Chapter 20 #2
Aside from seeking the throne of Marran, one of Lord Marchand’s interests was in the collection of plants.
He had no green thumb of his own, it was said, but he had a hired a full staff of skilled gardeners to make his gardens the most spectacular of the kingdom.
His greenhouse was said to be a jungle in and of itself, full of the most exquisite plants from across their continent.
When the military first tied the murders together with the use of rienevoir, they did a thorough search of Marchand’s greenhouse for the two plants that combined to make the poison but came up empty.
“And these others who think they have a claim are simply lying to themselves,” Marguerite continued. “They won’t get anywhere. I’m honestly surprised they’ve kept it up for this long. It’s a waste of time and resources, if you ask me. It will come down to Arabella and my father, in the end.”
Jade took the time to finish a bite of her sandwich, then keeping up as causal an air as possible, asked, “And you both think Lady Arabella will succeed, yes?”
“Oh, of course,” Marguerite replied as Alanna nodded. “Not that my father won’t make a good show of it. He already has. But Arabella isn’t the type to bow to someone’s wishes. Plus, she’s in the true line of succession.”
Jade brought her cup of lemonade to her lips, considering her next words and gauging the conversation.
Alanna and Marguerite appeared to not mind the subject, though Alanna gave off a slight impression of being on the defensive.
Why she would have to be on the defensive when they both agreed her sister would ultimately be the victor, Jade couldn’t say.
It might have something to do with her father.
“But your father should take the throne first?” It might have been risky, posing the question to Alanna so pointedly, but Jade wouldn’t get anywhere if she wasn’t willing to take a little risk.
Alanna’s fingers danced on the cup in her hands.
“Yes, he is next. And he still may.” She paused for a moment, her chest rising with an inhale.
“But Arabella is doing something no one else is: she’s appealing more to the people of the kingdom.
Part of the work of her supporters, including the men who were killed, is to get within their communities and share what Arabella’s rule would be like compared to our father.
“As I’m sure you determined at the dinner, Arabella doesn’t believe in upholding the execution law for magic-wielders.
She’s been met with some controversy on that front, so she’s suggested an alternative means of ensuring they pose no threat.
It puts her in a stark contrast to both our father and Lord Grannam, who both insist on continuing with the law. ”
Alanna took a sip of her drink, effectively ending her speech, but Jade could fill in the blanks with the letter she had found in Grannam’s war room.
Arabella had condemned the kingdom’s practice of killing magic-wielders.
If not for seeing Arabella’s reaction at dinner, in front of primarily the royal family, Jade might have believed Arabella was pandering to the people.
None of the royals had ever truly cared for the lives of commoners before.
At least, they’d never shown it. The practice of capturing and killing magic-wielders had all but proven that.
What did Arabella plan to do with sorcerers and sorceresses otherwise?
The people of Marran had been told for over fifty years they were too dangerous to be left alive, and their fear of magic-wielders had driven them into hiding for longer than that.
It was one’s “civic duty” to report any magic-wielders one came across.
Jade’s stomach twinged as she remembered the day she had failed to do so—chosen not to do so.
The king had recently fallen ill, and the contenders for the throne had begun to make themselves known.
She was on simple espionage missions to determine the various contenders’ motivations and goals.
That day, Jade surveilled outside of an office in Tourrine where the estate manager for one of the lesser royals seeking the throne was meeting with a counselor to discuss the estate’s assets.
Jade had come across a girl in the street struggling under the weight of a basket of food.
She didn’t need to deviate from her mission, but Jade told herself that coming to the aid of the girl would help her blend in more.
She approached the girl and asked if she could carry the basket for her.
The girl accepted Jade’s help, and when Jade asked where she was trying to get to, she pointed toward the end of the street.
A subtle glow emanated around the girl’s hand, almost like the haze of heat on a brutal midsummer day.
The girl whipped her hand down to hide her aura, the uncontrolled manifestation of her magic, but it was too late. Jade had seen it.
They shared a look that told Jade they both knew exactly what had happened.
This girl, no more than eight or nine years old, had likely recently come into her magic and hadn’t mastered control of it, the strain of the basket’s weight drawing it to the surface.
It was believed that the older and more experienced a magic-wielder became with their magic, the less the aura would slip or even show when magic was being used.
But children, new to the magic between the ages of eight and eleven, often struggled to suppress their auras.
The girl’s eyes widened like those of a trapped animal searching for an escape, but she said nothing.
In that moment, Jade had been forced to decide.
Since she was undercover and couldn’t apprehend the girl herself, she had to alert a city guard, who would take the girl straight to the holding center where children with magic were essentially raised for slaughter.
Jade couldn’t condemn this girl to that fate, to wait in a cell for years until she was old enough to die. She was her parents’ daughter, after all. She would make the same decision they had.
So Jade followed in the direction the girl had pointed, carrying her basket of food to a pastry shop at the end of the street. The girl kept in step with Jade, as silent as death the whole time, the wrinkle in her brow curious.
