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Her father shook his head, looking troubled. “The guards searched it from top to bottom, but found nothing out of order.”
“So what does that mean? You believe the killer has them?”
“It’s possible, but it’s too soon to be certain. We’re not yet ruling out the possibility that Cathal hid them before his killer caught up to him. Something in those papers was worth saving, else he would have burned them along with all the other documents. He was clever. If he had realized that someone was coming to kill him, he would have stashed them somewhere the assassin wouldn’t find them. Now it’s a matter ofusfinding them.”
“And the elven prostitute?”
A spark of frustration lit his eyes. “No news yet.”
Riona let the conversation drop, frowning. What had been different about those documents? Why had Cathal thought them worth saving, when he destroyed all the other treasury records? Too many questions. Hopefully, with Prince Auberon’s help, she would discover the answers soon enough.
After several minutes, the carriage rolled into the forecourt, and the three of them climbed out. Amaris made to follow the royal family into the castle, but Riona caught her wrist, stilling her. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” she whispered. “You know I didn’t mean it that way. Please forgive me.”
Amaris looked down at the hand on her wrist, then up at Riona. “You needn’t ask forgiveness. More than anything, I want you to be happy, Riona. Just…don’t overlook the possibility of finding happiness with one of the suitors.”
ChapterNineteen
The Liar
“Imust say, Your Highness, you are recovering extraordinarily quickly,” Healer Barra said, incredulous. His assistant hovered behind him, scrawling notes on a piece of parchment while wearing an equally bewildered expression. “I admit, I’m shocked by how well you are faring.”
“All due to your skill and knowledge, I’m sure. Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t eager to return to court,” Auberon responded, trying to ignore the unsettling warmth emanating from his shoulder. It pulsed like a heartbeat, even days after the duke’s visit. “Am I free to go?”
Barra’s gaze swept over him, and Auberon fixed him with an imploring look. The king would choose Riona’s husband by the end of the year. Already, a week had slipped through his fingers. His only solace was that Treasurer Cathal’s death had delayed the start of the negotiations.
The healer nodded. “Try to take it easy for a while, Your Highness. Your lungs may not be bleeding anymore, but they’re still healing.”
Auberon let out a relieved breath and swung his feet over the side of the cot. It felt good to finally be released from the infirmary. He’d nearly gone mad after being forced to sit still for so long, trapped within the same four walls. “Thank you for everything you two have done for me. I owe you my life.”
“You owe us nothing, Your Highness,” Barra replied as he and his assistant bowed. “We merely did our duty.”
Auberon gathered his belongings—a couple of books and some changes of clothes, courtesy of Drystan—and followed the men out of the room, his guards trailing behind him. Drystan was waiting in the sitting room, and he jumped to his feet when he saw Auberon.
“You’re okay, then? You’re cleared to leave?”
He nodded, and the tension on Drystan’s face melted away. After thanking the healers one more time, they left the infirmary and started up the path to the guest house they’d been given. Auberon sucked in a breath and instantly winced at the burn of cold air against his battered lungs. He stopped, doubling over, as a painful coughing fit overtook him. Drystan grabbed his elbow, steadying him, as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. To his immense relief, it came away without any trace of blood.
“Are you sure you’re ready to leave the infirmary? You won’t be able to complete the assignment Father gave you if you have one foot in the Beyond.”
“I’m fine.”
Drystan shot him a doubtful look but didn’t argue. When they arrived at the house, he dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand as he followed Auberon up the stairs to his bedchamber. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, and watched in silence as Auberon returned his belongings to the chest in the corner of the room, still packed with the things he’d brought from Erduria.
“There’s…something we should discuss,” Drystan began after the silence had stretched out a few beats too long. His tone was casual, but Auberon could hear the undercurrent of concern—and worse,doubt—in his voice. “A few days ago, the guards told me you believed that Duke Valerian had visited you in the infirmary. They said it worked you up so much that you had to be sedated. What happened?”
His fingers tightened on the lid of the chest.I’m not mad. I know what I saw.“They still claim that he was never there?”
The guards hadletValerian into his room. How could they have no memory of the encounter? As his frustration mounted, the heat in his shoulder stuttered and picked up in pace, thumping like a second heart.
“…You were alone with the guards.”
He slammed the lid shut and turned on Drystan. “Our ship is waiting for us in the harbor at Crafford. If you think I’m mad, send me back to Torch.”
“That’s not what I was saying, and you know it.”
The prince’s mild response only fueled his ire. “Who has spent countless hours studying the deadliest poisons in the northern and southern continents? Who prepared tonics and tinctures to counteract those poisons? Who will be risking his life so you can spend your days drinking wine and dancing with beautiful noblewomen?” Auberon spat, the searing heat in his shoulder sending waves of agony through him. “So, I will leave you to your politicking, Crown Prince, if you will leave me to do my job.”
Drystan sighed and pushed off the door frame. “Get some rest. We’ll be meeting with the king tomorrow morning to begin the negotiations.” He paused, then added, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re back.”
