Page 84 of Wicked Thieves
The question was, if the king wasn’t the one giving the order to kill his son, then who was behind it? Could it be solely Horia’s doing, or was it all orchestrated by the council themselves?
“Thank you for your candor,” King Amaranth finally said before he rose, stirring the Amaranthus behind him as he stood. He glanced at the petals. “I have always hated these flowers. Their smell is particularly nauseating.”
“Then, if you do not mind me asking, why keep them here, your highness?”
He seemed to contemplate his answer for a few heartbeats as he ran a finger over the delicate petals connected to their blood-red stems. “I suppose we can call it sentimentality. My father loved them, had them planted here before winter came, before Elvir became what it is now. A barren wasteland of snow. It most likely had to do with the fact that they bore his name. His pride. He had them put up for all to see that his rule had been meant to be. It never mattered how much I told him I loathed them as a child, he only seemed driven to add more in the castle. To serve as a reminder as to who was truly in control.”
Two kings cut from the same cloth,Anelize thought.
The king’s eyes sliced to meet hers as he closed his hand around the petals, crushing them in his grip. “If only he knewthat power was not something that was granted to you but taken.”
Later that night, Anelize and Horia were sitting in the empty infirmary finishing the poultices she’d recommended that could help with the infections that a few of the men had developed after the Moroiattacked them. There had been more sightings of the creatures as of late.
It was nothing short of a miracle, according to Horia, that they’d managed to survive the attack in the first place. After witnessing what the Moroi were capable of, she had to agree.
The sound of footsteps trudging down the hall caught her attention as they grew closer to the infirmary. They walked with purpose, and there were several. As though it were a patrol stalking the streets of the port.
“Let us hurry now, Miss Anya. I wish to finish here so that I may deliver my next dose of the king’s tonic,” Horia chimed when he noticed she’d paused her movements in crushing the comfrey leaves within the mortar and pestle to turn into a paste.
The doors were pushed open, startling the physician as he stood to greet whoever had come into the infirmary. Anelize noticed the way his face paled and glanced over her shoulder to see several Watchmen were all standing in the threshold. Their black armor and cloaks making them look like wraiths. Among them were Adan and Idris. They hardly glanced at her as they made way for Esna Santir, his hands tucked behind his back as he entered the infirmary. A sharp smile on his lips as he looked atthe physician.
“Physician Horia, you are here by accused of treason and the poisoning of your king. You shall be brought before King Amaranth to receive your punishment for such wicked deeds. Take him.”
Looking between Anelize and the Watchmen who approached him—their intent clear as they followed the councilman’s orders—Horia stammered his words. “N-no, please. I have done no such thing. Miss Anya, tell them!”
Horia’s hand gripped her arm, pulling her with him as the Watchmen apprehended him and began dragging him out of the infirmary. Adan was the one to wrench his hand free from her arm before pushing her back. The Watchmen and councilman—still smiling that serpent’s smile—wandered back into the hall as Horia screamed and begged for mercy.
She hardly had time to notice something cold had landed in her hand before Adan spun on his heel and strode after the rest of the men. Glancing down to her opened palm, she closed her fingers around the brass key that had been looped around a long ribbon. The key that Aeric had shown her. Pulling the key around her neck, she tucked it beneath her tunic and stole after the Watchmen.
The Great Hall was filled to the brim with servants, guards, and nobles alike as they filtered into the throne room beyond. The sound of Horia’s pleading voice echoing through the crowd as Anelize made her way into the large room ahead.
The throne room was nearly as large as the Old Church itself, with long windows covered in hoarfrost, stone pillars and tiled floors consumed by the golden light of the candles sitting atop the chandelier. A beautiful sight for such a desolate occasion she thought as she stood by and watched as aWatchman dragged Horia across the ground and threw him onto his hands and knees before the king’s dais.
“Please, your highness. Whatever you have been told is nothing more than a lie. I would never dare to harm you or the prince. I have devoted my life in service to your name and crown,” Horia begged, his entire body trembling as he gazed up the steps of the dais where King Amaranth was seated upon his throne. His chin resting on his fist, looking unimpressed.
Watchmen stood in a straight line on either side of the king’s throne, surveying the crowd. Try as she did, she could not see Aeric anywhere.
“You deny your actions when you have been the only one to administer your so-called treatments to me and my son when we both grew ill by some invisible ailment you knew nothing about,” the king challenged. “When there have been witnesses to substantiate my claim of your treasonous behavior.”
Esna Santir stepped forward, staring down his nose at the physician.
Horia’s face contorted with contempt before he said to the king, thrusting a finger in the councilman’s direction. “It was all his doing! Councilman Esna was the one who asked me,bribed me, to do his bidding for him. I am but a mere, lowly servant. Who was I to deny a noble’s orders?”
Neither the king or Esna appeared the least bit concerned by his revelation, much to her surprise.
When the doors of the throne room opened once more, Anelize, much like the rest of the onlookers within the king’s court, turned their attention to the Captain of the Watchmen as he strode toward the throne.
When Horia noticed Aeric, he blanched and began shakingso profusely she wondered if he would merely faint from the fear she tasted in the air. It was palpable, sending her own heart to skitter uneasily.
“Physician Horia, for your crimes and your deceit, you are hereby declared guilty before your king and his court. The sentence shall be your death,” King Amaranth drawled from his throne as he motioned with a wave of his hand. As though he were swatting away a pestering fly.
Dread filled her, a roaring starting in her ears as it was Aeric who slowly approached Horia. His eyes distant as if he weren’t in his body at all. He unsheathed his sword and gripped the pommel with both hands as he faced the physician.
Horia scrambled forward, bracing his hands and knees against the pristine steps of the dais. “P-please, spare me, sire! I will do anything you ask of me,anything!”
Before Aeric could move an inch, the king suddenly rose to his feet, his cane supporting him with each taxing step he took before stopping two paces above the physician. The murmuring crowd fell silent as they waited with bated breath for him to speak once more.
“Is my son dead?”
