Chapter 46

46

Ella

I got the shaking under control by the time I got back to the women's residence. I'd bought myself time, but after tomorrow, I was going to have to find a way to never leave the prince's side again , because if I did, I was a dead woman.

A very vocal part of me wanted to flee and get away from the homicidal sisters and the brutal inequity of the castle forever. But just as Cassius couldn't abandon his kingdom, I couldn't abandon my duty. There was too much at stake now, and too many questions still burned in the back of my mind.

And then there was him .

I was a moth drawn to the flame, a mink caught in the hunter's snare. There was something about him that pulled me in—a relentless magnetism that I couldn't shake, no matter how much I tried.

It wasn't just the scent of his body or the taste of his lips. It wasn't the electric way my body responded to his bite or the thunderous waves of ecstasy and desire he'd sent through me. It wasn't even the safety that I felt around him or the familiar comfort that had grown between us. There was something more —a deep thrum of purpose that I couldn't put my finger on. I needed to be here, near him.

I shook my head as I changed into my nightgown—or day gown, as it was. What I needed was to turn off my brain and get some sleep.

Annie snorted contemptuously as I crawled into bed. "I thought you were too good for us, but I guess you're still sleeping in the shit with the rest of the scum."

I laid down, and Pip cuddled up beside me, thankfully without asking any questions.

I didn't sleep well, and the next evening, when first bell sounded, I dragged myself out of bed and went through the motions of getting ready. I was half asleep until partway through breakfast, when one of the girls burst into the servants' mess. "Matthew's dead!"

My head cleared instantly, and I sat up. The head gardener?

The headmistress grabbed the girl by the arm and started to pull her away. "Quiet, now, or you'll make a scene. Come outside and we'll talk about what's happened."

"They've hung him in the servants' garden," the girl blubbered. "From the north wall!"

We were all out of our seats before the headmistress could stop us, running in a jumble through the servants' halls. We tumbled out of the corridor and into the garden, and stared in stunned silence across the expanse of plants.

Matthew hung from the wall, his body bloody and contorted. They'd impaled him on a spike driven into the stone, his head hung back with an open mouth, as if releasing a silent scream.

My stomach plunged like a rotten ferryboat finally slipping beneath a lake.

That was the wall that I'd climbed over to investigate the hidden wing. The vines I'd grown lay in a pile at the base beneath his corpse, cut from their roots. In the drama of the interrogation and everything I'd learned, I'd forgotten all about them. The Triad would have noticed, of course, and now Matthew had taken the blame.

His death was my fault.

"There's a message on him," one of the girls said. "Who can read?"

Most probably could, but no one wanted to step any closer. He stank of death, a crystal-clear reminder that we served—and died—at the pleasure of our masters.

I pushed through the crowd and lifted the note. The words felt like a noose around my throat, but I read them aloud anyway, hand shaking. " Behold the end of a traitor. Behold the result of neglecting your duty. Do not cross this wall, or you and all those you love will beg for the mercy of the gardener's end. "

"Fates," one girl said. Then all their voices came in a rush, like winter winds driving the waves of the lake on shore.

"Why him? What did he ever do?"

"Maybe he helped the thieves? That must be it!"

"What about his family? I wonder if the immortals killed them, too?"

"Do you think they'd really kill us all?"

I stared in horror at his face, his dead eyes bulging and staring at the sky. I'd never been so close to a dead man before. His wounds whispered that death hadn't been gentle or swift.

And I'd done it to him just as surely as if I'd beaten him to death myself. I wanted to vomit, but I steeled myself and wrapped my arms around my chest, digging my fingers into my skin.

Had this been the Triad? Or had it been Cassius? Had he killed Matthew to protect me and throw the Triad off my scent?

I glanced up at the prince's high tower, and the dark implications sank in. Cassius had killed to protect me before, that night in the woods when we'd first met. But this was different. Matthew wasn't a bloodthirsty immortal. He was an innocent bystander. A man who delighted in pruning roses and who'd never hurt a soul.

