ran for the urchin.
Sebastian hurried into the gap that was left, making his way through the gate and into the palace grounds. He hoped the child would be all right. He suspected he would, because no urchin lived on Ashton’s streets for long without being able to run.
Sebastian made his way through the gardens, finding himself thinking about the walks he’d taken with Sophia through them. He would be reunited with her soon. Maybe Ishjemme would have gardens to rival the beauty of the climbing roses here. He intended to find out either way.
The grounds were quieter than they normally were. On any normal day, there should have been servants bustling about, gardening or collecting herbs and vegetables for the kitchens. There should have been nobles taking formal turns around the grounds, for the exercise, for the opportunity to talk politics with one another without being overheard, or as part of the elaborate hints and subtle gestures that constituted courtship in the kingdom.
Instead, the gardens were all but empty, and Sebastian found himself slipping through the kitchen gardens, into the palace through a side door. Servants there stared at him, and Sebastian kept moving, not wanting the entanglements that might come if someone called out his presence. He didn’t want to be caught up talking to the full court; he just wanted to find out what was happening and leave again, as unobtrusively as possible.
Sebastian made his way through the palace, ducking back every time he thought a guard might be coming, heading in the direction of his rooms. He went in, collecting a spare sword and changing his clothes, grabbing a bag and filling it with what supplies he could. He went out into the palace again…
…and almost immediately found himself face to face with a servant, who started to back away, terror etched on her face, as if she thought he might cut her down.
“Don’t worry,” Sebastian said. “I won’t hurt you. I’m just here to—”
“He’s here!” the servant called out. “Prince Sebastian is here!”
Almost immediately, the sound of booted feet followed. Sebastian turned to run down the hallway, sprinting along 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
