Page 24 of The Throne Seeker
Her mother nodded sharply. “Now please do as I’ve asked, then come help with the food.”
Rose took a deep breath, looking down at the flowers—an arrangement of black roses in a beautiful gold vase. What a terrible color to choose, so depressing and melancholic.Who would select such a bloom?
But the longer she looked at them, the more she knew they were exactly what she needed. They symbolized that a part of her was dying, saying farewell to a chapter she was eager to forget.
They were a pool of beautiful darkness.
Just like her.
Thea was still tying her laces when Rose’s mother appeared, pulling Rose out of the memory.
“Oh good, you’re up,” her mother said, relieved, hastily shutting the door.
Rose glanced at her, then did a double take. Her mother looked… disheveled. Her mother wasneverdisheveled.
“What is it?” she asked, worried someone had died.
“The king and the high council have called for a tribunal for Xavier.” Her mother came straight over to assist Thea with her dress laces, her fingers working overtime. “They’ve requested that you attend.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. A tribunal? For last night? She’d assumed Xavier would face consequences for assaulting a court member, but a tribunal? Such gatherings were mainly for individuals guilty of serious offenses against Cathan, typically foreigners. Holding one for the successor was unheard of.
It could only mean one thing—they were considering throwing the succession.
“Why do they want me there?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know. I can only assume they will ask you to testify.” Her mother cinched the last lace and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at her head-on. “Listen to me, Rose. The high council insists on your attendance, but I told them that you are still recovering. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
She weighed her options. If she didn’t attend the tribunal, the king and the high council would be left to their own assumptions to decipher Xavier’s fate. And if Xavier was indeed denounced, how could she bear to live with herself, knowing she could have altered the result? What Xavier did was terrible, but he didn’t deserve to be stripped of his succession because of it.
“I want to go.”
“You understand you owe that boynothing,” her mother emphasized. “Are you sure?”
Rose thought for another moment and nodded. “Yes… Yes, I’m sure.”
Her mother accepted her wishes without a fight. “Okay.” She pivoted Rose’s shoulders to face the floor-length mirror.“Then let’s finish getting you ready. You’re going to need all the confidence we can get.”
CHAPTER 11
Rose had never set foot inside the high council chambers, nor had most in court. It was a room used solely by King Henrik and his high council for private meetings and affairs. It was made up of three rows of tiered benches along the walls. At the front, a long rectangular wooden table stood on thick, stubby, hand-carved legs with sun markings, providing seats meant for the king and his twelve council members. Three narrow windows behind them let in the morning sun’s rays, warming the stuffy room.
She was startled by the number of bodies that greeted her. She had expected only the king and the council members, but the rows lining the room were packed. Despite the crowd, an unsettling silence lingered. She and her mother settled into the front row nearest to the king’s high table.
She was painfully aware of the stares and whispers directed at the bandage that covered her neck. She wished she could have left her hair down, if only to shield it from their prying eyes. Nonetheless, she sat up straight, refusing to show any sign of weakness.
King Henrik sat slumped with an invisible weight on his shoulders. She would wager her last gold coin that he’d not slepta wink last night, the bags under his eyes a solid testament. Harriet, Roman, and Queen Lenna were seated directly across from them, with an empty seat beside Roman that she presumed was intended for Tristan, who had not yet arrived. The queen’s face betrayed no emotion, but her fragile form appeared even more delicate than the night before. Harriet was an open book, her eyes flickering about the room nervously as she bit her lower lip and twisted the ends of her dark hair.
Roman was among those who openly stared.
She braced herself to confront his gaze.
His amber eyes blasted straight through her defenses, holding her accountable. A pit settled in her stomach, tangling it into knots as his face morphed into a scowl. She reminded herself she wasn’t the one on trial. She didn’t want this any more than the rest of them did.
Only when Tristan took her hand did she notice that he had sat beside her. His grip was like a tether, grounding her.
“How are you?” he asked, his eyes flickering down to her bandage.
“Better.” Her throat was dry as she said it. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with your family?” She didn’t bother looking to see the sneers directed her way.
