Page 43 of Shadows of the Crown

She’s partially through the doorway when she looks back, her brows furrowed deeply. I wait, thoroughly interested in whatever could make the Silver Wraith speechless.

Her throat clears as her eyes flit to my desk before focusing on me. “Thank you.” A genuine smile tugs at my lips, and I nod before she closes the door behind her. She and Gavriel share words before she’s gone—walking through the castle…wearing only my shirt.

I allow myself to drop and breathe in the warm, sultry scent embedded into my sheets. No one will clean these until I say otherwise…

Before I get lost in her memory, I roll from the bed and swap my shirt for a less wrinkled one, running a hand through my hair as I walk into the hallway. I cannot focus on how I look at the moment—I need answers.

“You look like shit,” Gavriel mutters as I close my door. My mouth opens with an immediate retort, but the words halt when I see the dark circles under my friend's eyes. Hegives so much of himself without complaint, so the least I can do is not tease him for it.

“Take the day and rest. I need to go speak with Varrick, but there are no other pressing matters that require your attendance.” I nod to his room down the hall and slap him on the shoulder before stalking in the opposite direction.

Varrick should be in his study, which is conveniently located at the center of the castle next to the throne room. He may be my father's political advisor, but there isn't a single thing that happens in these walls that he doesn't know about. The chance of him not knowing why royal sentries attacked and fucking poisoned Ariella…

But I cannot just march in there and accuse him or my father of anything. No, because if either of them are to blame and they suspect I'm suspicious of them, I'm not sure what they'll do. I don't know just how far Varrick's opinions influence my father's decisions, but the man has never truly liked me, so it's not a risk I'm willing to take. Especially when I have Ariella to worry about.

Should I go to my mother first? She and my father do not have the greatest relationship, though he is still her king. She defies him in her own ways, but it's only ever been petty things like the color of her gowns or her attendance at certain events. She has never spoken ill of him, nor has she fought against any of his decisions. She may be queen, but my father has never seen heras his equal—one of the many things I wish to change upon my claim of the throne.

I shake my head and rub a hand over the back of my neck. As much as I'd like to confide in her, I don't know if I can completely trust her not to tell the king everything. I know she loves Vespera and me, but that love has always warred with her duty as queen. It would be best if I didn't mention this to her, if only to spare her from having to choose between me and the king. And Vespera is too young to be forced into dealing with any of this…

It seems Ariella and Gavriel are the only two I can trust.

I snort—what an ironic fucking statement. The prince who can only turn to a royal guard and a famous assassin.

I should never trust her. I should hate her for what she does, what she is…and yet, I don't. I can't seem to explain these feelings even to myself, but the moment I saw her for the first time, I knew she'd mean something different to me than anyone else. I've yet to discover exactly what that is, but—

I jolt when someone clears their throat, my head snapping to the left, where Gavriel walks tall next to me. “I thought I told you to go rest.” He mutters something under his breath before focusing on me.

“I will not allow you to visit your father's advisor alone—I trust you withhermore than I do Varrick.”

“What do you think he's going to do, Gav? We've known him for years…he may be a little strange, but he wouldn't dare harm me,” I say quietly, nodding to a group of people that we pass. We're in the main part of the castle now, where many ears listen for any amount of information they could use to their benefit. Gavriel doesn't respond, just as wary as I am to speak around others.

I step quickly around three women, muttering a kind hello when they call for me, and knock on Varrick's door before one of them insists on a moment of my time. I do not wish to entertain them any longer. A muffled call to come in sounds, and I give Gavriel a pointed look before stepping into the study and closing the door behind me. A large, wooden desk is positioned to the left, resting on top of a deep green rug—I've always thought that was an interesting choice, especially as it clashes with the reds and golds of the tiles and walls. Though maybe he finds comfort in the color. The paintings lining the walls, each of different types of forests, speak to his love of the greens in nature.

But it's the painting behind him that tugs at my attention each time I visit. The background a mix of blues, pinks, and purples that suggest either the start or end to a day. Instead of a landscape, however, the scene is painted in the sky, where there are miles of clouds so realistic I feel as though I could touch them. On the clouds—not above—is a forest made of trees that match the colors of the sky. Most have pale pink leaves with white petals that fall from their burgundy branches. There are several crimson trees in the mix, their existence appearing like seeping blood.

I squint my eyes, noticing…noticing something I've not recognized before. The red trees are not that at all—no, they're the same as the rest, where the pink hues peek through the crimson in a few places. The red does flow like blood, though it seems to soak into the bark rather than fall from it, as if it's feeding the tree.

“Just one moment,” Varrick calls, waving a hand as he continues writing whatever is so important he cannot be bothered to greet his prince properly.

Not that he does, regardless.

“Expecting someone else?” His head snaps up, eyes widening momentarily before he stands and shoves several papers together until they're folded over his current work.

“Well, I was certainly not expecting you, Caspian. What brings you here?” I have to drag my eyes from where his hands rest almost protectively in front of something. His lengthy, black hair rests in a knot at the top of his head, while he wears clothes that are far more disheveled than mine.

Deep breath. “I wanted to speak with you about the attack last night,” I say carefully, watching for a flicker ofanythingin his features that would confirm what I wish wasn't true.

He blinks, forehead creasing as he crosses his arms. “Attack?” I almost laugh.

“Yes, it seems one of the competitors was attacked outside the castle grounds.”

A shrug. “You know how brutish those people are—honestly, I'm shocked they haven't all killed each other off yet.” It's a struggle to keep my features relaxed enough; he's not going to give anything away.

“It was an attack by royal sentries, not another competitor,” I mutter distastefully, sliding the arrow Ariella brought from under my jacket. At least I had the foresight to wrap it, instead of coating my clothes in Hallow. He rears back when I toss it to his desk, studying it for only a moment before his deep-set eyes meet mine once more.

“Where did you get this?”

Something prickles under my skin, telling me to lie. Or at least withhold that Ariella brought it to me. “It doesn't matter—what's important is that it is an arrow from our guard and it is laced in Hallow. I want to know why the fuck one of the competitors is being targeted.” Fuck, I need to control my rage; I cannot allow him to see what she means to me.

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