You poisoned the king!

His father lay propped against the pillows, gray and unmoving.

His mother stood at the bedside, her gown falling around her in a silken pool of midnight blue. The queen's delicate hands rested on the king's arm.

Near her, his older sister, Serana, waited, her face pale but composed.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

The queen's eyes...glacial and fierce...fixed on him.

"What took you so long?" she demanded, her voice low and sharp. "Your father collapsed over an hour ago. He was served his tea, and moments later he lost consciousness."

Auren said nothing. He crossed the thick carpet until he stood at the foot of the bed, surveying the king's still face. The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only reassurance that he still lived.

"He has been unresponsive," Serana said softly. "The physicians were sent for. They should arrive any moment."

His jaw tightened.

One of the trembling maids edged nearer, reaching for a tray of untouched glass vials.

Auren's eyes flicked to her.

And all at once, the fury he'd tamped down exploded.

"You," he hissed, voice lethal.

She froze, her fingers hovering over the silver tray.

He was on her in an instant, one hand closing around her narrow throat. She squealed, dropping to her knees as his grip tightened.

"Who prepared the tea?" he demanded, his voice a silken threat. "Was it you?"

She shook her head frantically, choking on the pressure.

"Auren..." his mother began.

He ignored her.

"Answer me," he growled. "Did you poison the king?"

The maid clawed at his wrist, her face turning red. "I...I didn't...please..."

Her eyes rolled wildly to the queen and back.

The other servants cowered along the walls.

"Do you think I'm blind?" he snarled. "You've been plotting with your coward friends. Hoping to see him dead so you can sell your petty secrets to whoever will pay..."

The queen's hand landed on his shoulder, cool and commanding.

"That is enough," she said, her voice cutting through the madness.

"She knows something," he hissed without turning. "I can smell it..."

"You will release her."

"Auren," Serana interjected, her tone surprisingly calm, "there is no proof yet. You are only terrifying the staff."

"Proof?" His laugh was low and dangerous. "You think I need proof to gut a traitor?"

The maid made a strangled noise, her legs kicking weakly.

The queen stepped closer, her eyes locking to his.

"Release. Her."

For a breath, the chamber held perfectly still.

Then, with a flick of disgust, he opened his hand and let the maid collapse in a sobbing heap.

She crawled backward, clutching her bruised throat.

The queen folded her arms, her gaze never wavering.

"You will wait," she said, her voice cold and implacable. "When the physician arrives, we will hear what he finds. And if there has been treachery, I promise you...we will deal with it together."

Auren did not answer.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, every muscle still coiled for violence.

Slowly, he turned back to the king, whose chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

If the old man died...

He did not finish the thought.

–

The heavy quiet in the king's chamber pressed around them like a suffocating fog. Shadows clung to the corners, only partly pushed back by the flickering candelabras.

Prince Auren remained at the foot of the bed, the masked half of his face illuminated in pale gold. The rest of him was a black silhouette, midnight hair spilling around the carved edges of his collar.

At last, his mother's cool, controlled voice cut through the silence.

"You are still wearing that mask."

Her words sounded almost conversational, but her narrowed eyes betrayed her irritation.

"It is odd," she continued, her fingers tightening over the king's wrist. "Remove it."

Auren did not move for a moment. Then he raised a gloved hand to his face and unhooked the delicate clasps at his temple. Slowly, he slipped the white mask free.

His dark eyes emerged, hard and inscrutable as ever.

"Better," the queen said crisply, as though reasserting some order over the chaos.

Serana shifted beside her, arms crossed over her deep violet skirts. Her gaze darted between her brother and the king's still form.

"I suppose you will say you've been too occupied to change your clothes," their mother went on, her voice threaded with a pointed softness.

Auren's jaw tightened. "I haven't been to my chambers yet."

"Oh?"

He met her stare. "I was delayed by…certain matters."

Serana's brow arched, her mouth curving into a faint, humorless smile. "Matters."

Their mother's gaze sharpened. "What matters would take precedence over removing that ridiculous mask, Auren?"

"It's nothing to trouble yourself with," he said coolly.

Serana gave a soft scoff, shaking her head.

Auren's eyes flicked to her, cold and unreadable.

Before he could respond, a knock sounded from beyond the doors.

"Enter," the queen commanded, her tone carrying the full weight of her rank.

The doors parted, and an older man in a midnight-blue cloak hurried inside, clutching a heavy leather satchel. Wisps of gray hair curled around his ears, and his spectacles slid down the bridge of his nose as he bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty," he panted, voice strained from exertion. "My deepest apologies for my late arrival—it is a long journey from my estate, and the hour—"

"Spare us," Auren cut in with a clipped tone. "Attend to him."

The physician straightened, though he gave the prince a wary glance. He approached the king's bedside and set the satchel at the foot of the blankets.

As he worked, unfastening tiny vials and checking the king's pulse, the tension in the chamber coiled tighter.

Every servant seemed to be holding their breath.

Auren watched them all with a flat, predatory stare, his expression promising he'd remember the face of anyone who looked away.

After several long minutes, the physician leaned back. His gloved hands folded neatly before him.

The queen lifted her chin, her knuckles white on the edge of the mattress. "Speak," she commanded. "Was he poisoned?"

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