him still in the rug we rolled him in,” Genevieve adds. “Or at least what the fish have left behind.”
“Enough,” says the High Priestess. “He is only a boy. He does not need to be told so cruelly.”
“You have to let him go,” says Mirabella.
“The only thing I have to do is question you.” Katharine removes her leg from the arm of the throne and leans forward in it, resting on her elbows. She snaps her fingers to the guards at the rear. “Have the prisoners brought up.”
“What about Billy? You know he is my friend. You know I cannot support this.”
“You will support what your Queen Crowned supports,” Antonin Arron hisses, but Mirabella ignores him.
“Please, Katharine. Release him. Release him into my care, at least.”
“No. You are far too kind. Honestly, sister, I do not know why you are so upset. None of the poison is lethal, as I said. It will not even leave a scar!”
“Katharine, you must see,” Mirabella starts. But then she remembers that Katharine was raised a poisoner. Striped with painful poisons since she was a child, over and over, with poisons that did leave a mark. She glances about the room at the Arrons and Paola Vend, who watch Mirabella and cast judgment. They think her foolish. They think she is weak and overreacting. Perhaps she is, when they no doubt encouraged Katharine to order his death.
“For how long must he serve?” Mirabella says finally.
Katharine exhales. “Until he is contrite. And until we are satisfied. His father murdered Natalia and paid too light and swift a price. So we must exact our vengeance upon his son.”
“How is that fair?”
“How is it not?” Katharine gestures again to the guards, and they haul Billy up by his bound elbows until he shouts from the pain.
“Don’t expect anything different, Mira,” he says. “Not from this pack of murderers.”
“The son of a murderer criticizing us!” Lucian Arron scoffs, and spits upon the charred floor. Billy must be careful of what he says. Genevieve looks angry enough to cut his throat, right there, before everyone.
“Wait.” Rho steps forward from her place on the wall. She seems tired, with dark rings beneath her eyes, and the luster gone from her long, red hair. “Let the boy say to me what he would say.”
The guards loosen their grip and allow Billy to stand on his own.
“You do not care for me,” Rho says. “Nor I for you. Not even when we were in Rolanth, when you served as Mirabella’s taster and we were on the same side. But I was the last person to be with your father. So if you would know anything, you may ask.”
“And that is supposed to make it better? Make us even?”
“I do not seek to make us even. I do not know who my father was. So there is no ‘even.’”
Billy glares at her impassive face. Rho might as well be made of stone. Only someone who has known her as long as Mirabella has, or Luca has, could see the markers of weariness, and perhaps of compassion, on her features.
“What . . . ,” Billy starts, and swallows. “What happened?”
“I came upon him in one of the rooms in the East Tower. A room Natalia used as a study. She was on the ground, and he was choking her to death.”
Billy looks away, his expression disgusted. “Go on. Tell me everything.”
“When he stood up, I put my knife into his ribs. He had not seen me coming. But I was too late, and Natalia was already dead.”
“Did he . . . say anything?”
“He wheezed. A little blood came out. I cannot say whether he was trying to speak or to scream.”
“You,” Billy gasps. “You murdering—”
“He was a murderer,” Rho interrupts, and her voice booms through the throne room. “Afterward, I had him wrapped in a rug and thrown into the river. No one has found him or at least not that I have heard.”
“And that’s it.”
“Yes. That is all.”
Mirabella bows her head as Billy bares his teeth, as he strains against the guards. He has never been quick to anger. Seeing it transform him so is ugly to behold.
“I’m going to kill you when I get out of here,” he says.
“It is easy to make threats when you are in shackles and under the queen’s protection. I killed a murderer, and I do not regret it, though I do regret that you suffer. What you feel is up to you, but your father did