22
B reakfast came with letters. Lydia wrote us again, rambling about the Season coming to a close and offering to send us better jewelry to wear to the upcoming soirée. I hardly got through half of it before abandoning it for another note from Ash. Tori and Genevieve shot me some looks at the sight of the royal seal, but I let them believe what they wanted.
Amarante,
I’ve scheduled to visit Captain Greenwood this evening at six. It would mean the world if you joined me then .
Yours,
Ash
The two of them were shamelessly giggling when I told them I was going to take another walk.
“I...I’m going to visit Olivia!” I said in an attempt to stop Tori’s guffaws and Genevieve’s sly smiles.
Tori only snorted. “Alright. Say hello to Prince Ash for us.”
Lord Strongfoot burst in before I could defend myself. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed, waving a newspaper around frantically. “Girls, I just read the most confounding news.”
“What is it, Pa?” Tori asked, wide-eyed.
“They say the queen was poisoned by a witch!”
I gaped as Genevieve gave a soft gasp.
“How awful,” my stepsister said, pressing her fingers to her lips. “But how did they find out? Was anyone arrested?”
Lord Strongfoot shook his head, mussing his already mussed black hair. “They didn’t find a culprit, if that’s what you mean. But the physicians say the poison was unlike anything they’ve seen and concluded that it was witch-made. Who would’ve thought!”
I was frozen in my seat. Everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. There was no manbane antidote, and now this. How did the physicians know the poison was witch-made? Erasmus couldn’t have told them, and the note he sent me had long been destroyed in my damp dress pocket.
And who could have possibly leaked this information when it was supposed to be a private case?
“Just because the poison is witch-made doesn’t mean a witch did it,” Tori reasoned, chewing on a piece of bacon. I could’ve kissed her.
Lord Strongfoot nodded. “You’re right, my girl. We mustn’t forget the Witch Market. That’s why old Greenwood is still imprisoned. But I’ve heard more people are asking for his pardon now that this bit of news is out,” he said. “Can’t blame them. I’d choose a witch to be imprisoned than the captain any day.”
I lowered my head and buttered a piece of toast I didn’t intend to eat. My fondness for the former blacksmith didn’t keep me from feeling offended, but I knew he only wished the best for his benefactor.
At this point, there was only one thing I hoped for—that Captain Greenwood would be able to clear his own name without ruining an innocent witch.
THE PALACE DUNGEONS were rumored to be an intimidating labyrinth of cramped cellars and dank air that sucked all the life out of a prisoner. Those who were proven guilty lost all defiance and those who refused to admit their crimes did so after mere hours of being locked up. I could see where such rumors originated when Ash took me through the iron wrought gates and down the dark pit.
Though it was only a few hours after midday, there was not a hint of light aside from the torches. Square grates lined the ceiling, but they were too high up and too small to illuminate anything.
“Take one of these to better see the gorgeous scenery,” Ash said, handing me a torch from the wall. The firelight flickered over his grin as he gestured grandly to our squalid surroundings.
I took it, feeling too grim to smile at his jokes. “How long are we allowed in here?”
“Thirty minutes, at most. Though we could get away with an hour. I am a prince, after all. ”
We passed a set of hefty wooden doors guarded by two men. They bowed and pushed them open.
“Here comes the not-so-pretty part,” Ash said into my ear.
I swallowed as we stepped over the threshold. Moans and cries of prisoners echoed from the long hall. A draft brought the odor of unwashed bodies and other unpleasant things. I pressed my sleeve to my nose, inching closer to Ash.
“Your Highness! Save me!” A hand shot out from one of the cells, caked with grime and grasping for Ash’s leg. He sidestepped gracefully.
“No can do, sir,” Ash said. “I believe you murdered somebody six months ago.”
“Where exactly did you keep Captain Greenwood?” I whispered as we proceeded down the passageway. I was shaking involuntarily, trying to avoid eye contact with the wild-eyed prisoners. I thought I saw a woman chewing on her foot.
“Not too far,” Ash replied. “Cell number one hundred fifty-six.”
I glanced at the numbers nailed atop the cells. The furthest I could see was sixty-two. Something touched my arm. I yelped, but I had only brushed Ash’s elbow.
