His father, an older, graying man who otherwise shared his son’s dark hair and eyes, watched them all from the doorway of the drawing room, tears of his own shining in his eyes. He came toward them and firmly put his hand on his son’s shoulder, smiling softly. “I’m proud of you, son.”
Ryland choked up, nodding back at his father. He didn’t have any words. His father, Lord Maddox Lyke, was highly respected in Algar, and his approval meant a lot to Ryland. As the closest relatives to the royal family, and therefore the next in line for the throne, the Lyke family had a lot of eyes on them. Maddox had taken that pressure and done something incredible with it. He knew everything going on in the kingdom at any given time, he gave amazing advice, and he was always fair. During the king’s recent illness, Maddox had been his right-hand man. If the people didn’t like the royal family so much, there might have already been a coup to place Maddox on the throne.
Of course, the Lyke family didn’t want the throne. They basked in the wealth and enjoyment of having such a high position in society, and they took their connection to the throne very seriously, but they didn’t want to rule Algar. Ryland had been sent to school, just like Maddox before him, in case he ever did need to take over, but no one really believed it would become a reality. The royals of Algar had always done a good job ruling, and Ryland didn’t see that changing any time soon. Prince Caspian, who would rule next, seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, although Ryland didn’t know much about the boy, having only met him a few times. They might be peers, but the prince was significantly younger than Ryland and rather sheltered in the royal palace, as that was where his daily training took place.
“Have you heard about the king?” Ryland’s father asked, pulling him out of his reverie.
Ryland blinked at the abrupt subject change. “Of course I have.” He glanced around the room to find everyone looking at him. His mother’s green eyes seemed worried, and Ryland smiled reassuringly at her. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. And even if he isn’t, Caspian will rule excellently.”
“He’s only seventeen,” Fayre said quietly, her brows furrowed. Her light green eyes shone with worry, just like his mother’s.
“Algris men have taken on the throne at much younger ages,” Maddox reminded them. “Prince Caspian has been training for this his entire life. He is ready.”
“Let’s stop talking about politics,” Ryland’s mother scolded. “It’s time to eat!”
Maddox placed his arm around his wife. “Yes, indeed. Your mother really outdid herself this time.”
Fayre pursed her lips. “Are you still not letting the cook do her job, Lily?”
Ryland’s mother laughed. “As long as I have two hands, I’ll be making the meals for this family, thank you very much.”
Ryland licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. “Mother, your cooking is by far the best I’ve ever had, and I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
Lily linked her arm through Fayre’s. “Now, darling, tell me all about how he proposed. I’m almost worried I didn’t teach him a thing!”
Ryland and his father exchanged a glance, and Maddox rolled his eyes. “Women,” he scoffed. “Always gossiping.”
“Father, you’re the biggest gossip I know,” Ryland teased back.
Maddox raised an eyebrow. “I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.”
Ryland smiled at him but didn’t comment. He followed his family into the dining room, surveying the area with an air of contentedness. Nothing had changed while he was gone. And, with a few exceptions, hopefully nothing would change, not for a while yet.
Nothing can stay the same forever. Dread crawled down his spine at the sudden thought, and he shivered.
Shaking off the ominous thought, attributing it to nerves, he sat, his stomach rumbling. There was no reason to fear the future.
After dinner, Ryland stood in the front hall with his family, his stomach pleased at eating his mother’s cooking for the first time in three years. He laughed and kissed Fayre on the cheek for what felt like the thousandth time. He was so happy. His family was together again, the future was bright and straightforward, and soon he and Fayre would be married and begin their own family.
He was about to kiss Fayre again when shouting interrupted them. “Mr. Lyke, Mrs. Lyke!” The voice was muffled by the front door, and whoever it belonged to began to pound on it.
Ryland’s mother and father were rushing toward the front door when it burst open and a young man wearing the uniform of a page for the royal court fell into the room.
“Lyke household, the king is dead!” he cried, steadying himself.
Everyone and everything froze. Ryland could have sworn that even nature was surprised at the news and paused along with them.
Then chaos erupted. The family rushed out the door to see servants running around, having heard the commotion, readying a carriage and horses.
“Go with my parents, Fay.” Ryland pushed Fayre toward the carriage. She looked ready to object but thought better of it and nodded.
Ryland retrieved his horse from his page, who was hastily checking the saddle. Ryland nodded at the servant and mounted quickly. Once seated, he urged the horse forward, thundering toward the palace, its towers a dark shadow against the setting sun. His family lived close to the palace so they could respond quickly should a catastrophe strike, though they had never been needed.
Until now.
His horse was ahead of his parents’ carriage in no time, and he soon reached the palace gates. There, Ryland jumped off his horse, waving at a nearby page to take him. He rushed through the open doors, down the halls, and sprinted up the stairs to the king’s bedchamber.
