Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(70)

“We heard someone was poisoned at dinner,” Blaise says, panting. “We thought…”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to.

“It was Archduke Etmond,” I say, recounting everything that happened.

S?ren swallows, his eyes finding mine. “That doesn’t make sense,” he says quietly. “Haptania doesn’t have many enemies, and even if they did, murdering Etmond wouldn’t do anyone much good. And if anyone did want him dead, they would have had an easier time doing it in Haptania, even during the months he spends in the barracks. Sta’Crivero’s security is higher.”

“No one said anything about him being murdered,” Heron says, holding up his hands. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could have been from natural causes.”

“Or the poison was meant for Theo,” Artemisia says. “She is the one with a price on her head.”

Erik frowns, looking from them back to me. “Who are these people?” he asks me.

“Oh, right,” I say, realizing that Erik had never actually met Heron, Art, or Blaise, though they’ve seen him from afar. I make quick introductions and explain what Erik is doing in Sta’Crivero.

“Poison is new to me,” Erik tells Heron when I’m done. “But I know what I saw, and there was nothing natural about that death.”

Heron’s eyes widen but he gives a solemn nod.

“And I can’t imagine that it was intended for Etmond,” S?ren says, looking at me. “Artemisia is right. Of everyone in that room, you’re the most likely target.”

“Everyone in that room is important in their country,” I say, though my voice shakes.

“Important, yes,” Artemisia says. “But not in anyone’s way, not disliked. No one else had serious threats made against them, let alone a bounty on their head.”

“We might not know who delivered the poison, but we know who gave the order,” Blaise says quietly.

Though I didn’t eat anything at dinner, my stomach still flips and twists, my mind swimming in thoughts I won’t—can’t—entertain. I thought I was safe here, I thought I was finally beyond the Kaiser’s reach, I thought he would never be able to touch me again. It was a foolish hope and now a man is dead because of it. Because of me.



* * *



—

It isn’t until after midnight that a sharp, official knock sounds on the door. All of us have been too tense to talk, though Artemisia has insisted on making the most of this time and practicing some more. It’s been especially fun, what with everyone watching and adding their own critiques of my posture and technique, but at least it distracts from my nerves.

At the sound of the knock, everyone goes on alert, their weapons drawn. Artemisia switches out her practice sword for her real one.

“Back corner of the room,” Blaise says to me, and I hurry to oblige, my heart pounding in my chest even though I realize, logically, that an assassin wouldn’t bother knocking.

Sure enough, when Heron opens the door, it’s only one of the King’s guards. Even he looks on edge, though, eyes darting around the room as if expecting an attack to come at any moment.

“Queen Theodosia,” he says, looking at me. If he thinks it strange that I’m cowering in the corner, he doesn’t show it. “The threat has been secured. If you’ll join King Etristo in the throne room, you can see the fiend for yourself.”





THE GUARD LEADS ME INTO the throne room; S?ren, Erik, and my Shadows follow at my heels. I must be growing jaded by all the Sta’Criveran opulence, because the room’s frescoed walls, marble floors, and ornate gold chandeliers barely register in my mind. All I see is the throne at the center, so large and hulking that at first I don’t even notice King Etristo’s frail frame. He practically disappears into the plush velvet cushion.

I walk up the aisle between the rows of seats, feeling the suitors’ eyes on me as I pass. We must be the last ones here, because every seat in the audience chamber is filled, apart from a few chairs in the front and one with the Gorakian delegation that Erik takes. What are these people looking for? Grief? Fear? Though I feel both of those things, I am mostly just numb. They all look wary and suspicious, as if whoever poisoned the archduke is sitting right beside them. A terrifying thought that I try to dismiss.

The guard escorts us to the front row of chairs and we take them, S?ren on one side of me, Artemisia on the other.

“There you are, my dear,” King Etristo says with his usual condescending smile. He sits up a little straighter in his throne. “I’m happy to say that we caught the person responsible for the Archduke’s murder.”

Murder. So he is dead. What scrap of hope I’d been clinging to shrivels and dies. I didn’t know him well enough to truly mourn him, not after everyone else who has been taken from me, but I still feel his death like a sharp jab between my ribs. Though I hate myself for it, I mourn the loss of his promise more. I mourn how close I came to reclaiming Astrea, only to have it snatched away once again.

“Who was responsible?” I ask

King Etristo claps his hands twice. A different guard enters through the door behind the throne, escorting a girl in manacles. It takes a moment for me to recognize her as the attendant from earlier, the fearful one who delivered my letter just this afternoon, who poured the wine for the Archduke and me. Her eyes are even more terrified now, rapidly roving across the room, looking for a friendly face. She doesn’t find one.