Chapter 27

Frederick lifted his face to the sun.

Wanting to take in Basilia to its fullest extent, he chose to ride beside the driver in the carriage seat. He could not recall the man’s name, but it mattered not. After all, why should he trouble himself with a mere driver?

Frederick deeply inhaled. “Basilia is glorious, is it not?”

“Yes, Highness. And look what lies before us. The people have seen you and are gathering.”

Frederick repositioned himself on the seat and pushed out his chest. The commoners of Basilia loved him.

“Prince Frederick!” a woman yelled and tossed a lily in front of the horses. “We mourn with you!”

Word appeared to have traveled quickly.

Oh, yes, he was supposed to be in mourning. He had almost forgotten.

“Bless you!” he called out to her and touched a hand to his heart.

More and more people filled the dusty road, yet they stayed to the side, allowing the carriage to pass. Some women cried, others bowed.

Better still, men shook their fists, screaming words of revenge.

“Sebastian must be tried!” one yelled, nearly bringing a smile to Frederick’s face.

They had not even been told of the tannin root, and yet they still cast blame on Sebastian. Justifiably so, since a witness had seen him carry out the act. In addition, King Callum’s wrath had done Frederick a great favor.

“All will be made right,” he hollered and forced a dismal frown.

The driver steered the horses toward Frederick’s castle.

“No,” Frederick said. “Take me to the entrance of my uncle’s dwelling.”

“Yes, Highness.”

Frederick casually leaned back. He had much to discuss with the king and queen, and if all went as he hoped, Sebastian would soon be banished. He longed to see the expression on Sebastian’s face, when told to leave. How could he argue? His only alternative was beheading.

That would have been magnificent to see, but Frederick had made Angeline a promise. He would show mercy, and the love the people already held for him would grow.

Angeline . . .

A ripe fruit ready to be plucked.

Oh well, those thoughts had to be set aside for a time. Meanwhile, Mirella would do.

First things first.

The driver pulled the carriage to a stop, and Frederick climbed down from the tall seat. “Take my things to my castle. My chambermaid, Mirella, will show you where to put them.”

“Yes, Highness.” He clicked to the horses and turned them in the opposite direction.

Though Frederick could have easily walked from his abode to this one, he chose to make a statement in arriving at the entrance by carriage.

He strode without hesitation to the front gate.

The guards stepped aside and allowed him to pass. Already, things had fallen into place.

As he passed all the fine tapestries and trinkets, mine came to mind. It would all be his one day. Sebastian would be permanently banished and never allowed to take even the smallest of ornaments.

Frederick smiled broadly, then scolded himself.

He had to don the dull mask of mourning, or he would not be believable.

He made his way to the great hall. If no one was there, he would send a servant to find the king. It actually seemed a bit odd that he had not already been greeted by at least a chambermaid.

To Frederick’s good fortune, he found his uncle slumped in a chair at the table, poking around at a plate of food.

“Good day, Uncle Roland.” Frederick kept his voice as sullen as possible. “I pray I am not disturbing you.”

“Frederick?” Roland lifted his head and sat upright. “I was not aware you had returned.” He stood and crossed the floor to meet him. “How are you faring?”

“Not well, I fear.”

The man embraced him. Something he had not done in many years.

Frederick held onto him tightly.

“I cannot fathom your grief,” Roland said, then lightly patted his back and released him. “I know it will be difficult for you to speak of, but did your additional days in Thanwine bring any more findings? Something that might clear Sebastian’s name?”

Now in close proximity, Frederick realized just how wretched his uncle looked. His eyes were not only blood red, they bore enormous bags. No doubt the man had not slept in days and had likely shed abundant tears.

If only Frederick could believe the man grieved for him.

Frederick looked away. “You will not care to hear what was discovered. It might be best you call Aunt Helen to join us. I do not have it in me to say what I must more than once.”

His uncle stood unmoving, as if in shock, then motioned to a servant, who stood waiting in the corner. “Go to the queen. Bring her here immediately.”

The young girl bowed, then hastened away.

Hmm. Frederick had not seen her before, but he needed to keep his mind in the proper place. At the appropriate time, young girls would always be there for the taking.

He glanced around the room, allowing the silence to thrum his disheartening words into the king’s head. The man began to pace, and Frederick relished every step he took.

After several minutes passed, Frederick could no longer remain quiet. “The emptiness in the great hall is unusual at this hour of the day. Shall I assume you have Sebastian under restraint?”

