Those words sent another stab to his chest and a bitter taste to his mouth. His father had disowned him. Just like that.
King Theseus’s expression softened, a hint of compassion in his eyes. “You will be given a comfortable guest room here in the castle. The door will be guarded, but that is as much for yoursafety as the ruse that you are under arrest. The conspirators will be worried that you will talk while under our custody, and they might decide to try to kill you.”
Would his own father or brother plot to murder him? He would have liked to say that would be a step too far, but he couldn’t. In his father’s mind, Benedict had betrayed the family and thus he deserved disownment and perhaps even death.
He flicked a glance at Beatrice again. Her blue eyes had widened, their depths liquid and almost painfully compassionate.
Would he get a chance to talk to her before Midsummer? What did she think of him, now that she knew the truth?
Chapter Fifteen
Beatrice dragged herself into the Library the next morning. When she’d finally gone to bed, she’d tossed and turned the rest of the night, unable to sleep as her mind churned through everything that had happened.
Benedict hadn’t set that trap for her sister. No, he’d done it to save the four people still locked in Claudius’s dungeon and the whole of the Great Library.
And she had yelled at him, hadn’t trusted him, and could have ruined everything.
What was she supposed to do and feel about him now? He wasn’t at all like what she’d thought for those brief moments the night before.
Worse, he was now an official part of her sister’s Primrose League. She couldn’t hate someone who was a part of the League. And that brought a whole new problem.
Barely paying attention to the peaceful bustle of the Library, Beatrice trudged around the Tree to Basil’s desk.
He glanced up from the book he had open before him. “If you need more sleep, you can go home.”
“I must look terrible if that’s how you greet me.” Beatrice braced herself against the front of the desk. “Besides, I’ll just go back to tossing and turning instead of sleeping. We’re already down a librarian so I might as well push through.”
Basil nodded, but his gaze remained searching as if he didn’t fully believe her.
Before Beatrice could protest further, Rosaline hurried up to them. “Did you hear? Benedict was arrested last night for treason.” Glancing around, Rosaline lowered her voice. “He was trying to set a trap for the Wild Fae Primrose.”
Beatrice clamped her mouth shut before she blurted out the truth. Rosaline was a part of the Primrose League, but Brigid must not have gotten the word out yet.
Or perhaps Brigid had decided to be cautious and wouldn’t even tell the rest of the League. Not that any of them were untrustworthy. But the more people who knew, the more chance that someone would slip up and tip off the imposters or Benedict’s family.
“Did you know? You’ve been spending nearly every day with him.” Rosaline stepped closer to Beatrice, her gaze compassionate. She gestured toward Beatrice’s hand. “You must really want to break that.”
Beatrice rested her left hand over the gold, floral swirl on the back of her right hand. “Yes.”
For some reason, she couldn’t dredge up any true emotion as she spoke the word.
Beatrice creptalong the hall in King Theseus’s white marble palace, the green runner on the floor muffling her footsteps.
After turning a corner, a shorter hall ended in a doorway that must lead to one of the many towers and turrets that formed the palace. Partway down the corridor, two swordmaidens gripping spears stood before one of the doors on the inside wall.
Drawing in a deep breath, Beatrice straightened her shoulders and strode toward them as if she was perfectly confident in her right to be there. Halting before the swordmaidens, she lifted her chin. “I’d like to see Benedict, please.”
Would they let her in? Benedict was ostensibly a prisoner, and she wasn’t sure what kind of orders these swordmaidens had. Neither of them was the imposter, but that didn’t mean Queen Hippolyta had told them what was really going on.
The swordmaiden on the right swept a glance down Beatrice before she gave a sharp nod and stepped aside, giving access to the door. “You may enter.”
Beatrice’s breath whooshed out of her. She hurried forward and opened the door before the swordmaiden had the chance to change her mind.
After she closed the door behind her, she turned to fully take in the room. She stood in a small sitting room with a single couch and two chairs clustered around a small table. A door on the other side must lead to the bedchamber.
That door opened, and Benedict peeked out, his eyes bleary, his hair tousled around his face and shoulders. “What is it?”
He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Giving her an eyeful of his muscled chest and slim waist. An eyeful that was now seared into her mind.
