Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf 1)

“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “My wife is dead. The city is falling apart around us. I have a child I can barely feed, or dress, or put to sleep . . . My sister has two babies of her own. She’ll know what to do.”

“What about Zan?”

“What about Zan?” Nathaniel barked. He took a deep breath. “Zan tried to help us; it’s true. But it doesn’t change the fact that if it wasn’t for him, my wife would still be here.”

I balked. “Kate isn’t here because of the man who’s about to go to trial!”

“Stay away from Zan, Emilie. Trust me on this. He can’t be with you. And if he was remotely worthy of you, he would have told you that himself.” He wrapped Ella in one of Kate’s handmade blankets and laid her on the bed while he closed the pack and slung it over his back.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You will soon enough.” Nathaniel hoisted Ella, who seemed like a tiny doll in his brawny brown arms.

“If you want someone to blame, blame me!” I cried. “I’m the one who couldn’t stop the seals from being undone. I’m the one who didn’t stop Kate from going to see Dedrick, and I’m the one who couldn’t save her afterward.”

He was already headed out the door. Without looking back, he said, “I have a boat to catch.”

* * *

The avenues were cluttered with broken timbers and crumbled stone, while distraught and confused people were picking through the debris in the morning light, trying to assess the damage. In the distance, the women of the Forest Gate statue were broken and blackened, large chunks of marble blocking the exit.

And all the while the king’s guards were erecting the Petitioner’s Day platform on the castle stairs. Though it wasn’t Petitioner’s Day, Dedrick Corvalis, it seemed, was too important to languish in the dungeon for another month. Just as he’d said, the king intended to try him immediately. If news of his arrest hadn’t spread so quickly, I wondered if he would have faced a trial at all.

I found Zan in the crowd that was gathering to watch. “Where’s Nathaniel?” he asked.

I shook my head. “He wouldn’t come. He’s taking Ella to his sister’s house.” I cleared my throat. “He blames you for what happened to Kate, but he’s wrong.”

Grimly, he said, “He’s not wrong.”

“He also told me to stay away from you. Is he right about that, too?”

Zan jerked his head away to avoid my eyes. “You should.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

He said coolly, “Not if I can help it.” With a jolt, I remembered our near kiss before the earth started shaking. Could that have been only a few hours ago? I was formulating a reply when he said, “Look, the doors are opening.”

We pushed into the throng, trying to get as close to the front as possible. I caught an elbow in my ribs and felt hard boot heels come down on my toes; showers of spittle rained down on me from the mouths of angry men, who were shouting profanity at Dedrick. He was now gagged but smiling at his audience from the top platform step. Behind him, guards were hastily arranging a chair to accommodate the king’s hefty rump.

“I’ve read the charges against this man, as outlined in his arresting documents,” the king said. “Who will speak against him? Who?”

We were almost to the front; I could see the whites of Dedrick’s eyes.

“I will!” came a small but determined voice.

“Then speak,” the king directed.

It was Beth, the girl from the flower stall. She ascended the stairs with the skittishness of a mouse, casting quick glances between the glowering king and the grinning accused—?but was doing her best to keep her back straight and her voice steady. “My name is Beth Taylor, sir. Molly Cartwright, the girl what got killed at your ball, was my friend. She was sweet, and a little bit naïve. She had lots of men at her candy cart, but there was only one she took a real likin’ to.” She fiddled with her skirt. “She was in love—?she talked about it all the time. Someone important had an understanding with her. That he loved her and wanted to marry her. She never said his name, but I knew. I wanted to tell someone, but I didn’t dare. Corvalis is the lord what owns the stall I rent to sell m’flowers. I was afraid that if I spoke against him, I’d lose my only way of makin’ money that wasn’t stealin’ or whorin.’ Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” she said as she curtsied shyly at the king, “for the coarse language.”

“Do you have any evidence of this assertion?” the king asked equably.

“Nothing beyond me own guesses.”

“Guesses are not enough to convict a man. You are dismissed.” He waved his hand at the girl as the crowd booed.

Zan emitted a low noise that might have been a growl. His body, close to mine, was taut with tension.

The king said, “Is there anyone else who can provide testimony of Baron Corvalis’s supposed crimes?”