‘Let Alveye get your horse,’ he called after her.
She turned back. ‘Stop! I’m not an infant. Stop fussing.’ The cloak of her hood had fallen back. Her hair clung to her face and neck. ‘Your concern is too late.’
Alveye, who was now making his way up the hill with her horse, stopped. Everyone else turned to look at Eda, appearing confused.
‘Suttone, you’ve been in a foul mood all morning,’ Tatum said. ‘What’s going on?’
Alveye approached cautiously, handing her the reins of her horse.
‘Let’s just keep moving before we all drown on this hill,’ she said, tugging her horse to get it walking.
Tatum raised a brow. ‘What have we missed here?’
Roul closed his eyes. ‘Let it go.’
‘What did our fearless commander do that has you in such an uptight state?’ Tatum pushed.
When Roul opened his eyes, he found Prince Becket staring at him, a stare so piercing it almost knocked him backwards. The prince dismounted on the hill, water gushing over his feet, and made his way towards the commander. Everyone stopped and looked back, wondering what on earth he was doing.
‘Your Highness,’ Woottone called.
The prince ignored his bodyguard, reaching inside his cloak and pulling out a soggy piece of parchment. He held it up in the air. ‘The signature. TheR. Is it you?’ When Roul did not respond, he unfolded it, accidentally tearing it in the process, then shoved it in Roul’s face. ‘Did you write this?’
Blackmane shifted in the saddle. ‘What the hell is going on?’
The prince was no fool. He had put the pieces together easily enough. But all Roul could think about was his family, his agreement with Queen Fayre. He turned his face up to the rain.
‘It was,’ the prince said, nodding slowly. ‘It was you.’
‘What’s he talking about?’ Tatum asked.
Eda’s hands went over her face.
‘Speak!’ Becket shouted.
Roul linked his hands atop his head and looked at him, desperate to speak yet not permitted to confess.
‘You traitor,’ the prince hissed.
Roul had thought a lot about how this conversation might go. Though he never pictured having it on the side of a hill in the blinding rain while his men bore witness. ‘I’m sorry.’ An apology was not the same as a confession. Surely he could give the prince that.
Becket’s face twisted. He threw the soggy letter at Roul—hard.
Tatum was off his horse then, falling down the hill towards them.
‘Do they all know?’ Becket asked, water spraying from his lips.
‘Know what?’ Alveye asked.
Roul shook his head. ‘Only Eda. Because of the letter. I couldn’t tell a soul without endangering my family.’
Becket ran at him. Roul could have stepped out of the way or drawn his weapon. He could have pled his case. Instead, he stood still. The prince slammed into him, knocking him backwards into the mud. They hit the ground in one unified thud, then began rolling.
‘Murderer,’ Becket shouted before they splashed into the icy pool at the base of the hill. Water roared in Roul’s ears as he was completely submerged. Then he was yanked upright, and a fist collided with his face. Roul’s blood sprayed the prince, mixing with the rain.
‘You have the audacity to show up at Harlech Castle and pretend to care about my kingdom!’
Roul braced for another punch, but then Eda came between them.
