Chapter 14 #3
“Not a chance. You are not risking having this baby in the Court of Revels.” Munch wrapped an arm around Brigid’s shoulders, his glare teasing even if his tone was serious.
Benedict gaped between the two of them, finally managing to make his jaw work. “How…how could I speak if he was there? My vow was pretty specific. I couldn’t even orchestrate someone overhearing me talk about what I knew.”
“It could be because he stands in as the Primrose often enough nowadays that he probably counts as the Primrose just as much as I do.” Brigid shrugged and smiled up at Munch. Then she gave another wave. “But that wouldn’t explain them.”
A snick sounded to his left a moment before the rectangular shape of a door opened in the shadows. King Theseus and Queen Hippolyta strode through.
Beatrice peeked around the edge of the door, her gaze flicking to Benedict, then away, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to face him.
His breath caught in his chest. Beatrice had heard. She knew everything. His geas. Why he’d done the things he had that night.
What did she think of him? Was she impressed? Had her feelings turned from loathing and back to love? Assuming she had ever begun to love him.
Swallowing, he tore his gaze away from Beatrice. “How? I shouldn’t have been able to speak if they were listening.”
“Ah, but that’s the thing.” Brigid’s grin was downright impish. “They are all a part of my League. They are my hands and feet in the Fae Realm, doing my work in my name. In that way, they are me. Together, we all are the Wild Fae Primrose.”
Benedict huffed a breath of a laugh. If he’d harbored any doubts that she was the Primrose, this settled it. Only the Primrose would find a loophole in his loophole. “But you didn’t know about my geas before I started speaking.”
“No, but I suspected you were under something rather restrictive.” Brigid gave that careless shrug again. “You were too desperate to speak, and yet when you did, you were pretty cryptic. It didn’t take a great deal of deduction to realize it might be something like this.”
He could only shake his head. “Do you mean that I could have simply talked to someone in the Primrose League this whole time?”
He shot a glance at Beatrice. Could he have told her the truth right from the start?
“Most likely not.” Brigid waddled forward, holding onto Munch to steady her. “I suspect it helped that I was here in person and that you didn’t know they were there. You didn’t arrange for them to overhear. I did.”
Benedict nodded again. Little things like that could make the difference in wiggling around the restrictions of vows and bindings in the Fae Realm.
Turning to King Theseus and Queen Hippolyta, Benedict gave a bow.
“Your Majesties. The last thing I need to report is that my father and brother are spying on behalf of Claudius. My father is the reason I was the only one actually returned in that prisoner exchange. Claudius knew I was searching for the Primrose, so I used that to trap his spies tonight.”
King Theseus tilted his head in a nod. “Thank you for your loyalty, Apprentice Librarian Benedict, especially considering the disloyalty of your family. We have suspected your family’s duplicity for some time, and it’s good to finally have some confirmation.
However, just the fact that they showed up at your trap isn’t enough proof of treason. We will be forced to release them.”
Benedict opened his mouth, but King Theseus held up a hand, forestalling his protest.
Queen Hippolyta rested a hand on her sword. “They will be closely watched, as will all the fake court members until it is time to arrest them. Doubtless, they will lead us to any other contacts they have in both our Court and the Court of Revels.”
“For now, we will need to act as if you are still under arrest for treason.” King Theseus met Benedict’s gaze. “We can’t risk alerting the imposters that we are on to them.”
“I understand, Your Majesty.” Benedict dipped his head as he shrugged. “It isn’t like I have anywhere to go tonight. I certainly can’t return home.”
Those words sent another stab to his chest and a bitter taste to his mouth. His father had disowned him. Just like that.
King Theseus’s expression softened, a hint of compassion in his eyes.
“You will be given a comfortable guest room here in the castle. The door will be guarded, but that is as much for your safety as the ruse that you are under arrest. The conspirators will be worried that you will talk while under our custody, and they might decide to try to kill you.”
Would his own father or brother plot to murder him? He would have liked to say that would be a step too far, but he couldn’t. In his father’s mind, Benedict had betrayed the family and thus he deserved disownment and perhaps even death.
He flicked a glance at Beatrice again. Her blue eyes had widened, their depths liquid and almost painfully compassionate.
Would he get a chance to talk to her before Midsummer? What did she think of him, now that she knew the truth?