THE SIGNATURE

Elaris’s POV

Averic issues the orders for an exhaustive search of the west wing, under the careful reason of ‘Protecting the Alpha’s guest.’

Warriors are sent to look through wardrobes, storage chests, writing desks, servants’ passageways, washrooms; even the little sitting room that adjoins Virelle’s quarters are examined.

I wait outside the wing when the search party is searching. There is no need for me to look where Virelle will not.

Her secret, if she truly had one, will already be gone before she emerges.

Nothing of interest is found.

No poison, no letter’s, no second bottle, nor any clothing that might be stained with what was found beneath my tea tray.

Virelle steps out from the wing into the passageway, cool and composed as the insulted lady she pretends not to be.

She asks Averic if this was always what his ‘protection’ entailed.

Searches, guards watching where she goes, who she talks to.

“I thought you said I was a guest.”

Averic explains to her that every chamber is being searched due to the security breach.

Virelle offers a smile and places a hand over her stomach.

“Then I suppose I ought be grateful you remember there a two lives in these rooms.”

I notice several servants glance at her stomach.

Well chosen audience.

There are no protests from Averic merely the order for the warriors to continue searching the corridors servants pass through on a daily basis.

Virelle does not look back as she leaves.

Just enough to let our eyes meet, just enough to tell me her expression holds no fear.

Only certainty.

I am taken to Maevra’s chamber with two guards outside the door. For the first time in days Maevra is in sufficient health to endure the conversation.

Though her skin is still delicate her mind seem more focused than I have seen it.

The moment the door opens she grasps my hand.

I ask if she remembers where the silver clasp was found beneath my tea tray.

Her fingers close around mine.

“That chain…I know it.”

I question her as to what it means.

It is Maevra who explains that Virelle used the symbol as long ago as several years previous to her return to the Palace.

It was not an official emblem of Virelle’s house or even a recognized insignia for use within the council.

Virelle claimed it as her personal symbol, the one she would use as a reminder that she once considered Luna her home; the one Virelle sends letters to and gifts to the heads of the old houses when she deems a reminder necessary.

“She called it freedom,” Maevra says, her head full of memories of what Virelle left behind her in the old palace, “A chain that had finally been broken.”

I wonder why Virelle would wish to leave the mark behind her now.

Maevra’s answer frightens me.

“She wanted people to know who did this, but not everyone was named.”

I am suddenly aware that the choice Virelle has made was not of anger, it was not revenge.

It was a warning wrapped in secrecy and meant for more than just the palace.

Maevra assures me Virelle always understood the value of appearances.

Virelle never threatened anyone in a public forum.

Everything she did had a shadow, a threat, a veiled intimidation for those who could read between the lines.

Maevra does not look happy when she begins the warning.

It is not enough, Elaris, not when what she knows could end with no justice and only silence.

“She didn’t create the illusion to hide behind.

It is a sign, a message.”

A second before the door opens and Averic enters to listen to what Maevra has to say.

I understand what Maevra means when she says the clasp is not merely another piece of evidence.

It is the message itself.

The question I ask before Averic can decide what he will say is the one Maevra does not want to answer.

What was Virelle trying to tell me?

Averic’s entrance is enough to stop her.

“I’ll say what she said.”

Maevra explains what she knows, what Virelle explained to her all those years ago.

Averic’s attention never strays from Maevra.

He is listening.

I explain what Virelle’s message means.

“I say it doesn’t prove guilt.”

Averic turns to me.

It is not doubt but calculation that keeps him from responding directly.

I ask him if he believes Virelle would have someone else carry out her orders.

The silence stretches long enough for Maevra to understand what is truly at stake.

“You are beginning to see it.”

Averic admits, and in that admission, he gives away how much he knows.

“Patterns are not proof of guilt.”

Maevra swallows.

I do not look away from him.

For the first time I feel her not only with frustration but something dangerously close to disappointment.

Not with Virelle, but with the fear that keeps her from protecting her son.

“I am returning you to your own chamber.

If I was uncertain that your accusations should be answered in open sessions of the council, I am not anymore.”

I do not ask what he means when he says, I will preserve the clasp as evidence.

The weight of the words presses against me heavier than the accusation itself.

“I am not certain of your guilt, Elaris.

I ask him one final question before he goes.

