I say nothing. She’s wrong about many things, but she’s right about one: Gen is better than me in every way. If she offered me even a fraction of her heart, I’d worship the ground she walks on.
“You’re known as a redblood, and that blue blood of yours will work against you in the trial. I know you and Prince Leland are scheming—even trying to involve Genny. Stop it. I have enough evidence against you that no lawyer on the continent could clear your name. In three days’ time I’ll be rid of you.”
I meet her harsh gaze. “If you were so certain of your evidence, you wouldn’t feel the need to tell me any of this.”
She laughs. “I’m telling you to give up. You’re beat. You’ll be the one ruined—not Genevieve.”
A small part of me fractures, knowing the odds are against me. Getting out of this alive is unlikely, but I won’t show that to this woman. The last thing I want is for her to see my true feelings.
“If that’s all, I’d prefer to return to my cell,” I say, turning my back to her.
“You won’t see her again! I’m making sure of it!” the queen shouts as I reach the door, thumping my arm against the barred frame.
It will be far too soon if I ever have to see Penelope Ashcroft again.
45
Genevieve
Ipace my room—back and forth, back and forth—the nervous energy too much for me to contain.
Tomorrow morning is the trial, and we’ve found nothing that will save Kieran, despite a whole team of lawyers, loyal servants, the Frostclaws, and my siblings searching. I even sent word to Clementine to casually ask around about the source of the rot, and she’s already orchestrated half of Crawford to seek information on the misuse of helachite.
Even Gabriel has changed his mind, coming to me privately to apologize. He sees that I love Kieran—sees that I can’t imagine losing him again—and he feels sympathy for me. Or as much sympathy as Gabriel can muster, with his own fears of marriage to Queen Kalise hanging over him.
Queen Kalise has given her support for Lelend’s withdrawal from our engagement, though I can still see her disappointment. Perhaps there are worse fates for Gabriel than marrying a queen.
“Will you please stop pacing, Genny?” Astoria asks as she brings me a calming cup of herbal tea.
I shake my head. “We’re running out of time. If we don’t find a solution, Kieran will be charged with every crime Mother’s holding against him.”
“Wearing a hole in the carpet isn’t going to save him.”
I nod, trying to stifle the anxious energy coursing through me. “I can’t lose him again, Astoria. I don’t think I can survive it.”
She gives her head a small shake. “You’re stronger than that. Soon you’ll be the one making decisions for this country. Mother thinks she acts for the good of the kingdom, but you actually will.”
I press a hand to my forehead. I can’t even think about the responsibilities looming over me. “Did Mari find anything out from the maids who discovered the servant’s body?”
Astoria’s lips tighten into a scowl. “Mother pulled her away, said she needed her for something. When Mari came back, she complained of headaches. She still isn’t well.”
I nod. Recovery has been painfully slow for Mari since her exposure to the rot. We’re grateful she’s alive at all, but she hasn’t slept soundly in weeks and has grown more withdrawn. I wish I had time to help her, but Kieran needs me more than ever.
“Will you check in on her?” I ask.
“Of course. I should go sit with her now.”
A knock at the garden entry to my room sends a sharp pang of hope through my chest.
“What was that?” Astoria asks, but my heart is already pounding as I cross the room.
Gabriel steps inside, and the hope drains from me as he closes the door. “How did you get through that entrance?” I demand. No onebut Kieran and I have ever used the outside door. Only we have the key.
“I came to show you just how sorry I am. Astoria, you may want to leave.”
He swings the door fully open, revealing a tattered Kieran. Dark circles shadow his eyes and his skin looks ashen. A bruise darkens his exposed arm, and a ring of red welts marks where the irons bit into his flesh.
I run to him, throwing myself into his arms. He holds me tightly, and my cheeks are wet before I even realize I’m crying. A part of me feared I’d never hold him again—that our time together at Huntley House was the last time I’d feel his arms around me, a bittersweet memory of our too-short reunion.
