The caravan reached Canden House without discovering that Trevn had stayed behind. Rosârah Thallah ordered Hinck to sleep in Trevn’s chambers to continue the façade.
There Hinck received a summons to join Sâr Janek and his friends in the rosâr’s Throne Room and to dress his best.
Odd. Why would Janek revel in Rosâr Echad’s Throne Room?
Intrigued, Hinck changed into the ensemble he’d worn to Trevn’s ageday ball and set off.
The guards admitted him without question. A small group of people had already arrived, Rosâr Echad, Pontiff Rogedoth, and the prophet Yohthehreth among them. The king sat in his rollchair looking ill—worse than Hinck had ever seen him. Janek stood with his mother, Timmons, and several other attendants. Also present were Avron Jervaid, Oli, Fonu, several King’s Guards, and Sir Jayron standing with a chubby woman and a little girl, who was dressed better than Queen Laviel.
The prisoners he’d seen at Seacrest. Why were they here?
Oli crossed to Hinck. “Good evening,” he said in a low voice. “Welcome to the wedding.”
Hinck fought to contain his shock. “The what?”
“Janek is marrying the Rurekan princess. The marriage won’t be legal until it’s consummated when the princess turns fifteen,” Oli said, “but it will give Janek the advantage he needs.”
To be declared Heir. “So he invited guests?” Hinck asked.
“As witnesses,” Oli said. “Twenty-five witnesses must sign to make a wedding legal.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Stuff it away,” Oli said. “You never know when you might want to marry in a hurry.”
So Hinck stood beside Oli and witnessed Pontiff Rogedoth join Sâr Janek and Princess Vallah of Rurekau in marriage. The girl sobbed the whole time. To Hinck’s horror, only Sir Jayron’s knife at the girl’s throat could encourage her to speak her lines of agreement. It took three King’s Guards to hold back the nurse, who screamed constant curses upon them all.
She drew much attention, but sadly no one stepped in to help.
When the ceremony ended, a contract was signed, and Hinck wrote his name as one of the witnesses. Janek patted his bride on the head, wished her a good evening, and ordered her taken to her chambers. Then he left, dragging Oli and Fonu with him.
Hinck was not invited. Not that he cared.
He wished he could tell Trevn what had happened.
He couldn’t believe what had just happened.
His growling stomach led him to the kitchen. Hara was there, arguing with the Canden cook. In Everton, Hinck would have sat at one of the kitchen tables and flirted with the maids when they passed through, but the argument between Hara and the Canden cook seemed to have scared the maids away. Hinck grabbed a bowl of stew and some berry tarts and headed back to Trevn’s chambers.
Canden House was nowhere near as large as Castle Everton. Hinck reached Trevn’s chambers quickly. He pushed in the door and nearly ran into a man, soup sloshing onto his hand when he startled.
“Beal!” He quickly set the bowl on the floor, then wiped the stew off his hand onto his trousers. “Gods! Are you mad?”
Hinck looked up, glaring, and realized the man was not Beal. The stranger was dressed all in black, hooded, and was holding out his hand, something small and round in the center of his palm. Hinck stepped closer.
A stone marker with a red rune inked onto the surface.
Hinck’s stomach twisted. “What’s this? Who are you?”
The man placed the marker in Hinck’s hand. “You have been weighed and accepted,” he said, his voice unfamiliar. “Bring this token to the dungeon immediately after night bells tomorrow. Wear black. At the end of the cells you will find a door. Give this token to the doorman or you will not enter.”
“Enter what?” Hinck asked.
“Wear black,” the man said. “Tomorrow.” And he left.
Hinck stood staring out the open door, heart pounding. He glanced at the stone in his hand, then rushed forward and closed the door.
He had done it. Gotten his own runestone. Wait till he told Trevn! He was going to find out how all this was connected to the plot against Trevn and Wilek, and to Lady Lebetta’s murder.
A jolt of fear sizzled through him.
He picked up his stew and sat on Trevn’s bed, but he was no longer hungry. Tomorrow night he might come face-to-face with a murderer.