“Oh,” Scarlet mumbled, covering her mouth and shaking her head. “Oh, Hollis. He had a ring.” She looked at me, another piece of her picture coming into perfect clarity. “The man who grabbed me back at Abicrest. He had one of those rings, like your father had. The Coroan rings. I didn’t remember it until now. And, and! He let me go.” She gripped at her hair, looking ready to pull it out.

“So?”

“He thought I was you!” she said, finally bringing sense to the moment. “You were supposed to be the only one who made it out alive.”

So, this was Jameson’s plan. He found out about Silas and eliminated him—eliminated everyone—hoping my desperation would drive me back to the palace. Instead it drove me to Isolte.

“So, now you know,” Quinten said, looking so pleased with himself. He smirked, looking smug even in his downfall. “And, interestingly enough, if the Eastoffes were truly Coroan citizens, it would seem Jameson is just as guilty as I am. Do you intend to take his crown as well? Throw him in a dungeon?”

My blood was turning to ice, making my body go numb as it traveled. Jameson. All this time, it was him.

“Silence!” Etan ordered. “If King Jameson has crimes to atone for, we will address that in the future.” He looked to me, clearly pained to see what this did to me, to be so deceived by someone who claimed to love me. “Today we are here to discuss your crimes and your crown. You just freely admitted to killing Her Majesty’s family and several other courtiers by name. You will kneel and relinquish your crown. Now!”

Some restless soul called out, “Off with his head!” and a second later, most of the crowd had joined in.

Quinten looked sideways at Etan, reaching up to remove the coronet. He handed it over to Uncle Reid wordlessly, standing there and awaiting his fate.

The people were thirsty for blood, and I couldn’t blame them. Quinten had listed their friends and neighbors by name, admitted there was much more. But I wondered what would become of so much violence.

The fear in Etan’s eyes had returned. What was he to do now? The crown was hanging between his head and Quinten’s, and his new people were making demands. I watched as he drew Jedreck’s sword from its sheath, holding it in his hand with perfect control. I waited for him to come down from his perch, to kill Quinten in one clean stroke. I had no doubt he could do it.

Instead, he turned and faced the massive army, holding the sword in the air, demanding silence.

“By law, this man must have a trial. None of us here are fit to stand jury, so we will assemble one from nobles in neighboring countries to offer the fairest treatment we can. Furthermore, he has given the command in many of these murders, but they were done at the hands of the group you and I know as the Darkest Knights. We need names, and only he can provide them. We will not act in anger now; not when we know we can do better. When people speak of this moment, they will speak of how we acted justly, and nothing more.” He turned to a handful of guards. “Escort him to the dungeon; we’ll deal with him in due course.”