He turned to me, lips twisting. The scoundrel was on the brink of laughter. “Are you scared, Amarante?” he teased. Someone’s shrill scream pierced the air.
I scowled heavily. “Of course not. I promenade amongst half-crazed criminals and murderers daily.”
His face lost a bit of its mirth. “Unfortunately not just criminals and murderers,” he said.
“What do you mean? ”
“Some of them are citizens who couldn’t afford to pay taxes or were caught with illegal goods.”
I bit my lip. “Like from the Witch Market?” I ventured to ask.
“Precisely,” Ash said. He shook his head. “Many of them couldn’t help it. They have no choice when they are too destitute to pay for little else but food. I only hope they haven’t been harmed by witch-made items.”
I thought about Nina and her fish. Was her family so poor that she had to trade for medicine at the Witch Market? It was a good deal for her—I knew Lana’s antidote worked wonders, even more so than a regular ointment that costed gold. Yet magic was unlawful and Ash spoke of it with such distaste.
“I didn’t know you sent people with witch-made items to the dungeons,” I said.
Ash heaved a sigh. “It came with the Non-Magic Age. Once I find evidence of Navierre’s crimes, my father will reinforce the anti-magic laws—”
He paused abruptly at my scowl. He probably mistook it for disinterest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”
If anything, I was the most fitting person to talk to. But I knew I couldn’t say so.
“It’s fine,” I said instead.
His grin reappeared on his face. “Well, if you’re still scared grab on to me.” He took my arm and wrapped it around his.
For a moment, I forgot my offense.
We traversed deeper into the dungeons, taking a sharp left turn. The cells were different now. Instead of barred gates, thick wooden doors obstructed the cells and their prisoners. There were two narrow slots cut into each, one a window and one an opening for food. A guard stood watch before each door. They bowed as we passed. Ash acknowledged each of them with a nod until we stopped in front of cell number one hundred fifty-six.
“Your Highness,” the guard said.
“Henry. I would like to see Captain Greenwood.”
“Of course, Your Highness. But...” Henry looked at me. I hastily let go of Ash’s arm, which I was clutching like a toddler would a stuffed toy.
“She’s with me.”
“Very well, Your Highness. Take your time. Call if you need help.”
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”
The guard unlocked the door and let us inside. I shifted uneasily, upsetting the hay strewn on the floor. The cellar had a high, grated ceiling that let in watery light. A man stood in the far corner. He fell to his knees at our entrance.
“Your Highness,” Captain Greenwood said, bowing his head.
“Please rise, Maverick,” Ash said.
“I cannot. I am too ashamed.”
“I know you’re not the one who poisoned my mother,” Ash said, lowering himself to the floor. “How are you?”
“I’ve survived worse than this. Henry is a good and loyal guard.”
“I want to help.”
“That means the world, Your Highness,” Captain Greenwood said quietly. “But I’m afraid the true culprit will not reveal themselves or let me go free so easily.”
“Do you know who did it?” I asked.
“And you are?”
I curtsied. “Amarante Flora, sir. ”
“She’s joining me in my investigation,” Ash said. I knelt next to him.
The captain nodded. “I see.”
It occurred to me that I had never seen the captain in person. He was a little past middle-aged with a straight nose and specks of silver in his dirty blond beard. Lydia said he was an infamous flirt in her day. But all I saw was an exhausted man who looked at Ash with the reverence of a dutiful guard.
“So, do you know the culprit?” Ash asked.
Captain Greenwood sighed. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.
“You have nothing to lose,” I said.
“You’re right.” The captain gave a mirthless smile. “Duchess Wilhelmina Whittington.”
Ash let go of a breath. “We had our suspicions.”
Captain Greenwood looked up. “Really?”
“Yes. But why the duchess?” I said, furrowing my brow. “The queen trusts her. They’re friends, aren’t they?”
Ash thinned his lips.
Captain Greenwood sighed and said, “Ah. I suppose you don’t know. Not many do.”
“Know what?” I asked.
“Back when we were all younger, Wilhelmina fancied Maximus,” the captain said. “She was envious of nearly everything Cordelia had. How could she not be? She was merely a servant and Cordelia...well, she was to be the future queen.”