Will you present the clasp, the altered bottles, the testimony from the kitchen, Maevra’s memories, the pattern of events, the evidence to the council?

Averic answers without hesitation.

“I can present what I have, but Virelle’s lawyers will argue every single piece of evidence you produce is circumstantial.

She is their chosen lady, Elaris.

“What happens to me if they do?” I ask.

He stops.

I have already guessed the answer.

“You remain under my protection.””

I tell him, protection sounds more and more like confinement each day.

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

I understand his intentions, but I will not allow fear of the council to dictate his every move.

“I intend that no one will decide what I am guilty of, or not guilty of, based upon fear.”

Averic says he understands. And somehow, I believe he does.

Neryss finds me with fresh information some short hours later.

Two of the senior attendants overheard a discussion regarding which of the Alpha’s wives is the most likely to survive the blood moon.

Neryss manages only fragments of what is being said to me.

One of the attendants laughed and called me the “first one,” since I had already demonstrated that I could lose a child for the sake of a man.

The second claimed there was some women who simply had bad luck.

I tell Neryss to return to the palace and confirm the statements were made by the attendants she heard.

No one believes me when I say it is not the insult that troubles me.

“It was the certainty of what they said.”

I tell her, long after she has gone.

I ask where the conversation took place.

In the corridor leading to the kitchen from the west wing.

The very part of the palace my tea and altered medicine keep finding their way to.

I tell Neryss to discover who was posted that evening in that portion of the palace and ask her not to confront anyone.

I begin assembling the events in order as well, the reduced medicine, the altered bottles, the tea sent to my chamber, the broken chain, the man who refuses to meet my eyes, the woman I see wandering the palace halls after her confinement.

This is no longer the work of chance.

Virelle knows well enough I do not need every person in the palace to believe in her innocence, only enough of them to believe I am guilty of murder if I should make the mistake of thinking I am in the right to accuse her.

That is why it was always so easy for her to frighten people.

I find meaning in Virelle’s threats because she always gives me a reason to believe them.

Averic informs me of the change in plans concerning the hearing.

His expression has not changed since he first told me of it.

“The council speaker arrived this afternoon with a formal request, sealed with the authority of the old families.

The council has agreed to advance the hearing regarding Virelle’s alleged unlawful confinement.

It will now be held prior to the blood moon.”

I count out the days in my head long enough to understand the timing is not coincidence.

The old families wish to settle this dispute before the tensions surrounding the blood moon reach their peak.

Averic reads the council’s statement twice before he turns to me.

Three days.

That is how much time we have to convince them I am telling the truth.

The council speaker adds several representatives of the old families will attend.

That means Virelle will not be standing before the council alone.

I am more frightened when the courier leaves than I have been all evening.

The hearing is no longer a trial that might come some distant day in the future.

It is suddenly a matter of survival.

Averic tells me himself.

He does not send a servant, which is fortunate since I would refuse to speak with one.

Averic informs me of the council’s decision.

“Three days,” is all he says.

I ask if I am to understand I am expected to attend.

He pauses just long enough to give me the answer I already suspect.

“If I am not expected to appear before the council, you may consider yourself a lucky woman.

Virelle will speak without me here to challenge her.

If you are to appear before the council at all, it will only be with my permission.”

I ask if he wants me gone from the palace before the hearing takes place.

“No,” he says.

I ask him if he is willing to protect me should the council decide I am a threat to Virelle’s pregnancy.

He pauses.

“No,” he says.

I realize he means the child will still be guarded regardless of what decision the council makes.

“It is not the child that is at risk,” I correct him.

He knows what I mean, but he ignores it in favor of promising me something else.

“I will do everything within my authority to keep you safe,” he says.

I have had enough of promises that mean nothing more than an attempt to convince someone they are powerless to change what has already decided.

Neither of us pretends when he says,”Elaris, I will keep my daughter from harm if I am able.

If that means I must keep you safe if I want her chances to live, I will do that as well.”

He does not look away before he goes, but I imagine he wishes he could.

I am already wondering if the choice will be made for him when the council hears what he intends to say.

I ask for one concession.

I want to speak with the kitchen girl who prepared my tea.

Alone.

He refuses.

Instead, he allows the conversation to take place with the two warriors in attendance.

I find the girl waiting in a small side room, her hands shaking so badly she nearly drops the cup I have given her.

I assure her she is not in trouble.