The walls of the castle pressed in around me. As soon as I could get away from the commotion, I hurried through the halls to the prince's chambers, but he wasn't there. I found him in his study, with a pair of soldiers stationed at the door. One of the guards held up his hand as I tried to enter. "I wasn't aware His Highness had requested your presence."

"I need to speak to him. Now." I tried to slip past the guard, but he simply shifted his bulk to block my way. I crossed my arms and cocked my head expectantly. The guard measured my determination for a moment, then sighed and knocked.

"What?" the prince asked, his voice muffled by the door but his irritation evident.

The guard cracked it open and leaned inside. "The serving girl, Your Highness."

The condescending jerk didn't even bother using my name.

There was a short delay, and then Cassius appeared. He wore a trim black military uniform that screamed all business .

"What are you doing here? I didn't send for you," he said, distracted and annoyed.

"Oh, yes," I said, accusingly. " You very much did ."

He glared at me for an eternal breath, then finally recanted. "Come in."

Aamon stood by the window and raised one eyebrow as I entered. "I wasn't informed we'd be receiving the ambassador from the scullery kingdom today, Your Royal Highness."

My neck heated, and Cassius gave his consul a pained look. "Will you give us the room for a minute?"

Aamon bowed quickly to him, and then bent long and low to me, a sly grin on his face.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Cassius asked, "What is it?"

"There's an innocent man hanging from the wall of the servants' garden." I spoke quietly, stepping close. The guards probably couldn't hear through the door, but Aamon was an immortal and blessed with acute hearing. If he was lurking within earshot, I was afraid a whisper might even be too loud.

Cassius pulled me to the far side of the room. "I am well aware. I am also sorry the gardener turned out to be a traitor."

The word turned my mouth sour. He knew the only traitor was me. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. The way he'd chosen his words probably meant people could be eavesdropping.

"Was it you?" I asked. "Or was it the—" My throat seized up as I tried to speak their name.

His lips became a thin line of displeasure. "Do not speak of things you shouldn't know . The gardener's dead. It doesn't matter who was responsible."

"He was an innocent man," I hissed.

The prince lifted an eyebrow. "Was he? He let the vines grow over the wall. If he hadn't, the intruder wouldn't have been able to get in."

The intruder.

Me .

Cassius sat down in the leather chair behind his large, ornate writing desk. "His neglect played a part in what happened, and he was punished accordingly. That's the end of this conversation."

Matthew hadn't neglected anything. I'd grown the vines, and I'd left them there—but I couldn't tell Cassius that. I didn't dare reveal my magic. Not now, not without a purpose. Matthew was dead, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

I shook my head in disbelief, and Cassius rubbed his brow. "The man died trying to escape. He was the intruder or an accomplice. Either way, as he was not able to testify before his death, the affair seems settled."

Meaning, his death bought my life.

The prince was so cold, so unaffected by the murder of an innocent man. Was this who he really was?

He glanced at the door, then leaned forward, fixing me with a cold stare. "I understand you're upset, but this should be a timely reminder to every member of the staff. They should not go exploring the castle. They're to stay where they belong ."

To stay where we belonged? In the cramped servants' quarters or the shitty hovels of Lower Town? In menial jobs, sweating and breaking our backs, while his court and the Triad grew fat off our labor?

The anger inside me whipped into a firestorm.

We were slaves and cattle. We should know our place. We shouldn't ask questions. And most of all, when one of our kind was killed for no reason, we shouldn't raise our voices. We should look away and accept it all, like the beatings the sisters loved to dole out.

I glared at him, sitting there behind a desk that was worth more than my year's wages, really seeing him for the first time. Why had I thought he was any different? Why had I been such a fool? He might care for his kingdom, he might care for me, but he'd never see my kind as anything more than livestock.

With a last accusing look, I turned and headed toward the door.

He half rose from his seat. "Ella, where are you going?"

I wrenched the door open. "The servants' quarters. Back to where I belong."

He stared, but he didn't stop me.

Of course he wouldn't, because underneath it all, he was one of them.