“Murderers,” he whispered furiously, a red haze clouding his vision.
There was a rush of feet, then strong hands gripped Relam, supporting him. They began to drag him towards his room, away from the door that led to his mother. Relam set his feet and growled and snapped, trying to wriggle free.
“I need to see her,” he gasped. “Take me to her first.”
“Your highness, please-”
Relam roared aloud and with a sudden burst of strength shook off the guards, staggering towards the sickroom. He crashed through the door, nearly falling again, and stopped in the doorway.
His father was sitting beside the bed, looking down at the queen’s serene face. His face was set in hard lines, and his eyes burned within that grief-stricken mask. He hardly looked up as Relam entered, despite the commotion in the outer room. The healer sitting on the other side of the bed leapt to his feet though and hurried towards Relam.
“Your highness, the queen has passed,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry.”
Relam sagged against the doorframe, gasping for breath. “Murderers,” he growled.
“I beg your pardon?”
“They killed her, do you hear me? They killed her. This was a year in the making. We must find them, hunt them, punish them.”
Relam stumbled across the room and grabbed his father by the shoulder, shaking him. His father brushed him aside though, shaking off the rough hand. “Listen to me!” Relam roared. “This was no illness! She was murdered!”
His father made no reply, merely continued staring at the body of Relam’s mother. Relam shook him again, harder, and was preparing to strike him when he was seized from behind. The guards had returned, and they were dragging him backwards from the room.
“No!” Relam shouted. “Listen to me, all of you! She was murdered. Murdered!”
“Relam!” Aven shouted, running up and trying to help. “Calm down, we’re trying to help you.”
Relam sagged against his captors, panting for breath. “I’ll kill them,” he vowed. “I will find them, and I will destroy them.”
He made a lunge for the outer door, but was brought up short. Then, something round and hard slammed into the back of his head and he blacked out instantly.
Chapter 22
Relam blinked slowly and opened his eyes. There was little light around him, and he could not make out any details. His head ached terribly, and as he slowly came to, other lesser hurts made themselves known. Bruises on his legs and arms, and a shallow cut across three of the fingers on his right hand.
The young prince tried to sit up, but the moment he stirred pain flashed behind his eyes and he cried out in surprise and shock. He clapped his left hand to his eyes, brushing a light crust off his cheeks. He licked his lips and tasted salt. Had he been crying? What had happened?
Then, he remembered. His mother had been murdered. Murdered by two nobles who had been trying to kill her for over a year. The very thought made Relam’s blood boil angrily again. He went to rise, and was brought low by his throbbing head again. Relam swore loudly as the pain intensified, then a door opened and several people rushed into the room.
“Your highness, how do you feel?” the first asked urgently. Relam recognized his voice. This was the healer who had tended his mother for so long.
“My head,” Relam groaned.
“Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?” the healer asked, clucking his tongue. “I told the commander he could have hit you a little less forcefully.”
“I got the job done, didn’t I?”
Relam looked past the healer, to where Narin and two guardsmen were leaning against the wall. Narin had a bandage wrapped around his left hand, a bright spot of white in the dim light of a single lantern. The guards beside him sported multiple bandages each.
“What happened to you lot?” Relam asked.
“You did,” Narin grunted.
Relam blinked. “I did that?”
“Yes, and you did for a few of the others as well before I hit you,” Narin confirmed, glancing at the other two guards. “I had no idea you were so strong, your highness.”
“I lost control,” Relam muttered. “Sorry.”
“Lost control? It was more like you went berserk,” one of the other guards observed drily. “Nobody could hold you. You kept lashing out and shouting about a murder and trying to get away. It’s a good thing the commander whacked you.”
“Someone was murdered,” Relam muttered.
“Who?”
“My mother,” Relam said immediately, looking at Narin.
The guard commander sighed. “Relam, your mother was a very ill woman. She was sick and she grew weaker and weaker until the illness claimed her.”
Relam shook his head doggedly. “No, she was murdered. I heard them talking about it. So did Aven.”
“Aven?” Narin asked, frowning. “You mean the servant boy who was with you two nights ago?”
“Yes, he - two nights ago?”
“You’ve been out a full day and a half,” the healer informed him.
Relam groaned and lay back. “No wonder everything hurts,” he muttered to no one in particular. It also explained why his thoughts seemed fuzzy and his brain thick and slow.
“Commander, I think you may have concussed the boy,” the healer said sternly. “From now on, please restrain yourself a little when knocking people unconscious.”
Narin ignored the healer and stepped forward, leaning over Relam. “You said you overheard someone. Care to elaborate?”
“Yes,” Relam said quickly. “Aven can tell you as well, he was there with me.”
“Aven cannot tell us right now,” Narin said impatiently.
A cold hand reached into Relam’s chest, gripping his heart. “You don’t mean he’s dead too?”
“No, I mean he’s not here right now,” Narin said, straightening. “Also, you knocked him out in the struggle. Beautiful left hook, got
