I whip around. “Mercy is not a weakness.”
“You are not to see Rigel again.”
My fury is replaced with terror. I open my mouth to argue, but there are no words. I shake my head.
“If you defy me, I will lock you in a tower. Do not think I won’t.” He lays back. “Zander, send word to every one of my knights and guards that if the two of them are seen together, Seirsha will immediately be brought to me.” He turns back to me. “No rides, no outings, no secret trysts in the halls. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I say through gritted teeth.
But he still doesn’t understand me. As long as the threats are directed at me alone, I will not give up Rigel.
His face changes and settles into a mask of something more pleasant. “And I have shown you kindness. I could have had Antone hanged the night he helped you drag Calden’s prone body to the tavern.”
My eyes go wide. There’s no hiding my shock.
“I know everything that happens in my castle, Seirsha. I even know of a certain bishop from Glendon.”
I freeze, terrified.
He closes his eyes. “Yes, the timing was no mistake. The two of you are tenacious, I will give you that.” He looks over, a real question in his eyes. “But something plagues me. Perhaps you will indulge me with an answer. Why didn’t you kill Calden when you had the chance?”
I cross my arms, hoping to hide my fear. “It was not my place to take his life.”
Father laughs. “If only you’d had the gumption of your maid. She didn’t seem to let that stop her.”
My heart stutters. “Bea was with her mother that night.”
“Ah, perhaps she was when you left the cottage, but where was she an hour before the death bells tolled? Her family was fast asleep. However, I assure you, Bea was not in her bed.”
I stay silent, my mind reeling at the accusation.
Finished with me, Father waves his hand in dismissal. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
***
How do I go about asking Bea if she murdered the crown prince of Errinton?
My dearest friend chatters on about an old woman she and Kendal visited yesterday. She’s arranging flowers in a vase by my window. I love summer flowers. Pippa told me Archer had a greenhouse built for her, and she may grow them year-round. What a beautiful novelty that would be.
“Did you kill Calden?” I blurt out.
Bea looks up, shocked. Her hands freeze in their task, a flower suspended above the vase.
I take a deep breath and then whisper, “Did you kill him, Bea?”
Her eyes drop back to her work, and she slides the stem in with the others. When she speaks, I can barely hear her answer. “I did.”
I drop into the closest chair. The air whooshes out of my lungs, leaving me faint. “Oh, no.”
She joins me. “How did you find out?”
I meet her eyes. Hers, so vibrant and kind, are filled with terror. It’s impossible. How could she kill him?
“Father told me.”
She jolts. “How long has he known?”
“From the beginning, I believe.”
“Why I am not dead?”
I shake my head, my eyes resting on the flowers on the table. “Why did you do it?”
She bites her lip. Already, tears glisten in her eyes. “I was scared. I was scared he would remember.” She looks at me, begging me to understand. “And I was tired of living in fear. I know I shouldn’t have—I know it was wrong.”
I rub my temples. This is Bea, and I love her. I don’t know what to think.
She leans forward and clasps her hands in her lap. Tears spill down her overly pink cheeks. “I wish I hadn’t. I wish I would have left him to die in the cold. Every night the memory comes back to haunt me.”
What do I say? The punishment isn’t mine to decide; it’s Father’s. So far, he’s kept silent.
I grasp her hands, saying nothing. I hate what she’s done—but I love her, and I detested Calden. I know it was wrong, but I am so conflicted.
“Please forgive me, Seirsha.”
I nod, feeling ill. Will Father show her mercy? It’s not likely.
Needing to move, I stand. I change the subject, not wishing to speak of it again. “Father also knows about the bishop from Glendon.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Bea’s face go pale.
I look back. “What is it?”
“Rigel received a message from Prince Teagan. The bishop is missing.”
Stunned, I stare out the window. “The world is falling apart, and I feel as if we have no control over it.”
Bea joins me. “That’s because we don’t.”