He paused before the door and straightened his clothes, taking a deep breath before opening it softly and slowly, hoping not to disturb those inside. The first thing he saw was the king, his face so white it was almost transparent, his veins a disgusting purple color. He was still and stiff. Palace doctors examined the body, probably trying to figure out the cause of death. Ryland’s gaze swept toward a distressed maid, and she glanced at him, her eyes wide. He nodded at her, hoping it would help her calm down.
Finally, his eyes rested on the most distressing thing in the room, a figure his mind hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before. The prince was kneeling at his father’s bedside, one of his hands clutching a bedpost above his head, the other lying in his lap. His back was curved as if trying to contain the pain inside. His sandy blond hair was a disaster, and his red cheeks were streaked with tears. His sobs filled the room, the only sound besides the rustling of cloaks.
Ryland’s heart went out to Caspian. The boy had already lost his mother, and now he had lost his father too. He was an orphan. Ryland wanted to reach out to comfort him, but he had no idea what it was like to lose someone he loved, and he hoped he never would.
One of the doctors, a friend of his father’s, spotted Ryland and made his way toward him, glancing over at the grieving prince. He stopped next to Ryland and leaned over to whisper in his ear. Ryland could barely hear the man, so loud were Caspian’s sobs.
“Thank you for coming, Lord Ryland.”
Ryland nodded. “Do you have any idea how he died?” He gestured to the king. The king’s eyes were still open, and his face was frozen in terror. Even a glance in that direction made Ryland’s stomach churn unpleasantly.
“Well, the expression of fear on his face suggests someone murdered him, and he saw who it was before he died. His veins are purple, which matches no illness we know of. This points to murder, but there are no marks on the body, so we suspect poison. We believe he died almost instantaneously, and that the poison was administered within the past half hour.” The doctor took a deep breath. “We know that because he was still warm when we were called here.” The man swallowed, regret filling his expression.
Ryland moved closer to the bed, taking in all that the doctor had already described. It was a deadly poison if it could do this much damage in such a short amount
of time. But who had administered it to the king?
“Who found him?” he asked.
“Well . . .” The doctor’s voice trailed off, and he glanced at the prince.
Ryland’s heart almost stopped. Caspian had found the king? The poor boy. Then he stopped to think about it. It was possible the prince had murdered King Richard. He would have the motivation, for his father’s death would make him king. Was all this sobbing just for show?
Ryland watched the boy’s face for a moment. The anguish he saw there seemed real enough. But then again, some people were good actors. He didn’t know the prince well enough to tell. Though he didn’t want to consider the possibility, he knew he needed to.
“This maid is the one who called us after the prince called her.”
Ryland glanced again at the maid as the doctor gestured to her. Ryland nodded his thanks to the doctor and walked over to the woman, pulling out his handkerchief as he went. He stopped next to the servant and handed it to her without a word.
She stared at him for a moment before hesitantly taking the handkerchief from him. It was likely she knew who he was. His family, being the next in line to the throne, was one of the most influential families in the kingdom, and now it fell on Ryland and his father to make sure the prince was taken care of and the murderer was found and put to justice. Of course, they would need all the help they could get.
“I didn’t kill him, sir, I promise,” the maid whimpered quietly.
Ryland glanced at her and smiled, trying to put her at ease. “I didn’t say you did. What happened?” He turned his body toward her, making sure he could see her face. He hoped he would be able to tell if she was lying.
The maid used his handkerchief to wipe away her tears, then looked him straight in the eye. “I had just given the prince a tray to give his father, a treat for him. He didn’t normally get them, especially since he was so sick.” She glanced over at the dead king and the sobbing prince, distress filling her face.
Ryland’s gut twisted, and he wanted to spare her from more pain, but he had to know what had happened. “And then what?”
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “He had just walked in with the tray. I heard him start talking to his father. Then there was a crash, and the prince started yelling for help.” She nodded to the pile of broken dishes and a dented tray in the corner on the floor that Ryland hadn’t noticed before. She must have cleaned up as much as she could with her shaking hands.
The maid continued, “I came in, and he was kneeling next to his father, patting his hand, begging for him to wake up. I was shocked, of course, so I just stood there for a moment. Then I ran to get the doctors, and when we came back, Prince Caspian was sitting there crying like that.” She glanced at the prince with a hint of despair.
Ryland nodded. It was obvious why she was upset. The castle staff and the royals had a close relationship, so the maid was probably a personal friend of both the prince and the king.
“Do you think he had the opportunity to kill the king in the time he went in there and the time you came in?” Ryland had to ask.
The maid’s eyes widened, but then she seemed to understand that Ryland was doing his job and recovered quickly. “He dropped the tray right there.” She pointed somewhere between the bed and the door. “By the time I came in, he barely had enough time to get to the bed. I would say there is no possibility he could have done it. Someone else must have been in the room.”
“And the king was most definitely dead when you first walked into the room?”
She nodded. “He looked exactly like that.” She gestured in the king’s direction.
Ryland nodded and walked away from the maid, letting her keep his handkerchief. He slipped out of the room, into the quiet hallway, where he could think.
