King's Folly Read online

  “Trevn is a revolutionary,” Wilek told Zeroah. “Someday he will write new laws.”

  “Really?” Trevn asked. “Me?”

  “You’d rather Janek do the job?”

  “Only if you want advice on debauchery.”

  Wilek cleared his throat. “Well, if Lady Zeroah does not mind, we can neglect protocol tonight.”

  Mielle thrilled at the idea of omitting the rules for one evening. “Could we?” she asked Zeroah.

  Trevn wrinkled his brow. “Please say yes, lady. We cannot all be perfect like our mothers.”

  Zeroah fought a smile and inclined her head to Trevn. “As you wish, Sâr Trevn.”

  “Good.” He slapped his hand on the table. “That’s settled.”

  Wilek complimented Zeroah on her dress, so Mielle seized the moment to continue her conversation with Prince Trevn. “So? What do you do when you’re not exploring?”

  Trevn folded his arms. “For myself, I draw maps. For the realm, I study. As the third son of a king, I’m to be a priest.”

  The boy who jumped off a moving carriage? A priest? Mielle did not believe it. “Which gods do you worship?”

  “Oh, none of them.”

  She tried not to laugh. “What kind of priest will you be if you worship no god?”

  “Well, I have to choose my five when I reach my majority. Until then I could worship this bowl if I wanted to.” He nudged one of the bronze bowls in the center of the table.

  He was joking again, but his words puzzled her. “But you study the gods.”

  “Oh, yes. The gods and the faiths. See, in Sarikar, as Lady Zeroah well knows, they exalt Arman above all other gods. But here in Armania, we follow Rôb, which is to worship five gods of one’s choosing.”

  “That’s ironic, isn’t it?” Mielle asked. “With our realm being named after Arman.”

  Trevn shrugged. “My parents named me, and I’m not all that fond of them either.”

  It took great effort not to laugh at that. “What does a priest do?”

  “In Armania it’s all about learning the pecking order of the gods, which can change by the minute. One day Dendron might be more powerful than Thalassa. But another day, Thalassa might rule over all. Priests must have a thorough understanding of the gods so they can advise the king whom to serve each day. If a priest chooses a god that’s overpowered by another, the king is angry with the priest for his poor advice. Too many errors from a priest of Rôb, you could face the pole or worse.”

  “So much responsibility!” Mielle said. “How can anyone know the minds of gods?”

  “It takes a certain intelligence to become a priest.”

  A snort from Wilek.

  Trevn glanced at him. “I mean, since there is so much to learn.”

  This brought laughter from Wilek. “The church chose you for your unparalleled mind, is that it, brother?”

  Trevn smiled into his lap, but if he was embarrassed, he quickly recovered. “Of course, no one can truly know the mind of any deity. They’re unknowable and can never be completely understood.”

  “Except by those with a certain intelligence,” Wilek said.

  “I just meant that by careful study, priests can advise others. Stop laughing. We can.”

  Thankfully the food arrived then, distracting the princes from their disagreement. First came a serving of stuffed button mushrooms and honey-glazed turnips. Then a carrot-and-caraway soup that was very strong. The main dish was baked fish with white-wine sauce and gingered green beans.

  Mielle ate everything that was set before her and fought the urge to lick her fingers. It all tasted divine.

  She asked Trevn questions throughout the meal and learned much about him—he talked more than she did! She hoped Zeroah was asking Prince Wilek as many things.

  The final course was a chewy, sweet cobbler with a crunchy topping that Trevn called date nucato. There was also a platter of brittle nut fondants shaped like little flowers and trees. Mielle savored every bite.

  “What do you enjoy, Miss Mielle?” Trevn asked suddenly.

  Here was a chance she hadn’t seen coming. “There is little to enjoy with so many suffering. Did you know there are thousands of orphaned children in Everton?”

  “I do, actually.” Trevn slapped the table. “That’s where I’ve seen you before. With the protestors outside the castle gate.”

  Mielle blushed. “It was before I took the position with Lady Zeroah. I don’t recall ever seeing you there.”

