“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Heats quickly.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good for cooking,” she mused, eyes fixed on the prisoner, who quickly bolted away from the iron bars and stone walls.
“Stone ovens. Those are useful for baking.”
“Stop it. You’re not going to—”
Jocasta gripped the bars, and a scream ripped right from her soul as she looked at the blood on her dress and recalled Girion’s glassy eyes. The bars glowed red-hot in seconds. The guardsstood still. Nemo, Reynard, whoever he was, started turning in circles, gasping for air.
“Talk,” Herrick said as she stopped screaming and stepped back, panting.
The prisoner hissed, “You can’t—”
“Please don’t do that again,” Herrick said softly. “She can. She will. And we’ll help her sweep up your ashes when she’s done, and we’ll use them to grit the palace steps after the next ice storm.”
The Fox licked his lips, looked around at his wardens, the cell, and the apparently deranged queen on the other side of the bars. “Nemo is the alias I was given. My papers say Reynard, because that’s my name. My family has served the Archduke’s family for ages.”
“Why are you out in the human settlements of Caledon making sly deals if you should be back in Wyndwood?” a voice rasped.
Jocasta turned and bolted to the figure in the shadows. “Girion! I told you to rest!” she cried.
“I didn’t want to. I remembered something,” Girion whispered, voice hoarse, face gaunt as he stepped into the light, trailed by a furious Cole. “When I danced with Lady Renata, I mentioned I wanted to wed you because you knew the meaning of the word work. And she said you stank of fish guts.”
Jocasta looked horrified.
“You didn’t. If you had, that wouldn’t have mattered. Polar Bear shifters love fish, guts, bones, and all,” Girion came to stand beside her, putting his arm around her waist, clinging to her as she clung to him. “But I remembered at the time wondering how she knew that you ran a fishing boat, that you worked in your parents’ shop. No one knew you were in the palace but the men I trusted, faithful guards and servants. Even if you were known to be from one of the settlements outside ofFrost Hills and Alban Leigh, why would she assume you, dressed like a princess, were a fishmonger’s daughter? Unless,” Girion turned his gaze to the Fox in the cell, “unless they already knew about you.”
The Fox held up his hands. “It wasn’t my idea! The Archduke wanted any mages who were potential queens to be driven out of the area. There are a few mages here and there, but they’re older, men, or married. Nothing you’d want, sire. And I’m sorry about the throat. You know what they say about cornered animals, heh.” He gave a nervous laugh.
“Be driven out of the area?”
“Forced to leave Wylding and search for the human world or, at least, the warmer kingdoms. If Lady Renata was King Girion’s only choice, they counted on him to take it to save Caledon. And then Reynard would have his paw in the pots of two kingdoms, uncle to the Prince of Wyndwood, father-in-law to the King of Caledon. Lady Renata is as much his pawn as he is hers. They wanted this marriage ruined, too. Anti-human sentiment stirred up, the marriage called a sham, a token to appease the minorities... I just collected the money. I never hurt anyone. I never did anything but listen.”
“And run your mouth. And bite.” Girion looked at Jocasta. “I heard you scream.”
“Fire comes from a place in your soul. At least, that’s where it comes from with me. Pure pain. Agony.” She wiped her eyes and showed him her blackened palms. “He almost took you from me,” she whispered.
“But you wouldn’t allow that. What is your proper name, Fox?”
“Leo Reynard.”
“Will you testify before a magistrate about the Archduke’s machinations?”
“If that means what he wanted to happen, then yes. Provided I’m allowed to live to do so.”
“After your testimony is given, you will be banished. So will Reynard, his wife, and children. If any of you ever set foot in Caledon again, the punishment will be death.”
The Fox gulped, then nodded. “I don’t much care for Caledon, anyway, if it’s all the same to you.”
“It’s very convenient to us. Cole. Herrick. Take him to the prison and have him brought on charges of treason and attempted murder. Find a magistrate who can meet us next week. Have the Minister of Justice, what is his name...”
“Fernhart,” Cole supplied.
“Have Fernhart arrange everything for next week.”
