Rangar acknowledged Alain’s sacrifice with a nod. “Rest, Alain. Fill your belly. At first light, we’ll convene and present what you have to say.”
A sharp voice came out of the foyer’s shadows. “I’m afraid it cannot wait until first light.” Mage Marna stepped forward, her face pinched. A terrible weight sank in Bryn’s stomach like a rock in the sea. “Aleth won’t last the night,” the mage reported. It was one of the first times Bryn had ever heard the woman’s voice tremble.
Alarm flashed in Rangar’s eyes. Valenden let slip a curse. Bryn moved close enough to Rangar to slip her hand into his and give it a squeeze.
After his shock faded, Rangar took a deep breath and asked, “Where is he?”
“We moved him to the bathhouse,” Mage Marna answered. “Not even Ren’s magic could summon enough steam to keep him warm in the mage chambers. I’ve given him a draught of dryad’s clover to pull him out of his stupor, but it won’t last long.”
“Take me,” Rangar said.
Along with Alain, they wound through the Hold’s dark lower tunnels. All the while, Bryn felt like she was moving in someone else’s body. Everything was happening too fast for her to process.
The king will die this night . . .
Rangar will be made heir as long as Alain clears his name . . .
If Valenden doesn’t make a last-minute play for the throne . . .
And what about our wedding?
Finally, they reached the steam-filled hallway outside the bathhouse. Two guards moved aside as they approached. Initially, the bathhouse was so full of steam that Bryn could barely see a few feet in front of her. It was seldom occupied this time of night, and she felt certain Mage Marna had ordered it vacant for the king’s arrival.
Once she got used to the steam, she saw the king laid out on one of the marble tables used for scrubbing and massage—which was also used for preparing the deceased for burial. At first, she feared they were too late, and the king was dead.
But then Aleth let out a wracking cough. Valenden and Rangar, as though a spell had broken, rushed to either side of their father.
“Father,” Rangar said, tugging off his glove to feel his father’s forehead. “I’ve returned. I’m here.”
“R—Rangar . . .” Aleth muttered, disoriented.
“I’m here, as well,” Valenden said, his voice nearly breaking.
“Valenden,” the king whispered. He hacked a few more times and then murmured, “Trei? Where is Trei?”
The room fell silent as everyone exchanged looks over the king’s head. At last, Rangar said evenly, “Trei is always with us, Father. You have all your sons here.”
King Aleth moaned in pain, and Bryn turned to Mage Marna with a grimace. She whispered, “Can’t you do something for him?”
“My hexes to get rid of his pain also make him unconscious; I had to clear them in order to bring him back to consciousness with the draught.”
Bryn’s heart hurt to hear the king in pain, though she knew he didn’t have long to suffer.
“Father,” Rangar said, shaking the king back to cognizance. “I’ve brought Alain, the leader of the Mir refugees. We found him in Ardwallow, a logging town. He’d gone to locate his son, Broderick, just as we had. The son is dead, but Alain has crucial information.”
At Rangar’s beckon, Alain stepped forward, wringing his hands. He cleared his throat. “Your highness, your family took us in as refugees. Gave us food, a place to sleep, a role in this community. Though I would do anything to protect my children, my son is dead, and my words can no longer hurt him. They can, however, save your own son.”
Bryn wasn’t certain if King Aleth could process Alain’s words in his semi-delirium. His lips moved wordlessly like he was muttering strange hexes.
Alain, uncertain, crossed himself before continuing. “Though I do not wish to make this confession, the Saints require honesty. It is my great shame as a father to confess that my son took Prince Trei’s life. I swear to you that I did not know it at the time. I was aware that Broderick distrusted Lady Bryn, as we all did—if you’ll pardon us, my lady—but I firmly believed in her once I got to know her. It seems Broderick didn’t share my change of heart. He went that night to kill her and assassinated Prince Trei instead. Afterward, he fled to Ardwallow, which was when I suspected the truth. I knew for certain it was my son when the murder weapon was revealed—I saw that knife in Broderick’s possession days before the murder.”
Alain heaved a deep sigh as though unburdening his secret had lifted a weight, and yet sadness hung in the air.
They wanted to kill me, Bryn thought.It’s true. I was the target.
Valenden rested a comforting hand on the old man’s shoulder, leading him away to speak with him out in the hall.
Mage Marna stepped up to the table. “Did you hear that, Aleth?”
