Chapter 29
Atired-eyedmaidenteredtheFourth Prince's chambers as she did every morning.She was quiet and careful, her eyes downcast, her movements practised to disturb nothing.The room was modest for a royal child, decorated with toys and drawings.A small bed sat against the far wall, its curtains still drawn, its occupant not yet stirring.
She began with the hearth, sweeping cold ash into a pan.Then the windows, opening the shutters to let in the grey morning light.Then the toys scattered across the floor, picking them up one by one and placing them in their proper place.
She crept toward the bed to wake the young prince.
The curtains were drawn, as always.He liked his privacy, even at his age.She reached out, her hand finding the fabric, and stopped.
The sheets were damp; she considered if he wet the bed.
The curtains were pulled back.
And a heartbreaking wail left her lips.
Three deaths in two days.
The council chamber had become a mortuary of the soul, its walls pressed inward by the weight of grief and fear.Clearly something was wrong, and they all knew why.The Fourth Prince—a forgettable child who lived in peace had been found in his bed with blood pouring from all orifices.
No one had heard or seen anything.The guards at his door swore they had not slept, had not left their posts, and had not allowed anyone to pass.Yet the child was dead, and the killer walked free.
The Elders gathered again, their faces grey with exhaustion.
"The devil," someone whispered."It has to be the devil."
"The Oracle warned us!"
"She walks among us, and we do nothing!"
The Elder of Justice raised his hand, demanding silence.It took long moments to achieve.
"We cannot act on rumours and fear alone," he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction."We need evidence or we descend into paranoia and madness like our ancestors had done!"
"Proof?"A noble laughed bitterly."Three bodies are not proof enough?What more do you need?Are you waiting for the Okpalaeze to drop dead too!?"
The Elder of Justice frowned, not appreciating the accusation."We need to be certain," he insisted."If we execute the wrong person—"
"Better to be safe than sorry!Better to kill one and be wrong than to let her live and lose more!"
The chamber erupted again.
Through it all, Somadina sat in the seat next to his father's—not the throne, not until the Of? was passed and the elders confirmed his ascension—but close enough.
Execute her.
The words should have pleased him.He had dreamed of her death and imagined it in vivid detail.But now that the moment approached, now that the mob's fury focused on her.He hesitated.
She had finally agreed to grant him the mantle of a Divine King when her sister had failed.She had given him enough to work with.Her hand had caressed his face with such tenderness; if she truly hated him, her eyes wouldn't have been so beautiful.
"She must answer for her crimes."
Enoch stood in the centre of the chamber, his scholar's robes rumpled, mud staining the bottom.
"If we execute her without trial," he said, his voice carrying despite its quiet, "we become no better than the mobs in the streets.The people are watching.History is watching.We cannot fall to anarchy simply because we are afraid."
"He's right."
Somadina had risen from his seat, demanding attention like a leader taking control.
