CHAPTER SIXTEEN TREW
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TREW
Guards raced toward us, their torches blazing as they flooded the bridge. The light painted everything in harsh oranges and blacks, including Crestin’s body, the spreading pool of blood beneath him, and Isi’s pale face.
“Secure the perimeter,” I barked, though I’d already sent out magic to make sure there was no other assassin around. “Check the gardens. Search for accomplices.”
The guards moved quickly. Half a dozen fanned out along the bridge and into the surrounding paths while others formed a loose circle around us.
One guard, younger than the rest, sprinted back toward the castle. To alert the king, no doubt.
Pherin returned to Isi’s shoulder in a flutter of teal and silver feathers.
I positioned myself between Isi and the guards. Every instinct screamed to pull her into my arms, to check her for injury despite her telling me she was fine. I wanted to get her away from this place and these men who were already looking at her with too much speculation.
Instead, I looked for threats. Seven guards standing on the bridge. More approaching from the castle, their footsteps echoing across the gardens. Unknown variables in the darkness beyond the torchlight.
The guard captain for the evening, a thick-shouldered man with iron-gray hair, crouched beside Crestin’s body. His hand hovered over the blade still buried in the dead lord’s chest, close enough to examine without touching.
“Bloodbane, sir.” His voice carried across the bridge.
My jaw clenched.
“The lord attacked and the princess defended herself,” I said, steel clear in my voice. “I witnessed the entire assassination attempt.”
More guards arrived, these wearing the distinctive silver clasps of the king’s personal detail. They formed a tighter circle around Isi, close enough that it felt less like protection and more like a cage.
One of them, a lanky man with nervous hands, stepped toward her. “Your Highness, perhaps you should sit. You’ve had a shock.”
“I will remain standing,” she said.
The guards shifted, uncertain how to handle a woman who’d watched a man die and showed no signs of collapsing into hysteria.
I studied Isi from the corner of my eye, assessing her the way I would any warrior after a kill.
Her spine remained straight, her shoulders were back, and her hands hung loose at her sides.
But I also saw the slight tremor in her fingers before she stilled them.
The too-careful way she breathed, as if she didn’t trust herself to take a natural inhalation.
She was holding on by sheer will alone.
The king strode through the gardens and up onto the bridge, flanked by his advisors. He still wore his formal tunic and pants from dinner. The torchlight caught on the gold thread woven through the fabric and the circlet resting on his graying head. His sharp eyes took the scene.
Dead suitor. Blood on the bridge. Daughter standing tall, surrounded by armed guards.
Lord Baswick, the king’s oldest advisor, took the lead with Lord Merkis at his back, whose face was twisted in a permanent expression of distaste. Lord Erradorn, whose concern seemed almost genuine, followed a few paces behind the others.
“Amarissa.” The king’s voice carried across the bridge. “What happened here?”
I stepped forward and bowed.
“Lord Crestin attacked Princess Amarissa with a blade. When he raised it, I moved to intercept. I grabbed his arm and twisted it as the princess stepped away from him. The combined momentum threw him into the railing. He fell on his own knife.”
The king’s gaze shifted to me. He studied me, perhaps searching for something beyond the hired bodyguard he’d approved days ago. “You witnessed this, Blain?”
“Every moment, Your Majesty.” I met his eyes, letting him see the truth there even as I shaped it to serve our purposes. “He drew the blade from his coat. Called her tainted and said the court must be purified.”
One of the guards stepped forward, presenting the blade to the king. The oily sheen on its edge caught the torchlight, outlining the poison.
The king stared down at it, his expression flickering before settling back into careful neutrality. “Bloodbane.” His voice came out flat. “Interesting.”
Murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd.
The king’s attention returned to Isi, and he didn’t look at her like a father checking on his daughter’s wellbeing, but like a ruler assessing a variable that had shifted in unexpected ways. “How did you defend yourself?”
Isi met his eyes without flinching. “I used Commander Thorne’s training, Father. I blocked his strike and he fell.”
The king’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin.
He circled Crestin’s body, examining it from different angles. “And you’re unharmed?”
“His blade didn’t touch me.”
The king crouched beside the corpse, his hand hovering over Crestin's wrist. Even in death, the angle appeared wrong, the bones clearly broken in ways that spoke of strong force. His gaze lifted to me. “This was you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I grabbed his arm to deflect the blade. I may have applied more force than necessary.” I let a thread of professional dissatisfaction enter my voice. “I should have reached her sooner.“
Silence stretched across the bridge.