  He grinned. “A hemp cloak is disguise enough for that crowd. They are so frenzied by their cause, they pay no attention to who is listening.”

  “Why do you go?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m new here. Best way to learn what is going on is to hear what people complain about.”

  “Well, I’m complaining about the orphans. We must do something for them. They are starving. The almshouse cannot possibly feed them all.”

  “Then we’ll do something,” Prince Trevn said.

  “What?”

  “I know not. You must give me more than a breath to think on it.”

  “I will give you until tomorrow.”

  His eyebrows lifted high. “You are quite demanding, Miss Mielle. I will make a demand of my own. Tell me what else you like to do besides championing orphaned children.”

  “Very well. Before I took a position as Zeroah’s honor maiden, I spent much of my time on the beach near Echo Crack. There’s a place where you can climb down. Someone has tied a rope to a post at the top.”

  “You like to climb?”

  “Very much. Fear thrills me.”

  “Does it?” He looked at her strangely, blinked. “Um . . . and what did you do at the beach? Swim?”

  “Sometimes. My friends and I held dances there. Do you like dancing?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I know not.”

  “How can one not know such a thing?”

  “I’m too young to attend balls. But I’ve been taught to dance in grueling practices with serving women three times my age. Mother does what she can to ensure I won’t embarrass her on my ageday celebration.”

  Mielle giggled. “I’d like to see you dancing with those serving women.”

  “Are all women this cruel?” Trevn asked Wilek, but Wilek wasn’t listening. He had turned in his chair as Dendrick, Prince Wilek’s onesent, entered the room.

  The man stopped at the end of the table and bowed to Prince Wilek. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness, there is an urgent matter.”

  Wilek nodded at Lady Zeroah. “Excuse me.” He got up and followed his onesent from the room.

  “I hope nothing is wrong,” Zeroah said quietly.

  “It’s likely our father,” Trevn said. “He summons Wilek all the time. Urgent this. Urgent that. I’m so thankful I’m not being considered for Heir.”

  A man’s cry from outside the room made Mielle jump. That had been Prince Wilek’s voice.

  Trevn sprang from his chair and ran to the door, holding it open with his hand. “Where’s Wilek?”

  “We should stand,” Zeroah whispered to Mielle. So they did.

  Dendrick returned, slipping past Trevn at the door. He stopped inside and bowed. “I beg your pardons, Sâr Trevn, Lady Zeroah, Miss Mielle. An emergency has arisen. Sâr Wilek will be unable to return. Please accept his apologies. He requests you permanently accompany him to dinner from now on in the great hall.”

  “It will be an honor,” Zeroah said, lips curving in a small smile.

  Trevn was not so easily appeased. “What’s happened? Speak, man!”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness,” Dendrick said. “You’ll have to ask Sâr Wilek.”

  “Trevn!” A large woman in turquoise robes burst into the dining room and gripped Trevn in a hug. “Thank Mikreh you’re all right.” She released him and gasped in several short breaths. “When I heard,” she panted, “I feared death was in the pot.”

  Trevn grabbed the woman’s arms. “Mother, wh
at are you talking about?”

  “The Honored Lady Lebetta is dead! Murdered, they say. I feared someone had poisoned you all.” She scowled at his clothing. “What are you wearing? You’re dressed like a windmill. I insist you let Beal choose your clothing from now on.”

  Dead? Mielle pressed her hand over her heart. Lady Zeroah simply stared out the door, eyes glazed.

  “Lady Lebetta was not with us tonight, Mother,” Trevn said. “Wilek and I were dining with Lady Zeroah and her honor maiden Miss—”

  “Dendrick! What news?” Trevn’s mother rushed up to the onesent, who immediately quitted the room. Queen Thallah gave chase. “You will tell me at once!”

  Zeroah swayed.

  “Lady!” Mielle put her arms around Zeroah’s waist. “Will you look at me?”

  Zeroah’s eyes flickered around the room and finally stopped on Mielle.

  “Do you hear me?” Mielle asked her. “Can you speak?”

  “I . . .” Her eyelids fluttered.

