Page 60 of Feathers and Thorns

“Let’s get him!” another person cried.

The crowd began to close in around them, and Baz and Jai shared a worried glance around. They did not want to harm these people.

“Please, allow me to explain,” Jai said, placing his sword down and beckoning Baz to do the same. “I did not kill the king,” Jai continued as the crowd grew closer. “Augustus framed me and Princess Adaryn to take the crown for himself.”

An older lady cackled at this. “And why would we believe you?” she sneered.

“Because, Agatha, he speaks the truth.”

The crowd turned to find Princess Adaryn flanked by Everett, Erick, Mrs. Ferndale, Callan, and Saoirse, along with a handful of royal guards.

“Well, if it isn’t the traitorous princess herself,” the lady crooned.

“That is Princess Regent to you,” Adaryn said, rising to her full height. “The steward was killed in the attack.”

The lady looked her up and down with dull blue eyes. Her graying hair was a mess of tangles tucked beneath her cloak. “How do we know you didn’t kill him, like you did your father?”

“Because I am not his daughter.”

The admission seemed to silence the rest of the crowd.

Adaryn pushed through the throng and placed her hand in Jai’s. “This man is the true heir to the Patrovian throne, and before any of you naysayers disagree, we have the evidence and witnesses to prove it,” she said, nodding to Mrs. Ferndale and one of the guards.

“It’s true,” Mrs. Ferndale began. “I delivered Jaideep as a babe, myself. His mother worked in the castle, and the king had a long-standing affair with her in the early years of his marriage to the queen.”

“I can confirm these remarks,” the guard said. “I was on duty the night Jai was born and the eve on which the king sealed his lineage papers.”

Agatha looked at them skeptically, as did the rest of the crowd. “And let me guess, these papers were destroyed in the attack on the castle.”

“We had them, I swear,” Baz interjected.

“Had?” the crone asked, lifting a brow.

“My father, the King of Braexmirth, has them now,” Callan replied for him. “Our forges are working to make weapons and armor as we speak.”

“You all don’t really believe this, do you?” Agatha asked, addressing the rest of the congregation.

The tavern owner bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking at Jai. “Thank you for ridding us of that awful creature, but I remain loyal to our king, and a debt must be paid to honor his death.”

“Enough!” Adaryn’s raised voice split through the crowd. She then gestured to the guard. “Gareth, would you please show the crowd the papers?”

“He,” Agatha said contemptuously, pointing to Callan, “just said the papers are no longer at our disposal.”

“His copy, sure,” the guard said, pulling a roll of parchment from a tube on his hip. “The king was rather clever, you see. He made a third copy that only his most trusted were aware of, in case of his untimely death.”

The man held the scroll toward Agatha, who snatched it out of his hands greedily. She fingered the wax that could not be mistaken for anything but the king’s royal seal and cracked it, unfurling the parchment.

Her eyes roamed the page as she muttered under her breath. Then she lifted her gaze to the guard, flicked her eyes to Adaryn, and finally turned to Jai. It was obvious to him that she had a penchant for violence but was unable to fight the truth.

“What does it say?” the tavern owner asked.

The crowd waited with bated breath before she spoke.

“The scroll confirms their stories,” she spat angrily. “Jai Ashwood is indeed the king’s son and heir to the throne. However,” she said, taking a step toward Adaryn, her teeth glinting, “Adaryn is not the princess we all thought. It says here she was the daughter of a lowly stable maid, paraded around as a princess. She is no one.”

The woman’s face whipped sideways as Adaryn’s palm made perfect contact with her cheek.

“I don’t know what happened in your life to make you so hateful, but the next time you talk down to me, just remember that I am sleeping with your king-to-be.” Adaryn then turned on her heel, leaving the woman to ponder her life choices.

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