“She told me you were gone,” she wept, looking at me. “She said your transport was attacked. She said there was nothing left.”

“I’m right here,” I said, taking her cold hands in mine. “I never stopped thinking about you. But she told me you died in the fire at the old house.”

“The fire was real,” my mother whispered. “But I wasn’t in it. Rachel took me away the night before.”

Alexander approached slowly, his boots clicking softly on the hearthstone.

“Why would she do this?” he asked, looking at the guards, then back at us. “Why keep her hidden in the service wing of my family’s palace?”

“Because of Father,” I said.

I turned my head to look up at my mother.

“Mom, you said Father’s death wasn’t an accident. What did you mean?”

My mother looked at Alexander, then at the armed guards by the door.

“It is safe,” I assured her. “The King has halted the ceremony. They are looking for the truth.”

She swallowed hard, her throat moving with difficulty under her pale skin.

“Your father found out what Rachel was doing,” she said.