Clare stared. The princess’s hard expression didn’t alter as she waited for Clare to process the words.
They were impossible to process.
“But, the queen was ill—”
“He poisoned her,” Serene bit out, fury flashing in her fierce blue eyes. “It took months, and when Grandeur learned what was happening he didn’t stand up to our father. He didn’t do anything to save our mother’s life. He watched her die.”
Denials swam up Clare’s throat, but nothing came out. She couldn’t imagine Grandeur being capable of such a thing. But then, she had heard him threaten to kill his own sister.
Clare finally managed to speak past the dryness in her mouth. “Why would Newlan kill the queen?”
“Their match wasn’t made for love,” Serene said. “It was purely political. Devendra needed the trade routes and Zennor needed financial security. My parents didn’t even meet until their wedding.” The corner of her lip curled sardonically. “I used to think it was romantic. Now, as I face something similar, I know the fear she must have felt.” Vulnerability leaked through the words and Serene seemed to notice. She moved to the settee and sat on the edge, her hands smoothing over her lap with almost nervous energy. Her spine was painfully straight and she didn’t meet Clare’s eye as she spoke. “My father was supposed to go to Zennor and claim her hand, but he sent his cousin to fetch her instead: Ivar Carrigan.”
The familiar name made her scalp prickle; the man had incited a civil war and ultimately stolen Clare’s father from her.
“Ivar journeyed to Zennor and met my mother. They fell in love, but my mother refused to give into her feelings. She insisted they remain friends only, even though it hurt them both. Ivar escorted her safely to Iden and into my father’s arms.” Serene’s eyes skipped to Clare. “Ivar and my father never saw eye-to-eye after that. Their fall-out was public and bloody, and when my father crushed the resistance, my mother helped Ivar flee Devendra. Somehow, my father found out. He could have spared her. Banished her. Executed her with dignity, even. Instead, he poisoned her. She probably never even knew it wasn’t sickness that killed her, but her cruel and vindictive husband.” Serene’s hands shook; she rolled her fingers to fists. Moisture clouded her eyes. “I’ve known the truth for two years and I haven’t been able to confront him.”
Clare moved forward, coming to sit beside Serene so she could wrap an arm around her shoulders. Serene stiffened, then relaxed against Clare’s side, allowing the embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“Now you understand,” Serene whispered. “You understand why I can’t trust him or Grandeur.”
“Are you sure Grandeur knew about the poison?”
“Yes. I’ve seen proof. And though Grandeur might mourn our mother, there is guilt there, too.”
“How did you learn about this?”
Serene hesitated. “Some things I’m not ready to share, but trust me—my father is a danger to everyone in Devendra.”
Clare’s lips thinned. That was a truth she knew. “He needs to be punished for the queen’s murder.”
“Believe me, I’ve considered every course,” Serene said. “Killing him myself, going to the court, telling my uncle.” She shook her head. “My father would either kill me, evade the public accusation, or there would be war with Zennor.”
“But he can’t go unpunished.”
“He won’t.” There was promise in Serene’s dark eyes. A chilling, final kind of promise. “I can’t act now, but soon.” She stood suddenly, and the look she sent Clare was almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry that I thought the worst of you. I truly thought you were in league with my father. That you were taking the risks of becoming the decoy in the hopes that my father would kill me and make you my replacement.”
Clare pursed her lips. “You don’t really think your father would do such a thing?” But after what Serene had just told her, Clare didn’t know if she believed her own words.
She let out a tight breath. “He will try to kill me someday. I know it. I only pray I can kill him first.”
Clare shook her head. “Your family will be the death of me.”
Serene’s mouth twitched, though her eyes were sober. “Probably. But you could help me. I want to avenge my mother, but even more than that I want to protect Devendra. If you help me, I swear I can help you and protect your family.”
Clare eyed her. “Do you have a plan?”
Serene edged out a smile. “Always.”
Chapter 32
Clare
Clare was back in the queen’s rose garden, pacing in a small circle to vent her rising anxiety. The sunlight warmed her dark hair and skin, and birdsong trilled nearby. An idyllic scene, but her heart pounded a rapid tempo, each thud echoing harshly in her ears. Yesterday she’d stood in this garden and overheard Grandeur and the man with the deep voice, and now she waited for the prince to appear.
Tension pulled in her gut, and she prayed this would work—that Serene’s plan was the right one.
Grandeur strode into view. Concern traced lines over his dark, handsome face, but she didn’t trust the sincerity in his eyes.
His guards hung back without prompting, giving them privacy. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Your note sounded distressed.”
She forced her teeth to unclench. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
He frowned. “You can tell me anything, Clare.”
He sounded sincere. Perhaps he was sincere, and she was making a mistake by calling him here.
But she could not ignore what Serene had told, or what she’d overheard with her own ears.
Her hands fisted at her sides. “I found a note addressed to Serene. It was on the floor of her suite.” She drew out the small square card. “I didn’t know what else to do but share