I found myself blushing at the thought of Duchess Wilhelmina in love with the paunchy King Maximus. Ash looked similarly bothered, but urged the captain to continue.
“But jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially in someone like Wilhelmina who was headstrong and ambitious and stubborn. I saw it eat away at her. I was shocked to hear the things she said about Cordelia. But after a while, she became quieter. I thought she finally let go of her spite when she married Duke Earnest Whittington.” Captain Greenwood shook his head, as if dismissing his own folly. “But then the duke died and, well, she became Wilhelmina again. She disregarded morality for gain, both financial and social. By the time I became captain of the Royal Guard, she was unrecognizable. A part of me knew she wouldn’t stop at merely being a duchess. I’m not surprised she has harmed Cordelia at last.”
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
“I see,” Ash said hoarsely.
Captain Greenwood gave a sigh. “I dislike recounting the past. But if it will help, I am glad. Now tell me. How exactly did you discover she was behind this?”
“I saw her giving something to the queen at the Debutante Ball. And the guard who was caught slipping poison into the queen’s tea—the one who framed you—we found the duchess’s coins on him,” I said.
“Ah, Peter. His morals have always been questionable.” He shrugged. “But to think he would die for Wilhelmina’s schemes is odd indeed. He had no sense of loyalty in the regiments.”
“And he killed himself right after exposing you,” Ash said slowly.
I recalled Peter’s limp body. “Unless he didn’t actually kill himself,” I said. Both men looked at me in surprise. I colored at the scrutiny, but replayed my suspicions. “Think of it. Why would a man with no loyalty die for the duchess’s sake? Especially right after being paid such a hefty sum.”
Ash nodded. “You’re right. The coins were still on him when he did the deed.”
Captain Greenwood stared at the straw-littered ground, seemingly deep in thought. He was awfully quiet for a man who finally had hope shine on him. Perhaps he didn’t dare believe it.
Ash stood and paced the cell. “But the mortician proclaimed him dead. He was sent to his family for burial on a mortuary wagon. He didn’t deserve it, after his act of treason,” he said bitterly. “But Mother insisted.”
“Maybe there’s a potion that makes someone appear dead,” I said quietly. I wished I had thought to use my magic sight when Peter was unconscious.
Ash stopped pacing and Captain Greenwood looked up. “Are you speaking of witchcraft, Miss Flora?” the captain said. I couldn’t decipher his tone.
“I’m being foolish,” I said, looking at the floor. “Witches wouldn’t meddle in human affairs.”
“You speak as if you know that for sure, Miss Flora.”
I raised my eyes to meet the captain’s gaze and instantly darted them away. He was a little too sharp for my comfort.
“Amarante brings up a valid point,” Ash said. “The physicians said my mother was poisoned with a witch-made poison. If Duchess Wilhelmina had dealings at the Witch Market, she must have made more than one purchase. I’ll send a few men to ask around.”
My stomach turned. At least Ash didn’t immediately think to blame a witch as culprit.
“You ought to check with Peter’s family first,” Captain Greenwood said. “Make sure if he is dead or alive.”
The tension in my gut eased. Perhaps Peter was dead. Perhaps he was foolish enough to die for the duchess for a reason we weren’t aware of.
Ash ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired. “You’re right. As of now, all we have are suspicions. But I will find a way to get you out of here.”
Captain Greenwood smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness. Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”
“I won’t.”
The captain looked to me. “And you too, Miss Flora.”
I was surprised to be included, but promised as well. We concluded our meeting soon after, but I lingered behind as Ash stepped outside to converse with Henry.
“Sir, do you think they’ll let you out if the duchess confesses her crimes?” I asked.
Captain Greenwood raised a wiry brow, no doubt surprised that I had stayed. “I would imagine,” he said. “But the chances of that happening are slim.”
I nodded. A truth potion would solve almost everything. Captain Greenwood would be saved and the duchess would be exposed. And Ash would not suspect witches.
Everyone would be safe, that is, except the queen. I felt sick thinking about what would happen to her. But there was still a chance for justice.
“This may seem a little forward, sir, but I was wondering if I could borrow five pounds of gold.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Asking a dead man for gold? You must be jesting, Miss Flora.”
