Page 39 of Nightingale

Castil cut the last of the frilly leaves, eyeing the plant from all sides to make sure it looked decent enough before he put the shears away for good. “Maybe I grew bored of the blatant favouritism and placed a knife in his chest whilst you were gone for four days.”

The King pursed his lips in clear annoyance. “Castil, quit your mindless, moping games and give me a clear answer instead of an avoiding tactic to shove my irritation into something more egregious.Where is your brother?”

“He left, that’s all I know. Pushing me to get answers that you so desperately want, that I do not have, is not going to do anything. All I know is that he departed from the stables three days ago and hasn’t been seen since. Now if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get back towasting my talents.” He lied straight through his teeth, uncaring as he found another leaf and snipped it off with efficient speed, followed by another at the very bottom of the moist pot of soil.

The Carylim sovereign stepped closer and all of a sudden Castil felt the slick pull of an imagined rope around his thin neck as dread coiled in his lower stomach. He didn’t stop tending to the flowers, trying to keep his cool collected before the man saw his sweating nerves that slunk down his tall spine.

“Vrea Greenvass is also missing.” He uttered in the close proximity. “Your littlepetand your favourite sibling just happen to be missing at the exact same time. For the exact same amount of days.”

“Mhm, interesting,” Castil murmured under his breath, his lungs tightening and restricting as he tried to breathe normally. “What a strange coincidence.”

A slow chuckle escaped the King as he lowered his head and inched even closer until there was barely a gap of space between them. To anyone else, it would have looked like a father giving his son a sweet embrace after a long journey, but that was the furthest thing it was as he leaned in and whispered, “I’m not a fool, boy. I know that he’s taken her back to Niroula. Don’t think that I don’t senseyourpart in it either.”

His head was lighter than air, his chest as rigid as possible without the white streak of death sweeping in to claim him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Suddenly all his playful jests and sarcastic tones could no longer be found from the reservoir that he’d stacked up over the years like books in a library. His thorned quips and cleverly complicated sentences vanished,leaving simple answers in their wake.

“Yes, I rather think you do.” He sighed and lifted his chin. “But you’re going to fix that.”

He could feel his heartbeat ten times faster than before as it thudded loudly through his veins, prickling the hair on end along his arms, on the back of his neck.

“How?” Castil dared to ask, clearing his overly dry mouth with a cough that he could pass off.

A wicked smile curved his father’s face, one that suggested nothing good. “You’re going to go after them. I don’t care who you bring back, but one of them will return. You, on the other hand, won’t.”

He wasn’t surprised by that.

It was clear as day that the King wanted to get rid of him, especially after the attempt on his life that caused his mithridatism and the reason for the spiky plant that he paused his care for. The one that he’d been growing for a special cause, one that was short coming.

“What do you want me to do?” The Prince knew better than to refuse a direct order from the leader of Carylim, lest his blood water his flowers. Maybe they’d create a more interesting result, for all he knew.

“You’re going to leave tomorrow morning. Pack whatever you want, I don’t care. But you’ll be four days behind them so I suggest you take the fastest mount and make up for the lack of time. I have no doubt that Casta will try to claim Rian as a slave, as she did with Daria and I willnotallow that. So you can either steal the Princess back and we can trade her for your brother if Casta somehow gets her hands on him. Then you’ll disappear for good. Or you can offer yourself up in his stead and serve Niroula. Either way, Rian will be here and youwill not.”

Castil set the shears back into their assigned place in the leather pouch, not reaching for anything else. It would have beenso easy too, to slam the iron blades into his father’s neck. To watch the blood spurt out of the juncture and spray him in a fine mist of scarlet that he would definitely enjoy. Might even bask in, shower himself with for the sheer wonderment of it all.

Castil longed to kill him, dreamt about it even.

Hence the brutal-looking flower he grew from his own, brutal imagination.

He could do it.

Hewoulddo it, one day.

There was a gnawing urge to see it through now, here, where the rotting body could be found and no one around it. Anyone had access to the gardens, regardless of stature. The servants, who took care of the foliage when he didn’t. His brothers, who brought their secret lovers out for a more adventurous romp. Even the sentries retired for a meal outside when the weather was enjoyable.

Anyone could kill him, and get away with it.

Castil conceptualised it in all reality.

There was no one here, no one to see the murder if he attempted it.

No eyes on them.

But the King…

He realised a moment later that that was precisely what the King wanted. Totryto kill him, which meant that therewereguards here, somewhere. Hidden in the shrubbery perhaps, or blended into the stone pillars with grey armour.

He inconspicuously whirled on a slow heel to face his father, to see if his suspicions were confirmed or not. One look, that’s all it took to see that he was right.

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