Caroline paced across the elegant carpet of her lavish room within the White Palace, mulling over her options. The King was dying. She could feel it. Death had begun to permeate the air around Marciaus whenever he entered her chamber, as well as the mute maid who came to change her linens.
Which meant the safety she enjoyed at the moment from Marcaius would soon be in jeopardy. Caroline wasn't daft. It was no coincidence that she had asked to speak with Undair, and then the man fell ill shortly after. There was a piece of the puzzle she was missing because not everything added up properly, but she was sure of one particular point. Marcaius wanted Undair dead.
The more she pondered the facts in her solitary space, the more it all made sense. After all, hadn't she only spoke to Undair once? And only a handful of words at the time? For all she knew, the King could want peace between his people and hers. The only constant was near-constant interference by Marcaius Mont.
