15
A book fell from the top most shelf, almost smacking me in the face.
“Apologies! Are you alright?” Ash poked his head around the corner, his hair covered in a light coat of dust. We were cleaning the library again. Oddly enough, I had grown to enjoy the task.
“I’m fine,” I said. I leaned my mop against the wall and picked up the volume. It was a hefty thing on finances. “Ah. Olderean Finances. My old governess tried to teach me out of that.”
Ash took the book and disappeared behind the bookshelf. His hand emerged from the top as he put it back. “Really? Learn anything interesting?”
“I didn’t learn anything at all,” I said, dunking my mop into a bucket of soapy water. “She was an awful teacher. My Papa taught me the basics.”
“Ah, perhaps the next kingdom-wide issue Bennett ought to tackle is decent governesses,” he said. The creaking of ladder rungs sounded from the other side. “Mine was just as awful.”
“You had a governess?” I said, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice. “Why not a regular tutor?”
“It was only for a year or so. And it was meant to be a punishment of sorts.” Ash flashed me a smile from a gap between a few books. “I was eight, I believe. I was supposed to be studying with Bennett overseas but I slipped off the ship last minute. Needless to say, my parents were furious when they found me hiding in the throne room.”
I laughed. “How did you manage that at eight years old?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets.”
Of course he was a handful as a child.
“Tell me about your governess,” I said, pushing the mop across the floor. The clean path of marble gleamed in the daylight. “What did you do to the poor woman?”
“Quite the opposite, actually,” the prince said. “You should be asking what she did to me.” He was still smiling, though his usual cheekiness was absent. “I don’t think I’ve ever lived a bleaker year. It happened that my mother had to pay a visit to her cousins and my father was busy with his affairs as usual. I was completely under my governess’s care, if care is even the right word. She expected me to dedicate every hour to my studies. Language, history, economics, politics, etiquette, and piano. I wasn’t allowed to play outside for more than a few minutes each day. And if I disobeyed her...well I learned not to.” He grimaced, but smoothed his features when he caught me staring.
“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” I said incredulously. I’ve had my fair share of stinging palms, though the way Ash spoke suggested that he had far more than a quick smack on the wrist. Ash ran his thumb over a faint white scar across his knuckles. That said more than enough .
“I became very good at piano,” he said, abruptly drawing away from the bookshelf. I suspected he didn’t want me to see his face. “Excellent, if I do say so myself, but I detest it. Isn’t that funny? I believe there is little point in mastering something if you end up hating it. Then the only reason you continue to do it is because you’re a master, and not because you’re truly passionate about it.”
“Makes sense,” I said. I certainly had never been a master at anything, but I knew Genevieve would not love drawing if she had been forced to do it.
Ash rearranged a few volumes, creating more racket than I thought necessary, and stuffed an etiquette book into the gap he had talked through. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
I didn’t want to push the topic. “Not at all,” I said. I bent down to wring out the mop, making a face as dirty, sudsy water drenched my sleeves. I should have rolled them up beforehand. “Do you reckon Mr. Northberry will be satisfied with our work?”
“Tired already?” I was glad to hear the teasing tone return to his voice.
“No,” I said. “Just hungry.”
“I’ll say,” Ash said. He emerged from the other side of the bookshelf, this time fully, and handed me his handkerchief. I glanced at the pristine fabric embroidered with gold thread. His initials gleamed at the corner.
I held up my filthy hands. “You can’t be serious.”
He rolled his eyes. “Take it. I have more than enough to spare.”
I reluctantly accepted and dried my hands. “I ought to go back. I can’t miss another luncheon or I’ll hurt Lord Strongfoot’s feelings.”
“I’ll see you back, then. ”
I was going to protest, but he had already offered me his arm and didn’t look like he was going to retract it. We left our cleaning supplies for the servants to take care of and passed Mr. Northberry, who as usual, was snoring up a storm at the front desk.
The halls of the south wing were relatively empty, save for several passing maids who pretended not to gawk at us. I only hoped they wouldn’t start a rumor too atrocious. I probably looked ridiculous with my sleeves soaked through and skirts wrinkled at the arm of a prince, who at the moment didn’t look too princely either.
As I was going to withdraw my arm and declare I go my own way, a guard rushed past us with a tray of tea, the fine porcelain clattering together haphazardly. But the noise wasn’t the only thing that caught my attention. A faint wisp of cyan swirled from the spout of the teapot. I blinked, realizing that I had unconsciously reached for my crystal.
“Stop right there,” Ash said. His voice projected across the hall. The guard was in such a hurry that he was already on the other end, but his shoulders hunched at Ash’s command. He turned and trailed back at a considerably slower pace. I recognized him as the buggy-eyed guard Tori danced with at the Debutante Ball.
“Your Highness,” the man said with a bow. He kept his head lowered when he rose.
“What is your name and why are you not on patrol?”
“Peter, Your Highness. I was sent to deliver Her Majesty’s tea.” He had a youthful voice, despite his large build. He couldn’t have been older than myself.
“Look at me when I address you, Peter.” Ash’s tone and words reminded me very much of someone else. I couldn’t put my finger on who, but it was clear he meant to intimidate. It was quite effective.
The guard raised his head, looking cowed. He was young indeed, and his round nose accentuated that, especially in comparison to Ash’s sharper features. “Who decided to send a guard to deliver the queen’s tea instead of a regular servant?”
“The head cook, Your Highness. There’s been a shortage of staff with the arrival of the debutantes, so I was told to do the job.” Peter provided this answer quite readily, but the tray shook. My hand itched to reach for my crystal again. Curiosity and wariness stirred in my gut. What was in that tea?
“There were several idle maids who passed a few moments ago,” I said.
“And you are?” Peter said. His tone held much less reverence than it had when addressing Ash. He stared a little too boldly for my comfort.
