Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(62)

Please. It was a word so rarely used by his father that it sounded like one from a foreign tongue. Slowly, he followed the king into the room.

“What’s wrong? Is it Lucia?” Magnus asked, his voice strained.

“No. This unfortunate matter doesn’t concern her.”

The fear that had tightened like a fist in his chest unclenched. “If not Lucia, then what do you need to tell me?”

The king looked off to his left and Magnus followed the direction of his gaze. Upon a marble slab lay the queen, her arms folded across her stomach. She was very still, very silent.

Magnus frowned. Why would she be sleeping in the throne room?

It took him a moment to understand.

“Mother . . .” he began, his breath coming quicker as he approached her.

“It’s the work of rebels,” the king said, his voice low and even. “They were upset that we refused to meet their demands about ceasing construction on the Imperial Road. This is my punishment.”

The queen’s face was pale, and Magnus could have sworn she was only sleeping. He reached out a hand toward her but clenched his fist and brought it back to his side. There was blood on her pale gray dress. So much. His own blood turned to ice at the sight of it.

“Rebels,” Magnus said, the words hollow in his throat. “How do you know?”

“This was the weapon used. The murderer left it behind.” The king held up a dagger, one with jewels embedded in its hilt, the silver blade wavy. “Such evidence has helped us pinpoint his identity.”

Magnus’s gaze moved from the ornamental weapon to his father’s face. “Who is he?”

“This very dagger once belonged to Lord Aron. It was what he used to kill the wine seller’s son in the Paelsian market—Jonas Agallon’s brother. That was the last time Lord Aron saw this weapon.”

“You’re saying Jonas Agallon is responsible for this.”

“Yes, I believe so. And I also believe that by leaving the dagger behind, he wanted us to know it was him.”

Magnus fought to keep his voice from trembling. “I will kill him.”

“There’s no doubt that the boy will pay dearly for this crime.” The king hissed out a breath. “I’ve underestimated the rebels. To be so bold as to assassinate the queen . . . it’s a crime that Jonas Agallon will pay for very dearly. He will beg for his death long before I’ll give it to him.”

This woman who’d given birth to Magnus eighteen years ago, the one who read him stories and danced with him as a child. The one who dried his tears . . . the one who’d shown her long-buried affection to him that day in the temple . . .

She was gone forever.

“Strange, though,” the king said into the heavy silence. “Another body was found close by, also stabbed. It was an accused witch we’d had in the dungeons in Limeros, one I had long since forgotten about.”

With an aching heart, Magnus studied the gray strands in his mother’s hair, which contrasted so greatly with the ebony darkness of the rest of it. She hadn’t liked that. She hadn’t liked looking older, especially when compared to the king’s mistress, who’d magically retained her beauty. “I don’t understand. Did the witch have something to do with the rebels?”

“It’s a mystery, I’m afraid.”

“I must start looking for Agallon.” Magnus forced the words out. Speaking was the last thing he felt like doing right now. “Immediately.”

“You can join the hunt upon your return from the wedding tour.”

He turned on his father, his eyes blazing. “My mother has been murdered by a rebel and you want me to make a tour across the kingdom with a girl who hates me.”

“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I want. And you will do it.” The king regarded Magnus with patience in his dark eyes. “I know you loved your mother. Her loss will be felt for a very long time—all of Mytica shall grieve her. But this wedding is important to me. It will seal my control over the people in this kingdom with no more opposition than necessary as I move ever closer to having the Kindred in my grasp. Do you understand?”

Magnus let out a shaky breath. “I understand.”

“Then go. And keep the information about the witch to yourself. We don’t want any rumors started that the queen associated with such lowly women.”

Magnus frowned at the ludicrous notion. He’d assumed the rebels were acquainted with the witch, not his mother. “Do you think she did?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think right now or what would possess Althea to leave the palace in the wee hours of the morning.” The king glanced down at the face of the wife he’d had for twenty years. “All I know is my queen is dead.”

Magnus left the throne room where his mother lay, his steps faltering when he got around the next corner and into an empty alcove—no guards, no servants. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He staggered over to the wall and braced his hand against it. A sob rose in his throat, but he fought with all his strength to swallow it back down.

Moments later, a cool, familiar voice intruded into his grief. “Prince Magnus, I suppose you’ll be very glad to know of my safe return. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

He didn’t reply. All he wanted was some privacy.