His uncle’s head drew back sharply. “No. Sebastian is no longer here.”

Frederick’s heart landed with a thud into his boots. “Excuse me? I cannot have heard you correctly.”

“He and Olivia left the day before yesterday for Padrida. He feared their safety in Basilia.”

“With good reason.” Frederick tightened his hands into fists. “But how could you let them go, when they are still under scrutiny for the murder of my wife?” Perhaps he had spoken too loudly, but his uncle surely understood he had every right to be enraged.

“Frederick?” Queen Helen’s voice turned his head. “What is going on here?”

She floated into the hall as if she had no cares whatsoever. He would certainly change that. “The very question I have. Why did you allow your son to leave before being properly tried?”

She folded her hands in front of herself and jutted her chin. “Sebastian left of his own will. No formal charges have been made.”

Frederick beat his fist on the oak table. “I had no time! I was grieving my wife!” He pointed a stiff finger. “But I will charge him now, and he will be brought back to Basilia, along with his miserable bride, to face what they have done! And once King Callum learns of these new findings, I guarantee he will ask for Sebastian’s head!”

Eyes wide with fear, the queen wrenched onto her husband’s arm. “What new findings?”

“I know not,” he mumbled. “It is why I sent for you. Frederick has something to tell us.” He guided her to a chair and helped her sit, then took his own seat. “Go on, Frederick. Say what you must.”

Frederick braced his hands on the edge of the table and leaned toward them. “Marni was poisoned with tannin root. A plant which does not grow in Thanwine, but one well known to that damnable Crenian, Olivia. Her father had been threatened with poisoning, using that very root. Princess Angeline discovered bits of the plant beneath Sebastian and Olivia’s bed.” He let out a long, rasping breath. “They killed my wife,” he muttered, dropped to the floor, and lay his head atop the table. “And . . . my sweet baby boy.”

“Oh, dear God,” Helen whispered. “Roland, what are we to do?”

Frederick lifted his eyes, just enough to see their expressions. Such glorious pain was worth Marni’s passing.

“I . . .” Roland’s face had gone ashen. “I must bring them back. Our people will demand justice.”

Helen burst out crying. “But they will kill him, and if they find fault in her, her life may be ended as well. She carries our grandchild.” Sobbing, she buried her head into his shoulder.

Frederick’s mind spun so hard and fast, it caused his head to ache. Angeline would be sorely disappointed in him, if he went against her wishes. It should not matter in the least, but for some ungodly reason, he wanted to please her.

He decided to use the queen’s fears to his benefit.

“Aunt Helen?” Frederick pushed himself up from the floor, making certain he appeared weak and shaky, then trudged to her side. “My son may not have been granted even one breath, but my love for him was not diminished. I understand how painful it is to lose a child, and I do not want that for you. Though I believe the evidence in Marni’s murder points directly to Sebastian and Olivia . . .” His heart pounded, but he forced himself to continue. “There is no certainty. No one witnessed them putting the poisoned beverage in her mug, and the woman who saw the cup given to Marni, merely claimed the man wore a mask similar to Sebastian’s.” He had hated saying every word, but they served his greater purpose.

“Yes.” Helen sucked in labored breaths and rapidly wiped at her eyes. “Sebastian vows he was nowhere near Marni at the masquerade.”

“So . . .” Frederick pulled out a chair and sat, frowning. “His word alone defends him.”

“And that of Olivia, who stated she was with him all night.”

“Yes, but you are well aware how our people feel toward her.” Frederick folded his hands on the table and did all he could to remain calm. Hard to do, when he wanted to see Sebastian dead. “You must understand, I have not been in a proper frame of mind. I need to have someone to blame, yet I do not relish casting it on my cousin. I love him. If he stood before me now and swore he took no part, I would trust his word.”

Roland sat high in his chair. “You truly have changed. But your feelings do not dismiss these new findings. Once our people hear of the use of tannin root and where it was discovered, they will not easily be swayed by anything Sebastian might say. Not when they are still angry over his choice of a bride. And if I do not offer punishment for my son, they will lose all confidence in me.”

Helen nodded. “As much as I hate to accept it, I agree with Roland. Even now, our people are dissatisfied with him. What do you suggest we do, Frederick?”

He had to perfectly form his words, or his newfound plan could fall apart around him.

He stared at the table and not at them. “As you well know, I have no wife or heir. As I journeyed along the roads of Basilia, the people bowed to me and offered up condolences. You cannot imagine how much their devotion moved me.” Ever so slowly, he lifted his eyes and met Helen’s gaze. “It would seem our people have the fullest of confidence in . . . me.”

