Chapters (76)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- PART III
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- INTERLUDE
- PART IV
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- INTERLUDE
- PART V
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART VI
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- INTERLUDE
- PART VII
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- PART VIII
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
“Prince John gave me his word,” the earl grumbled from the window, “that he would name my son as Sheriff. He signed the edict. I wish to God he’d simply sent it rather than wait for the funeral to announce it, but it’s no matter.” Arable had that edict, tucked beneath her straw mattress, the letter that could undo William’s claim. But it did not have the young Waleran’s name on it …
“Our son shall be Sheriff, regardless of where in the hell he stands during the funeral.”
“A promise Prince John made when de Lacy was still alive,” Margery bristled, “but much has changed. Have you met with him yet?”
The earl snorted. “I tried. He’s a very busy man.”
Arable’s silence wasn’t helping anything.
“The prince sent the edict,” she blurted out, before she could think through the ramifications. “It arrived a month ago, the day that de Lacy was killed.”
“What?” Margery startled, as if Arable had suddenly appeared out of a puff of smoke.
“He sent it?” The earl descended on her. “But if my son was appointed as Sheriff, what in the hell is Wendenal doing here?”
“The prince didn’t appoint your son,” Arable said. “I saw it with my own eyes.”
“That letter was from the prince?” Margery’s face was ever sharper. “Not from the Chancellor? Roger told me…” Her eyes closed, an unfamiliar wash of defeat sank into her face. “He told me nothing, he let me assume what I wanted. Damn him and his pride.”
“This makes no sense.” The earl started twirling his fingers again, closing the shutters as if there were spies listening in.
“You idiot,” Margery turned on her husband, her wrists clattering with jewelry as she waved her finger in the air, mocking him. “Prince John had no intention of appointing our son. He sent a letter, and Wendenal was appointed as Sheriff. It’s no more complicated than that. William de Wendenal has been the prince’s man all along.”
The earl sat down. “My God.”
“You and your damned conspiracies,” Margery seethed. “They blind you to the simple truth! Wendenal is marrying the prince’s cousin, for pity’s sake, and you think they’re not in bed together? You think they didn’t plan all of this?”
“Do you suppose, then,” the young Waleran looked gravely to both his parents for an answer, “that Prince John was behind the assassination as well?”
It lit a chilling possibility in Arable’s mind. Might the prince have orchestrated de Lacy’s death, appointing Gisbourne to replace him? Her mind raced to shuffle through the logic of it. She fought to keep the panic away. Prince John was only a single story beneath them.
The earl spoke through his teeth. “You’re right, son. There is too much coincidence to pretend otherwise. De Lacy’s death must have been Prince John’s doing.”