She says she remembers nothing unusual.

I ask if she knew who gave her the ingredients.

She says she did not.

I ask if she saw them.

She tells me of the pale sleeve.

Nothing else.

I ask the girl if the woman spoke to her.

She shakes her head.

I ask her why she is frightened.

The woman’s reply is barely more than a whisper.

“Because everyone keeps asking me the same questions.

I always give them the answers they expect to hear.”

That tells me more than I wanted to know.

I am certain of one thing when I leave the girl there to finish her tea and warn the other servants not to question her again.

Someone has already taken threats to the kitchen staff, just as easily as Virelle frightened the other servants into silence.

They may believe they are safe as long as they speak only to those who do not require answers.

I thank the girl for what she did and tell her I think she made the right choice when she refused to lie to me.

One of the guards watching the door takes a second glance at the kitchen girl as I turn to leave.

She immediately lowers her head not to avoid him but out of fear.

I have nothing to go on, but I know the threats have reached the lower quarters of the palace.

Averic does not return until the moon swings past the tower on the opposite side of the palace.

Once more I sit in the chamber, only this time Averic does not find me sleeping when he finally arrives.

I have been thinking of the coming hearing and the three days that separate me from it.

But I am thinking of something else entirely when Averic finally enters the chamber.

“The last time Virelle’s accusations were presented before the council,” he says, “it was you who accused her of attempted theft and assault with intent to harm.

I am not offering protection, Elaris.

I am offering the alternative.

The option of continued imprisonment at the discretion of the council, or leaving this palace for an extended period of time to decide if killing for the second time is a sin too great to be forgiven.”

That is when I realize what the choice truly entails.

If the council demands I take my punishment elsewhere in hopes of removing me from consideration when Virelle produces another heir, they will not allow me to leave alive.

If I refuse to leave, they may decide to make an example of me.

The child growing within me will not decide either of those fates.

She does not need my death to remove me from consideration any more than I need confirmation it will not be the result.

“I will find the evidence to prove to the council Virelle is guilty of everything she accuses me of.

If it comes to a choice between her life and mine, I will choose mine.

You will not look upon your daughter’s life and see only one woman who should die,” I tell him when he says, “The child must live, no matter what,”

I do not mention it is not the child who stands here before him but the mother carrying her.

Neither of us says it, not truly, but he understands when he turns away.

Neryss returns with the tea tray just before midnight.

She tells me she prepared everything herself.

She has tasted every cup and will drink what I have ordered before returning it to me.

I almost laugh at the farce if I was not so frightened she will decide her life means more to her than mine and take something from me before I wake in the morning.

Neryss tells me Virelle was seen in the main hall earlier this evening.

She had a quiet conversation with Lord Sennik.

Her hand remained over her stomach for the entire exchange.

Every servant who passed through was able to see both of them.

I ask if anyone heard what they spoke of.

Neryss says not, but she offers another observation.

Virelle altered the subject each time someone else approached.

She wanted to be known, but not understood.

“She’s presenting herself to the council as if she is already their pet,” I say.

Neryss says she was smiling throughout the exchange; every time someone new arrived, she looked back towards the entrance.

She was not trying to conceal her condition but reminding everyone present she had earned the council’s protection.

I tell Neryss to get some rest and refuse to drink the tea she prepared until she agrees.

I think I will have finished the cup long enough to survive until morning when the sound of shouting erupts from the main staircase.

A second voice cries out in alarm.

The sound of several sets of feet slapping against the stone floor echoes through the palace.

I rise immediately and though the doors to my chamber are not yet unlocked, the guards move with equal urgency.

When I arrive at the landing, the hall is crowded with servants and warriors.

Virelle is on her knees.

One hand presses against her side, the other is curled protectively over her stomach.

Blood darkens some sections of her pale dress.

I cannot be certain whether the wound is genuine from where I stand.

She looks up and tears streak her cheeks.

She is frightened enough to convince anyone watching that the accusations made against her are not intended for idle gossip.

Her eyes settle on me and the hall falls silent all around us.

Virelle’s voice is clear enough for everyone beneath us to hear when she declares, “She pushed me.”

A servant gasps, someone shouts for Lord Sennik, and a second later Virelle points directly at me.

“The second mate tried to kill the alpha’s child.”

Every face turns to see me.

I am accused.