I say nothing, my hands clasped politely in my lap. Something about the king’s choice of words and his too-affable expression tell me that he’s very angry about the entire scenario.

“I’m tempted to just marry you to Barnabus as was the original plan and send you home, but I would also hate to be responsible for your untimely death, should it happen.”

“And I am already married,” I say lightly, trying to smile.

“Yes, to a Taurian. Tell me, was that willingly?”

I nod. “It was my suggestion. I’m quite happy in the union.”

“And do you expect this guild Taurian to run your father’s hold as his heir?” When I shake my head mutely, he arches a brow. “But marrying him is considered a disgrace, and now, as far as you know, your father has no suitable heir. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I would like to stay alive, Your Majesty. I took the problems one at a time. I still haven’t solved that one yet.”

He huffs a laugh. “Nor have I. I am going to have to think on it for some time today.” The king sets his hand on the table and drums it, his many rings winking. I recognize at least two of them as Prellian. “Which brings me to the current issue of the artifact you stole. The two joined rings. The mist-wall artifacts. You recall them?”

I hold my breath, trying to remain neutral. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“As stolen Greater Artifacts, they have been returned to the guild and thus sold to a holder.”

“I…see.”

I should have expected it. I did expect it.

Even so, hearing such a thing breaks something inside me. All of that work for nothing. All of the danger, the betrayals, the cave-in, the ratlings, the crypt…it was all for nothing. Tears slide down my face, even though I do my best to keep my composure. I clench my hands tightly in my lap to keep from outright sobbing in the king’s face, but the silent tears escape no matter how hard I try.

“You understand you left me no choice. I couldn’t very well just hand them over to you after you stole them.” The look he gives me is admonishing.

“Of course not.” Defeat crushes me. There’s no hope left.

Honori Hold is lost.

“The guild wished to press charges, but I’ve managed to soothe them. I’ve handled the artifacts in question and I have removed your name from their rolls. You have been removed from the guild, with no option to re-enroll.”

Removed from the guild.

Permanently.

Is it considered a knife to the heart if your heart is already stomped into the floor? “I understand, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t know that you do,” he snaps. “You cannot imagine the sheer number of meetings I’ve had to soothe ruffled feathers over this and prevent war. You had better appreciate what I’ve done for you.”

“I do,” I say dully. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

No guild. Ever. A small part of me thinks I was never cut out for it. That I’d rather sit by a cozy fire with a book and read about Old Prell than cave dive into the ruins. But now I can’t help my father acquire more artifacts. I can’t help Honori Hold, and once word gets out that our home is defenseless, other families will come sniffing around, trying to accomplish what Barnabus did not.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Good,” the king says, a hint of a smile on his face. “The lord holder is here to pick up the artifact rings I’ve sold to him.”

Is this part of my punishment? I wonder as the guard goes to the door. That I have to watch the handoff of all my hopes and dreams?

The door opens and a bearded nobleman steps in, dressed in fur-trimmed robes and wearing a feathered cap.

My…father?

FORTY-NINE ASPETH

“The king’s plan is brilliant,” my father says over dinner. “You’re lucky he stepped in to fix things after you botched them, Aspeth darling. What a ridiculous plan you had.”

I poke at my stew. After the king dismissed us—and sold my father the artifacts I worked so hard to retrieve—we’ve regrouped for an evening meal. Or rather, we’re supposed to be eating, but I don’t have much of an appetite. I can’t get over that my father’s here. I can’t get over that the king was toying with me, when he’d already made plans with Father. He just wanted to see my responses. It sits sourly in my belly, just like the oniony stew. My father didn’t want to stay on guild property, as he feels they spy on holders. So I find myself at the King’s Onion again. The same barmaid is slinging drinks, a sympathetic look on her face when I arrive with my dour, unpleasant father. Father sniffs in distaste at the look of the place, but his attitude changes once I tell him that they have an artifact from the king himself. Artifacts always impress everyone. The stew tastes heavily of onions and meat, and it smells delicious. My stomach, however, is far too tense for me to take more than a bite.

Father has no such issues. He has a bowl of stew in front of him, his second one, and he sips froth from his beer, his manners impeccable despite the sheer amount of food he can put away. Hawk eats just as much as my father, I realize, but Hawk eats nothing save vegetables and grains. My father, however, just likes to eat. And drink. And gamble. He spoons a chunk of meat and shakes his head at me. “Well?”

I glance up, feeling like a chastised child. “I’m sorry?”

“What were you thinking, daughter?”

Ah, yes. I was thinking that someone had to do something to save Honori Hold, but of course I can’t say that to my father. He’ll reach across this table and slap my mouth, and no one will stop him because he’s a holder. I toy with a chunk of carrot in my stew idly. “I thought I could help.”

“It’s lucky for you that we have Liatta to thank,” he grumbles, glancing up. “Ah. Here she comes now.”

The fair Liatta. I’ve never been in the same room as her, because mistresses and daughters don’t mix. We’re kept in very careful circles, and I’m supposed to pretend like I don’t know that my father has a mistress at court. That Liatta is so beautiful she’s slept with the king himself, and that she’s been my father’s paramour for a long while. I’ve never met her, but the woman who glides through the crowd of tables fits my expectations.

She’s beautiful, of course. Well dressed. And from the look in her eyes, sharp. I suppose you need to be all those things to survive at court, and Liatta thrives there. Her brocade dress is sumptuous, her neckline deep enough to show the swells of her breasts just above her tightly cinched corset, and she wears a fashionable little ruff around her neck in lieu of jewelry. Her hair is pulled into multiple knots atop her head, each one covered in a ruby-studded golden net. Her dark eyes are crafty as she flicks her bracelet-encrusted arm, indicating her servant should pull out her seat. The woman attending her does so, brushing off the wooden chair with a napkin and then wiping the table before Liatta sits down gracefully. She has to be at least ten years older than me, but you wouldn’t know it just from looking at her. Liatta makes me feel old and frumpy, with my dirty hair and a freshly cleaned (but extremely plain) dress that Gwenna brought when she’d heard I was going to be released.

“Lady Aspeth,” Liatta says in a rich, careful voice. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”