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My heart tripped. In his current mood, he wouldn’t hesitate to send Lisveth down to the dungeon if he felt she wasn’t telling him everything. And there were plenty of things Lisveth had noticed about my own behavior over the years that would spill out from her loose lips under torture.
I gave Lisveth an encouraging smile. “Anything you think may be relevant,” I said.
“The day the Bloodthirsty Prince arrived, when he was pretending to be theGromalianprince…”
“Yes,” I urged, curious myself.
“It was the day you made her one of your ladies.” Lisveth smiled at me, gaining confidence.
The courtiers whispered at the reminder of how much access I had given the corrupt to the palace, and I stiffened.
Lisveth’s smile faltered as she glanced at the courtiers. Her shoulders hunched, and she turned back to face Sabium. “We walked into the dining hall,” she blurted out. “Prisca stopped walking, and Madinia tripped into her. Madinia hissed something at Prisca, but Prisca was staring at the king’s table. She told me it was because she was nervous. Because it was her first time seeing so many nobles. But perhaps…”
All of my muscles tensed at once. The fae prince had been in glamour. And the hybrid heir had still recognized him.
“Continue,” Sabium snapped.
Lisveth flinched. “N-now I wonder if, if perhaps she recognized the Bloodthirsty Prince, Your Majesty.”
Sabium smiled.
The questioning continued for hours. My ladies were unused to standing for long periods of time, and eventually, Alcandre swayed on her feet. I ordered chairs to be brought to them, ignoring Sabium’s narrow-eyed stare.
“Good,” Sabium said. “Very good. You all did well. You’re dismissed.”
He got to his feet, ignoring the courtiers’ low bows as he stalked from the throne room. I stayed precisely where I was.
Sabium likely believed he was the only one who had just come to a certain realization.
I lifted my own wine, hiding my smile.
The Bloodthirsty Prince had been in full fae glamour when he was in this castle. Not just the glamour they used to appear human. But the kind of glamour that required blood. The kind that was impenetrable—except in the rarest of circumstances. And yet the hybrid heir had seen through that glamour.
He knew. Without a doubt, the Bloodthirsty Prince knew exactly what that meant. But he was a man with secrets. According to my spies, Prisca hadn’t even known he was fae. Which meant he was still keeping her in the dark.
If she was as clever as she’d proven to be so far, she would part from him at the first opportunity.
* * *
The castle was silent. That was the first thing he noticed.
It was silent in a way the castle was never silent. And the boy’s skin prickled with the knowledge that something was very wrong. Slowly, like the kitchen cat he’d watched earlier that day, he turned his head.
Parintha was sleeping in her chair, her knitting in her lap. The boy frowned. She could never sleep in the dark—it was one of the reasons why she was responsible for keeping the boy in his bed at night. She preferred to rest during the day, using the quiet hours of the night to spend time alone with her thoughts.
But she was lost in dreams now, her head tipped back, mouth slightly open.
Her sewing fell to the floor with a clatter, and she didn’t even stir.
The boy slowly sat up, and his uncle walked into his room. His eyes flickered as he glanced at the boy. “You should be asleep.”
The boy didn’t bother pretending. “What did you do?”
Grief flickered across his uncle’s face. He swallowed, took a deep breath, swallowed again. “I’m sorry. Sorrier than you can imagine.”
The boy’s gaze dropped to the amulet in his uncle’s hand. And he knew.
* * *
