The Winter King
Page 128
Belladonna turned her head to one side and remained mute.
Wynter, standing behind Khamsin, grabbed Bella’s jaw and yanked her back around to face them. “Answer your queen.”
Bella looked up then, and her black eyes spat defiance and a depth of hatred Khamsin had never suspected.
“She’s your queen, not mine. And you are the soulless bastard that killed my entire family.” Bella jerked free of Wynter’s grip and glared at Khamsin. “Yes, I suspected you were with child. So I made sure you wouldn’t stay that way, and I’ve made sure you wouldn’t conceive ever since. I would do it all again—gladly!—to keep his child from ever taking its first breath!”
Khamsin flinched. The confirmation of what had only been a terrible suspicion struck hard. Heat billowed inside her, making her skin feel tight. This woman—this girl she’d trusted—had set out to murder any child that might have taken root in Khamsin’s womb.
Wynter gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Coolness radiated from his fingertips, drawing the worst of the heat from her rage. She reached up to clasp his hand, curling her fingers around his. More of the anger bled away, as if his touch calmed the perennial storm that lived inside her.
Anyone else would have had to weather her violent emotions until they passed. But Wynter drew the tempest from her heart and banished it with a simple touch.
Kham took a calming breath and blew it out slowly. The murderous rage had passed. The anger was still there, still burning, but it no longer threatened to consume her.
“Verdan, the former king of Summerlea, asked you to do this.” She made it a statement. There was no doubt in her mind who had placed Belladonna Rosh in Khamsin’s employ.
“He didn’t need to ask me,” Bella sneered. “I volunteered.”
Kham squeezed Wynter’s hand again and let that pass. “When we first came here . . . in the carriage when I was so sick . . . you were poisoning me even then, weren’t you? You put something in the cream Tildy gave you to treat my back. That’s why I didn’t get better until you were gone.”
The maid’s lip curled. “What makes you think she didn’t poison it herself?”
“She wouldn’t. She would never do anything to hurt me.”
“Wouldn’t she?” Belladonna laughed. “But then, you thought the same thing about me, didn’t you?”
Khamsin took an involuntary step back and bumped up against Wynter. Tildy couldn’t have been involved. Could she? She cast a troubled glance up at her husband.
His eyes were cold and hard, and fixed on Belladonna. “How were you communicating with Coruscate?” Wynter asked. “We know falcons were carrying messages into Gildenheim. How were you getting information back out? What information did you provide?”
Black eyes flashed briefly in their direction, then turned resolutely away again.
Khamsin regarded Wynter in surprise. He’d known Verdan was sending messages via bird to someone in Gildenheim? He’d never let on that anything of the sort was happening.
Her brows knit, and she turned to stare blindly at Belladonna and the icy dampness of the dungeon wall.
He’d suspected she was the spy, of course, not Bella.
The messages were coming in by falcon. He knew Kham’s brother had a gift with birds—similar to his own clan-gift with Wintercraig’s wolves—and he knew how much she loved her brother. She’d never made any attempt to hide it. Of course, he would have thought she was spying on behalf of Falcon.
That explained so much. Valik’s scarcely veiled dislike that never softened. The guards who accompanied her whenever she stepped so much as a toe beyond the castle walls. Why she kept running into the same servants over and over when she wandered in certain parts of the castle. Even the way Wynter had kept his distance during the day, coming to her only at night and leaving before she woke.
They’d treated her like a traitor in their midst because of Bella. And now Bella’s betrayal might destroy the strides Khamsin had made to gain the trust of her husband and his people. The place she’d begun to make for herself here could be utterly ruined. Who would believe she’d been so blind to her maid’s misdeeds?
“Is the king right?” she snapped. “Have you been feeding information to Wintercraig’s enemies?” A memory rose . . . the day she and Krysti had picked the lock on Wynter’s aerie. “I saw you in the garden with a falcon. What message were you sending?”
Bella arched one brow and lifted her upper lip in a sneer.
“Answer me!” Khamsin’s hand shot out. Her palm cracked against Belladonna’s cheek. Sparks flashed like tiny fireflies in the shadowy dungeon. “Tell me what you’ve done!”
“Stop, min ros.” Wynter pulled her back against his chest and wrapped an arm around her waist. “She can cause no more harm, and she will tell us everything before she faces the mercy of the mountains. But you need not upset yourself with her betrayals. Come away with me.” He guided her towards the cell door. As they passed through, he told the waiting guard, “Find out everything. What her orders were, who they came from. What she sent and to whom she sent it.”
The guard snapped a crisp bow. “Yes, my king.”
“Send word when you’re done.”
“Yes, my king.”
Wynter led Khamsin out of the dungeon and into the sunny courtyard above. The fresh, cold air blew through her hair, sending her curls flying.
