Page 82 of In Rising Tides

No one looked in his direction.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” the High King asked, leaning forward to better survey his son.

How dare he sit there, wreathed in melancholy, when Lyra was being held against her will.

The shackles around Wilder’s wrists clattered as he adjusted his knees against the unyielding marble.

“I should have struck you down,” Wilder ground out.

Gasps swelled through the room, but a small chuckle rose above them.

“Warick,” the High King grumbled. “You find this funny?”

Warick pushed through the nobles closest to the window. The drugs were still taking their toll on Wilder. He couldn’t focus clearly on his uncle’s face. His silhouette quivered like a mirage in the dwindling light.

“Of course,” Warick replied. “He just clearly stated the reason why we’re all here.”

King Oberon reclined in his velvet chair. “There were multiple witnesses who saw him pull his sword.”

Warick’s brow arched as he clasped his hands behind him. The movement had the velvet jacket he wore stretching wide to reveal the cream silk shirt he wore underneath.

“The Prince did nothing wrong, and where are your witnesses?”

The High King waved a hand lazily, gesturing to the gathered nobility.

“They all bore witness and will testify to such.”

The pounding in Wilder’s head was turning into a deafening roar as the sedative worked through his system.

Luckily, it was receding much faster than it had in his cell. If he could stall long enough, his magic would return, and he could cause a distraction large enough to escape.

Warick took another step towards the center of the room, and the guards behind Wilder adjusted their position to keep themselves between Warick and Wilder.

“Easy,” Warick huffed. “I have no intention of freeing the Prince.”

Wilder ground his teeth. Well, that answered that question.

His mother had been misled; Warick was not on his side.

“Then why are you delaying the inevitable?” the High King asked. “You’re the only one in this room questioning my judgement.”

Warick grinned. “Has that not always been the case, Brother?”

King Oberon scowled and drummed his fingertips against the plush arm of his chair.

“It would merely be wise of one to consider all facets of the truth and get to the bottom of it,” Warick shrugged.

“You think I’m not being wise? You think you could do a better job?”

“I’m not falling for that trap,” Warick chuckled and straightened his already perfect lapel. “Let us walk through the details together.”

The tension in the room rose and fell.

It was both warm and frigid. But the scent of bloodlust swelled yet again.

Warick glared around the room as he scoffed.

“A life hangs in the balance. Surely you’re not yearning for blood so hungrily already?”