Page 101 of Queen of War and Ruin

“H-He didn’t,” I gasp.

I turn to Petrys. His face is perfectly impassive, and he looks away as soon as our eyes meet. I gulp, then drop my gaze back to the floor.

“He didn’t kill Syvan,” I admit.

Petrys says nothing. A burst of laughter floats through the bright, sunlit air in the throne room. I stare at the open door and try to imagine how far I could run before someone stops me.

Not very far, I think.

I open my mouth, then close it. Zarek didn’t kill Syvan, but what difference does it make? He’ll still be punished for the murder.

Unless I confess.

“Keep moving,” Petrys whispers.

I blink at the floor. I didn’t realize I’d stopped walking. I force my legs forward, my entire body cold and numb.

“I’ve also heard he’s here,” Petrys continues. “In the palace.”

I nod, then take another step.

“I’ve heard that too,” I whisper.

I’m so close to the far wall I could reach out and touch it. I gulp a breath, then spin. My eyes meet Petrys for a heartbeat before he steps aside, gesturing for me to continue. I lurch forward, cutting another path across the throne room.

“Where is he?” I manage to whisper.

I glance around the room as I say it, as if Zarek might be tucked into one of the alcoves in this sunny, gleaming space. From the corner of my eyes, I see Petrys move to scratch his nose, covering his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he says.

My heart sinks. I didn’t realize how desperately I was hoping Petrys would know exactly where Zarek is, that Petrys appearing at Blayne’s estate was all part of some brilliant rescue plan.

“He’s probably in the dungeons,” Petrys whispers.

I stumble on nothing and lurch forward. Petrys grabs my arm, keeping me from making a scene that would probably embarrass Blayne. I turn to Petrys, wild desperation gnawing at the pit of my stomach.

“How do we get him out?” I whisper.

Petrys steps back and bows low without meeting my eyes.

“My lady,” he says.

I blink at his odd response. Shoes click across the stone floor, drawing closer. I turn to see a woman wearing a brilliant white apron approaching us. She bows toward me, stiffly formal.

“Lady Lilias,” she says. She blinks like she’s expecting a response.

I tilt my head. “Yes?”

“Her Highness, Princess Acelina requests the pleasure of your company,” she announces. Her tone makes it sound like I don’t have the option of refusing this generous invitation.

I start to turn toward Petrys, to see his response, but I catch myself and force my eyes back to the floor. Why would the princess of Marion care what the guard trailing her thought of this invitation?

“Of course,” I say, twisting my lips into a smile. “I would be honored to greet Her Highness.”

The woman nods at this, the only correct reply. Then she turns and walks out of the room. I follow, with Petrys trailing behind me.

I expect her to lead me through the crowds and up the grand staircase, to the elegant rooms I visited once for tea, when Dulcia called me Mrs. Snake. But instead, she leads me past the stairs and through the open doors, into the sun-filled garden.