My conscience warred with my compulsion to know the truth, to unmask the criminal once and for all and bring them to justice. After a woefully short internal battle, I said. “Leave it.”
Sinclair nodded. “Sir Grantham,” he called out and the man appeared only moments later. If he’d overheard our conversation, the human showed no sign of it. “One more thing, dear cousin,” Sinclair said while donning his snow white riding cape. “Having a betrothed whom you are clearly enamored with, gives your enemies leverage. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Then, with a careless toss of his hair, Sinclair turned and departed, his guard of honor following dutifully behind, ever faithful at his right hand.
I waited until the door had shut behind them and I was alone again. I studied the elegantly carved trunk at length, then finally went over and lifted its latch. Throwing back the lid, I gazed upon a dress that I recognized. Heartbreak made my limbs grow heavy and my movements slow, lost in a haze of memories. My mother, the scent of lavender from her garden, her coppery brown eyes gazing down at me with pride and love, the softness of her arms as she embraced me.My love for you is like the moon, Mercier. Always there, always with you. Even when we’re not together, I’m watching over you and loving you from afar.
I picked up the luxurious pale violet dress, embroidered and embellished by a loving hand, for even our servants adored her. I saw the red wine stain, so much like blood, on the bodice of her dress. I held the fabric close to my nose and inhaled.
Aside from her perfume and the smell of aged fabric, there was a scent that was sharper, more vibrant too, that of the wine she’d spilled. I couldn’t detect any poison, but the notes from the grapes were apparent, a rare and coveted variety, grown only in the fae realm and more specifically, in the gardens of the royal family, wine that could only come as a treasured gift from the fae queen herself. Wine that my parents had been drinking from matching goblets when the poison entered their otherwise healthy bodies and killed them within just a few moments.
At that moment Cedrych barged into the parlor, red-faced and sweating from his sparring session, an absolute picture of youthful exuberance.
“My lord, what is it?” he asked, noticing that I had gone deathly quiet, still clutching the garment to my chest.
“I believe it was your mother who poisoned my parents.”
Chapter 18
Prince Cedrych
“Are you sure?” I asked Vasil, immediately regretting it. My lord needed comfort, not questions. He looked absolutely distraught.
“The wine on her dress, I recognize the scent of the grapes. They come from your mother’s vineyard.” He sounded distant and bereft, a lost little boy, still clutching his mother’s dress, overwhelmed by these painful memories. This must have been the evidence his cousin promised him.
My mother was duplicitous, certainly, and ambitious to a fault, but to murder a royal family and orphan a child? I was having a hard time believing she was capable of such depravity.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
“Of course not, Cedrych. You were a child. We both were.”
Both of us pawns in a game larger and more complex than I could have ever imagined. But Vasil knew the dark hearts of those in power. It was why he secluded himself here in his fortress. To have to live with that fear, in constant danger of being killed or attacked, all of it caused by my own flesh and blood.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, envisioning several scenarios, all of them bad.
The fog in his eyes cleared and his expression hardened into a look of resolve. “Your mother is on her way here for a diplomatic visit. We’ll discuss it then.”
“Will you kill her?” I asked. I needed to know what was in store for her–and for me. Would I defend her? Where would my loyalties lie when tested?
Vasil looked surprised for a moment before schooling his expression. “No, Cedrych, I won’t kill her. That would make me no better than her, and I don’t wish to throw the fae realm into chaos, not to mention it would upset you greatly, I’m sure.” His eyes searched mine.
“I didn’t think my feelings would be a consideration, my lord.” Only after I said it did I realize how bad it sounded.
His strong brows came together. “Of course they’re a consideration, Cedrych. Do you think I'm heartless?”
Not heartless, not at all, but pragmatic, yes. Vengeful? Maybe.
“It’s not that,” I said.
“Then what is it?”
“I–” I shook my head. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, words I could never take back. And I didn’t want to wound him further.
At my continued silence, Vasil bristled and said, “I will gather all of the information and weigh my options before deciding anything. And despite what you may think, your feelings will always be considered because this…” He motioned, as if impatient, to the space between us, a separation that felt as if it were growing greater by the second. “This is important to me.”
“Me as well,” I assured him. “But you can’t allow this atrocity to go unanswered. Do you think it could have been an accident?” I asked, grasping for any thread of innocence.
“No, I do not.”