The king straightened, looking down at her.
I needed to redirect his attention before that searching gaze found whatever he might be looking for.
“Your Majesty.” I let the admiration of a bodyguard for his charge come through in my voice. “The princess was magnificent. Her training saved her life. You must be proud.”
The compliment landed wrong. I saw it in the way the king’s eyes narrowed, the stiffening of his shoulders. Pride wasn’t what he felt. Suspicion, perhaps. Or fear.
“Yes.” His voice carried an edge I couldn’t name and his gaze scanned the area. “She did…very well.”
Footsteps on gravel drew everyone’s attention to the garden path. Lord Alfred emerged from the shadows.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed to the king before turning that gaze on Isi. “Your Highness. I heard the news. Are you injured, my lady?”
“No,” Isi said. “Thanks to my bodyguard’s quick response and my own training.”
Alfred moved closer to examine the scene. His gaze lingered on the poisoned blade the guard still held, the shattered wrist, and the angle of the man’s fall, before he released a dramatic sigh.
“Bloodbane. Interesting choice.” He looked up at the king. “This suggests coordination, Your Majesty. Not a crime of passion.”
“Your point, Alfred?”
“My point is that someone wants the princess dead. Why else would he attack her with a blade coated with bloodbane?” His eyes flicked to me, then back to the king. “Such horror, and from one of your own selected suitors. How could this slip past your guards and castle walls?”
The implication hung in the air. Anyone could be compromised. Anyone could be part of a conspiracy that reached into the highest circles of Caldrith’s court.
The king paled.
Alfred turned to Isi. “Did the lord say anything in particular?”
Isi recounted the attack dully, repeating every word Crestin had spoken.
Alfred’s expression darkened as she spoke, genuine concern flickering across features that usually held only the simpering of a fool.
“This sounds more like zealotry than politics,” he said.
“Zealotry can be bought just as easily as loyalty,” the king said.
“True.” Alfred nodded. “But it also suggests a specific ideology.”
The uncomfortable silence that followed spoke volumes. The king’s own public position on magic users and the executions Isi had been forced to oversee wasn’t far removed from the zealotry that may have driven Crestin’s blade.
The king stiffened, and he waved to his guards. “Remove the body. Secure the blade as evidence. I want it examined by the court healers.”
Guards moved to obey, lifting Crestin by his four limbs.
The king’s gaze returned to Isi. “Do not leave the castle grounds until we understand the scope of this conspiracy.”
“Of course, Father.”
The king turned to Lord Alfred. “I trust you’ll remain as well. For the princess’s protection.”
Lord Alfred bowed, satisfaction shining in his eyes. “I’m honored to serve, Your Majesty.”
The king led the procession back through the gardens, his advisors falling into step behind him. Isi walked next, flanked by guards who formed a protective box around her.
I took my position near her shoulder. Every step away from the blood-stained bridge felt like we were walking deeper into a trap.
A distant shout echoed from the gardens, raising the hair on my neck. The king flinched and spun around, while the guards tensed, their hands dropping to swords. But the sound wasn’t repeated, and we continued toward the castle.
Alfred eased back to walk beside Isi. “Your reaction was most impressive, Your Highness. Most women would’ve frozen.”
“I’m not most women.”
Alfred’s smile reached his eyes for the first time since I’d met him. “No. You certainly aren’t.”
Isi kept her expression neutral. “He taught me to survive. As you can see, his lessons took.”
“Indeed.” Alfred’s voice held curiosity. “Though I confess, I’m curious about the force required to shatter a man’s wrist so completely.”
My hand moved to my sword hilt, a subtle warning that anyone would read.
The intrigued gleam in the lord’s eyes deepened. “Easy, Blain. I meant it as a compliment.”
“Come with me, Amarissa,” King Cyril barked when we’d reached the back entrance.
She gave him a nod before her gaze met mine.
Inside his office, the king poured two glasses of wine.
“Sit.” He handed her one of the glasses. “Drink all of this.”
Her eyebrows lifted, but she did as he asked.
He watched, not sitting until she’d finished before settling himself and taking a sip of his own drink.
Isi placed the empty goblet on the desk and folded her hands in her lap.
“You’re truly uninjured?” The king studied Isi over the rim of his glass.
“He didn’t hurt me.”
He grunted, his gaze never leaving her face. “Tell me everything. From the beginning. Every word he spoke. Every movement.”