“Chana is missing. She left me during our mission and she’s not in her room.”
She releases a heavy breath. “Wait here.”
A few minutes later she comes out of her room changed out of her night dress and in full Fox fashion, leads the way back to Chana’s room.
Inside she inspects Chana’s bedding, items on the dresser, even pokes about in my room, then she goes to the window.
“Show me exactly where you two went,” she orders.
I don’t hesitate to climb out the window and scale the wall to the roof. Vera follows, much more graciously than me. Once she reaches the top, she pulls a dagger from her pants and tells me to continue leading the way.
We take the same route Chane had led me in. Approaching Prince Marcel’s room I slow and then stop when I spot a shadowed figure lying on the roof.
Vera pushes me out of the way when she sees the body too, and rushes to get closer.
Under the moonlight we make out Chana’s still frame.
“Is she breathing?” Vera panics. It’s the first time I’ve seen her without composure.
Bending next to Vera, I place my fingers along Chana’s neck to search for a pulse.
Suddenly, I’m struck with a scent I’ve smelled several times inside my father’s office. I am no apothecary but I know the scent of nightshade well enough to recognize it, and the deadly poison is strongly emitting from Chana.
25
IANN
Ariah twiddles her thumbs, occasionally taking one nail and applying light jabs to the other fingers. She continues to gaze out the window, answering the few questions Deean and Benny have for her. Her responses are brief and she seems as though she has to dig deeper for answers, when normally they just roll out of her.
Her wittiness is held hostage somewhere, along with her playfulness and attractive forwardness, and I despise the tension.
Benny had already invited her into town with us before I could have an opinion. The details about last night are ones I do not feel like sharing.
In truth, I’m not even sure I have grounds to be angry. With Marcel maybe, but certainly not her. She is a pawn like so many others in court, a piece moved by my brother, or perhaps even Queen Cayleen. I have no reason to be upset with her, but just looking at her boils up my emotions and makes me want to punch a hole in the wall or tear off the coach door. Seeing hercome out of Marcel’s room last night has my head spinning. It makes me want to hurt him.
“You alright, Your Royal Highness?” Deean says to me, tugging my glare away from the window. When I meet his gaze, his eyes shift down to the fist on my thigh. “Do you need some cool air? Or perhaps a drink?”
“I’m fine, Eli. Thank you.” I go back to looking out the window but feel a new set of eyes on me. Ones that haven’t looked my way all morning.
Ariah pins me with a heavy stare and I’m not strong enough to ignore it. I give in and meet those hazel eyes of hers, ones circled with dark, puffy patches. Has she been crying? Did someone do something to her? I swear if Marcel hurt her, I will end him and make Deean the future king myself. The words are on the tip of my tongue, demands for her to tell me who upset her, but then I stop myself. A new wave of fear rushes over me when I realize that the very person who could be responsible for her tears is me.
Suddenly, the carriage jolts forward and noises of a busy city street fill the small space, spiking a bit of anxiety. Though I’ve been to town with the Queen, there are still a lot of untrustworthy people who dislike anything about Saden. The only reason we’re here is to speak to the blacksmith who crafted Fraya Vellen’s anchor. Well, not the direct blacksmith, since it’s been several years, but the family that is said to have made it. With only a few days left this is the only opportunity we have.
A guard opens the door and Benny and Deean make their way out. I gesture to Ariah, allowing her to escape the discomfort first.
People in the street stop and stare, whispers bouncing amongst each other. Some get a little too close and force the guards to back them up.
“Saden shits,” a faceless voice calls from the crowd.
“Aren’t we loved,” Deean whispers near my ear.
Someone throws a tomato, nearly hitting Ariah in the back.
“These are the Queen’s guests!” Ariah shouts, causing the crowd to go silent. “Treat them as such. If anyone throws one more thing, especially something that hits me, I’ll have you locked up under the Queen’s authority.”
The people back away and resume what they were doing before we arrived.
“She might be my favorite,” Deean says, and we follow Ariah through the door of the blacksmith’s.
