Kestrel let Leighton guide her out of the dining hall and into one of the empty chambers nearby. It seemed this castle had hundreds of them, a room for every occasion. The narrow room they scurried into seemed to be used for storage. On one wall was a series of shelves stocked fully with various canned goods, herbs, and barrels of perhaps wine or mead.
Leighton kept his voice low even though they were clearly alone.
“I don’t know how to put this gently, so I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t have any new information for you—” Kestrel opened her mouth to ask him why in the Hollows he dragged her here and pretended like he did then, when he held up his hands. “Wait, I mean I don’t have anything concrete. But I have a theory.”
“Tell me your theory then.” Kestrel folded her arms and leaned against the wall.
“I think the queen is stalling. Most prisoners are sentenced within a week of capture, but the really bad ones—sorry, the ones who are suspected of committing crimes like treason, they are dealt with swiftly. Sentenced almost immediately.”
“Okay, so what does this mean?”
“I don’t know what it means, exactly. But I think the queen is maybe…conflicted about his sentencing. Just, given your relationship with him, and all.”
Chewing her lip, Kestrel thought for a moment. “You think she hasn’t sentenced him yet because she’s worried it will upset me?”
“Perhaps.”
Well that wasn’t such bad news, Kestrel thought. If the queen cared so much about what Kestrel thought of her, she could use this to her advantage. It meant she had a chance at bargaining for his safe release after all.
But the look on Leighton’s face was anything but victorious or hopeful.
“You think this is a bad thing?”
He started tapping his mouth with a finger. “I don’t know if it’s a bad thing. But it’s definitely out of character for her.”
“How do you mean?”
“Queen Signe is…swift in her judgements. She never teeters when it comes to exacting justice. And to be honest, she has been awaiting Darius Graeme’s capture for as long as anyone.”
Kestrel tried not to prickle at his words and reminded herself he was only talking that way about him because he hadn’t had a chance to know Thom yet. None of them had. Not the Thomsheknew anyway.
“I don’t know,” Leighton said, pacing up and down the narrow closet. His slate blue cape tried billowing behind him,but the confined space left it with nowhere to swell. “But I worry she’s either conflicted about his punishment and wants to appease you, or she’s waiting for an opportunity when you won’t notice or care as much.”
“I’ll always care,” Kestrel snapped, the blood in her veins boiling with the heat of the sun.
Leighton held up his hands in surrender again. “I’m not saying there will be a time when you won’t, I just—I don’t know what she’s up to. But typically, traitors are dealt with publicly. A spectacle is made of their deaths in order to keep the people in line, to prevent anyone else from doing the same. And the townsfolk are talking. They know he’s here. They’ll be demanding his retribution soon?—”
“And what? They just get whatever they want? Even when they have no idea of the man he truly is?”
“No, but the more outspoken and outraged they become, the more pressure it puts on her to act. And in my experience, when people are under pressure, they often make rash decisions.”
Kestrel’s eyes were tearing up, and she cursed herself for it. This was by far the worst news that he could’ve given her. He could’ve pulled her in here to say that Thom’s execution had already passed, that he was gone forever. This should give her hope. Or at the very least, time.
“I’ll talk to her about him. Make her see that he’s no threat to anyone.”
Inhaling deeply, Leighton dragged a hand through his flaxen hair. He thought about his choice of words for a long time before settling on, “You’re welcome to try.”
When they left, he offered to walk her back to the dining hall, but Kestrel was no longer hungry. No longer in the mood for celebrating and dancing. Thom was sitting in his cell, aloneand probably hungry, and what had she been doing? Living the life of a princess, flirting with one royal or another.
She needed to refocus. All of her efforts moving forward had to have one goal in mind: figuring out how to appease the queen.
Kestrel instead excused herself to her room, not entirely sure of the exact location, but certain she could figure it out. It only took a half dozen wrong turns before she finally found it. Kestrel heaved the door opened then closed behind her before she slumped against it.
Everything felt so heavy.
Her heart.
Her head.