Two guards stood on the other side of the street, chatting casually.
Outside the pastry shop, Jade handed the basket back to the girl and wished her well.
The girl craned her neck to look at the guards behind her before turning back to Jade and swallowing hard.
“Thank you,” she had said, barely even a whisper.
Jade had smiled at the girl before turning back toward the office that was the focus of her mission.
Marguerite plucked a cake off the tray before holding it out to Jade. “Did you try one of these at the party? You have to—you’ll love them. Our cook makes the most delectable cakes.”
Slamming back into the present, Jade refocused her attention and smiled at Marguerite’s offering before adding a cake to her plate. “Oh, thank you.”
“We’ve been eating these since we were children,” Alanna said, and took a bite of the fluffy white cake. When she had finished chewing, she added, “They’re quite nostalgic. Every time I have one, it takes me back to when we were young.”
“Yes, me too!” Marguerite reached out to Alanna, resting a hand on her forearm.
“They were Cook’s special treat for us when we cousins all got together.
I remember Arabella had always requested them the moment she leaped out of the carriage!
” She drew her hand back as her brow crinkled and her bright expression fell.
“And Artis made a show of never wanting them. You know, I’m not sure he ever did taste one. ”
Alanna’s smile turned sad, and Marguerite’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her eyes downcast. It was no secret why. Few now spoke of the king’s late son. Prince Artis. He would have been the next king, had he and his mother not tragically died in a fire when he was fourteen.
The ladies’ genuine sadness permeated the air and wafted to Jade. Her heart ached—for them. For these royal cousins she was getting to know and slowly growing fond of. They’d shown their humanity on more than one occasion now. Perhaps there was more to the royals than Jade had always believed.
Marguerite wiped the grief from her face and sat straighter, grabbing another cake. “They haven’t changed at all. I hope Cook never tires of making them.”
Alanna made a sound in her throat and finished her cake. Jade bit into hers as well, and—blazing plague, what were these things made of? Baby laughs and angel wings? She’d never tasted something so scrumptious in her entire life.
Jade’s eyes flew open. When had she closed them? Both Marguerite and Alanna were eyeing her, their faces lit up.
“See what I mean?” Marguerite asked with a laugh. “They’re divine. Here, have another.”
At the risk of getting distracted again, Jade took the offered cake, but she used the moment between bites to refocus.
“If Lady Arabella is trying to appeal to the people, all she has to do is provide them with these cakes.” Jade chuckled and lifted the cake in the air before adding it to her plate. Marguerite and Alanna both giggled, but Alanna’s cheerfulness didn’t last long.
“I wish it were that simple. Then this blasted mess could be done with.” She dropped her eyes to her hands where they were clasped in her lap. “This whole thing has dragged out for far too long. If Arabella would only be patient . . . ”
Marguerite faced Alanna, resting a hand on her arm again.
“It’s not only Arabella. It’s my father as well.
It’s this ridiculous grudge.” She shook her head, turning her attention back to Jade.
“He says his father should have been king instead of King Reginald, Alanna and Arabella’s grandfather.
My grandfather, Leonard, was King Reginald’s twin, but he was born first. He had been of weaker constitution, however, so his parents had deferred the line of succession to Reginald, lying to the world telling everyone he was older.
My great-grandmother had confessed the truth to my grandfather on her deathbed, and then he told my father.
And my father has held a grudge against King Mervyn and his line ever since. ”
Jade’s mouth fell open in faked astonishment. She knew all of this, of course. Lord Grannam hadn’t kept it secret. He wanted people to know that he had a true claim to the throne of Marran, long before the king fell ill in the first place.
Gears turned in Jade’s mind that never had before.
If Grannam had held such a grudge, had he done something to the king?
The king may not have actually fallen ill.
Perhaps Grannam had tried to kill him and failed.
Was all this orchestrated by Grannam to put him on the throne?
It would explain hiring assassins, keeping poison, and possibly trying to make a deal with Arabella.
This was his work, but others, like Arabella and Marchand and the other insignificant contenders, kept getting in the way.
“It’s no surprise he’s trying to claim the throne, then,” Jade said in almost a whisper. She sought to appear empathetic to Marguerite by validating her concerns.
Marguerite replied with a small nod before she shook herself, and her momentary sullenness transformed back to her usual bubbly demeanor. “Regardless, it will hopefully be over soon. Alanna, do you need more lemonade?”
The footman came at Marguerite’s request with the pitcher of lemonade, and the two picked up a lighter topic.
Jade smiled and laughed and participated on the conversation, though her mind reeled.
Was Marguerite referencing the king’s turn for the worse as the reason the conflict should be over soon, or was there something else she wasn’t saying?
They knew more than they had divulged, but Jade wasn’t getting anything further out of them in this meeting.
And the new assumption that Grannam was likely the mastermind behind this entire conflict gave Jade a new perspective on how she approached her assignment.
Not to mention information for Nicolas as well.