“Any thoughts on who killed him?” My voice slices through the silence.
“Many hate him,” Luther muses. “Both in the court and outside.”
“The killer was brazen. He got him in the heart, the blade driven down to the hilt. Whoever did this stood in front of him as he committed the murder,” I state.
“There was no sign of a struggle,” Luther adds. “Means it’s someone he knew to get that close and for guards to see nothing.”
“Unless they’re in on the attack?” I suggest and glance over to Ahren. “What do you think?”
He doesn’t look our way, just keeps staring out the window.
Luther cocks a brow. “What’s the plan then?” he asks. “We all know what’s coming next, right?”
Ahren turns his back to the snow-stained glass and leans against the frame, arms folded over his chest. He stares at me with contempt, but it’s not aimed at me. He’s the one that’s going to save the day, and that means a massive sacrifice, whether he likes it or not.
“We delay the ceremony for as long as possible,” Luther suggests.
Ahren growls under his breath. “How long? Less than a week at most, then the vultures will pounce. The king’s sister will race to our kingdom to claim the throne the moment she hears her brother has died.”
I slouch in my seat and drink more of the warm wine, helping sate my empty stomach.
Luther drops his feet from the table and asks the question we’ve all been thinking. “You’re the heir to the throne, Ahren, and to take ownership, you must be married. Who will you take as a bride?”
Guendolyn pops to mind. Mother will ask a million questions if we suggest her, as will the royal council. She’ll need to know Guendolyn’s family heritage, and Luther can’t marry a non-royal. The big issue will be that Seelie and Unseelie are forbidden to wed, so that’s not going to work.
Ahren knows this. The bitterness is scribbled over his tight expression. Each of us have fallen for Guendolyn, so how will she react to Ahren marrying someone else?
“I don’t know the answer,” Ahren answers truthfully. For once, he’s not the older brother in control of every situation, but someone adrift in the chaos surrounding us. To lose someone and be forced to make such immediate decisions is fucked up. Letting another family member take the throne from Ahren will mean we lose our home and most likely will be kicked out of Shadow Court. So really, there is no other solution.
Ahren must marry a royal.
Footsteps echo outside the room, and the door suddenly swings opens.
We all glance at our mother as she steps inside. She pulls the black cloak tight around her neck, the embroidered golden swirls along the lapels glinting under the fireplace’s blaze. It falls to her knees, and a blue dress dances around her ankles with each step she takes. Her crystal green eyes are red and puffy from crying, while bright white hair tumbles over her shoulders in curls. She holds herself tall and regal, even while her heart breaks. The lines around her mouth and eyes deepen, the signs of her aging more apparent today than previously.
I’m on my feet and reach her side, then take her into my arms. She softens against me and cries gently. Growing up, she’d always been a strong figure, someone who fixed our problems, who never gave up on us three. Now, she feels so small and weak in my embrace. I hold her tighter, needing to be there for her. We all do, just as she did for us when our father treated us like shit.
She breaks away from me and wipes her eyes. “These ridiculous tears refuse to stop. I left the mages and haven’t been able to cease crying since.”
Her crooked smile shatters me. She loved King Tibout dearly, and this kind of loss is gruesome.
“Come, sit down,” I offer. Once she’s comfortable, I pour her a serving of warmed wine. “You’ll always have us.”
She holds the goblet, running the tip of her finger over the rim, then lifts her head toward Ahren. He joins us at the table. The four of us sit around in silence. The last time we were in this state was when our mother announced she was leaving our real father and we had to leave our home that very night. It happened long ago, yet it feels like just yesterday when we were on the cusp of being homeless.
Ahren reaches across the table and places a hand on hers. “Everything will be alright. I will make sure of it.”
She nods, but more tears thread down her cheeks. Luther’s on his feet and retrieves a napkin from the cabinet behind him, then hands it to our mother. She wipes her eyes as he crouches behind her, hugging her, his chin propped on her shoulder.
“I’ve sent a message by crow,” she finally tells us. “We can’t waste a single moment.” She sips the wine, all the while her eyes never leaving Ahren. Her hands shake.
He knows as well as we do that if Ahren doesn’t marry, he’ll lose the throne and we’ll be out on our asses. Mother married into this family, so her taking the throne isn’t an option.
“Who did you send it to?” he asks, stiffening in his seat.
“Our closest allies. Queen Titania.”
I groan, as do Ahren and Luther on cue. She runs one of the two kingdoms in the east with her king.
“She’s on her fourth husband,” I quip.
“And the previous three all mysteriously vanished,” Luther murmurs, glancing at our mother with raised brows.
“You believe those rumors?” She shakes her head. “I’m not marrying my son to the Queen, but her daughter. She is said to be a beauty unlike any other in the east. She will make a perfect partner and ensure your claim to the throne.” Her words are directed at Ahren, even if he hasn’t said a word. “The Queen has been eager to merge our two kingdoms
