“You would not have killed him. You would have found a reason to forgive him. You have a good heart, Freya. You would have known to trust him, in the end.”
“And what about you? What about my heart’s decision to trust you?”
“Perhaps your heart is wise in that, as well. I did what was best.”
I shook my head. I could almost see Madeleine’s perspective, how she had twisted things around, but so many people had died. Innocent people, trying to live in the world they’d been given. Madeleine had punished them all, indiscriminately, just to say she had not done so directly, to say the king’s extravagance was the cause.
“Do you believe me?” Madeleine said softly. “Or should I prepare to go down to the dungeons?”
“No,” I said. “No, to both of those things. If you really are my friend, you’ll stay in your rooms, and you’ll help me to stop your cousin. Once we’ve survived that, then . . . then I’ll decide what to do.”
“I meant what I said before,” Madeleine said. “You will be a great queen. A better one than I had hoped for.”
“If I stop your cousin first.”
Madeleine stepped back. “You have to use your strengths against him. Unsettle him. I don’t know what he believes, but he is too superstitious to be entirely convinced he doesn’t believe. If you can somehow convince him the Forgotten are angry with him . . . that might be the only way.”
I nodded. It was good advice, no matter the source. “I’ll have someone guard the door.”
Madeleine sank into a curtsy, her skirts flowing around her, and I forced myself to turn away.
I wanted to run to Fitzroy’s rooms, but my legs wouldn’t listen. The shock of Madeleine’s betrayal had hollowed me out, and I could hardly feel my feet touching the floor. I floated like a ghost through the castle, barely disturbing the air with my presence.
Down the stairs, along the corridor, past the guards, to Fitzroy’s rooms. I hadn’t planned what I would say to him, had no time to sort through my feelings, so when the door swung open, I simply stumbled forward, my throat tight.
He sat in an armchair, writing. His shoulders were tense, but otherwise he looked fine, he looked like Fitzroy.
“Why did you lie to me?” I said. My voice cracked. “Why did you hide the letters from me, when you knew . . . ?”
He must have noticed the shift in tone, the way my question had moved from accusation to confusion, because he frowned, and when he replied, his voice was softer too. “I panicked,” he said. “I didn’t know my father planned that, not until I saw those letters, when I was reading in the lab by myself, waiting for you. I thought, if you read them, you’d suspect me. It did seem to suggest I might have done it. So I hid them. I didn’t want you to not trust me.”
“So you did something untrustworthy?”
“I knew they weren’t useful for the investigation. They were personal. So I hid them. But I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“I—I understand why you did it.” That didn’t mean I forgave him, but I could see his reasons. It didn’t make him a bad person, but—that didn’t mean I had to forgive him. “I found the murderer.” I had to force the words out. I’d wanted to be able to say them for weeks, but now they were just . . . hollow. All of it was hollow. “It was Madeleine.”
“Madeleine?”
“She told me.” And I explained all that had happened since his arrest. He began pacing as soon as I mentioned the painting, and did not stop even when the story was done.
“Madeleine,” he said. “That—how? How could it have been Madeleine?”
“I just told you—”
He laughed humorlessly. “It was a figure of speech, Freya. But—Madeleine killed them. Madeleine. I’ve known Madeleine for years. She’s—how could Madeleine have done it?”
“She thought she had good reasons.”
“I’m sure Sten thinks he has good reasons to kill you. I’m sure everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing. Doesn’t mean that they are.”
I felt that I should say more, apologize more, dig in more, but—I just couldn’t. Fitzroy’s betrayal was still raw, hidden underneath the devastation of Madeleine. I’d cried all night. I’d been so reluctant to trust him, and then I had, and even if his feelings were honest, he wasn’t. I couldn’t offer him anything more. I couldn’t possibly articulate any of what I felt.
I scraped the tangled black hair away from my face. Madeleine wouldn’t be able to style it for me now. “Sten’s two days away,” I said. “And I still don’t—please, come to my lab. I have to figure this out.”
He watched me for a long moment, and for once, I couldn’t read his expression. Then he nodded.
I still needed to fetch Naomi, to tell her everything that had happened. She hadn’t been as close to Madeleine as I had become, but she’d still be heartbroken. Madeleine had killed her brother.
We met her on the stairs to my quarters. She hurtled down them, her face had been drained by fear, and stopped short when she saw us.
“Freya!” she said. “I just woke up, and Madeleine’s under guard. No one would tell me what was happening. Has Holt arrested her? What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Naomi,” I said. The words felt too heavy to speak. “Madeleine confessed to me. She killed them.”
Naomi opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. She swayed on the spot, still poised to disagree, all the fight falling out of her. “She told you that?”
“She did. I’m sorry, Naomi.”
She glanced at Fitzroy then back at me. “How can you be certain?” she said. “How can you know? She could be lying, or she could be confused, covering for her cousin—”
“I know, Naomi. This time, I know.” And I told her what Madeleine had confessed.
“So Madeleine killed Jacob.”
I nodded, and she repeated the words louder. “She killed everyone, and then she joined us. Then she pretend to help us?” Furious tears burned in her eyes. She strode back up the stairs. I ran forward to grab her arm and hold her back.
“Naomi, don’t,” I said. “We can deal with her later, and we will, but we can’t right now.”
“Freya—”
“Please, Naomi. Punishing her won’t help anything yet. We have to deal with Sten first. We have to. And I need your help.”
“You don’t need my help.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do. Please. You’re my best friend. We’ll deal with Madeleine later. But first—we have to figure out how to stay alive. I need your help. Please.”
Naomi looked at me for a long moment, tears still blurring her eyes. “All right,” her tone resolved, fierce. “Let’s take down this bastard together.”
THIRTY-ONE
“STEN’S MEN ARE COMING FROM THE EAST,” FITZROY said. He had spread a large map across the lab’s central table, and he was negotiating it like a seasoned battle strategist.