“All that giggling messed with my appearance. And the wilting plants only made it worse. They’re affecting everyone differently. Some people are just uncomfortable. But me?” His laugh came out bitter. “My appearance is falling apart. The one thing I’ve always been able to control, the one thing that makes me feel like myself, is slipping away.”
“That’s why you snapped at Lady Featherby,” Sasha said softly.
“She made me realize how bad this is.” Turren pressed his hands to his face. “I know it was wrong to yell at her. I’ve apologized. But her suggestions made me start thinking. I did some research and moonbell orchid blossoms are the answer. I know I’m vain. I know people think I’m ridiculous. But this is who I am, and watching myself fade has been a true tragedy.” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “Why would I hurt the plants that can make me more beautiful?”
He wasn’t our villain. Lord Turren’s vanity, which had always seemed harmless, made him the least likely saboteur. He needed the court’s emotional magic more than almost anyone.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. “Lord Turren, I?—”
“I thought you knew me better than this, Your Majesty.” Pain colored his voice. “We’ve shared meals. We’ve discussed lace together. And you thought I would harm our court?”
“The evidence suggested it could be you.” The excuse felt hollow.
My mother’s betrayal had made me paranoid, seeing deception where there was nothing. I’d let my fear of being fooled again cloud my judgment about someone I’d known for years.
“You can have the moonbell orchids after the festival,” I said. “All of them. And I’m sorry for this accusation.”
Turren stood, his movements stiff. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Though perhaps next time you might simply ask rather than assume the worst of me.”
He left without his usual theatrical flair, a wounded man who’d been wrongly accused by someone he trusted.
Savory flew out of my office behind him.
The door closed, and silence filled the office.
“We followed the evidence we had,” Sasha said.
“But I should’ve known it couldn’t be him. If we’d waited, we would’ve seen he wasn’t there to harm the plants.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Lord Turren’s not capable of this kind of deception.”
“Which means the real saboteur is still out there. And the festival is tomorrow.”
Failure pressed down on my shoulders. We’d wasted precious time interrogating the wrong person while whoever was actually behind this had free access to everything we’d set up.
Damn.
Sasha stiffened, her hand snapping out to grip my arm. “Sasha says something’s wrong inside the greenhouse.” She paled. “The magical alarms aren’t working.”
My stomach dropped. “Not working how?”
“She says there’s a strange emptiness where the plants should be.” She met my eyes. “Dominic, I think we need to?—”
I was already moving, racing out of my office with Sasha right behind. Dread settled in my chest, that horrible certainty that disaster had already struck while we’d been distracted.
We’d been played. Completely and thoroughly manipulated into focusing on Lord Turren while the real fiend had all the time they needed to destroy our trap.
The greenhouse loomed ahead, its glass walls reflecting moonlight. Everything looked normal from the outside, but my magical senses recoiled from the building before we got close.
Something was deeply wrong inside.
I threw open the door and came to a halt.
The replacement plants weren’t just wilted; they were completely dead, blackened and shriveled as if they’d been burning from the inside. The magical alarms we’d carefully positioned around the greenhouse and the cave entrance hadn’t given us warning, though I had no idea why.
The emotional void radiating from the space felt like a wound that would never heal. This was absolute severance, a complete cutting off of all emotional magic from this area.
“While we were interrogating Lord Turren,” I said, my voice hollow, “the real saboteur arrived and did…this.”
Sasha hurried through the greenhouse, examining the devastation with horror on her face. “They destroyed our chance at catching them.”
