The queen turns to Krim and asks a series of questions about what happened on the day he was arrested. At first, he doesn’t answer, but General Ridgeback grabs his black hair and yanks up his head, revealing a face swollen with bruises.
Pain lances through my chest. Did they torture him this entire time? Krim answers the questions in a monotone and gives an accurate account of what happened on the day that changed my life. The guard tried to drag another apprentice into his pickup truck, I left my weeding to climb the persimmon tree, then I shot the guard with a poisoned dart.
“Can you identify this guard?” Queen Damascena asks.
“King Arias.”
Shouts erupt around the room. Ryce jerks his head in my direction and stares at me with wide eyes, while Garrett spins toward Prince Kevon. The noose around my neck tightens. They must have tortured Krim for ages to make him identify the guard I attacked as the king.
Queen Damascena raises her hands. “Please be silent.” Glee fills her voice, making her sound like a child who just received an undeserved treat. “It took a team of forensic scientists weeks to sift through the footage of Zea-Mays using my naive, besotted son to sabotage our way of life, but I have more evidence that proves her guilty of regicide.”
Everyone falls silent as Dr. Ridgeback strides across the room.
“My name is Bernice Ridgeback, and I am the mother of a young woman who died under mysterious circumstances in the Princess Trials.” Her hard gaze meets mine, making me flinch. She holds me responsible, even though her husband questioned me while I was supposedly under the influence of the truth serum.
“I performed the autopsy on the body of King Arias and discovered a high concentration of atropine in the king’s blood. Atropine is the active compound in mandragon berries.”
General Ridgeback walks to his wife, holding a black box. “The doctor analyzed the toxins in His Majesty’s blood and compared them with poison we found on these darts.”
He reaches into the box, extracts a Harvester uniform, and pulls out a quiver.
Prince Kevon rises and rests his weight on the seats in front. “Stop,” he says through clenched teeth. “Zea. Did. Not—”
He slumps to the floor with a hand clutched to his chest.
“Kevon!” Garrett leaps to his feet and rests me on the seat.
I slump forward, staring straight ahead as panic spreads across the room. Montana and Ingrid’s father rise from their seats and jostle each other to reach Prince Kevon first. The women in black rush to the prince’s aid with an oxygen mask.
Impotent rage surges through my veins. I still can’t move. Didn’t these people believe Garrett the first time he said Prince Kevon needed medical help?
Everyone is too busy looking at Prince Kevon and Garrett to notice Dr. Ridgeback’s fingers moving over something in her pocket. She stares at Queen Damascena, who gives her an encouraging nod.
“His Highness needs a doctor,” cries the Minister of Justice.
“One more thing,” Queen Damascena shouts over the chaos. “My husband’s last moments.”
Everybody stops to look at the screen. Prince Kevon carries me into a room, and we pause at the foot of King Arias’ sickbed. Cold seeps through my insides. This is the palace infirmary on the morning after the ball.
In the next scene, a dark-haired girl creeps back into the room with the quiver, extracts a dart, and stabs his prone figure in the heart. King Arias doesn’t move, and she takes out another dart and stabs him again and again and again.
Every single face turns to me.
“Please, take my son to the hospital,” says Queen Damascena. “He’s suffering a breakdown. The girl he trusted enough to marry has turned out to be an assassin.”
Chapter 21
My insides twist and turn as I struggle to break free of the drug. Loud chatter and hurried footsteps rush toward the observation room’s back row. Everything is a jumble and muffled by the pounding between my ears.
From the angle my head points, I can’t tell if the voices belong to the ministers, to the guards outside, or the henchwomen who held us at gunpoint. Deep breaths heave in and out of my lungs, but I can’t even twitch a finger.
Prince Kevon lies at my feet and groans, as Garrett tries to roll him onto his back. All I can do is slump forward against the seat in front, unable to speak, unable to warn anyone to check Dr. Ridgeback’s pocket.
The blonde medic races up the stairs in time to join Queen Damascena’s henchwomen in dragging Prince Kevon out of the room. Rage burns through my veins, and tears blur my vision. They want him helpless, just like me.
Garrett scoops me into his arms. “We’re going with Kevon to the hospital.”
He hurries through the aisle after the procession, but the thud of a heavy object hitting flesh makes him flinch. My stomach lurches as he tumbles onto the stairs. Garrett’s larger body breaks our fall, but he’s no longer moving.
One of the women in black pulls me from Garrett’s arms. She hooks a hand around the back of my collar and drags me down the stairs. “Your Majesty, what should we do about the girl?”
My spine bumps against the hard tread, sending sharp bursts of pain across my lungs with every step.
The ministers sitting in the seats talk among themselves, but nobody comments about Garrett or me. My insides feel as hollow as their souls. Isn’t someone going to speak up for us? Or were they so convinced by Queen Damascena’s presentation that they’ve ceded authority to her?
“Take the girl to the stadium,” says the queen.
A larger figure picks me up and slings me over his shoulder. I’m guessing it’s General Ridgeback, who is taller and broader than Prince Kevon. He walks through the side door, down several winding hallways, not saying a word about why he’s helping Queen Damascena, and not uttering anything about Berta.
He
