Page 30 of The Hidden Fae Prince
Seren swallows down his scream. If anyone forces him to speak, he’ll shatter. But Nevander and the ritekeepers keep a respectful distance, allowing Seren time to lock away sharp emotions.
When Seren turns, calm-faced, he feels all the ritekeepers’ relief. They don’t want their new prince to shatter either. Everyone’s lives will be easier if Seren does what’s expected of him.
Nevander draws very close but doesn’t touch him. “What happened, Ritekeeper? Idalia says you found her.”
Jasper shudders. The force of their emotions ebbs as they pull themself together. “Sir Mustardseed and I were first, yes. Queen Haelwen spent the morning alone in the throne room. She sent for Sevastia and me at the tenth hour. Mustardseed let us in, and the queen said he could stay for the audience.”
Seren wishes Nevander would grab his shoulder again. He doesn’t.
“What did she want?” Nevander asks.
“It appeared to be a minor matter,” Jasper says. “She wanted us to review the wards in the ritual wine cellar. I’m unaware of any infractions, but Sevastia says the younger lordlings are prone to pranks. That human boy eggs them on.” Jasper seems to catch their tangent. “There was nobody else in the throne room with us. Mustardseed, Sevastia, and myself left together. Sevastia went for breakfast, but I stayed to talk with Mustardseed. We were in the antechamber for twelve minutes before… before we felt the queen die.”
Seren’s palms hurt. He hadn’t noticed his nails digging in.
Jasper continues, grim yet controlled. “The two of us couldn’t open the throne room, but Primrose arrived within moments. The door opened for Primrose, and the three of us entered. Her Majesty lay before the throne.”
They gesture to another ritekeeper.
“Where is Primrose now?” Nevander asks. He adds for Seren’s sake, “Primrose is the First Ritekeeper.”
“She’s questioning the palace,” Jasper says. “Or trying to. The throne room is sealed shut. We barely got the queen’s body out. As well as, well, you should see this.”
Jasper takes a wooden box from the other ritekeeper. They offer it to Nevander, who shakes his head.
“Report to His Highness,” Nevander says. A transparent maneuver. He’s trying to reinforce Seren’s authority—unearned as it is. Everyone so naturally follows Nevander’s lead. This would all be easy if Seren were more like Nevander.
Alas that Seren is only himself.
Jasper’s fear fluctuates past their shields. They open the box. “We found the crown with the queen.”
The shards of gold and gems nestled in blue velvet mean nothing to Seren. He’s alarmed instead by the look of naked shock in Nevander’s face.
“What does this mean?” Seren asks before considering whether the question will sound stupid.
“This crown links the monarch with Summer’s magic,” Jasper says. “I do not know what power could have broken the crown. But when we know, we will know how Haelwen died.”
The words mean little to Seren, but the tension throughout the room is chilling. As is Nevander’s hand, barely there behind Seren’s shoulder. A gesture of comfort that tells Seren to be afraid.
“Was it an accident or assassination?” Nevander asks, cold.
Seren tenses too, as understanding catches him.
Jasper closes the box, the wood clicking loudly. “I dare not speculate. Hopefully Primrose will coax an answer from the palace.” They seem unwilling to match Nevander’s directness. “There is no evidence of malice, but our investigation will continue.”
“Have you sent for the royal artificer?” Nevander asks, which seems like a trivial formality next to the possible assassination.
“Not yet,” Jasper says.
Nevander nods. “You may leave that to me.”
“Excuse me.” Seren wrenches away from Nevander’s touch, trying to keep the rising panic from his voice. “I wish to speak with Nevander alone.”
Jasper bows, their earrings jingling. “Of course, Your Highness.”
The other ritekeepers gather their flower baskets and follow Jasper from the room. Being so readily obeyed is foreign to Seren. He would marvel at it, or worry over it, except for more pressing concerns.
“What’s wrong?” Nevander asks, and the calm in his face isn’t reassuring. It’s infuriating.
