Page 87 of The Prisoner's Throne
“Queen Suren wants to destroy Elfhame,” one of the remaining courtiers interjects. “Just as her mother did.”
Jude does not speak, but Oak can tell she isn’t unmoved by the argument that Wren may have had a hand in this. And to make it worse, Wren denies none of it. She says nothing. She just listens to their accusations.
Deny it, he wants to tell her. But what if she can’t?
Just then, a cry fills the air. A vulture circles once to land heavily on Wren’s shoulder. The storm hag.
“Prince?” Tiernan asks Oak, eyeing the vulture with misgiving.
“We should quit this place,” says Randalin. “Our milling about cannot do anything in the way of helping.”
The Bomb glares at everyone. “What did he eat or drink? We should isolate the poison.”
“It was in the mead,” Oak says.
The Bomb turns toward him, white hair a nimbus around her heart-shaped face. “How do you know that?”
The prince doesn’t want to say this part out loud, not in front of even a small crowd, but he can’t see a way out, either. “I drank some.”
There is a ripple of shock through the remaining courtiers.
“Your Highness!” Randalin protests.
“And yet you’re standing,” says a pixie. “How is it that you’re standing?”
“He must only have had the barest sip,” Jude lies. “Brother, perhaps it’s time to come away and rest.”
Perhaps it would be better if they got out of the Milkwood. He’s feeling somewhat unsteady on his feet. He’s feeling somewhat unsteady, period.
“Do you think I’m responsible?” Wren whispers, her hand still in his.
No, of course not,Oak wants to say, but he isn’t sure he can make his mouth spit out those words.
Did she poison the Ghost? Would she have done it for Hyacinthe’s sake, if he asked her to help? Had he found out a secret so great she would protect it, even if it cost a life?
“I will believe whatever you tell me,” Oak says. “Nor will I look for deceit in your words.”
She watches the shifts of his expression, almost certainly looking for deceit inhiswords.
The vulture shifts, watching him with bead-black eyes. Bogdana’s eyes, filled with rage.
“I’m sorry,” Wren says. He sees the hag’s talons sink into her shoulder hard enough to pierce flesh. A trickle of blood runs down her dress. But Wren’s expression doesn’t change.
He’s sure she feels the pain. This is what she must have been like back in the Court of Teeth. This is how she endures all that she does. But he doesn’t understand why she allows Bogdana to hurt her this way. She has the authority and power now.
Something is very, very wrong.
“You need to tell me what’s going on,” he says, keeping his voice low. “I can fix it. I can help.”
“I’m not the one who needs saving.” Wren lets go of his hand.
“It washer,” insists Taryn. “Her or that witch she has with her or the traitorous knight who tried to kill Cardan. I want the knight arrested. I want the girl arrested. I want the witch in a cage.”
Randalin blinks several times in surprise. “Well,” he says to Wren. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Tell them you didn’t do it.”
But again, she is silent.
The Minister of Keys sputters a bit as he tries to digest this. “My dear girl, you must speak.”
