Captain Monteros and Elder Cestrum exchanged a look as people whispered around him. “We understand you are upset, Your Highness,” Elder Cestrum said, stepping toward him. “But there are no signs that your sister was here. The guards never saw her.”
“He did.” Breathing was like fire. Still, Andreus forced himself to rise and turn toward Max, who was standing at the entrance to the tower. Pointing to the terrified boy, he said, “Max told me he was here when Lady Imogen died and that it was my sister’s hand that held the blade.”
Captain Monteros stepped toward Max. “Come here, boy.” Max’s eyes were wide and fixated on Andreus as he approached the Captain of the Guard.
“Tell me what you saw,” the captain commanded.
Max looked down at the ground and said something that was hard to hear over the beating of the windmills and the whispers of the onlookers.
“Louder, boy,” Elder Cestrum snapped.
“I saw the Princess on the ground. Lady Imogen was over there. Then the Princess took out one of her knives and threw it and Lady Imogen fell.”
Captain Monteros looked back at Elder Cestrum and shook his head. “My guards never reported seeing Princess Carys up on the battlements.”
“The boy has no reason to lie,” Andreus shouted. “He knows what he saw.”
“Or he knows what he believes he’s supposed to say.” Lord Garret stepped forward from the crowd. He looked down at Imogen’s too-still body and shook his head.
“Are you calling the boy a liar?” Andreus asked.
“I think the boy will say what he believes will help you secure the throne,” Garret said. “From what I hear, he owes you his life. Perhaps he believes he can repay that debt by giving you the throne.”
“I don’t need anyone to give me the throne. It belongs to me.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Garret said, looking at Max. “But Lady Imogen’s death will not help you gain it. I am not sure what this boy thought he saw, but the truth is that I was with your sister at first light this morning.”
The noble behind Garret gasped and Andreus looked at Max, who had his eyes lowered to the stone beneath his feet.
“And while I appreciate your desire for justice, I am curious,” Lord Garret continued. “Why do you think Princess Carys would have reason to kill Lady Imogen?”
Andreus looked down at Imogen’s motionless body. Anger whipped through him as he said, “Carys was jealous of her. She hated how much my family loved her.” How much I loved her, he added silently. “Captain Monteros, I order you to seize my sister and take her to the North Tower.”
Andreus had weakened Carys by emptying every red bottle in the castle. He had taken something vital to her, and she had struck back—just as Imogen had said his sister would. Now Carys would pay.
Captain Monteros looked at Elder Cestrum and the rest of the Elders.
“What are you waiting for?” Andreus yelled.
The windmills pounded.
The air swirled.
Imogen’s hair—her beautiful, glistening hair—fluttered in the breeze.
His heart strained and ached as it pounded harder. Demanding vengeance.
Elder Cestrum sighed. “I am sorry, Your Highness, but you are not the King. The captain cannot follow your command.”
“You had no problem with him following my command last night.” Andreus kept his shoulders straight. The curse pulled at him. The burning in his chest made him want to double over, but he refused to give in. No one would see it. Carys would not win.
Elder Jacobs stepped forward. “The word of a lord who has taken an oath to the King weighs more heavily in our laws than that of a commoner who might be encouraged to say what he believes will gain him reward. One who seeks to be King should understand that. The captain and the guard will hunt down the true attacker. Meanwhile the Lady Imogen will be taken to the chapel and honored as her service to the kingdom demands.”
Elder Cestrum and Elder Urlich turned toward Captain Monteros. Carys’s foreign dignitary faded back and headed off to one of the northern exits. The gathered nobles whispered to each other as if it was settled. Nothing was settled. He was to be King and they would listen to his commands.
“Wait . . . ” His throat was too tight for the word to have any force. He had to get out of here. He had to relax so the symptoms of the curse would fade. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave her.
“I admire your dedication to the woman who was to marry your brother, Your Highness.” Elder Jacobs stepped next to him and lowered his snakelike voice. “But I fear many will start to wonder if you have other motives for demanding the justice you seek. More . . . intimate reasons that might not seem as virtuous should they come to light.”
Andreus pulled his eyes away from Imogen’s face and looked at the Elder. “That sounds like a threat.”
“No, Your Highness. It is a warning from one who would like to see you take the throne in strength. And I would be a poor ally if I didn’t mention that if your . . . involvement with Lady Imogen comes to light, it will not take long for speculation to begin about whether you had a hand in your brother’s death.”
“I had nothing—”
“Of course not, Your Highness. But there are those who would see your involvement as a sign of disrespect for the Crown Prince, and your desire to punish your sister as an indication that you don’t want to have to compete anymore for the throne.” Elder Jacobs looked at Lord Garret, who was speaking with Elder Cestrum, then back at Andreus. “The next trial is at dusk. If it is vengeance you wish, there will be opportunities for you to take it then.”
Elder Jacobs held his gaze for one second . . . two . . . three. Then he turned and walked back to Imogen’s body. Everything inside Andreus ached for her. He wanted to kneel on the stone beside her and gather her body in his arms—to warm her against the cold wind and the flakes of snow starting to drift down from the sky.
But it was getting harder and harder to pull in air. His left arm tingled. The attack was worsening.
Elder Cestrum would see it.
Andreus would lose the throne and the chance to see his sister pay for what she had taken from him.
So, he forced himself to turn his back on Imogen’s body, nodded for Max to follow, then retraced his steps—each harder to take than the last—to the stairs leading down into the castle. Pressure built in his chest. When he reached the staircase, he took several steps down to make sure he was out of view before leaning his head against the cold wall. Tears swelled, pushing against his throat. He pounded his fist against the wall as his heart strained harder to burst free.
“Prince Andreus? Are you okay?”
No. The attack was getting worse. And while he trusted Max’s loyalty, he couldn’t let the boy see him struggle.
“Sir, you look unwell. Maybe you should sit?”
Andreus pushed away from the wall and told Max, “I’m fine, just upset.” His ears rang. He took a step forward—
—then everything went black.
Max’s face swam before him. The boy’s fear-filled eyes widened as he saw Andreus move. Immediately the boy rushed to help Andreus get to a sitting position.