The Winter King (41 page)

Frost crackled across every surface of the room and prickled across her skin. Her chest felt tight. Each breath hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you even know what truth is? Or would it burn your tongue like fire to speak it? Do you dare deny your crime?”

“How can I deny anything when I don’t know what I’m accused of?” she cried. As stunned as she was, she was also starting to get angry. How could he have gone from sensual, seductive lover to raging Ice-Hearted bastard in a matter of seconds? What did he think she’d done? “What crime have I committed?”

“This!” He snatched up the frozen block of tea with his bloodied hand and crushed it with one flex of his fingers. “How long have you been drinking this? Since the day you learned that the mercy of the mountains wasn’t the death sentence you thought?”

“You’re angry because I’m drinking
tea
?” Had the man gone insane?

“Don’t play the innocent, Khamsin Coruscate. It doesn’t suit you. You know damn well I’m not talking about the tea, but about the poison you brewed with it! Or did you think perfuming your tea with jasmine would hide the odor of that herb from my nose?”

“Poison?” Khamsin gaped at him. “You think I’m trying to kill myself? Are you mad? I just spent the better part of three months trying to win over your people in order to
save
my life.”

“Stop!” Wynter shoved her hand away, then snatched up the teapot and flung it at the stone wall. The pot shattered in a million pieces, splattering steaming liquid and shards of broken porcelain in every direction. “Wyrn take you! Quit your lies! What sort of fool do you take me for? We both know you didn’t put enough of the herb in that tea to end your own life, only the life of any child in your womb!”

Alternating waves of heat and cold washed over Khamsin, and they had nothing to do with the powerful weather magic brewing in the room. Her stomach flipped, and for a moment she thought the tiny bit of breakfast she’d ingested would make an abrupt reappearance.

“Are you telling me there’s an herb in that tea to stop me from having a child?” It was her turn for her voice to go low and dangerous. Her fists clenched at her side. The bitter aftertaste of the tea she’d sipped filled her mouth anew. The frost Wynter had spread across the room began to melt as Khamsin’s own anger fueled her power and heat began radiating from her.

For the first time since the rage had come over him, she saw a break in the blizzard in Wynter’s eyes. A sliver of doubt crept in. “Are you telling me you didn’t know?” He remained stiff, suspicious, but no longer certain.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She knew her own eyes had turned to pure, shifting silver. Electricity crackled through her veins. Sparks popped at her fingertips. “What’s the name of the herb that’s been put in my tea?”

“Black tansy.”

“How do you know of it? Does it grow here?”

She could see that he’d begun to believe her. The blizzard in his eyes had slowed to small flurries swirling across the ice blue of his irises.

“Elka used it,” he admitted. “Our engagement was long. Neither of us wanted our first child to be born a bastard. And no, it doesn’t grow here. She imported it from an herb woman in Summerlea.”

It didn’t grow in Wintercraig, but it could be easily imported.

Or brought in a coach traveling from Vera Sola.

“Where is my maid, Bella?”

“You killed my child.”

Khamsin stood in the cold, drafty stone cell of Wintercraig’s dungeon and fought the urge to fry her former maid with a lightning bolt. She’d just come from a meeting with Galacia Frey, and the High Priestess confessed her belief that Khamsin’s hemorrhaging womb that first month had, in fact, been the result of a miscarriage. She’d kept her suspicions secret to spare both Krysti and the Konundal woman Wynter’s deadly wrath. Not even Lady Frey had suspected the miscarriage was deliberately induced.

Clapped in irons and chained to the floor of the cell, Belladonna Rosh met Khamsin’s accusation with a flat stare and obstinate silence.

After overhearing Wynter and Khamsin’s fight and realizing she’d been found out, Bella had tried to flee the castle. She’d nearly succeeded, despite the fact that Wynter had stormed out on the balcony overlooking the courtyard and shouted for the palace to be locked down. In a matter of minutes, the whole of Gildenheim transformed from royal palace into a fortress braced for a siege. The portcullises were slammed into place, the gates behind them closed and bolted with massive slabs of iron-reinforced timber. Wynter’s White Guard lined the barbican and tower walls three deep. Every courtier, servant, and civilian not armed for battle disappeared through the closest doorway, clearing the way for Wynter’s troops.

