“Agreed,” Seersha said. She bent close, lowering her voice. “Someone else is to blame for Emperowen’s murder. Any clue as to who it might be?”
The guard shook his head, lips tightening into a frown. “None. But I wouldn’t have, would I? I’m just a soldier serving out my time in the Elven Home Guard. I don’t know these people well enough to be able to guess at either the names or the number of their enemies.”
She nodded. “Well, things will get sorted out. So Aresh is down the hall in the King’s room?”
“Left here just ten, fifteen minutes ago. He was in here with Ellich before that. And Jera. She’s an odd one. She’s not been to see her husband once until today. Then shows up, visits until Aresh comes, and then insists on seeing her nephew. They argued about it. I could hear them through the door. Finally, he gives in.”
Seersha stared. “She wanted to see Phaedon?”
“She said she did. Aresh didn’t like it, though.”
Seersha went still. “Give me those directions again.”
She left without seeming to be in a rush, but once she was out of sight she picked up her pace until she was almost running. She didn’t know what was troubling her exactly. Perhaps it was the idea of Jera visiting her nephew. Perhaps it was hearing that Jera had not come to visit Ellich until tonight. Especially that. It did not sound at all like the woman Aphenglow had described on repeated occasions—a wife whose entire life had been built around caring for her husband.
She reached the next corner and came around it in a rush. She saw the double doors immediately, but there was no guard on duty. She slowed, quieting her approach, her instincts telling her she should be cautious until she knew the lay of the land. She couldn’t imagine what might be happening, but she didn’t like how she was feeling.
She came up to the doors and stopped in front of them, listening. She could hear voices, low and indistinct. Or maybe it was only one voice. There was crying, too. A kind of low sobbing that had hints of despair and exhaustion. She listened for Sian Aresh, but didn’t hear him.
She almost knocked. But in the end she simply opened the door and stepped inside.
Next to the bed, a single smokeless lamp burned on a nightstand. In the faint splash of illumination it cast, she could see everything.
Sian Aresh and the Elven guard lay sprawled on the bedroom floor, lifeless eyes staring. There was blood pooling all around them, metallic and pungent. Phaedon Elessedil had been released from his restraints and was sitting on the side of the bed in his bedclothes. He was holding a knife in his lap, bending over and staring down at it, mumbling and sobbing. There was blood both on his clothes and on the knife.
Jera was sitting next to Phaedon, her arms around him. She was speaking to him in a low voice, and she seemed to be trying to comfort him.
She looked up instantly as Seersha appeared and put a finger to her lips. Seersha stood in front of the open door, staring in shock. “What’s happened here?”
Jera gave her a stern look. “Close the door. Don’t say anything more.”
The Elven woman continued to whisper to Phaedon, her voice low and compelling, her hands on his shoulders, bracing him as he sobbed and whimpered. The King seemed to be completely undone. There was no hint of the old Phaedon, the one Aphen had famously described as cold enough to freeze fire.
Seersha took a few steps toward them and stopped, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The shadows of the dark room felt as if they were filled with secrets, and all of them hidden from her.
Phaedon went suddenly quiet, leaning into Jera, his face buried in her shoulder.
Jera looked up at Seersha. “He killed them both. Somehow he got free of his restraints and got hold of this knife. When Sian and I entered the room, he attacked immediately. Sian was killed at once. When the guard heard the sounds of fighting and came running, Phaedon killed him, too.”
She stroked Phaedon’s head, smoothing his dark hair. “He didn’t do anything to me. He doesn’t seem to want to. He keeps calling me ‘Mother’ and telling me he’s sorry. I don’t think he even knows what he’s done.”
“He was supposed to be secured to the bed,” Seersha insisted in disbelief. “We told everyone he was a danger to himself and others. How did he get loose?”
Jera shook her head. “I don’t know.” She gave Phaedon a quick hug and rose. “I’ll leave him to you. I have to tell the other guards what’s happened. Ellich, too. Perhaps they’ll free him now.”
Seersha nodded blankly, looking down at the bloodied form of Sian Aresh. She couldn’t quite make sense of it. Jera’s explanation seemed plausible enough, but there was still something wrong. Maybe it was the knife, still in Phaedon’s hands. Maybe it was the tenderness Jera was showing Phaedon—a kindness that felt out of place.
The shock must be causing her to react like this, she told herself as Jera walked past her toward the door.