“Where is she?” Petras pulled his leg away from Romak’s grasp.
“Her bedchamber,” Olenka replied. “We put her in bed.”
As Petras hurried out the door, he glanced back at Silas. “Take Romak to the dungeons. We’ll have his trial at the next Summoning.”
“Your Majesty!” Romak screamed as the king dashed down the hallway.
When Olenka started to follow him, Silas called out to her. “Lady Olenka, send Gwennore to the queen. She might be able to help.”
“Yes, my lord.” Olenka dipped into a quick curtsy, then ran after the king.
“You heard His Majesty.” Karlan motioned to two of his guards. “Take Romak to the dungeons.”
“This isn’t over!” Romak shouted as he was hauled to his feet. He glared at Silas. “You bastard. You’ll never be king.”
Silas scoffed. “You’ll never be alive to see it.”
While the guards dragged him into the hallway, Silas turned to Karlan. “Remove all his jewelry and check his clothing for any hidden jewels or money. I don’t want him trying to bribe any of the guards.”
Karlan nodded. “Understood.”
Romak dug in his heels and twisted to look back at Silas. “I can make a deal with you! If you release me, I’ll give you information.”
Silas gave him a bland look. “Not interested.”
Romak scoffed. “You don’t want to know who Lady Gwennore’s parents are?”
Silas’s heart stuttered in his chest, but he merely shrugged, feigning disinterest.
“Go on,” Karlan ordered, and his guards proceeded to drag Romak down the hallway.
“I know who Fafnir really is!” Romak screamed as he was hauled out the doorway into the courtyard.
Silas hissed in a breath.
“Fafnir?” Dimitri asked. “One of the Ancient Ones?”
Karlan shook his head. “They all died five hundred years ago.”
I know who Fafnir really is. Silas narrowed his eyes. That had to mean his suspicions were correct, and Fafnir wasn’t who he claimed to be. Was he a rogue dragon shifter who was tricking Petras? To what end? To steal the crown or destroy the country?
“Karlan,” Silas said quietly. “I want that information.” And not just about Fafnir. He wanted to be the one to tell Gwen who her parents were.
“We could rough him up a bit,” Karlan offered.
Silas shook his head. “Only give him water. Tell Romak if he wants to eat, he’ll have to tell me what he knows.”
Chapter Nineteen
As the sun began to set, Gwennore paced about the new workroom. It had been almost an hour since Margosha and Annika had been admitted into the queen’s bedchamber, and there was still no news.
After her midday meal with Margosha and Annika, Gwennore had spent the afternoon with them making a workroom on the third floor of the western wing, next door to the nursery. With the help of some servants, they had cleaned the empty room and fireplace, polished the long line of westward-facing windows, set up a row of tables, and brought in some chairs.
Several of the tables were now covered with bowls filled with the water left over from soaking the queen’s belongings. Each bowl was labeled with a description of the item being tested.
Gwennore had decided to use plants to check the water for poison. She and Annika had rushed down to the garden to gather up lily pads from the ornamental pond. Now each bowl had a lily pad floating on the water, and they were waiting to see if any of the plants shriveled and turned brown.
They had gone to the garden a second time to collect more verna leaves. Since the leaves were so good at drawing out poison, Gwennore had theorized that a drink made of them might help cleanse poison from within the body. Annika had agreed, and the two of them had concocted a hot tea spiked with verna and honey. Since Gwennore had been exposed to poison, she’d tested the drink on herself.
So far, no ill side effects. Her headache was completely gone, and the pink spot on her arm was fading away. Even so, she wasn’t sure if her recovery was due to the verna tea or her own body’s recuperative ability. But since the tea was safe and possibly helpful, she thought it would be a good idea for the queen to drink some every day.
She glanced over at the hearth where the kettle filled with verna tea was resting close to the fire. Margosha or Annika would have to give it to Her Majesty, for it was now clear that the queen would not accept any help from Gwennore.
An hour ago, Lady Olenka had burst into the workroom to announce that Her Majesty was deathly ill. Annika had snatched up her leather medicine bag, and then they had dashed to the queen’s bedchamber. The king was already inside, and two soldiers were guarding the door, surrounded by a crowd of gossiping courtiers.
Since they were official ladies-in-waiting, Margosha and Olenka had automatically been allowed inside. Olenka had quickly informed the queen that General Dravenko had sent the healers Gwennore and Annika to take care of her.
Waiting outside, Gwennore had heard the queen’s screeching reply. “You can let Annika in, but send that horrible elf away! She’ll try to kill me!”
Gwennore had flinched inwardly. Thoroughly humiliated, she’d tried not to let it show, but it had been hard to do with all the courtiers glaring at her. While she’d waited for confirmation that the king had barred her from entering, the crowd of courtiers had speculated on her breakup with General Dravenko.
“Thank the Light he came to his senses and dumped her,” one hissed in an angry voice. “No doubt he was afraid she would murder him in his sleep.”
Determined not to cry, she’d hurried back to the workroom where she could be alone. After furiously grinding up the rest of the verna leaves, she’d still felt tense, so now she was pacing up and down the length of the room.
The humiliating experience had only confirmed what she already knew. The people of Norveshka
