The Real Culprit

When I wake up, I try to cling to the remnants of a delicious dream. There was me and Kassian and—

But when my eyes open, I find him in bed next to me, one gloveless, shirtless arm slung over my middle.

Not a dream.

A beautiful reality.

My Shadow King.

His eyes crack open, and he just stares at me, as though startled. But then he collects himself. "That'll take some getting used to."

"Waking up to another face?"

"Waking up to a face that isn't Percy's . As much as I love him, I much prefer yours." His hand snakes forward to cup my face, and he draws me in for a sweet kiss.

An hour or so later, he leaves me to dress in his own room, but he doesn't bother to shut the door that usually separates us, so that we might talk.

"I'm having your things moved in here," he says.

"Moved where? Into your room?"

"Into our room. We'll knock down this wall. Make it one great room. I don't care. But you're sleeping with me. There will be no your-bed-and-my-bed nonsense." His next words are muffled, as though he says them while pulling a shirt over his head. "Unless you really want your own bedroom…" It sounds as though the words cost him greatly.

I smile, not answering right away because it'll drive him mad. Finally, I say, "I don't need my own room."

"Good. I'll order the staff to move your things over immediately. We'll get some builders up here to take out the wall while we're away on our honeymoon."

"We're going away for our honeymoon?"

He appears in the doorway, not having bothered to ask if I'm dressed. "A very long one." While I managed to get my dress over my head, I can't do the laces in the back. "Will you help me, or should I ring for a maid?"

He doesn't say anything, and in the next instant I feel his fingers sweeping my hair over my shoulder. He works at the strings on my back, pausing every other one to add a kiss to the back of my neck. When he's done, I reach for my gloves, But Kassian plucks them out of my fingers and tosses them away.

"No gloves." And he grabs my fingers with his, lacing them together.

"You've suddenly become so much more demanding."

"And I think you love it," he says, pulling me close, running his nose along my neck. Oh, but I do.

***

Lots of guards accompany us down to the dungeons.

It will take some time, I think, to adjust to how many are appropriate throughout the castle, now that Kassian will be vulnerable to attack constantly, just like any normal man.

When we're let through a thick door with a barred opening at the top, I'm glad I didn't wear one of my own designs down here. The ground is positively filthy. I suspect it's never been cleaned.

It reminds of me all those years back.

Every step echoes loudly, and lit torches shine from their sconces. Electric wires must never have been installed down here. Why would they need to be? Criminals don't need the light.

"Ivan first," Kassian says, and a burly man with a ring of keys leads us through a maze of cells before stopping before an occupied one.

Lord Vasco—just Vasco now that I suppose he'll be stripped of his title—stands with his back toward the bars, facing an abandoned corner. The other corner holds naught but a bucket, and I don't want to think about what it's used for. No plumbing down in the dungeons, either, it would seem.

"I just want to know one question," Kassian says. "Why?"

Vasco doesn't turn, doesn't make any movements to indicate he heard our approach at all. He keeps his head firmly toward the corner as though it's the most interesting thing in world.

"My father and mother—" Kassian swallows. "They loved you. You had their respect. Why would you do that to them?"

Again, no response.

"You wanted the power, is that it? Without the Ashton line, you thought you would rule instead? Well, you wouldn't have. I have third cousins. They would take the throne before you ever would. So why?"

When Vasco doesn't move, Kassian screams. "WHY?" The sound bounces off the walls, and I resist the urge to cover my ears with my hands. I only stand by Kassian's side, holding his hand for support. This issue is personal to him. I will respect him by letting him deal with it in any way he sees fit.

When the echoes die completely, he tries again. "Did you think I would be easy to control? Is that it? You thought I would be your puppet king? And when I wasn't, you thought to get rid of me as well?"

Still, no movement.

Kassian turns, taking me with him back down the hallway, but he says over his shoulder, "You have three days to think it over. After that, we resort to less pleasant means of getting information out of you." To the guard, "Take us to Zervas now."

"Your parents weren't who you thought they were," a cold voice says from behind us. Kassian halts but doesn't turn.

"You were never supposed to be king," Vasco continues. "Your father deserved what happened."

Kassian's grip tightens on my fingers, and I wrap my free hand around his upper arm.

"To Lady Zervas's cell," I tell the guard. And we put Vasco behind us.

We're led down another corridor, and where Vasco's cell was initially as silent as a tomb, Zervas's rings with music. She's singing.

I can't make out the words with the horrid way the cells echo, but it's probably some little tune sung to her as a child. I suppose one has to pass the time somehow.

Once she hears our footsteps, she silences, watching us as we come into view.

She sighs dramatically. "Are you here to let me out?"

"No," Kassian says, his voice steely.

"Well, then, let me know when you are here to let me out."

And she resumes her singing.

What the devils?

"You're locked up for murder," I tell her. "You should take this more seriously."

Her voice cuts off again. "I'm not the one responsible for the late king's and queen's deaths. I've never raised a hand to Kassian. When the real murderer strikes again, I will be released."

"You matched a description perfectly."

"A description given by whom?" she asks.

Neither Kassian nor I dare to say, "A little girl."

"Either it was from a highly unreliable source, or it was from someone who was in on it. Someone who wants you to think it's me so you will let down your guard. Honestly, the person behind the attack has my utmost respect. I'm a perfect scapegoat. I have the means and the motive. But while I did want your dear father to suffer as he did, I'm not the one who killed him. And there's no reason why I should want to kill you.

If I were you, I'd be very careful. And honestly, perhaps you should take a closer look at her." It takes me a moment to realize she's speaking about me. "After all, love is an excellent motivator to kill."

And then she resumes singing