Page 20 of The Dead Queen

That’s when father’s doors spill open. A guard shoots a crossbow right into the gray-eyed man’s chest. His blood splatters across my face. I stare wide-eyed as he falls to the ground.

Chapter 8

The foxhounds whimper at the scent of blood.

I follow my father’s guards as they drag the Wolf down into the old dungeons, his feet scraping against the rough stone steps. An orb of light follows us, casting eerie shadows. The guards throw the Wolf to the ground in an empty cell and lock iron chains around his hands and feet for good measure. The foxes in the cells on either side yip and growl, sensing a meal.

A guard slams the door closed and locks it. The sound echoes off the damp stone walls of the dungeon.

“We can’t send him to the jail in town. The other prisoners will talk,” one guard says, his voice hushed and tense.

My father’s low voice echoes behind us. “How fortunate that he decided to visit while everyone else was distracted.”

The guards rush to attention. King Corsac steps toward the cell, but his eyes remain on me, cold and calculating. I can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with suspicion.

“How fortunate, again, that the bride-to-be is the one who found him.” He pauses, giving me a distrustful glare. “In my rooms, no less.”

Father reaches into his pocket and hands me a kerchief. “Clean that blood off your face,” he says, nodding toward a bucket of water in the corner.

Reluctantly, I take the kerchief from his hand and dip it in the pail. The water inside is cold, with bits of dirt floating on top. I scrub my face raw, hoping to get it all off. The kerchief is stained pink when I pull it away.

My father turns to one guard. “Tell me what happened.”

Before the guard can answer, a foxhound leaps against its cell door, the metal bars rattling with the force of its impact. It barks and screams to be let out. To be given a taste of the blood it smells in the nearby cell.

The guard nods. “Your Highness, we heard a commotion in your rooms, so we entered and found the heir cornered. We shot the intruder.”

“And how did not one, but two people enter my quarters without notice?”

The guard looks sideways at his partner. “We’re not sure, Your Highness, but the window was unlocked and the curtains thrown open.”

My father eyes my enormous gown and no doubt thinks the same thing I do. There’s no way I could have climbed through the window in this dress.

“He needs to be healed.” I nod toward the cell door. Through the bars, I can see the man still hasn’t moved from the ground. Blood seeps around him, making a dark puddle on the dirt floor. “He could die from that wound.”

My father studies me. “Then it would be one less traitor in the world.”

My face flushes with anger. “That’s not our way. The people of Llwyn heal. The Wolves are the ones who kill.”

He turns his body to face me. “What is this man to you?”

I realize that they have no idea who he is. What he can do. I’m the only one that knows this man is a Wolf. That he can wield shadow power. If the stories are true, he could kill us all where we stand, too. I hesitate, the knowledge on the tip of my tongue. If he survives, he may very well be able to escape. If he does, my answers flee with him.

I decide not to tell them.

My father narrows his eyes.

“Nothing,” I say. “He’s no one.”

“A no one who found a way into my rooms with my heir at his side?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Not at his side. I followed him, like I said.”

“She had a knife pointed at his throat when we entered the rooms, Your Highness,” a guard says. I silently thank him, but I can tell my father still isn’t convinced.

“Out.” The king gestures toward the exit. “If he survives the night, we’ll put him to questioning. He’s no use to us as he is.”

I stiffen. If the man dies, then I won’t get the answers he clearly has. My eyes dart between the man lying prone on the ground and the king.