Page 22 of Bride of the Black Dragon
But the Queen likes an audience. She glares at me.
“Speak your piece now, Princess Elaina, or else not at all. In this Court, we make certain thieves get what’s coming to them.”
All right, so she’s leaving me no choice. What I’m about to say isn’t going to make me very popular, but then again, I’m already universally disliked so I might as well go ahead.
“Tanzy didn’t take your pendant—the Crown Prince did,” I say.
There’s a gasp from the gathered Nobles and Prince Dorian glares at me.
“She’s lying, Mother!” he exclaims. “She’s been spreading rumors about me, too—she’s horrid!”
The Queen gives me a cold stare.
“Can you prove these allegations?” she demands. “What reason would my son have for stealing from me?”
“I heard him say it was because you cut off his allowance.” I don’t add that the reason she cut it off is because he won’t bed me. Some things should be kept private. “He said he was going to put it in his private jewelry box and no one would find it because he’s got the only key.”
“You nasty little spying bitch!” Dorian snarls at me, his lovely face contorting into an ugly mask of rage and hate. “Mother, she’s lying!”
“I’m not lying,” I say, keeping my eyes on the Queen and refusing to engage with my angry husband. “Go get the Crown Prince’s jewelry box and search it—you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
The Queen’s lips have tightened to a thin line and those two little dents have appeared on either side of her flaring nostrils.
“Enough!” she shouts, causing the Nobles—who have been whispering behind their hands—to go silent immediately. When everyone is quiet she announces, “This trial is over. You are all dismissed.”
“What? But Elaina’s lying!” Dorian whines. “And her little pet maid is a thief! Cut her hand off! Do it, Mother—I demand that you punish them both!”
“Not now, Dorian.” The Queen speaks through gritted teeth. She nods at Tanzy. “Go on, leave at once, girl.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Tanzy bobs a curtsy and then looks at me. Her face is filled with relief and silent gratitude. I make a motion to her to hurry and leave—who knows how long the Queen’s clemency will last? She’d better be gone in case my Mother-in-law decides to change her Royal mind. She slips through the crowd, making her way to the door and out to freedom.
I start to go too, but the Queen shakes her head.
“No—you stay. And you as well,” she adds, looking at Dorian sternly. He hangs back, a sullen look on his perfect features. The Royal Executioner stays as well.
The guards herd the Nobles—who are as reluctant to leave a fresh source of gossip as a flock of vultures would be to leave a stinking pile of carrion—out into the broad stone corridor. They shut the door to the Queen’s private parlor at last, leaving just the Queen, Dorian, a few of her private guards, and me behind. At a word from the Queen, the Executioner stays also, though he withdraws into the corner of the room.
“Now then—before anyone says anything, let’s see the truth of this matter. Guards!” the Queen calls. One of her private guards rushes forward and she whispers in his ear. He nods and hurries off.
A moment later he returns bearing an elaborately carved box made of fragrant balsam wood. He kneels beside the Queen and offers it to her.
“Just hold it for me,” she snaps. Then she turns to the Crown Prince. “Key,” she barks, holding out her hand.
“No.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his gold silk waistcoat bunching up with the gesture.
“Dorian, give me the key or I’ll have the Executioner open the box with his hatchet!” She speaks in a low, tense voice.
“Fine!”
With swift, angry gestures, the Crown Prince yanks a long golden chain from around his neck. Hanging from it is a tiny, jeweled key. He starts to open the box himself, but the Queen shakes her head.
“No, give me the key. I won’t ask again.”
He flings the key at her feet—a gesture I’m sure would have gotten anyone else beheaded. But she only frowns at him as she motions and the guard picks up the key. He fits it to the lock and opens the jewelry box, which begins to play a soft, tinkling melody.
There are plenty of fabulous jewels in the box and by the way the Queen’s mouth gets even tighter, I can tell that some of them are hers. And sure enough, lying right on top of the pile, is her favorite ruby pendant.
She picks silently through the box, taking the pendant along with some other pieces. She hands the lot to a different guard with murmured instructions to take them to her rooms and something else I can’t hear. Then she nods coolly at Prince Dorian.