  “Lady Zeroah isn’t feeling well,” Mielle said to Trevn. “We should retire at once. Will you fetch her guards?”

  “Certainly.” Trevn rushed out of the room. Seconds later Doth and Ephec ran inside.

  Doth swept Zeroah into his arms. “Hold open the door,” he told Ephec, who was already on his way out of the room.

  Mielle followed them out and curtsied to Trevn in the hallway. “Thank you for dinner, Sâr Trevn,” she said. “Please thank Sâr Wilek.” Then she added, “And give him our prayers.”

  “Certainly, Miss Mielle,” Trevn said. “Good evening to you both.”

  “Yes, good evening.” Mielle rushed after the guards and Lady Zeroah, hoping there were no murderers about.

  Wilek

  Wilek ran. Mind a haze, body numb. Down the stairs, walls blurring around him. Through the foyer and out into the courtyard. Up ahead, a crowd in the queen’s garden. Beneath the statue of Mikreh. Wilek pushed men aside until he reached the marble slab that held the god of fate and fortune. He stepped into a puddle of blood.

  Lebetta lay on her left side, lower arm stretched above her head, the other bent at the elbow and falling over her waist, fingers touching the stone ground.

  A groan came from his lips. He dropped to his knees and reached for her, but men swooped in, took hold of his arms, held him back.

  “Take care, Your Highness,” someone said. “We don’t know what killed her. Must take precautions.”

  “Hang precautions!” He strained against them, wanting to take her in his arms. “Release me at once!”

  “Your Highness, please. ’Til we know for certain what killed her, touching her is dangerous.”

  “I don’t care.” He only wanted to hold her.

  “Wil.” Kal’s voice. Kal’s scarred face before his. Kal’s hand on his shoulder.

  Wilek blinked, eyes blurred with moisture.

  “We’ll restrain him if we must, Kalenek. The rosâr ordered an investigation, and I won’t have any trouble. Not even from a sâr. Now, if he’d like to help . . .”

  “We must find who did this, Wil,” Kal said. “She deserves that, don’t you think?”

  She did. Someone had taken her life, and that person must pay. Wilek nodded, gave up his fight against the men. They moved away. He sat back on his heels, throat tightening, gaze locked on her lifeless body.

  Kal squatted on his right, comfortably silent.

  Footsteps crunched over the gravel behind him and stopped on the marble slab. Trevn, looking down on the scene. “Gods.”

  Gods, indeed. Why take Lebetta’s life? She loyally followed her five gods. She didn’t deserve death.

  “Do they know what happened?” Trevn asked.

  “Not yet,” Kal said.

  “I’m sorry, brother.” Trevn stepped closer to where she lay. “Did she write something?”

  “A rune, we think,” said one of the guards.

  Rune? The word pulled Wilek’s attention to Trevn, who was circling Lebetta’s body, studying the ground. Wilek pushed to his knees and peered over her side, looking where her fingers touched the marble slab. He could barely see swipes of blood on the pale stone.

  “Move the light closer,” Trevn said, as if reading Wilek’s mind.

  A guard passed his candlestick to another, who set it on the ground. The light cast eerie shadows over Lebetta’s body and the statue of Mikreh.

  Wilek could see shape in the writing now. “A rune?” The weakness of his voice shocked him, so he spoke again, this time with as much authority as he could muster. “Who can read runes?”

  No one answered.

  He tried again. “Who is capable of reading runes, even if they are not in present company?”

  “Perhaps a priest,” someone said.

  “Runes are Magonian witchcraft,” Trevn said. “No Rôb priest could read them.”

  Wilek thought of the Magonian women from the last earthquake. “Harton?” He spun around and located his backman in the crowd. “Copy this rune and take it to the women in the dungeon. See if they can translate.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Harton left the scene.

  “Boy,” Wilek said to a young servant. “Fetch Pontiff Rogedoth. Tell him to come immediately.” Surely the Pontiff would know the runes of his enemy.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The boy sprinted away.

