Armand’s grimace turned into a scowl. He combed Lilac’s face for some buried truth—for the smallest trace of the guilt.
There was none, she felt absolutely no guilt besides the shock. In fact, she couldn’t help the small smirk that arose.
And that was when he lunged.
With his damaged foot and hand, he didn’t get far, but she still fell back against her desk in shock. There were screams, but they faded into the background as the guards piled on top of him.
“You did this!” he snarled as they tugged him away, wrestling his arms behind him and snapping them into handcuffs.
Next to her, Henri was shakily returning his blade to its sheath.
You did this. If only. She could name several kings who would’ve had the whole Le Tallec family executed for interrupting an accession with a fit of hysteria, and no one would blink an eye.
Everyone waited for her order, but she could only stagger to her feet, shrugging off her father’s offered hand. Her skin crawled under the weight of the duke’s stare. Even after everything, the hatred in his eyes somehow still surprised her. Long ago, before she knew anything about how their politics worked, she had seen him and Vivien as an aunt and uncle, close friends and confidantes of her parents’ court who had sworn to protect her and her family.
Nowshe saw in his eyes the same look of loathing Vivien had given Lilac as she passed her on the way to the keep at her accession. It was the same bitter astonishment from Sinclair from atop the ramparts just before he’d noticed Garin.
How did you succeed when I planned your downfall so carefully?
“Armand, it is a shame Sinclair was found holding the ax, but you have done the right thing in reporting him. What a commendable act of loyalty to your wife.”
The guards held him in place beside the chairs. A puddle had formed beneath him as he trembled on one leg. It had been his good foot that was smashed in. “You think my son was capable ofthat?”
She pushed herself off the desk and approached him, ignoring Henri’s warning grumble. “You don’t want to know the things your boy is capable of.” She looked down on him, and it felt good to watch his face drain. “As for this vampire, I think it reasonable to assume it was drawn by the scent of blood.”
“Hewas the one who murdered Vivien. Cut her up and situated her like a Sunday roast.”
“And yet you admit to not being there to see him in the act. The treaty states that bloodshed and murder are outlawed on both ends, unless in self-defense. What reason would a vampire have to attack a noble family, unprovoked? The raid was the last instance of vampiric violence recorded.” She peered at him. “And why would he kill Vivien? What vendetta would he have against your wife, Armand?”
“I was—” He stopped, realizing what he would reveal. An unspoken recognition flashed in his glare.
“You were what? Where were you before discovering Sinclair and Vivien?” No answer came. She turned to her father and his councilmen. “I have decided he will remain detained for now. Meanwhile, please send a carriage of guards to their estate to assess the scene and arrest Sinclair.”
“Have it leave after Lilac does,” Henri grunted to the councilmen, to her surprise. “An investigation in town should not coincide with her visit.”
They exchanged glances, but a cry of outrage from Armand brought their attention back to the duke.
“Such cruelty,” he ground out as they wrenched him to his knees. “Toarrest the one who came to you for help, who was your father’s charge all these years. What law have I broken?”
“Where should I begin? You said you found her body upon returning to your home.” Her temper swelled with each word. It was preferable to the anxiety building behind it. She refused to look at her father. He must be breaking to see his friend that way. “This means you were out of your home, does it not? Before the terms of your house arrest were lifted? This was before you falsely blamed me for Vivien’s death and tried to put your hands on me.”
“Your Majesty.” He scuffled forward, the chains on his arms clunking taut.
“You cannot bargain for your freedom!” Her voice cracked across the room. “You didn’t come to me for help.” There was no room for mercy. It was strange, raising her voice at him. It should have been liberating, but cold unease filled her. “You came to accuse me.”
“He ordered me to come here. To tell you of the scene I came home to, and to give you that.” He nudged both shackled hands toward her. Past her.
The bag he’d brought lay untouched on the desk where she’d deposited it.
“I would have run far and never looked back,” he choked out. “You would have never heard from me again, but he said I needed to deliver this gift to you. He en—” Armand’s face twisted, the veins at his temple throbbing. “Hemademe.”
Armand looked down, horrified at the memory.
“What is it?” Her ears were ringing. “What is it you wish to give me?”
“He did not tell me.”
Something told her he was telling the truth. She reached for it, but Henri and his advisors grunted their alarmed disapproval.
