I knew it, he shook his head, stepping away.

‘I guess we won’t. Let’s return to the reason you’re here,’ he said, glancing back as he returned to his chair. ‘Remember, Viper, even if it implicates you, I want the pure, unvarnished truth, so choose your words wisely.’

I certainly will, I thought, wishing I could look half as in control as he. Unfortunately, my dress was losing the fight to protect my modesty whenever I moved, and I had to hunch my shoulders to keep it laced.

‘I hope you’re ready to listen, Your Majesty. My neck’s still sore from the last time I was honest with you,’ I said nonchalantly, enjoying the sight of Reynard shifting uncomfortably as his hands tightened on the armrests.

Riordan turned, giving me such a glare that I felt like a thief caught red handed before he hammered the nail into my proverbial coffin.

‘A lie. Her neck does not hurt, and she liked your touch.’

Reynard’s eye narrowed. ‘Are you testing me, Viper?’

‘More like testing your mage, and he’s proved himself an accomplished ars . . . person.’

A forced smile tightened my lips, and with a truly insufferable eye roll, Riordan shrugged. But I wasn’t done yet.

‘Besides, you shouldn’t be too upset. It was just a little teasing—similar to yours when you came to visit me that night,’ I said, looking the mage in the eye, wondering if he knew what Reynard had done in my bedroom.

‘I was testing you; teasing is reserved for lovers,’ the king answered with a stone-cold expression. His eyebrows drew together and he gestured for the mage to continue.

An inquisition sigil appeared in the air, awakened to life with a few flickers of the hand.

I braced myself when I saw the shimmering, magical strands settle over me, the tendrils so icy that my skin prickled with goosebumps.

While a strong truthseeker didn’t need a sigil to sense a lie, the inquisition sigil forced the truth and punished resistance.

I’d endured one as a test before Boyan had made me his shadow, and I dreaded repeating the experience.

I was still marvelling at the ephemeral yet detailed structure of the spell when Reynard asked his first question.

‘Were you going to kill me when you came to my bedroom?’

‘No,’ I answered as pressure built in my head.

Riordan was doing more than just listening to my words. The spell’s tendrils latched onto my mind and examined the thoughts and images associated with them. I relaxed, looked him in the eye, and smirked before focusing on the Orcish Steppe, full of flowers and horses prancing around.

He snorted before his expression returned to the perfect indifference of an inquisitor mage.

‘Were you trying to kill me in the forest?’ Reynard asked, frowning at the change in Riordan’s attitude

‘Not exactly.’

‘What the fuck does that mean?’ The king grasped his armrests so hard that the wood bent, disappointment and disbelief saturating his voice. ‘Why did you do it, Viper?’ He pointed to his empty eye socket.

‘Because I didn’t know any better. I was dazed.

They’d knocked me out, and the last thing I remembered was a man forcing himself on me.

When I regained consciousness, another massive brute was holding me against my will.

So, no, I didn’t want to kill the king of Dagome, but I did want to kill the man I thought was attacking me,’ I snapped, grinding my teeth when the pressure built to the point of pain.

I realised Riordan was wanting to see the memory for himself, so I let him in.

The truthseeker staggered, grasping the back of a chair. His gaze turned glassy as he sifted through my memories, drowning in my terror.

‘She’s telling the truth. She was terrified . . . The blood, the pain, the feeling of violation . . . fuck, the stench of death.’ His voice became hoarse, desolate, all because I had let him feel everything.

We both flinched when Reynard smashed his fist on the armrest, his other hand rubbing the rapidly reddening scar on his face.

‘Godsdamn it, I was trying to help! I survived an uprising, war, and assassins, but lost my eye because I stank of those bastards’ blood?’

‘You wanted the truth,’ I said, swallowing hard. ‘I’m sorry . . . I really am.’

I watched the king warily, noticing how his hand trembled as he dragged it through his hair, his tick betraying how agitated he was. Then Reynard’s breathing became erratic, his injured face contorting in a spasm, but he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm.

He’s in pain . . . but why?

I wanted to console him, but didn’t know how, so I offered another apology, wincing at how flat it sounded.

‘For what it’s worth, thank you for saving me that day.

If I could undo the harm I’ve done, I would, no matter the cost.’ My voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make him look at me.

‘For what it’s worth . . .’ He huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. ‘For what it’s worth? The gods must be laughing at me after placing you in my path.’

His gaze lingered on my face, his lips thinning. I could almost see the battle being waged behind those tortured features and wished I could offer more than an apology.

‘I think I preferred believing you planned it . . .’ he said, sounding so defeated. ‘Now everything feels like it was fate’s idea of a sick joke.’

I stayed silent, understanding how he felt. It had been easier to justify my actions when I’d thought it was my rapist I’d killed with my poison. Knowing I’d hurt the man who had saved me instead weighed heavily on my conscience.

‘Would you do it?’ he asked.

I looked up, confused.

‘Would you have tried to kill me if you’d been asked, if . . . if someone had paid or . . . forced you?’ he clarified.

I studied the man before me, ignoring his station. The anger had disappeared, and Reynard sounded almost . . . vulnerable.