Page 40 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

Reprieve of sentence - Sebastian Chastain

Special inquiry - Eleanor Delacroix

Determination of guilt - Eleanor Delacroix

Sentencing - Eleanor Delacroix

I bite my bottom lip. Is she here? Did they catch her and keep it a secret?

I wiggle on the bench, my stomach in knots. Elle was good to me when I was a bloodling, and while she killed my brother, I’m not sure I’m ready to see her head roll today. I crane my neck around, wondering if Lucas is going to show, and spot Adele standing in the back row, the queen holding her pregnant stomach. I offer her a small wave, but she’s lost in thought, unaware of my presence.

I follow her gaze to the government official’s box across the aisle. It holds a plethora of ministers with Peter out front, his amiable smile warming my ears. Behind him sit the three Beaumont brothers, my bodyguard off duty for the proceedings.

The court’s warlocks ensure the security of the assembly, dressed in red robes with matching hoods, each of them standing in a separate corner of the room.

Many of the envoys and diplomats that traveled for the coronation are still here, so the gallery is full.

“Hey, Lil’ Bit.” Sebastian nudges my elbow and sits down next to me. “Excited to see my performance?”

His black satin suit gleams under the timid light of the chandeliers, his red hair slicked back in an attempt to make it look less red and wild than it actually is.

Back when we were kids, I would have plotted for days in advance to accidentally get a seat next to him in similar circumstances, just so we could gossip together.

But now, spooked by his sudden closeness, I jolt away. “What are you talking about?”

He taps his name in the program, encroaching on my personal space in ways that set my new body on edge, the several inches he has on me even more apparent than they were yesterday.

I pretend not to be affected by his proximity and roll my eyes. “How did you manage that?”

“Patience. You’ll know soon enough.”

I bite the insides of my cheeks, annoyed that he baited me into asking. My mother used to think that I’d need something from him one day. She even made it into a prophecy of sorts, her ability to glimpse at the future making her assumptions and opinions heavy with foreboding. But the only thing I need from Sebastian Chastain is for him to stay the fuck away from me.

“Welcome to the 11,253rd tribunal, his Grace Victor Turmund Delacroix presiding,” the Maester announces.

Sebastian chuckles under his breath. “Turmund… your parents clearly didn’t expect him to reign.”

“Shh.”

“Oh, come on now. This is just like old times.” His breath leaves a trail of goosebump in its wake, and I miss the first few sentences uttered by the Maester.

The first two lines in the program are technicalities, renewing the nomination of Peter Chastain as prime minister and Garrett Beaumont as Master of War. The two men are dressed for the occasion, but Victor’s announcement concludes quickly.

Sebastian leans closer as Garrett sits back between his brothers. “Our new master of war is quite handsome, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” I declare confidently. He’s only trying to embarrass me, and there’s no shame in admitting what the eyes can see—I’m not a teenager anymore. I concentrate on anything other than Sebastian’s thigh touching my own.

“Only the youngest Beaumont got unlucky with his looks. That must sting.”

Jasper does look different than his brothers. He’s at least six or seven inches shorter than them, and with none of the mysteriously rugged charisma the other two possess. I try not to stare at Alec as the tribunal gets underway.

A clay gargoyle made the news in Paris for terrorizing a museum, and so it was swiftly put to death, a raucous poltergeist needs hunting in Sweden… My attention drifts back to the program.

“Did they find Eleanor?” I ask quietly to Sebastian, trying to mask the worry in my voice in favor of a regally curious edge.

Sebastian presses his lips together in a disapproving scowl. “That woman derailed the entire course of our lives. Why do you sound terrified that she’d stand trial here today?”

A hot shudder slices through me. “I remember how Ludovic treated us when I was a child. To him, I was nothing but a piece of jewelry he couldn’t wait to sell to the highest bidder. Eleanor was a slave he paraded around to boost his own ego. If Ludovic’s wife killed him, I’m sure he did something to deserve it.”

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