Leaning against the door, he immersed himself in his thoughts. Who could the killer be? According to the maid, it couldn’t have been the prince, though she could be lying or have a false impression of the time that had passed. If only there was more than one witness.
He rubbed his hand across his face, wishing this hadn’t happened. And why did it have to occur on one of the happiest days of his life?
He heard footsteps coming down the hall and straightened, looking to see who approached. His father and mother came around the corner, hand in hand. Then Fayre rounded the corner behind them, and Ryland smiled slightly, relieved to see her.
Fayre came to Ryland, and he held her close while he related to his father all that had transpired.
“Hmmmm,” Ryland’s father muttered. “Normally, I would be the one to deal with this—”
Ryland shook his head emphatically. “No, Father, I will do this. You’ve been King Richard’s right-hand man for years, and you have other duties to tend to. Now it’s my turn to do that for Caspian.” He took a deep breath. “This is what I’ve been training for.” Even though I hardly know him.
His father smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re becoming a man, my boy.”
Ryland smiled back, grateful for the compliment.
“Who do you think did it?” Maddox asked.
Ryland shook his head. “The only suspect we have is the prince, but I have a hard time believing he killed his own father.”
“Don’t forget the maid. She could very well be lying.” Maddox pursed his lips.
Ryland nodded slowly. “I have to talk to the prince.” He paused. “But if the prince or the maid didn’t do it, and if what the maid described really did happen, how did the killer get in and out of the room without either of them seeing him?”
Chapter Three
Three days after King Richard’s death, Ryland headed toward the meeting room inside the castle where he’d chosen to meet with Prince Caspian. The room was not the castle’s real meeting room; it was simply an extra room where he had commanded a servant to set up two chairs and a table. He decided to meet there instead of the official meeting room because the late king had spent many hours in that room, and he knew Caspian would not appreciate the reminder of his father.
Ryland had been at the prince’s side almost non-stop since his father’s murder, and he watched as Caspian repeatedly broke down at any mention of the king. No one could talk about the king around him, and the prince couldn’t stand being in rooms his father had frequented. Most of the time, he started sobbing for hours on end, and no one could shake him out of it. Other times, the prince seemed to freeze and draw inward, acting completely unaware of the world around him.
Once, he had started yelling at Ryland, who had only asked where Caspian wanted his father to be buried. After dodging the well-aimed vase Caspian threw at his head, Ryland had wanted to hit the boy, but he refrained. Thankfully, the prince seemed to come to his senses after throwing the vase as he apologized profusely and cried even more. He told Ryland where and when his father should be buried, and Ryland had hoped that would be the end of it. But the prince still had frequent mental breakdowns. Thus, Ryland thought it best to meet with the prince somewhere other than in King Richard’s most oft-used meeting room.
The scariest meltdown was the night before when Caspian started laughing at the mention of his father’s death. It had started as a giggle, but it slowly turned into a full-on fit, sending the prince crashing to the floor in the middle of a conversation. Ryland had been extremely alarmed to see Caspian convulsing on the ground as if he were diseased. That episode was followed by more crying—a lot of it.
The prince was cracking under the strain. They were all stressed, but Caspian was bordering on insanity, if he wasn’t insane already. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him, but they did prescribe medicine to help him sleep.
Ryland was not looking forward to questioning the prince about what happened the night his father died, but the truth needed to be revealed sooner rather than later. The people were starting to become afraid about how someone had managed to break in and murder the most important man in the kingdom and get away w
ith it. They needed to catch the murderer before things grew worse.
Ryland reached the door to the appointed meeting room and hesitated, taking a deep breath. It was very probable that nothing could prepare him for what would happen today. He opened the door and saw—nothing. The chairs and table were there, as promised, but there was no Prince Caspian.
Ryland rolled his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. The prince was late. He leaned out of the room, calling to a nearby servant to find Caspian before closing the door and taking a seat on the chair facing the entrance. He sat and waited, his back stiff. He was fed up with dealing with a bratty prince, who, apparently, forgot about very important meetings.
Ryland waited for hours, barely moving. No one came in, and he didn’t go out. It was almost sundown by the time the door opened, and two servants came in, dragging a blurry-eyed Caspian through the door.
“What are you doing? Release me at once!” One of Caspian’s feet lashed out and hit the table, toppling it. Caspian winced and covered his ears as it crashed onto the floor.
Ryland watched it fall with an impassive expression. He hadn’t moved the entire time. Going to school in Eastern Algar had taught him to remain calm even through difficult circumstances. Perhaps the training the prince had received in the castle hadn’t been enough, and Caspian needed to go to East Algar for schooling as well.
The servants finally managed to get the prince into the other chair, and one put his arm across the boy’s chest, looking at the prince with a severe expression.
“You are going to answer Lord Ryland’s questions,” Prince Caspian’s valet told him. The prince stared up at him with a blank expression, but the servant maintained eye contact until Caspian nodded his consent. The servants bowed toward Ryland and exited the room, leaving the two men alone.
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