Wynter, standing behind Khamsin, grabbed Bella’s jaw and yanked her back around to face them. “Answer your queen.”
Bella looked up then, and her black eyes spat defiance and a depth of hatred Khamsin had never suspected.
“She’s your queen, not mine. And you are the soulless bastard that killed my entire family.” Bella jerked free of Wynter’s grip and glared at Khamsin. “Yes, I suspected you were with child. So I made sure you wouldn’t stay that way, and I’ve made sure you wouldn’t conceive ever since. I would do it all again—gladly!—to keep his child from ever taking its first breath!”
Khamsin flinched. The confirmation of what had only been a terrible suspicion struck hard. Heat billowed inside her, making her skin feel tight. This woman—this girl she’d trusted—had set out to murder any child that might have taken root in Khamsin’s womb.
Wynter gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Coolness radiated from his fingertips, drawing the worst of the heat from her rage. She reached up to clasp his hand, curling her fingers around his. More of the anger bled away, as if his touch calmed the perennial storm that lived inside her.
Anyone else would have had to weather her violent emotions until they passed. But Wynter drew the tempest from her heart and banished it with a simple touch.
Kham took a calming breath and blew it out slowly. The murderous rage had passed. The anger was still there, still burning, but it no longer threatened to consume her.
“Verdan, the former king of Summerlea, asked you to do this.” She made it a statement. There was no doubt in her mind who had placed Belladonna Rosh in Khamsin’s employ.
“He didn’t need to ask me,” Bella sneered. “I volunteered.”
Kham squeezed Wynter’s hand again and let that pass. “When we first came here . . . in the carriage when I was so sick . . . you were poisoning me even then, weren’t you? You put something in the cream Tildy gave you to treat my back. That’s why I didn’t get better until you were gone.”
The maid’s lip curled. “What makes you think she didn’t poison it herself?”
“She wouldn’t. She would never do anything to hurt me.”
“Wouldn’t she?” Belladonna laughed. “But then, you thought the same thing about me, didn’t you?”
Khamsin took an involuntary step back and bumped up against Wynter. Tildy couldn’t have been involved. Could she? She cast a troubled glance up at her husband.
His eyes were cold and hard, and fixed on Belladonna. “How were you communicating with Coruscate?” Wynter asked. “We know falcons were carrying messages into Gildenheim. How were you getting information back out? What information did you provide?”
Black eyes flashed briefly in their direction, then turned resolutely away again.
Khamsin regarded Wynter in surprise. He’d known Verdan was sending messages via bird to someone in Gildenheim? He’d never let on that anything of the sort was happening.
Her brows knit, and she turned to stare blindly at Belladonna and the icy dampness of the dungeon wall.
He’d suspected she was the spy, of course, not Bella.
The messages were coming in by falcon. He knew Kham’s brother had a gift with birds—similar to his own clan-gift with Wintercraig’s wolves—and he knew how much she loved her brother. She’d never made any attempt to hide it. Of course, he would have thought she was spying on behalf of Falcon.
That explained so much. Valik’s scarcely veiled dislike that never softened. The guards who accompanied her whenever she stepped so much as a toe beyond the castle walls. Why she kept running into the same servants over and over when she wandered in certain parts of the castle. Even the way Wynter had kept his distance during the day, coming to her only at night and leaving before she woke.
They’d treated her like a traitor in their midst because of Bella. And now Bella’s betrayal might destroy the strides Khamsin had made to gain the trust of her husband and his people. The place she’d begun to make for herself here could be utterly ruined. Who would believe she’d been so blind to her maid’s misdeeds?
“Is the king right?” she snapped. “Have you been feeding information to Wintercraig’s enemies?” A memory rose . . . the day she and Krysti had picked the lock on Wynter’s aerie. “I saw you in the garden with a falcon. What message were you sending?”
Bella arched one brow and lifted her upper lip in a sneer.
“Answer me!” Khamsin’s hand shot out. Her palm cracked against Belladonna’s cheek. Sparks flashed like tiny fireflies in the shadowy dungeon. “Tell me what you’ve done!”
“Stop, min ros.” Wynter pulled her back against his chest and wrapped an arm around her waist. “She can cause no more harm, and she will tell us everything before she faces the mercy of the mountains. But you need not upset yourself with her betrayals. Come away with me.” He guided her towards the cell door. As they passed through, he told the waiting guard, “Find out everything. What her orders were, who they came from. What she sent and to whom she sent it.”
The guard snapped a crisp bow. “Yes, my king.”
“Send word when you’re done.”
“Yes, my king.”
Wynter led Khamsin out of the dungeon and into the sunny courtyard above. The fresh, cold air blew through her hair, sending her curls flying.