  For the first time, Wilek looked at the faces around him. Besides Uhley the physician, most were guards or servants. His mentor and friend, Rayim Veralla, captain of the Queen’s Guard. Lebbe Alpress, captain of the King’s Guard. For some reason Zeteo Agoros, Wilek’s uncle by marriage, standing with Mahat Wallington, a local merchant.

  Wilek breathed deeply. “Captain Alpress, close off the courtyard. I don’t want people gawking at her. No one but the physician need be here.”

  Alpress barked orders at the servants and his guards. The crowd scattered. Servants went inside. Guards took position around the garden. Wilek glanced up at the inside walls of the castle, looking for lit rooms or faces that might be looking down.

  He saw nothing.

  Grief threatened to choke him, but he wrestled it back. “How did she die?” he asked Uhley.

  “Loss of blood, from first glance,” the physician said. “But I see no wounds. It’s most strange.”

  Wilek needed to know more. “What happened? Who found her?”

  “We did,” Zeteo Agoros said. He and Mahat Wallington had not left at Captain Alpress’s orders. “Mahat and I had cut through the garden after leaving a private party in Rosârah Laviel’s apartments.”

  “Did you see anything?” Wilek asked.

  “Just her, lying there,” Master Wallington said. “Saw no one else.”

  Silence stretched out, and Wilek’s heart seized with the gory reality before him. He heard himself make a strange noise, almost a growl.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t be here, Your Highness,” Rayim said. “Can I take you somewhere?”

  “There is nowhere else I want to be right now. Uhley, how long until you complete your investigation?”

  “Half an hour or so. Then I’d like to move her to the deadhouse to examine her further, determine the exact cause of death.”

  Deadhouse. Cause of death. Dead. Gone forever. Had his actions somehow caused this? He had been trying to make a point. He never really wanted her gone.

  That thought sent him on another trail of confusion. “Lady Lebetta was confined to her chambers. Rayim, find out who let her leave her rooms and why. Gather anyone who saw her tonight, see what they know.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Rayim departed.

  Giving orders helped distance himself from his emotions. “Dendrick, notify her parents. Invite them to the castle to gather her belongings. They should start preparations for last rites and . . . shipping.”

  With that one word, he lost himself again. Gods! His Lebetta, dead. And she believed he had banished her because of Janek.

  Thoughts of Janek made him want to cast b
lame. Might his brother have killed her? He could think of no reason why. Janek was a trickster, not a sadist. Then who would take her life? She had no enemies that he knew of, though she had upset Lady Zeroah and Miss Mielle the other day. Surely neither of them . . . A ridiculous line of thinking. Besides, those ladies had been with him when she died.

  Harton returned with a wax tablet and stylus. He crouched beside Lebetta and squinted at the rune.

  “She couldn’t have been out here long,” Kal said. “The courtyard is busy this time of evening.”

  Yes, that was true. “How could someone have killed her so quickly?”

  “Perhaps she was killed elsewhere and brought here to be found,” Harton suggested.

  “Then why no blood trail?” Trevn asked, rounding the body again. “If she was moved here, bleeding as she was, we would see blood coming from one of the entrances.”

  “Found none,” Captain Alpress said. “Whatever happened, she fell here.”

  “With your permission, Your Highness, I’d like to roll her to her back,” the physician said.

  Wilek nodded. “Permission granted.”

  “Don’t smudge the rune,” Harton said. “I’d like a better look in daylight.”

  Uhley positioned himself above Lebetta’s head and took her left hand in his gloved one. “Would someone wearing gloves grab that arm?” He pointed to the hand Lebetta had drawn with.

  Kal took hold of Lebetta’s right wrist. He and Uhley rolled her until she lay on her back, arms at her side.

  She looked peaceful, lying there, though the blood that coated the left half of her body belied that peace. Wilek could see no blemish or bruise on her face or head. His gaze caught on the tiny mole at the corner of her right eye. He’d kissed it hundreds of times. Memories flooded him, squeezed his chest.

  “Drice,” Uhley said, backing up from her body. “See the holes by her left ear? Just under the lobe? She bled out there and through her ear. I suspect the majority of the drice took the simple route in through the ear.”