“I know where you are going with this,” Roland grumbled. “Do not use our misfortune for your own gain.”

“Hush, Roland,” Helen fussed. “Can you not see that Frederick may be our only means to redeem our family’s good name?” She shifted in her chair and faced Frederick directly. “But what of Sebastian? How do we keep them from demanding his punishment?”

Frederick made certain to keep his face free of expression. “Banish him forever.” Angeline was right. Saying it felt incredibly good. “The Crenians chose long ago to leave all other realms behind. Make them lock their gates once again and keep Sebastian within.”

“Is this not what you have wanted all along?” Roland sneered. “Sebastian gone, and my throne placed in your hands?”

“Stop this, Roland!” Helen whipped around and smacked his arm. “Frederick has given us hope. Only his plan will keep our son alive. I would rather know he is breathing and safe, than have him brought back to Basilia, only to lose his head. I could not bear it!”

Breathing heavily, she turned to Frederick and took his hand. “Your sweet wife loved you a great deal, and we owe it to her to do right by you. Our people would see your ascension as a positive step forward for Basilia. Perhaps this is exactly what we need in order to heal. Roland and I cannot go on like this. We have scarcely eaten a bite since we returned from Thanwine. Relinquishing our responsibility could allow us to enjoy what little time we have left on this earth.”

“Little time?” Roland huffed and shoved his plate across the table. “You speak as if we have a foot in the grave.”

She scarcely turned her head, but cut her eyes toward him. “I am concerned for you, my dear. In all your years on the throne, you have had few issues to resolve. Simple, petty land squabbles are nothing compared to what we now face. I am not suggesting we walk away completely, merely put Frederick on the throne as a figurehead. One whom the people respect.” She pursed her lips. “You can use your kingly wisdom to aid him and offer counsel.”

Roland turned in his chair and put his back to them, grumbling under his breath.

Frederick’s heart raced. He had his aunt under his control, which ultimately meant the kingdom would soon be his. “All I truly want is peace in our kingdom. And one day, I pray to find a rightful princess to be my queen. But I cannot think of that now. Not with my grief so fresh.”

Helen drew his hand to her bosom. “For now, you should not trouble yourself with anything but grieving. Roland and I will discuss all you have shared, and we will come to a decision. Meanwhile, go home and allow yourself tears.”

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it, then faced his uncle. “Uncle Roland, please trust that I am not trying to take your throne. I only want what is best for Basilia.”

The man grunted, but said nothing.

No matter.

Enough had been said.

Frederick stood, bowed, and headed for home.

As he crossed the courtyard and walked up the pathway to his castle’s entrance, he almost danced. How his aunt had managed to forgive him for what he had done to Estelle all those years ago was beyond him. It seemed she worried more about the good family name and keeping Sebastian’s head attached to his body.

Roland could prove to be a problem, but one Frederick would eventually overcome. His initial plot to have the man shamed had become unnecessary. A relief in itself, being Frederick could not find a single fault in his saintly uncle.

But even saints had human frailties. The cut on Roland’s cheek proved it. He could be pierced in many ways, and if he tried to interfere with Frederick’s reign, he would see just how much his uncle could bleed.

The instant Frederick opened the main door of his dwelling, Mirella appeared.

True to her form, she gasped upon seeing him.

He moved toward her. “Did you miss me?”

“Y-Yes, Highness.” She stared at the floor. “I am so sorry about the loss of Princess Marni. And the baby, too.”

“Your words are kind.” He caressed her cheek, then lifted her head, so she would look at him. “I am weary, and yet I have needs, other than sleep, far more pressing. With Marni gone, I have no one but you to tend me.” He cast his most convincing frown. “My heart is broken.”

Mirella tentatively touched his face. “My poor prince.”

He shut his eyes and nodded, then kissed her small hand. “Will you soothe me in my bedchamber?”

“Yes, Highness. I will do whatever you require.”

“Come to my room when the sun sets.”

She bowed her head. “Is there anything else you would like now?”

“Go to Ercilia and tell her I am hungry. I desire meat. A lot of it.”

“Yes, Highness.” She turned to leave, and he held back from patting her rump. It did not seem fitting in his time of grief.

She looked over her shoulder with the saddest eyes.

He intended to keep up the ruse, even in his own home, until all had been set in place. Once he sat on the high throne, however, everything would change.