A sinking dread settled over Magdala. Was it possible that someone else killed Julian? Someone from his past, or a jilted lover? If so, then the prince was telling the truth, and she was about to go on the stand and swear before the Only and a court of law that he was a murderer.
But she wasn’t lying. She had seen him, in that room, skulking in the corner, all covered in blood.
A new wave of panic washed over her. What if the prince mentioned that she had threatened Julian only moments before his death? Like he said, she was a much more convenient suspect than Asherton. What if this turned intohertrial and not his?
Angelonia let out a conspicuous sob.
“How are you doing?” Magdala asked politely.
“I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I’m going mad,” Angelonia said in her low, alluring voice. “I was supposed to be on my wedding journey today, not at my betrothed’s inquest so we can ask questions everyone already knows the answer to.”
“I’m sure justice will be meted out,” Magdala assured her, but her stomach twisted.
“Are you?” One perfect little tear spilled down Angelonia’s cheek. “And what if it is? Will I get him back?”
Without a ready reply, Magdala squeezed Angelonia’s hand. “It will help you lay him to rest.”
“We won’t get justice today,” Huxley growled. “The queen-regent’s bastard son will never face his crimes. That’s the privilege of royal blood. By summer’s end, my brother’s murderer will be sitting on the Allageshan throne.”
Angelonia let out a weak little sob and pressed her handkerchief to her nose. “Then let the curse do what the court will not.”
Magdala wondered again how she would act if she was Angelonia and her betrothed had been killed. She doubted she’d have the composure to sit in a pretty silk dress and cry quietly. If she really loved a man, she wouldn’t let him get killed in the first place, unless she died with him, and if somehow she didn’t manage that, she’d probably scream the stars down with rage and then go break his killer’s neck.
A door opened behind the stand, and the judge entered, followed by a guard and a woman dressed in a flowing white robe. The judge sat in a large, leather armchair, and the woman fastened a black blindfold over his eyes.
“All stand for the judge and Lady Justice,” the guard barked.
Everyone stood. Angelonia clasped her hands to her chest.
“We are here today,” the judge said in a sonorous voice, “to untangle the tragic and untimely murder of Julian Davenport, killed in his prime at the palace in Largotia. JulianDavenport was stabbed with a long knife that pierced his lung, but not his heart. Death was not instantaneous.”
Magdala puckered her brow.
Then where did all the blood go?
Angelonia sobbed softly again. On edge, Magdala had the urge to tell her to either fall into hysterics or be quiet.
“Justice will now bring Prince Asherton Ageric to the stand.”
Magdala’s heart hammered her ribs as the woman in white—Lady Justice—opened a door in the dark paneled wall and led the prince to the stand.
Magdala stifled a gasp. The prince’s eye was purple, the bruise dripping down his cheek. A laceration slashed his left eyebrow, and another his upper lip. Mottled blue and green painted his jawline. One of his arms was cradled in a sling. From the state of him, she marveled that he had been able to stand when she met him in the palace.
He wore a faded green velvet coat over a black shirt. His neck was bare. He sat in a creaking wooden chair and Lady Justice covered his eyes. It must have hurt when she tightened the blindfold over his bruises because his nostrils flared from the sudden pain.
A pew creaked, and Magdala noticed the valet slip into an empty seat two pews behind her. He was so rigid, she imagined a light breeze could snap him like dry kindling.
The examiner stepped up to the stand, his eyes also covered. The judge, the prince, the examiner…all blind. Only Lady Justice could see.
“Your Highness, could you please explain to us why you were fighting with Julian Davenport on the night of his death?” the examiner asked.
The prince took a deep breath. “Julian disliked me and I disliked him. It was a mutual dislikeship, and we fought whenever we met.”
“Why did you so dislike one another?” the examiner pressed.
“We were at school together. He hated me because I am half Ashkendoric. He made it his special mission to torment me and tried to kill me once but was prevented.”
“And how was he prevented?”
