She reached the door to the newlywed chambers and turned to the soldiers. “This is far enough. Thank you.”
“We’ll be stationed just down the hall,” the elder of the guard said.
Bryn gave a tipsy nod and then slipped into the newlywed room. The light was out, and the curtains at the window were drawn. She’d never realized how pitch-black the room was with the drapes closed. There was an odd scent of citrus in the room—something Trei must have eaten at the feast.
“Trei?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
There was no answer, and this presented a conundrum. It was their final chance to consummate the marriage, and as far as Bryn could tell, her husband had fallen asleep. She bit her lip and felt in the dark for the bed posters. What was she supposed to do, shake him awake? Climb on top of him?
“Trei, wake up,” she said louder. She reached the bed and patted it until she found his foot beneath the covers. She gave it a good shake.
But Trei didn’t stir, and she felt her way to the window, where she grasped the curtains. She pulled them back. Moonlight streamed in, surprisingly bright. She blinked a few times as she turned toward the bed.
She saw Trei.
She sawblood.
For the second time in her life, she saw a waterfall of red pouring from the throat of a man she cared deeply about.
Bryn screameduntil she was hoarse. The guards stormed into the room with their swords drawn. Their eyes weren’t accustomed to the low light, and they posed in fight stances, preparing for a battle.
“Trei!” Bryn gasped between sobs. “It’s Trei!”
One of the guards quickly lit a lantern. Once they got a look at Trei’s body in the bed with blood soaking into the sheets, they fell silent.
It was clear as moonlight:Trei Barendur was dead.
“Gods save us,” one of them muttered.
The other raised his sword as he checked the corners of the room and anywhere someone might be hiding. “Lady Bryn, did you see anyone?”
She shook her head, only then realizing that she might have been in grave danger if the murderer had still been in the room when she’d come in. “No, no, he was here alone.”
She couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t process what was happening. Could only stare at the floor…
Not Trei. Please, not Trei.
One of the soldiers shouted down the hallway for reinforcements. The other tried to question her further, but she found her mind spinning at his probing barrage.
Yes, the room had been dark when she came in. No, she hadn’t heard anyone else. Yes, she’d known he had gone to bed early.
Finally, she forced herself to look directly at the body.
He hadn’t been dead long, judging by the color of his skin. Whoever had slit his throat must have done so and left only moments before she’d entered. One of the soldiers draped Trei’s fatal wound with a cloth, but it didn’t reach far enough to cover his face. She reached out a shaking hand and closed Trei’s eyes. It was the only thing she could think of to do.
“Oh, Trei,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
She started sobbing. Trei might not have been her husband of choice, but hewasher husband. Moreover, he was an honorable prince and someone she’d considered a friend. They had grieved together, confided in one another, and made plans to rule two entire kingdoms side-by-side.
Yet someone had wanted him dead.
She sank onto the edge of the bed and pulled back the sheet to stroke Trei’s still-warm hand. But something clattered to the floor, and she jumped up. The soldiers heard the clatter and came in, looking around for the source of the sound.
All eyes went to a knife that had fallen when she’d moved the sheet.
Bryn picked up the knife on instinct. The blade was coated in Trei’s blood. Once she tore her eyes away from the blade and saw the hilt, her eyes went wide.
She dropped the knife again with a gasp.