Chapter Fifteen
Now that Father has publicly announced our attack on the feral dragons, I am no longer safe in the village. The people are furious and frightened. The men worry their women and children will not be able to survive without them here, and the women and children worry about their men. And we all worry about the dragons’ wrath.
Heartsick, I wish Adrinel would return. I need her council. She’s never gone this long. Something must have happened to her.
No. I will not even consider it.
I have also been assigned a personal guard, Dryal. He is tall and handsome with blond hair and a strong jaw—the perfect specimen of a dragon slayer. Dryal’s presence is Father’s idea of a carefully plotted distraction—another sign he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.
Despite Dryal’s pleasing features, he is unfriendly and looks put out by his new duty. He is less a guard and more a keeper. Every day he stands outside my door when I am in my chambers, and he accompanies me when I leave. I am never alone.
I haven’t seen Rigel for two weeks. The seclusion gnaws at me, eating me away from the inside. I’m edgy, nervous.
The door opens and Bea enters my chambers. “Oh, you’re already dressed.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” I blow on the parchment in front of me, drying the ink.
Without a word, I hand her the paper. We don’t speak of it—she knows to whom it goes. I’m afraid Dryal’s orders include eavesdropping along with guarding. He and I both know he’s not here for my safety.
Bea takes the parchment and tucks it into a pocket at the side of her apron. She lights a fire in the hearth, sets a pot of water to boil, and gathers my nightclothes for the laundry. Once finished, she sits at the desk I just occupied. She takes my quill and scratches on a new piece of parchment.
“The army will leave in a few days,” I say as I glance at the closed door. “How is Antone?”
Bea continues to write. “He is well. We’re so proud of him for being chosen. What an honor it is.”
“A great honor.” I try to make it sound as if I believe it. Somehow, Bea is able to keep the bitterness out of her voice much better than I am.
Finally, she finishes writing, and I read over her shoulder, thankful she was interested in learning to read and write when we were children.
My family left with Archer and Pippa early yesterday morning. They should be to the border late tonight, and then they will cross into Lauramore the next morning. Pippa says her parents will give them refuge.
I take the quill from her. When do you leave?
My heart aches. I will miss my friend and the family I love as if they were my own, but this is for the best. Father chose Antone as a punishment. He’s not meant to return alive.
Kendal has been tending a sick boy. He wants to check on him again tonight, and then we will leave for Thernrow in the morning.
Every bit the man I had hoped he was, Kendal proposed to Bea two evenings ago. She accepted. They had a quiet ceremony—one I wasn’t able to attend.
It was then that Dryal informed me my Father has forbidden me from venturing into the village. Since the announcement of the attack on the dragons, the mood is increasingly hostile, he said. Which is true—but that’s not the reason I’m not allowed there now.
I’m
glad Kendal is taking Bea away from the castle and its bitter memories. If only I could follow them. I wish they were leaving our kingdom altogether, though. Since Thernrow is still in Errinton, it isn’t as safe as Lauramore. Still, anywhere is better than here, and if they must, they can slip into Glendon.
Bea sets the quill aside and stares out the window.
I drum my fingers against my hip and then snatch the quill back up. How is Rigel?
She reads my words and then frowns. I try not to fidget as she replies. The quill scratches against the parchment.
Angry and increasingly short-tempered, I read. He’s quiet and broody, and I know he’s thinking of you. Tears sting at my eyes, but I blink them away and read on. He’s arranged for a man to bring iktar to the villages. The people are grateful.
Penrith must have proved reliable.
A bell sounds, reminding me of the time. Bea tends my hair, and we share a careful, shallow conversation, speaking only of safe topics. There are so few, it’s difficult to keep it flowing. Soon we both fall silent.
Once finished, I study my reflection in the mirror. My finger brushes over the bare skin at my neck. I shouldn’t miss the pendant so much; it was a just a pretty thing. Almost every piece of mother’s jewelry is worth more.
