16. Aemon
16
T roi certainly loves to hear himself speak. This was supposed to be a short announcement about the queen’s death and a warning not to interfere with searches going on. Instead, he’s been droning on for at least a half hour, and he hasn’t even spoken to the masses outside yet. I drag a hand down my face. I can’t deal with this anymore. I need to speak to Katya.
I wave Captain Petrea over. Of course, his swagger doesn’t permit him to come quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked right into battle that way.
“Yes, sir,” he says when he finally reaches me.
“Take my place here by the king. I need to start interrogating the prisoners.
Petrea smooths out his bushy mustache, his brows pinched. “It was my understanding Lord Fredrick was handling the interrogations. ”
A rush of ice-cold fear sweeps through my body. I whirl on the captain. “On whose orders?”
“The king’s, sir.”
“Gods dammit.” The bloody bastard went over my head. “Stay here,” I command, and storm out the side door without waiting for a response.
I’m taking the steps two at a time, racing for Katya’s room. Fredrick. Of course, he would choose Fredrick. His moral compass dips even farther south than the king’s.
I round the corner to the holding rooms, praying, praying Fredrick hasn’t gotten to her.
Her door is open.
“Fuck.”
I spin around and sprint the other way—heading for the prison.
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to kill him .
The words replay in my mind like a mantra all the way to the prison door. My hands shake as I fumble with the keys. Finally, I get the door unlocked and plow into it with my shoulder, sending it crashing into the wall. My eyes go straight for the interrogation room, and I stop.
The door is open.
Why the fuck is the door open?
Everything is quiet, eerily so. Could he have taken her somewhere else? I jog down the hallway. As I draw closer, I think I can make out what appears to be a guard’s torso lying on the ground through the crack in the door. But of all the scenarios I could have imagined, Fredrick strapped to his own interrogation chair with a dead guard sprawled on the floor, was not one of them. I step over the dead body and around the chair to look at Fredrick. He’s simply sitting there, eyes blinking, as though he’s just come out of a trance.
“What did you do with Katya?” I ask, not even trying to conceal my panic.
Fredrick looks up at me and shakes his head in confusion. “I don’t—”
I slap him. “Where is Katya?”
Fredrick gapes at me, forehead bunched in confusion. “It was like my mind wasn’t my own. I strapped myself in here. She told me to do it, and I did.”
I draw back in shock. That’s impossible. “What?”
Tears roll down his gaunt cheeks. “I swear it’s the truth.”
I point to the guard on the floor. “Did she do that?”
Fredrick nods.
“And where is she now?”
“I-I don’t—” He goes back to being a mumbling wreck.
I don’t have time for this. I jab him in the stomach, and Fredrick doubles over with an, “oomph.”
“Where the fuck did she go?” I’m shouting now, but I don’t care.
“I don’t know,” Fredrick wails. “She took the guard and left.”
“Dammit.” I rush back out the door, not even bothering to unstrap Fredrick. He can rot in that chair for all I care.
But how did she get him in it? It doesn’t make sense. Magi can’t control minds.
Maybe she’s not a magi.
Then what the fuck is she ?
I race straight for the front gate. It’s the only way in and out of the palace. If she’s trying to flee, that’s the way she’d go. Outside the gate, it looks as though the entire city has assembled. There’s no way I’m going to find her in this chaos. I’m running so hard, I barely try to stop, just raise my hands and plow right into the iron bars, rattling the gate on its hinges. Both guards spin around in surprise.
I can only imagine how I look sweating and panting like a madman. “Did a girl come through here?” I take a heaving breath. “Black hair? She’s wearing a brown dress.”
The guards stare at me for a moment, then, as if they’d practiced, both say, “I never saw her,” at the exact same time.
What, by the gods, is going on here?
“I saw her,” says a boy, standing in front of a broad fae I’m assuming to be his father, his hand raised.
“Hush, boy,” his father says, giving him a firm shake.
“No. No.” I hold up a palm placatingly. “I need to find her.”
“They let her out,” the boy says, pointing at the guards, who, by the appalled expressions on their faces, have no idea what he’s talking about. They immediately start spouting their innocence, but I tune them out.
“Where did she go?” I ask the boy.
He turns and points out into the crowd. “That way.”
“Dammit.” I shove the gate and turn to the nearest guard. “Let me the fuck out. Now .”