Ash stepped in front of me. “There were several maids at leisure,” he said. “We have four hundred staff members and a good many of them work in the kitchens. A shortage of staff is impossible, even with the debutantes. I will have to ask you what your tray contains and why you are in such a hurry.”
“Merely the queen’s tea and biscuits, Your Highness. I’m afraid I will be punished if I don’t bring it to Her Majesty in a timely manner.”
“You will not be,” Ash said. “Have they been through the taster?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
I gripped my crystal and focused on the teapot. The cyan reappeared, this time brighter. Arsenic. I stifled my gasp. He was going to poison the queen! I stopped myself before I nudged Ash in warning. He was already suspicious of Peter. I hoped he wouldn’t be convinced otherwise.
“Then you will not mind having some,” Ash said. He clasped his hands behind him. They were clenched tight.
Peter flicked his buggy gaze around the hall before settling on the prince. “Your Highness, surely that would not be proper.”
“That was an order.”
I wasn’t prepared for the crash when Peter dropped the tray and dashed down the hall. Ash was after him immediately.
“Guards!” he bellowed as he ran. I was rooted to the floor as members of the Royal Guard streamed in seemingly out of nowhere, pouring in from both ends of the hallway in their purple tunics. Swords were drawn and soon Peter was surrounded. He cowered on the floor before Ash, who was angrier than I had ever seen him.
“This man has committed treason. Take him away for questioning.”
As several guards lowered their swords, Peter stood and laughed. “No need for that,” he said, all trace of respect gone. He surveyed the circle of men around him with his buggy eyes. “I’ll tell you whose orders I’m working under. Captain Maverick Greenwood.”
Shock flitted through the guards’ faces.
“What proof do you have?” one of them shouted.
Peter sneered. “Isn’t it obvious? His affair with the queen has been put to an end. He’s been poisoning her little by little each year out of spite.” He stared at Ash. “And his own son won’t acknowledge him as father.”
Ash looked murderous. “Lies,” he said. “How dare you lie in my presence?”
A shiver ran up my spine at his words .
“You’ve seen the proof yourself. The queen is getting weaker each day,” Peter said. “Search the captain’s chambers if you still don’t believe me.”
A muscle twitched in Ash’s jaw. He made a motion and three guards split from the group, no doubt off to Captain Greenwood’s chambers. To another, he said, “Take him away and question him thoroughly.”
But Peter’s body fell with a thump. The guards jumped back, widening their circle. I caught a glimpse of foam bubbling out of his mouth and someone holding a finger under Peter’s nose. “He’s killed himself!”
At that moment, the double doors to the queen’s study opened a few feet before me. Out walked Queen Cordelia herself.
“What is going on?” Her Majesty said.
Ash stared at the unmoving body at his feet. “Someone is poisoning you, Mother.”
Queen Cordelia swayed. I rushed over to steady her. The hand that gripped my arm was frighteningly white. “I’ve been afraid of this,” she said. Her voice was so faint that only I could hear it. She turned to me, her expression almost pleading. “Who did they say it was?”
“Captain Greenwood, Your Majesty,” I said hoarsely.
Her face drained of color and she swooned, buckling to the floor. Ash was instantly by her side.
“Somebody take the queen to her chambers!” he said. Several maids came at his call. They took Her Majesty by her arms and led her away. The red aura around her pulsed, now a bright scarlet.
The three guards who had left appeared, holding a fistful of letters and a box. “Poison, Your Highness. And proof.”
Ash grabbed a letter, scanned it, and crumpled it. “Arrest him. Immediately. ”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
The guards streamed out of the hall, their faces pinched and ashen—faces of men about to arrest their own captain. I stared at the floor. It was a mess of broken porcelain and tea and soaked biscuits. The tea was still oozing cyan. The queen’s aura had been red. The queen’s drink had been red at the Debutante Ball—the drink the duchess had given her.
I didn’t know how long I knelt there before Ash touched my shoulder. “Amarante,” he said in a low voice. I realized then the hall was empty, save for us and Peter’s body. No one had bothered to take him away.
“Search him,” I said, standing up. “We have to search him.”
He grabbed my arm before I could take a step toward the corpse. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. You should go home.”
I shook him off and trotted over to Peter’s limp form, running my hands over the dead man’s chest and arms.
“Amarante, what are you doing?” Ash said, flabbergasted.
I’d never touched a man so liberally before, much less a dead one, but determination saved me from embarrassment. There was a lump at his side, and I pulled back his tunic to reveal a bulging leather pouch strapped to his waist. I pulled it off and dumped the contents onto the floor. Heavy golden coins spilled onto the marble.
Ash crouched beside me. “The captain paid him a hefty sum,” he said, looking at the coins in disgust.
“It wasn’t the captain,” I said.
He exhaled. “I know the Strongfoots respect him. But Amarante, the proof is not in his favor.”
I picked up a coin and flipped it over. It was stamped with an elaborate insignia—a snake entwined in roses.
“Is that...?” Ash said .
I knew the design too well at this point to mistake it. “The duchess’s emblem,” I finished. I recalled what Tori told me about illustrious families having gold stamped with their own emblem.
“Of course. This complicates things.” Ash stood again and paced the width of the hallway. He stopped. “How could you have known?”
I set down the coin. “I thought I saw the duchess slip something into Her Majesty’s goblet back at the Debutante Ball.”
Ash knelt and gripped my shoulders. “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I faltered, startled by the urgency of his voice and stare. “I-I couldn’t have been sure,” I said.
He blinked and released his hold, but not before smoothing my sleeves. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. Of course you couldn’t have been sure.”
“It’s fine.” I shoveled the coins back into the pouch. “I think there might be a way to find out. Have you got a royal inspector?”