But it meant so much.
“Almost finished,” Bea says with a smile, and then she leans in and whispers, “I have something for you.”
Her eyes sparkle, but at the same time she looks as if she might cry.
I nod, wary.
From the same pocket she tucked my note, she draws out a tiny velvet pouch. My heart stutters. I gingerly accept it and run my finger over the soft material, feeling the grain catch against my skin. I pull the pouch open, turn it over, and the contents fall into my hand.
A long, thin chain settles into my palm. It’s exquisite, and I would marvel over how fine it is but for the pendant hanging from it. I pick it up, and my hand trembles. Though secured to the chain, it’s not a pendant at all.
It’s a ring.
“Put it on,” Bea whispers.
Once over my head, the chain hangs almost to my waist. The morning light catches the stone, and the sapphire winks back at me from its reflection in the mirror.
“Rigel said to keep it hidden.” Bea’s words are barely audible, but I hear her well enough.
I tuck the ring inside my gown.
Bea runs a soft cloth over my dressing table, picking up the brush and other trinkets as she straightens things. She glances cautiously at the door and whispers, “He didn’t send a message with it.”
“It doesn’t need one.”
***
Dryal stands behind me. He’s as still as stone, but it feels as if he’s hovering. The evening meal is tense. It was inevitable Father would notice Archer’s absence, but I had hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. Father has attended very few meals. I don’t know why he chose tonight to be sociable.
I have little appetite, but I tear at a small loaf of bread.
“Do you know where they have gone, Seirsha?” Father asks.
I turn my head slowly, as if I’m intent on my supper. “Lord and Lady Archer?”
He narrows his icy gaze. “I do believe that’s who we’ve been speaking of.”
“Pippa enjoys riding.” I shrug one shoulder. “They most likely lost track of time. I expect they’ll be back any moment.”
Father leans closer. “Let’s not play games. You know where they are.”
I open my mouth, ready to defy him, when the red-haired princess comes strolling through the stone archway like it’s any other evening.
My eyes go wide, and I stare at her.
She ignores my expression and dips to my father in greeting. “Poor Archer is ill, Your Majesty. He sends his apologies.”
Father studies her, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I do hope he didn’t come down with something catching.”
Pippa waves her hand at the notion. “Don’t worry about me, Sire. I’m resilient.”
She tilts her head, waiting for him to challenge her. She knows as well as he that wherever Archer is, he’s in perfect health.
Instead, Father motions for her to be seated. He turns to Zander, who sits on his other side along with Rovert. He says something, Zander rises, and his attention again moves to the meal.
I let out a breath.
From several tables down, Rigel watches us. He doesn’t seem surprised by Pippa’s presence.
But where is Archer? Where is Bea’s family?
I burn to ask her questions, but I wisely keep my mouth shut. Even if Father doesn’t overhear, Dryal surely would. Still, I can’t stop myself completely. “What has Archer come down with?”
Pippa raises an eyebrow; her lips almost curve in a smile. “He ate something off—the poor man. I’m afraid my constitution is simply too delicate to stay with him. You know how unpleasant that can be.”
I bite my lip to hold back my smile. Archer is nowhere near the castle.
“I’m sure rest is all he requires.”
She nods and helps herself to a hearty portion of grouse. My eyes wander back to my plate and then rise to Rigel. He’s been careful to keep his gaze averted most of the evening. Instead of watching me, he converses with the Marquis and Marquise of Preywoth. The marquis listens to Rigel, intrigued. They must be speaking of the drachite. Rigel has that animated look he gets whenever he speaks of it.
I play with the chain at my neck. I feel complete again with the weight of it on my skin.
Feeling a little better after seeing both Pippa and Rigel look so unconcerned, I force myself to eat. I’m just swallowing my first bite when a shrill cry echoes outside the great hall.
My head snaps up. I know that scream.
