Sitting up in his enormous bed, looking unshaven and astonishingly pale in contrast to his burgundy sheets, was the second-born prince.
Upon our arrival, he sat up a fraction higher with a determined glint in his sallow eyes. With the distinct impression that he was preparing to launch an attack on me, I turned to Filip, hoping he might be an ally.
No such luck. He stood back with his arms crossed and gestured towards Hugo with a tilt of his chin.
Feeling like I had just walked into a lion’s den, I approachedthe bed with caution.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake, Your Highness,” I started. “We were all very worried—”
“I remember everything.”
His words knocked the air from my lungs and sank my stomach. He still believed I was a witch—a murderer. He was going to punish me. He was going to ruin me. I was fucked. Absolutely fucked.
“I remember everything, including the fact that you saved my life.”
I gaped at him. That hadnotbeen what I was expecting to come out of his mouth.
He cleared his throat. “I’m appreciative of your efforts.” He looked up at Filip, who nodded from where he stood as if encouraging Hugo to go on. “In light of this, I have reconsidered the accusations I made of you, and see now that they may have been rash,” he finished, suddenly very interested in a loose thread on his quilt.
Well, that was unexpected. As much as I wanted to revel in the fact that he had admitted he was wrong, I would have to play nice if I wanted to get information out of him. “Thank you,” I said, without so much as a hint of smugness. The words lingered in the air, as silence momentarily filled the room.
Filip spoke. “Now tell her what you told me.”
“I was just about to explain,” Hugo grumbled, addressing him. Turning to me, he said, “The night I was attacked, I was on my way to speak with my father, as you may remember.” He had the decency to appear sheepish. “On my way, a servant intercepted me with a note. It wasn’t signed, but the writer claimed to have urgent information pertaining to you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “The note insisted on an immediate meeting in the dungeons.”
My heart rate quickened.
“Just as I got there, someone attacked me from behind. They must have been waiting for me in the shadows. They struck me on the head with something heavy and knocked me out. I came to in the cell, restrained and bleeding to death.”
My blood chilled at the reminder of that awful night. How he had looked on the floor covered in his own blood. How I’d been convinced he was dead when I found his body. It was an effort not to shudder.
“Did you catch a glimpse of anyone?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.
He shook his head, frowning. “The only person I saw down there was you.”
Disappointment washed over me. Still, I asked, “What happened to the note?”
“Vanished. Whoever attacked me must have taken it before you found me.”
I collapsed into the upholstered chair next to the bed, completely deflated. Was it possible that whoever attacked Hugo was not the murderer? It seemed highly unlikely, especially because they claimed to have information about me.‘I know what you are.’The words of my own note came back to me. That too had been anonymous—anyone could have slid it under my door.
All at once, a thought occurred to me. “Who did you say gave you the note?”
“A servant.” He met my eye and, as if guessing where my mind was going, he said, “I have already dispatched my guards to bring the servant in question for interrogation.”
“Because they’ll be able to tell you who gave them the note,” I finished, a spark of hope igniting within me.
“Precisely,” he said, looking pleased with himself.
“Could I stay? To hear what they have to say?”
“You may,” he said, lips twitching in a way that reminded me of Tarben. “On one condition.”
I sat back and folded my arms. “Which is?”
“An alliance.”
This conversation grew more unexpected by the minute.
