Page 64 of Of Masks and Fury

“This sounds more like zealotry than politics,” he said.

“Zealotry can be bought just as easily as loyalty,” the king said.

“True.” Alfred nodded. “But it also suggests a specific ideology.”

The uncomfortable silence that followed spoke volumes. The king’s own public position on magic users and the executions Isi had been forced to oversee wasn’t far removed from the zealotry that may have driven Crestin’s blade.

The king stiffened, and he waved to his guards. “Remove the body. Secure the blade as evidence. I want it examined by the court healers.”

Guards moved to obey, lifting Crestin by his four limbs.

The king’s gaze returned to Isi. “Do not leave the castle grounds until we understand the scope of this conspiracy.”

“Of course, Father.”

The king turned to Lord Alfred. “I trust you’ll remain as well. For the princess’s protection.”

Lord Alfred bowed, satisfaction shining in his eyes. “I’m honored to serve, Your Majesty.”

The king led the procession back through the gardens, his advisors falling into step behind him. Isi walked next, flanked by guards who formed a protective box around her.

I took my position near her shoulder. Every step away from the blood-stained bridge felt like we were walking deeper into a trap.

A distant shout echoed from the gardens, raising the hair on my neck. The king flinched and spun around, while the guards tensed, their hands dropping to swords. But the sound wasn’t repeated, and we continued toward the castle.

Alfred eased back to walk beside Isi. “Your reaction was most impressive, Your Highness. Most women would’ve frozen.”

“I’m not most women.”

Alfred’s smile reached his eyes for the first time since I’d met him. “No. You certainly aren’t.”

Isi kept her expression neutral. “He taught me to survive. As you can see, his lessons took.”

“Indeed.” Alfred’s voice held curiosity. “Though I confess, I’m curious about the force required to shatter a man’s wrist so completely.”

My hand moved to my sword hilt, a subtle warning that anyone would read.

The intrigued gleam in the lord’s eyes deepened. “Easy, Blain. I meant it as a compliment.”

“Come with me, Amarissa,” King Cyril barked when we’d reached the back entrance.

She gave him a nod before her gaze met mine.

Inside his office, the king poured two glasses of wine.

“Sit.” He handed her one of the glasses. “Drink all of this.”

Her eyebrows lifted, but she did as he asked.

He watched, not sitting until she’d finished before settling himself and taking a sip of his own drink.

Isi placed the empty goblet on the desk and folded her hands in her lap.

“You’re truly uninjured?” The king studied Isi over the rim of his glass.

“He didn’t hurt me.”

He grunted, his gaze never leaving her face. “Tell me everything. From the beginning. Every word he spoke. Every movement.”