A Kiss for Queens. Морган Райс
the corridors he’d spent most of his life walking. He went left, then right, trying to lose the men who ran along behind him now, yelling for him to stop.
There were more men ahead. Sebastian glanced around, then burst into a nearby room, hoping that there might at least be an adjoining door or a place to hide. There was neither.
Guards crowded into the room. Sebastian considered his options, thought about the beating he’d received at the hands of Rupert’s men, and drew his sword almost on instinct.
“Put the sword down, your highness,” the leader of the guards commanded. There were men on either side of Sebastian now, and, to his surprise, at least some had muskets leveled. What kind of men would risk his mother’s anger by threatening one of her sons with death like that? Normally, they didn’t dare so much as a rebuke. It was part of the reason Rupert had gotten away with so much over the years.
Sebastian wasn’t Rupert, though, and he wasn’t foolish enough to consider fighting against a group of armed men like that. He lowered his sword, but didn’t drop it.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. There was one card he could play here that didn’t sit well with him, but might be his best option to stay safe. “I am the heir to my mother’s throne, and you are threatening me. Lower your weapons at once!”
“Is that why you did it?” the guards’ leader demanded, in a tone that held more hatred than Sebastian had heard in his life. “Did you want to be the heir?”
“Is that why I did what?” Sebastian shot back. “What is happening here? When my mother hears of this—”
“There’s no point in playing innocent,” the guard captain said. “We know you’re the one who murdered the Dowager.”
“Murdered…” It was as though the world stopped in that moment. Sebastian stood there open-mouthed, his sword clattering from nerveless fingers as the shock of it hit him. Someone had murdered the Dowager? His mother was dead?
Grief poured into him, the sheer horror of what had happened filling him. His mother was dead? She couldn’t be. She’d always been there, as immovable as rock, and now… she was gone, torn away in an instant.
Instantly, men rushed in to grab him, arms fastening onto his from either side. Sebastian was too numb to even struggle. He couldn’t believe it. He’d thought that his mother would outlast everyone else in the kingdom. He’d thought her so strong, so cunning, that nothing would be able to bring her to an end. Now someone had murdered her.
No, not someone. There was only one person it was likely to be.
“Rupert did this,” Sebastian said. “Rupert is the one who—”
“Stop your lies,” the guard captain said. “I’m to believe that it’s a coincidence that we’ve found you running armed through the palace so soon after your mother’s death? Prince Sebastian of the House of Flamberg, I am arresting you for the murder of your mother. Take him to one of the towers, lads. I expect they’ll want to try him for this before they execute him as the traitor he is.”
CHAPTER TWO
Angelica sat primly in the drawing room of Rupert’s townhouse, as perfectly arranged as the flowers sitting on the mantelpiece, listening to the realm’s elder prince panic while trying not to show any of her distain.
“I killed her!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide as he paced back and forth. “I actually killed her.”
“Shout it a little louder, my prince,” Angelica said, unable to keep at least a little of the disdain she felt from seeping through. “I think there are some people in the next building who might not have heard you.”
“Don’t make fun of me!” Rupert said, pointing at her. “You… you put me up to this.”
A faint trickle of fear rose in Angelica at that. She had no wish to be the target of Rupert’s anger.
“And yet you are the one covered in the Dowager’s blood,” Angelica said, with a faint hint of disgust. Not at the killing; the old bat had deserved that. It was simply disgust at the inelegance of it all, and the stupidity of her husband-to-be.
Rupert’s expression flashed with anger, but then he looked down at himself as if seeing the blood on his shirt for the first time, staining it crimson to match his coat. His expression returned to something distraught as he did it. Strange, Angelica thought, was it possible that they’d found one person Rupert actually regretted hurting?
“They’ll kill me for it,” Rupert said. “I killed my mother. I walked through the palace with her blood on me. People saw me.”
Possibly half of Ashton saw him, given the way he’d probably gone through the streets with it. The best that could be said was that at least he’d had a cloak wrapped around him for that part of the journey. As for the rest… well, Angelica would deal with it.
“Take your shirt off,” she ordered.
“You do not command me!” Rupert said, rounding on her.
Angelica stood firm, but made her tone gentler, trying to soothe Rupert the way he so obviously wanted. “Take your shirt off, Rupert. We need to get you cleaned up.”
He did it, throwing off his coat as well. Angelica dabbed at the blood spots that remained with a kerchief and a bowl of water, erasing what she could of the traces of violence. She rang a small bell and a waiting servant came in with fresh clothes, taking the old ones away.
“There,” Angelica said as Rupert dressed, “doesn’t that feel better?”
To her surprise, Rupert shook his head. “It doesn’t take away what happened. It doesn’t take away what I see in here, in here!” He struck at the side of his head with a flat palm.
Angelica caught his hand, kissing his brow as gently as a mother with a child. “You mustn’t hurt yourself. You’re too precious to me for that.”
Precious was one word for it. Necessary might be another. Angelica needed Rupert alive and well, at least for now. He was the key to unlock the doors of power, and he needed to be intact to do it. Controlling him had proved so easy before, but all of this was… unexpected.
“You’ll lose me soon,” Rupert said. “When they find out what I did…”
“Rupert, I’ve never seen a death affect you like this before,” Angelica said. “You’ve fought in battles. You’ve commanded armies that have killed thousands.”
He’d fought and killed in less obviously necessary causes, too. He’d hurt more than his share of people in his life. From what Angelica had heard, he’d done things that would turn most people’s stomachs, hidden away from the world. Why should one more death be a problem?
“This was my mother,” Rupert said, as if that made it obvious. “She wasn’t some peasant. She was my mother, and the queen.”
“The mother who was going to steal your birthright,” Angelica pointed out. “The queen who was going to exile you.”
“Even so—” Rupert began.
Angelica took hold of his shoulders, wishing she could get away with shaking some sense into him. “There is no even so,” she said. “She was going to take everything from you. She was going to destroy you to give everything to her son—”
“I am her son!” Rupert shouted, pushing Angelica back. Angelica knew she should have been afraid of him in that moment, but the truth was that she wasn’t. For the moment, at least, she was the one in control.
“Yes, you are,” Angelica said. “Her son, and her heir, and she tried to take all of that from you. She tried to give it to someone who would have hurt you. It was practically self-defense.”
Rupert shook his head. “People won’t… they won’t see it like that. When they learn what I have done…”
“Why should they learn that?” Angelica asked, in a perfectly reasonable