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Guilt nagged at Crispin. Even though he held no affection for his father and toyed with the idea of removing him from the throne, he never considered the extending implications of such a plan. There was no way to prove if it had succeeded or if someone else had. His mother’s observation held weight. Whoever this spy was, they had been watching and waiting for the opportunity to present itself. A sinister possibility appeared in his mind.
“What of Francis?” Crispin mused, gauging his mother’s reaction. “His reemergence seems to be quite timely, do you not agree?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You truly believe your brother has something to do with this?”
“He conveniently remained hidden from the world, shut away in the monastery, lying in wait. His position gave him the perfect opportunity to befriend Ruby.”
His mother laughed. “Honestly, Crispin. How could he have possibly known her identity? Not a soul knew, even Ruby herself knew nothing of her birth parents or the betrothal agreement.”
’Twas true. There was no way of him knowing. However, fate played a hand in their meeting, of that he was certain.
“It does not change this miraculous revelation.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “And his refusal to abdicate aligns perfectly with their disappearance.”
“Such a betrayal is not in your brother’s nature. Francis would never use such tactics for his own purpose. What would it serve him? If he truly wanted the throne, he would only have to petition the privy council. What benefit would he have to pursue such an elaborate charade?” Vivienne rounded the table to face him squarely.
“To spite me.” Crispin’s response echoed through the room with the crack of a whip. “To make me suffer.”
Her gaze softened, and she cupped his cheek. Crispin closed his eyes at the touch but remained firmly committed to his statement.
“Must you always believe the worst of mankind?” She rubbed her thumb along his jaw. “I know not what vile poison has turned your heart, but if you nurture this beast, then you will experience only pain and suffering.”
Crispin refused to react to her observation even though it bit into his soul with a sharp, well-aimed blade. He placed his hand over hers and slowly removed it. “Say what you will, but Francis has a hand in this. I shall prove it, and then you will see the truth of your sainted son.”
Pain flickered in her eyes. “As you wish, your majesty.” She turned and retreated from his presence before he could rescind his harsh words.
“Damn it!” He pounded his fists on the table tearing the corner of the map. Replacing the torn edge, he traced the path of the king’s road as it wound through the country.
Crispin vowed to uncover the truth, no matter the cost. He would find his queen. Then he would gut the villain responsible for his pain and hang them out for the crows to feast upon.
Chapter Four
Ruby rested her headagainst the window staring out over the treetops to the mountains beyond. In the distance they rose up to the heavens, the white-capped tips disappearing into the clouds. They were certainly in the north, but if they were within the boundaries of Meradin, Ruby could not tell. She had never traveled this far north.
A falcon drifted through the air, diving down and disappearing into the withering leaves clinging to the trees. She pushed away the sudden longing rising in her chest. If only she could send a message to Crispin.
The female servants arrived twice daily, bearing her morning and evening meals. But they were never alone. Two armed guards stood sentry by the door while they placed the tray on the table and exited without a word. No matter how intently Ruby tried to engage them in conversation, they ignored her as though she were not even present.
There was no possibility of convincing them to relay a message for her, let alone begging for them to aid in her escape. She spent the remainder of her time cloistered in the gilded cage surrounded by soft trappings and pretty ornaments.
After tearing the room apart searching for something she could wield as a weapon, Ruby embraced the futility of the endeavor. Francis, it seemed, anticipated her actions in every possible way. Such knowledge burrowed beneath her skin and left her uncomfortable.
How long had he lain in wait for the opportune moment to spring his well-positioned trap? The logistics alone made her head ache, let alone the plotting and scheming. There were too many questions and never any answers.
Francis had not visited her since the first day when he revealed his role in her capture. She loathed the idea of spending any amount of time in his presence, and yet her curiosity burned for satisfaction. What possessed a man to turn on his family and allies, everything he once stood for?