With an easy exit blocked, Bella had waited for the initial furor to die down, then attempted to smuggle herself out of Gildenheim in a farmer’s cart the following morning. She hadn’t counted on the guards searching every pack, wagon, cart, and person coming in or out of the palace. After a brief struggle and a final attempt to flee, she’d been clapped in irons and taken to the dungeon.

“That day in Konundal, when I hemorrhaged so badly I nearly died, it wasn’t just the Lady’s Blush or the kick to the belly that injured me,” Khamsin accused. “You’d dosed me with tansy. You suspected I was with child, and you killed it.”

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.

She turned to her husband. Her fingers clutched his soft leather vest. “I didn’t know, Wynter. I know it’s hard to believe I could have been so blind to what was going on beneath my own nose, but I swear to you I didn’t know. Not about the tea she was feeding me or about the messages she was sending. I didn’t know.” It wasn’t her life she was worried about losing. It was his trust. “I would never betray you that way.” She pulled back to look earnestly into his eyes. “Never.”

“
Hossa.
Hush. Do not upset yourself, wife. My men will get to the bottom of this, then you and I will decide Belladonna Rosh’s fate.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be part of that decision.” She crossed her arms over her belly. “At the moment, I don’t feel any mercy towards her at all.”

“Nor do I, Khamsin, but that won’t stop me from passing judgment.” Wynter glanced down at Khamsin, and there were snow flurries in his eyes again. “She should have considered that before harming my family.”

“Let me get this straight. Your wife, who has been taking tansy daily, said she had nothing to do with any of this, and you
believed
her?” Valik gaped at Wynter with utter incredulity.

“Yes, I believed her,” Wynter snapped. “And you can just stop right there. Don’t say another word.” Valik’s response had Wyn bracing for a fight, and he was already so angry that it would be a
very
bad idea. “Khamsin may be many things, but an accomplished liar she is not.”

“That remains to be seen,” Valik muttered. When the Ice rose in Wynter’s gaze, Valik wisely snapped his mouth closed and changed the subject. “And the maid?”

“Graal will find out what she’s been up to, and she will be dealt with accordingly.” Wynter clenched his fists. “She killed our child, Valik. Khamsin was pregnant that first month, and the maid killed it. That’s what really happened that day in Konundal.”

“According to whom? Your wife?”

“Laci admitted that she suspected Khamsin had suffered a miscarriage, but she kept silent to spare Krysti and the Konundal woman my wrath.”

The outrage and suspicion on Valik’s face faded. He straightened to his full height. “Wyn . . . I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“The maid was acting on Coruscate’s orders.” Wyn drew a deep breath, fighting the rage that threatened to turn his blood to solid ice. “He wasn’t content with Garrick’s death. He means to end my line—and end his daughter with it. He sent the maid to keep Khamsin barren because he thought facing the mercy of the mountains was an automatic death sentence.” That realization ate at him. He was the one who’d deliberately misled the Summerlea king about what would happen to his daughter. And Coruscate had latched onto that lie. If Wynter hadn’t threatened Coruscate with the death of his daughters, Khamsin would never have been poisoned, and their child would still be alive.

Wynter regarded his friend. There was no other in Gildenheim Wynter loved or trusted more. “Valik?”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t asked this before, but I’m going to ask it now. Try to get along with her. She may yet betray me for her brother’s sake, but she is still my queen and the only wife I’ll ever have.”

Valik’s jaw worked, but then he nodded. “I’ll do my best, Wyn.”

“Thank you.”

Three days later, Khamsin, Wynter, twelve White Guard, and the four judicars who had heard the testimony of Bella and the witnesses against her all made the long, cold trek up the slopes of Mount Gerd to the place of judgment. They passed the trail leading to the lower levels and instead took the steep, switchbacked path to the icy, windblown peak of the mountain. There, snow swirled in the harsh winds, ice that never melted clung to the black rock in great white sheets. The temperature was so cold, a person could die in minutes.