The familiar, bitter knife of betrayal burned in her gut.
I should have known it was only a matter of time before she, too, decided to believe the worst of me. It’s probably for the best; our friendship will only continue to be a source of contention between her and the man she loves.
She dropped her hand to her side and exhaled slowly through her nose. “I have no desire for Corbin’s throne, Ellie; I never have. The only reason I married Theodor was because my father had no other use for me. If I amallowed to fade into obscurity here in Cygnus rather than in Nedra, it will be enough.”
Remorse twisted the features on Elise’s face. “I’m sorry. I should have?—”
Lindy threw up a hand to interrupt her friend’s apology, choosing to reach for the sharp, cold armor of rudeness rather than allow the vulnerability that reconciliation required. “Come. We have a funeral to attend. I don’t need tardiness added to my list of transgressions.”
She swept out of the room before Elise had a chance to respond, nodding with her chin held high at the guard waiting outside her door in the wide hall. “Haldrick.”
“Your Majesty,” he responded with the curl of a sneer on his upper lip, his tone contradicting any respect her title should have held. He was both the captain of the royal guard and a childhood friend of Crown Prince Corbin and had readily adopted any and all of her stepson’s views of her. Haldrick’s cold eyes trailed up and down her form. “Fully committed to the grieving widow bit, I see.”
She looked him dead in the eye, refusing to show even the slightest bit of intimidation. If he was going to believe her capable of murder, despite a shameful lack of evidence, she might as well lean into it. “Iama widow.”
And grieving because the only security I had died along with Theodor.
Haldrick raised his brows. “I notice you didn’t argue that the grief was an act.” He leaned forward, crowding her space and filling it with the stench of his stale breath. “Don’t get too comfortable, witch. We know what youdid before to that prince in Anura, we know what you did to our king, and we know what you’ll do if you’re allowed to continue free. It’s just a matter of time before justice is finally served. You think being locked in your room was bad? You’ll be begging for that by the time we’re through with you.”
Lindy continued to meet his eyes. Elise cleared her throat quietly behind her. “Haldrick, it’s time to go. Her Majesty needs to get to the chapel before the service starts.”
The guard moved back a pace, his eyes flashing with hatred and the promise of violence. He gave a mocking bow. “After you, ladies.”
Elise threaded her arm through Lindy’s and pulled her forward, putting a few steps of distance between them and the guard. Lindy fought every urge to lean into the silent show of support.
“Don’t listen to him,” Elise whispered, soft enough that her words would not carry. “I know you would never do anything to hurt His Majesty. I know you’re innocent.”
Lindy’s jaw worked back and forth as she summoned the words that would be the final nail in the coffin of her short-lived friendship. “I’m not, Ellie. I’m no stranger to either magic or curses. I cursed Prince Dorian of Anura, and, if the situation were to repeat itself, I would probably do it again.” She could see Elise’s jaw drop from the corner of her eyes, and she pulled her arm free. “I may not have killed Theodor, but Haldrick is right: I’m a witch. How can you trust I won’t do it again?”
She quickened her steps, leaving Elise behind. Hereyes smarted with tears, and though she longed to blink them away, she let them gather and fall as she approached the chapel doors. It mattered little that she felt more grief over the loss of friendship with a member of the court than she did her husband’s life. What mattered was that tears were expected, and without them, she wouldn’t survive.
And Lindy was very good at surviving.
Chapter Two
LINDY
“What did you say to Elise?”
Corbin barked the question as he pushed off the wall beside her door where he had been waiting, arms crossed and a stormy expression on his face. His dark hair and strong brows were a mirror image of his father—at least according to the portrait gallery. Lindy had only seen the king with white hair, deep wrinkles, and age spots, but there was a definite resemblance in the paintings that had been done when the king was still young and married to his first wife.
The wife he had truly and deeply loved for thirty years before she died, childless. His second wife had given him his first five sons, and the third had produced the younger two.
With that many heirs, Lindy wasn’t entirely sure why she had been needed.
She stifled a weary sigh. The funeral had been long and drawn out, and while she couldn’t fault the people ofCygnus for mourning the passing of their king, the constant streams of accusatory whispers and withering looks that accompanied her through the service, the internment, and the somber feast in Theodor’s honor had drained what little energy she had to begin with. All she wanted to do was ditch the sallow-faced guard dogging her footsteps, hide in her room, and cry in peace before facing more of the same at the formal dinner later than evening.
She masked her exhaustion with a tilted eyebrow, keeping her shoulders back and summoning snark as her armor. “You’ll have to be more specific. Ellie is my lady-in-waiting; I tell her lots of things.”
His eyes narrowed in a glare. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Please,” she gestured toward him. “Enlighten me as to what it is that I know.”
“You made her cry.”
“She was hardly the only one today.”
“She was fine until she left to get you, and when she came back, she was crying. What did you say to her?”
