Estrella
"Yes, Mother." I prod at the toast on my plate. For the last week, that's about all I've eaten. I have no stomach. I just keep turning the night over and over again.
Castor shakes his head. "I don't believe you were even listening."
I glare at my brother, but in truth, I wasn't. I know I should be. Since the news of the assassin being caught, Mother has been a shade more herself, enough that she's managed a private, late-morning meal to discuss the transfer of power when we return to Sundrop. It's always when now, as opposed to her if of a few days ago.
"Apologies, Mother," I say, looking at Castor. "I don't believe he knows what he's saying."
She offers us a small smile, a pale echo of what she once was capable of, but brighter than yesterday. "Don't bicker. You know how your father hated that around the table."
Invoking his name even quells Castor. I return to picking at my toast.
"We'll have the... funeral first." The word puckers her mouth, like eating a lemon, but she plunges onward. "As the Goddess turns through Her phases, so must we finish one reign before beginning the next."
I nod. "And after... what will the changes be?"
"There is a magical element." She pats my hand. "Your power will swell. But beyond that, it's mostly administrative. I will still manage many of the details of our events, likely your calendar. Castor will serve as your right hand until you find your mate-"
My bite pulses. Anwen smiles in my memory.
"-and you will lead, as your father did." Mother sighs. "On the world stage, if you so choose."
"I cannot imagine Sundrop Gem returning to its isolation now," I say honestly.
"Nor can I." She stares at the table for a long moment. "Now, as for the matter of your coronation...."
Anwen's face floats through my mind again. Not the icy prince I've come to know, but the soft man who woke me this morning, who left before I woke with the grace of a wolf on the hunt. For a moment, after I found myself in an empty bed, I was devastated. But my mark didn't ache; my wolf didn't mourn. I ran my hands over the sheets, gathering the last of his warmth, and understood. If he left too late, the decision about us would be made.
That Anwen is the sort of mate I could fall in love with, not just fall into bed with.
"I spoke with Prince Anwen last night," I say. Luckily, reports from the lead investigator directly to the Luna raise no eyebrows.
Mother and Castor both turn to me.
"Did he have any news of the interrogation?" she asks urgently.
I stir my tea, sip it. Cristofer didn't answer my knock this morning, likely still under the effects of the sleeping draught, so I haven't been able to confirm Anwen's certainty that his family is innocent. But distrusting him, after all his care this morning, seems almost cruel.
"Some." I swallow. "He is certain the man they caught was hired. He has begun the process of ruling out potential culprits, starting with his own family, to ease our mind."
Castor leans forward, rage in his eyes. He blames the Solbergs, I know. He wishes for any reason to attack them, get revenge for Father's death.
"He said that every Solberg had perfect proof of their innocence." I tap my spoon on the side of the teacup.
The door to the side dining room we have to ourselves bursts open. Castor leaps to his feet and draws the sword he keeps at his side since Father's death.
Floyd Winters hurries inside and shuts the door behind him, eyeing the blade. "Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Hold your temper, Castor," Mother chides.
Castor sheathes the sword and drops back into his seat. I study Floyd. His eyes are wide, his breathing labored. He looks as though he's had a terrible scare.
The hairs on my arms start to raise.
"I come bearing news." He folds his hands in front of him. "And I truly wish it was the better sort."
Mother goes ashen. "Has something happened to Isai?"
"Oh, my dear lady, I owe you my apologies again." Floyd creeps closer to our table, wringing his hands. "Nothing so disastrous as all that. But I do have news of the investigation, and if I may speak freely, it seems the sort King Kieran isn't likely to provide."
My stomach twists. I grip the arms of my chair. Anwen said-
"Early this morning, a body was found," Floyd says. "Looking to have been thrown from the highest tower in the castle."
"By the Goddess," Mother murmurs.
Castor just shakes his head.
"That of a Dun's Crossing soldier, one who had been missing for nearly two weeks now." Floyd tucks his hands behind his back. "A man named Harper. Had you heard of this?"
I shake my head, even as the muscles of my neck try to stiffen in place. Castor growls. My mark aches. Something is wrong, but I see no signs of dishonesty in Floyd. I never have.
"I am privy to this information only through a bit of luck. Maybe the Goddess' own hand." He smiles tightly. "I happened to be scheduled for an early meeting with the king that led me to his door while they discussed the details. I am obliged to inform you that the healer believes the body has been lying there, hidden in the brush, for a matter of days. Perhaps even the nearly two weeks the man has been missing."
I push my plate of food away. Floyd nods sympathetically. Yet again, I see no dishonesty in his face. There is no reason for this envoy, who has been nothing but kind to us, to lie.
"When I heard the rest, I knew what had to be done, in the name of Sundrop Gem's nascent alliance with Snowcrest, and in the name of your sainted father. I scuttled to the healer's chamber, where they were keeping the body, and took this." He produces a crumpled, bloodstained scrap of paper from behind his back.
I snatch it and read the handwritten note. Then again. My knees grow weak. My stomach sickens. I touch the blood, already dry.
"This...." I swallow down bile. "This is an order for the execution of my father. It names the time, the method, even the escape route. How-who-?"
"And we reach the reason why I thought the king might not see fit to inform you." Floyd bows deeply, as if in apology. "That note is written in King Kieran's own hand. I've seen it hundreds of times over-"
A roaring in my ears blots out the rest of his words. I don't know whether the sound is my wolf or my own heartbeat. King Kieran's hand. But that can't be true. Anwen said every sibling.
"Ask the assassin," I demand, unable to take in the shape of what he's saying. "If this is some conspiracy after the fact, the man won't know to lie."
Floyd grimaces. "On my race to reach you, I heard rumor that the rogue Birsha died in the dungeon last night.
"I'll kill them!" Castor bellows.
Mother already has a restraining hand on his arm, but she tightens it. "Peace, Castor. We cannot fight them here, not with our current numbers."
She's right, but my heart pounds like a war drum. The ground underneath my feet is unsteady. Anwen said-he promised, with that wild light in his eyes, named every sibling-
No, he didn't. A memory plays out in my mind's eye, listing every Solberg by name except one.
Kieran.
Something at the core of me boils. The softness of this morning shatters. Were it not for Luna Raven's confession, I wouldn't even believe his mother was being held in the dungeon. Last night, this morning, Anwen said nothing he has not been saying since the beginning. Nothing I did not watch him whisper in the ears of a thousand other maidens at the ball where his brother murdered my father in cold blood. I was a fool to let a single moment of care sweep me off my feet. Yet again, I've failed Father. He told me I deserve more, not to lower myself for Anwen, and I have done that ceaselessly. The answer is obvious. It has been all along. The war drums raise to a crescendo. I have no tears left, only a perpetrator to find guilty for crimes against my people.
The door opens again, slower. Mother releases Castor's arm. His sword catches the wan light streaming in through the windows.
Anwen steps inside. My heart climbs into my throat. He still wears the loose nightclothes I saw this morning, and his hair is rumpled. With his hands raised to show they're empty, he looks exactly like the man I shared my bed with.
I was wrong. It seems I do still have tears to cry.