Narin nodded and turned to Relam. “After you, your highness,” he said politely. The young prince nodded and led the way out of the royal apartments.
The journey back to the kitchens was uneventful. The halls were completely empty, with the palace still officially on lockdown. They encountered no other assassins, and no guards either. When they reached the kitchens, Relam blinked in surprise.
He had never seen so many people crammed into such an insufficient space. Every servant in the palace seemed to be present, huddled together, whispering, shooting nervous glances at the entrances, where volunteer fighters stood guard with all manner of improvised weapons. When the masses saw Relam, they crowded around the prince, eagerly asking questions, wanting to know what had happened.
“Did you get the assassins?”
“Is the palace secure?”
“Is it safe to go somewhere else?”
“Was anyone hurt?”
Relam did not answer, merely moved through the crowd as best he could with Narin. They would get their answers soon enough, even without his help. And right now, there were only two people he really wanted to see.
He found them at the back of the kitchens, near the ovens. It was a warm place to wait, but not uncomfortably so. Griff was hovering a few feet away, clutching the carving knife fiercely, eyes scanning the room ceaselessly. Beyond him, Relam’s mother and father sat on a low bench beside the ovens. The king was slumped against the wall, muttering quietly to himself. The queen had a tight hold on his right hand and was watching his face anxiously, hoping to see some sign the king would be all right.
As Relam stepped closer, she noticed him and Narin and looked up, startled.
“Oh, you’re back!” she cried, rushing to embrace Relam. “You’re safe? You took no harm?”
“Thanks to the palace guard,” Relam said meekly, shooting Narin an apologetic look. Narin shrugged fatalistically.
“The assassins took most of the harm,” the guard said. “Five of them down all told, three of those captured for questioning. We lost Grant though, and two or three others who were guarding the royal apartments when the assassins first struck.”
“We’ll need to see about replacements,” Relam added, glancing down at his father. “How is he doing? Any better than when I left?”
The queen shook her head, biting her lip. “He is conscious at least, but he must have gotten a much larger dose of that sleeping potion than you did.”
“Sleeping potion?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Griff explained. “We couldn’t find any residue or a container or anything so we don’t know for sure, but the effects certainly are what one would expect from a standard sleeping potion.”
The young prince grunted thoughtfully. “A sleeping potion, huh? So, they wanted us alive, whoever they were.”
“Or they wanted to make you easier to kill,” Griff suggested.
Narin pointed out the obvious flaw immediately. “Why do that when they could simply poison the meal the same way they added the sleeping draught?”
“Oh,” Griff said, his face falling. “Yes, I see what you mean. Silly of me.”
“We need every idea we can get to sort this mess out,” Relam replied encouragingly. “And we must figure this out, before there’s another attack that does real damage.”
“Like killing more guards?” Narin said quietly.
“Oh,” Relam said, chagrined. “Well, yes, I suppose this one did cause lasting damage. But what I meant was an attack that accomplished its objective.” Grant’s blank, staring gaze appeared in front of Relam again and he looked away quickly, trying to regain control of his emotions.
“We do need to prevent that,” Narin agreed. “The question is how.”
They stood in silence for a few moments, save for the fitful mutterings of Relam’s father.
“We’ll start by questioning the assassins and tightening security,” Relam decided. “We’ll go from there once we have more information.”
“The assassins likely won’t talk,” Narin warned. “I’ve seen this kind of thing before.”
Relam fixed Narin with a penetrating look. “If it comes to that, we’ll get the Citadel to make them talk,” he declared. The others present flinched uncomfortably and looked away. “We will get to the bottom of this,” Relam said, glancing at his father. “Whatever it takes.”
Chapter 9
The next few days passed slowly. The royal family moved back into their rooms the morning after the attack, once the bodies had been removed and the floors and walls cleaned up. In the meantime, Relam and his parents slept in a heavily guarded guest suite on an upper level of the palace complex. In addition to the guards, they were attended by a healer, who kept constant watch over the king as he slept fitfully. Relam’s father muttered off and on, but for the most part lay in a near comatose state.
When the royal family moved back into their normal accommodations, almost everything was the same as before. The furniture was arranged the same way it always had been, the walls and floors were spotless. The only major difference was the new hearthrug. The old one had been spattered with blood during the attack, to the point it was simpler to replace it than to clean it.
Even back in his own room, Relam felt as though he were as much in a prison as the assassins he had helped capture. The guards had been doubled, and at least one was always inside the main room of the royal apartments. Every visitor was searched, whether it was a servant such as Aven or Griff or a noble such as Lord Clemon. Clemon had only visited once since the attack, hoping to let the king know he was leaving to adjudicate the border dispute in the swamps. The king never heard his message though, sleeping through the whole visit.
Five