“You aren’t dead, sir,” I said, embarrassed. “But it’s not for my personal use. I’m trying to help.”
“And I suppose you won’t tell me what you’re going to do with it?”
I hesitated and shook my head.
“Very well. I have nothing to lose,” he said with a grumble. “I will send a note to my wife. She’ll see to it you receive your gold. ”
Out of all the possible responses, I did not expect him to agree. “Thank you, sir!”
After telling him Tori’s address, I exited Captain Greenwood’s cell and joined Ash outside. Luckily, he didn’t ask any questions, and he and I traversed the shadowy halls of the dungeons yet again. I prepared myself for the gruesome sights this time, but it did not make the trip any more pleasant. Still, I refrained from clinging onto Ash’s arm for the sake of my pride. I was all too glad when we made it outside. The air was a great deal fresher.
An owl hooted. The sun had set hours ago. Time was imperceptible in the dungeons.
“I ought to go back. The Strongfoots and my sister are expecting me.”
Ash nodded. His profile was silhouetted by the lamps along the exterior of the east wing, but I saw the creases under his eyes and the stiff set of his jaw as clearly as I would in daylight. His features softened when he turned to me. “Will you be fine on your own?”
“It’s a fifteen-minute walk, at most. And shorter by chaise, which I’ll be taking,” I added quickly when he raised a brow.
“Good.” He paused a few moments before speaking again. “What did you say to the captain?”
I shifted my weight, glad it was dark enough to hide my flushed cheeks. I felt like a schoolgirl caught committing some petty crime. “It was nothing. I told him...not to worry, and that he’s in good hands.”
Ash smiled. It was a ridiculous for a girl to tell a grown man who had seen all sorts of violence not to worry. Luckily, he didn’t comment on it and merely took my hand. “I see. That’s kind of you. ”
“Thank you. Well, good night,” I said. His fingers were very warm.
Ash released my hand and tucked his behind his back. “Good night.”
I began walking away before I did something foolish like kiss him.
Then, a voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Amarante. My mother would like a word with you.”
I turned. Narcissa strode out the entrance of the east wing in a velvet gown, a servant trailing behind her. Her heels clicked against the marble in sharp, staccato steps. Her face was icy.
“Lady Narcissa,” I said. How had she known that I was here? I exchanged a glance with Ash. His expression was guarded as he dipped his head in greeting, even though Narcissa hadn’t addressed him.
“It is late. Would Her Grace be so kind as to schedule a meeting for tomorrow?” I said, keeping my voice as civil as possible. What could the duchess possibly want with me?
“My mother is a very busy woman,” Narcissa said. She flicked her gaze from me to Ash. “And clearly you have no objections to staying late in the company of nobility.” She said the last word as if she didn’t mean it.
“You will have to excuse Amarante,” Ash said. If he was insulted, he didn’t show it. “It is late.”
Narcissa’s nostrils flared. “Are you defying my mother’s orders?”
I wondered if she knew she was talking to a prince.
Ash looked calmly at her. “Not at all. Amarante merely wishes to meet Her Grace at another time.”
“Do you know how scandals start?” Narcissa flicked open her fan. “With a rumor. Or in this case, the truth. What would people say if they hear about a lowly merchant’s daughter sneaking off to the dungeons with the bastard prince at night?”
“Are you threatening me?” Ash growled.
I pulled his sleeve, restraining him from stepping forward. “I doubt rumors of the prince punching the duchess’s daughter would be any better,” I whispered.
He frowned.
“I’ll go,” I said to Narcissa. She smiled and closed her fan.
“Amarante,” Ash warned.
I shook my head. To Narcissa, there was no reason for us to think the duchess would do anything to harm me. I had to act oblivious. Ash seemed to realize this and reluctantly stepped back.
I tried to calm my hammering heart as I followed Narcissa down the hall. What if the duchess did try to harm me? Did she know that Ash and I were on her heels? Everything pointed at her as the culprit for poisoning Queen Cordelia. I didn’t want to think what a woman capable of killing her queen would do to someone as insignificant as me.
We at last came before a set of double doors. The servant bowed her head as Narcissa and I entered.