Queens of Fennbirn (Three Dark Crowns 0.5)(48)
Coward, Rosamund thought as the blood filled her lungs, as she dragged herself through the fury until she saw the toes of Sonia’s fine, black boots. She had hardly any strength left, but she found enough to raise her dagger and stab Sonia through the foot. Sonia Beaulin screamed like a child and dropped to the ground.
And Rosamund Antere died with a smile on her face.
PRYNN
By the time he reached Prynn, Jonathan’s horse was nearly spent, even though it was a fine mount gifted to him from the queen’s stables. He supposed he had not been mindful and had ridden her too hard. He bent and patted her frothy neck. Rest and time in a good stable, with plenty of grain and cool water, and she would soon be back to herself. Fit enough to carry him . . . wherever he decided to disappear to.
Jonathan sighed. He did not know exactly what he had hoped his return to Prynn would be, but it was not this, creeping in under cover of dark, running, when everything inside him said to turn back and fight, turn back and protect Elsabet from whatever came. But what could he do? She was his queen, and he would obey.
The horse’s tired steps clipped and clopped along the road. When he turned the corner of the street that led to his family’s house, not one of the finest in Prynn but nor was it on beggars’ row, his mood lightened, thinking of his mother, and his father, his sister, and her two little ones.
Beneath him, his horse snorted and pulled up short. She smelled the wrongness and blood before he was close enough to see the broken-in door. Jonathan leaped from the saddle and ran inside, even though the silence warned him against hope.
He found his mother first, in the dining room, propped up in a chair. The blood that soaked the front of her dress was still warm. His father lay nearby on the floor.
Jonathan walked through the house in a daze. The night air was cold on his skin and blew through in a constant current. Their home had been cracked open and ruined. When he found his sister lying across the stairs, he drew her into his lap and wept, and when the creak sounded behind him, he could not remember if it was only a noise from the house at night or if it meant someone else was still inside.
THE VOLROY
They left Elsabet alone in her prison in the West Tower for one long day and a night. Long enough for her to pace herself exhausted and to scream herself hoarse. They brought food, and she dashed it against the walls. They sent maids to clean it, and she chased them back through the door. And all the while from her window, there appeared to be nothing amiss. No great assault by loyal queensguard on the Volroy. No uprising of her people gathered at the gates. Ships docked in the harbor and sailed away reloaded. Carriages passed in the streets. No one heard her shouting. No one missed her.
Finally, midmorning of the second day, the door opened, and Elsabet turned to see Francesca Arron standing inside. For a moment, she and the queen stared at each other. But it was Francesca who looked away first, to frown disapprovingly at the mess of food on the walls.
“That will rot,” she said. “It will begin to smell if you do not let the maids clean it up. It is already starting to.”
“They may clean it when I am free from here.”
Francesca sighed. “You are not doing anything to help yourself. Screaming at the servants. Throwing food like a spoiled child. What are the people to believe when they hear such things? You are making this all very easy for me.”
Elsabet narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean to do?”
“What I have already done. Imprisoned a dangerous queen, for her safety as well as the safety of the island.”
“The safety of the island. I am its chosen! You cannot keep me here!” She wanted to slap Francesca Arron with all her strength. She wanted to choke her unconscious with her long, blond braid. “Where is Rosamund Antere?”
“Rosamund Antere?” Francesca asked. “Rosamund Antere is dead. So is Catherine Howe. And Bess, the maid. And your handsome friend Jonathan Denton.”
Elsabet’s mouth hung open. Rosamund and Jonathan dead? The words made no sense. “You lie.”
Francesca walked farther into the room, inspecting the trappings, the fine royal pieces that the queen’s chambers had been furnished with. She ran her hand across the dark wood table and touched the embroidered hanging on the wall. She even put her palm to the fire and inquired if it was hot enough or if it smoked.
“You lie, I said,” Elsabet hissed. “Get out!”
“I do not lie,” Francesca said gently. Her expression could change in the space of a moment. How had Elsabet ever thought she could be trusted on the council? “You are still upset. It was a monstrous thing, after all. I am not surprised if you don’t remember . . . giving the order.”
“What order?”
“The order to execute Catherine and your captain of the queensguard. You were so convinced of their treachery. And the soldiers could do nothing but obey. You are a queen of the sight gift, and their faith in you was absolute.” Francesca clapped her hands free of soot and smiled her prettiest smile. “Of course the people are aghast that you would order such brutal executions without reason or investigation.”
“No one will believe you,” Elsabet growled. “I did none of these things. Bring me Rosamund Antere! I don’t believe you that she is dead. If no one would stand against me, they would never dare stand against her.”