KINGSLAYER

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He had sought her out after news of Dmitrievich's death was exposed to the court. Ermalai could not investigate the way Khan could, and he had taken the same opportunity Jaylah had. The door that was still open a sliver.

"I do not stoop to assembly with foreign servants," Jaylah said. "And you may tell him as much."

"Yes, Your Majesty," she said, looking pleased that Jaylah had chosen the safe option.

But when nightfall came and Jaylah was back in her quarters after a long dinner with Adrik, Ermalai and a few of their insufferable advisers that insisted upon talking over her at her own table, Jaylah went straight for the secret passage. And sure enough, Alexander leaned against the exit door to the painted hallway. Just as she had anticipated.

"I am not a servant," he told her in lieu of a greeting.

Placing the candle in the nearest rusted holder, Jaylah shrugged. "Are you not here on orders from Ermalai?"

"I do what I please. It makes me invisible when he believes I'm his trusty dog."

She raised a brow. So he was not as loyal to Ermalai as she thought. Originally, she was not sure who his pledge to was worse: the Czar or her father. And now that he had chosen the latter, Jaylah found myself wishing it was the other way around. At least then it might not have been such a pointed, purposeful attack.

"I am curious," she said then. "Do you truly hate me enough to ally yourself with the man who enslaved you?" He had certainly been filled with rage and hurt the other night. Where was all of it now?

"I do hate you," he said. "He would have never let Ermalai on his soil. So he has my vote of confidence over anyone else."

"That is not an honest answer."

"I have no need to be honest with you."

"Surely you are not stupid and impulsive enough to run to my father just because you momentarily believed I had sold you to the slavers. You have other intentions that you wish I doubted the existence of."

"It would make this all much easier." He waved his hands towards her in a noncommittal gesture, and she did not know what he meant.

"So," Jaylah said, crossing her arms in the chilly corridor, "what does Ermalai want?"

"A man is dead," he said simply, flippantly. As if he did not really care.

"You wish to find from me whether one of my own suspicious courtiers did it."

"Jaylah." He fixed her with a stare so flat she was unable to decipher whether he felt a twinge of humor for the situation or if it was borne of irritation. "Now who's being stupid? I know it was you. Or your servants, rather. Perhaps even those maids Ermalai questioned the other day."

So he had been watching. But there would be no connection from Jaylah to the poisoned cup, which pointed to all the symptoms of an innocent heart attack. Her maids would not be discovered for slipping the poison into the cup inside the kitchens because no one but the three of them knew Jaylah's plan for rooting out her father's men. The servant attending Dmitrievich was none the wiser.

"That is a large accusation you are pinning on me. And one you nor your Czar can find evidence of."

"That's not entirely true."

"What?" Jaylah scoffed, flicking her fingers up from the warm linen of her dress. "Do you have a grand plan to find evidence on me? Perhaps wrestle me to the ground and pry into my pockets? A grand invasion of privacy, if I ever heard one."

"I don't have to do anything," he said. Then: "I wouldn't pry into your pockets."

Her face crumpled into a scowl. "What would you do then?"

"What did I tell you about your lewd thoughts?" He shook his head, letting a glimmer of the boy she knew flicker past the iron of his facade. "No, if I wanted something from you, I could get it."

"How presumptuous of you." Jaylah took a step away from the wall. "And how would you go about doing that, Khan? Insulting me to my face? Making me uneasy?"

He had begun to smile a cat's grin. "I make you uneasy?"

"More particularly, your stench does. You reek of peasant markets and inner city sewage. I may become faint with it."

"I'll be sure to not catch you when you swoon."

Her nose wrinkled. "I said faint, not swoon. I am not some starry-eyed girl for you to win over."

"Not starry-eyed," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean you don't want me to win you over. I remember Chakranti clear as day."

Something weak amongst the iron resolve in Jaylah's chest stuttered a bit. He still thought of that night too?

"I remember it as well. Specifically you stealing my blade."

"I know you do." His smile was too condescending. "But I was referring to before."

Neither of them had brought up that night until now. Jaylah expected his hatred to finally resolve the problem she was so ready to shove under the carpet, but things were rapidly becoming dangerous again. She was too aware of the dark chamber they were in, far from prying eyes.

"What would your courtiers do if they knew, I wonder," he continued thoughtfully, the slight resentment from earlier now dissipated.

"There is nothing to know about," Jaylah said. "Only that you have become the starry-eyed one and allowed your imagination to run amok."

"I do have a vivid imagination."

"Spare me the details."

"I will. I'm not looking to find out if Morokov is the jealous type."

Just like that, she was the Queen again, forced onto a pedestal kilometers above him, so high she could not see the ground. "What would he have to be jealous of? You, who only seek to undermine me at every turn?"

"I have a very vivid imagination," he supplied.

"If I ever sought to move him to jealousy, I can assure you that you would be nowhere near my list of candidates, vivid imagination or not."

"Oh?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Is your husband not treating you as your little royal heart desires?"

"He is not my husband."

"He will be."

"Yes," Jaylah said, driving home the wedge between us once again. "He will be."

When they parted ways for the night, it occurred to Jaylah that he had originally come to pry about Dmitrievich's mysterious death on account of Ermalai, but they hardly spoke at all about it.