Argus and another guard pull Bea into the hall, and silence falls over the crowd. She fights them but goes limp when she’s in front of the king. Her terror-filled eyes find mine. My heart is in my throat, but I am frozen in my seat.
Father glances at me, his face cold. “You shouldn’t have helped her family escape, Seirsha. It was a grave error in judgment. In mercy, I had planned to play unaware of her crime, but it’s impossible with the recent turn of events.”
Father dabs his mouth with a napkin and then makes a slow show of setting it down. “It’s unfortunate we must deal with this at such an inopportune time.” He stands, relishing the confused gazes falling on him. “Bring her forward.”
The guards drag Bea closer. Argus presses on her shoulders, and she is forced to kneel on the floor. Silent tears run down her face.
“Bea Woodley, you are charged with the murder of Crown Prince Calden of Errinton. How do you plead?”
Several people gasp, but most raise skeptical eyebrows at the slender, blond-haired girl. Bea gulps back her tears, and her expression turns defiant. She doesn’t answer but instead stares Father down.
Rigel rises. “Sire, please—”
“Enough!” Father bellows, going from controlled to livid in less than a heartbeat. “You will keep quiet, or you will find yourself in her place. You tread a fine line, Lord Rigel. Do not forget who is king.”
Rigel doesn’t stay quiet.
“This girl could not have killed Calden!” he says.
The lord sounds so convicted; I know there is no way the news has traveled to him.
As in a game of sport, the crowd’s eyes go from Father to Rigel and then back again. Many murmur their agreement with the lord.
“Argus,” Father says, his eyes still on Rigel. “Did you witness this crime?”
Argus's lips twist as if he’s relishing the moment. “I did, Your Majesty.”
This can’t be happening. I clench and release my hands over and over again.
Father, ignoring Rigel, turns his attention to Bea. “You were seen. No matter your answer, you will hang for your crimes. So I ask you again, did you kill Calden?”
Bea turns to me, a goodbye in her eyes. I shake my head slightly, b
egging her to keep her mouth shut. Father’s lying. Already the lords are standing. No one is going to let her hang. She’s just a girl.
Bea lifts her head, her eyes hard. “I did. I killed him.”
Rigel sinks to his seat. With his jaw clenched tight, he lifts his face to the ceiling. Now that she’s admitted it, there is nothing anyone can do.
“Take her to the dungeons.” Father waves his hand, dismissing her. It’s impossible to miss the gleeful look of triumph just under the surface. “She’ll hang in the morning.”
I’m not sure when I began trembling, but I realize how cold I am when Pippa wraps her arm around my shoulders. I turn to her, crying.
Father goes back to his food as if nothing has happened. “If you can’t compose yourself, Seirsha, then go to your chambers.”
I turn to him, all of my hate bubbling over.
He tilts his head, studying me. His expression softens and turns to a gentle look of chastisement. “I warned you not to defy me.”
***
I cry into my knees in front of the hearth in my chambers. Pippa sits next to me, swiping at her own tears. She has nowhere to go. Archer’s on his way to Lauramore with Bea’s family.
I’m so grateful they aren’t here for this—though this may have never come to pass if we hadn’t spirited them away.
No. Father would have used the knowledge eventually. Bea was as good as hanged the moment she set foot from her cottage that night.
There’s a soft knock on the door, but I ignore it. The door opens anyway.
Dryal’s voice is unusually hesitant when he says, “Your Highness?”
I glance over, not bothering to hide my tears. His shoulders stiffen as if he’s uncomfortable witnessing my pain. Let him see. I’m not made of ice; I don’t know why I ever pretended to be.
He gazes past me at the fire. “I will escort you to the dungeons if you wish it.”
I scrub away a tear with the palm of my hand. “Are you allowed to do that?”
Meeting my eyes, he says, “No.”
Wondering if this is some sort of trap, I study him. “All right.”
He nods and then motions for us to follow him.
“You go,” Pippa says. “You need this time. I’ll be here when you return.”
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 62