Page 44 of The Phoenix Inheritance

“All the same, this was found next to the bodies of the King and the Queen.”

A creeping suspicion hits me as I scrutinize his impassive face. “That gourd was in your possession in the first place,” I utter more for my own benefit than his. “I forgot to take it back the day you found it.”

My Uncle stays silent, but a slight smile has broken through his glacial air. For all their resemblance, he looks nothing like his brother at this moment. My father never managed to hide his emotions – be it thundering rage or harrowing pain.

Uncle Thorsten betrayed me. His appeal to the King so I could visit Isobel was aimed at framing me. He planned to have me caught in the dungeons all along, so that once the deed was done, everything could point to me orchestrating a revolt with the Hunters.

For some reason, after all the blows I suffered today, this last one fails to knock me to my feet. If anything, hatred surges through my veins as I rattle the iron bars, longing to wrap my hands around his neck instead. He took my parents’ life, he threatens to take mine.

My heart freezes. Where is Warwick?

If anything happened to him, I would’ve heard about it from the guards, I reason. I can only hope Warwick is smart enough to escape this perilous mess.

“Why?” I hiss with a world of spite. “You were always with me. Ever since the day I–”

“Set your brother on fire, yes,” he supplies silkily. “From that moment I knew you’d be the stronger one of the two and were destined for the throne.” He sneers. “Unlike your blind father, who had eyes only for his little braggart of a son.”

“Even I didn’t believe I’d become a phoenix one day. How could you be so sure when it took years?”

The smirk underneath his thick beard only grows wider. “You’re not much brighter than my brother, are you?” His pale eyes glimmer with more fervor than I’ve ever seen in those listless depths. “You remind me so much of him when he was young. Impetuous. Reckless. A great brute without a sound mind. Why in the world would such a man make a better King than me?”

My scowl deepens as I wallow in confusion. Despite the precocious signs I showed at the incident when I was nine, the extra decade it took for me to fully shift discouraged everyone. Few were the ones who had faith that I would spread my wings someday. My father even went to great lengths to keep me in the shadows, fearing the rumors of a weak Prince may encourage some to overthrow our family’s rule.

If anything, Uncle Thorsten should know. He was the one who supplied me with…

I jerk as understanding dawns upon me. He examines me with a steely smile.

“The potion,” I gasp, recalling the tortuous way it twisted my guts. “It didn’t help me become a phoenix. It stopped me from becoming one.”

Of course, I realize as I stare at his twinkling mirth. He’s not so off the mark when he says I’m as short sighted as my father. It took mere weeks for me to transform into a phoenix after I ceased drinking it.

How come I didn’t connect the dots?

I guess I was too busy obsessing over Isobel, I think to myself as I barely resist the urge to bang my head on the wall for my own stupidity. To be fair, she was also the one who made me stop taking the toxic medicine in the first place.

But my parents… They would still be alive if I’d recognized my uncle’s traitorous nature sooner.

“You murdered your own brother,” I say with seething horror. “You killed his mate. You poisoned your nephew because… All this time, you wanted the throne?”

His bulky figure looming in the background flits a thousand times before my eyes, all those moments he seemed content with serving the Kingdom beyond the public eye, as Sowilo’s great physician. Never did I detect so much as a twitch of the brow indicating he was anything but satisfied with his role.

“Of course I did,” he snarls all the same, the first show of emotion I ever witnessed in him. “Everyone knew I was the smartest of the pair. It takes brains to rule a country, not brawn! But just because of a tournament that picks a King by virtue of his muscle weight, my thick-headed brother was –”

My eyes widen in shock as Uncle Thorsten topples forward, hitting his head on the metal bars before sliding to the floor. He clutches the area in his chest where a silver blade has pieced through his flesh, bucketfuls of blood already pooling at his feet.

“Argh!” He chokes in agony, before those soulless eyes grow still.

My gaze shoots up to the tall silhouette in the shadows. My heart lifts when I catch sight of a brilliant flash of copper.

“Warwick!” I cry out, insanely grateful that he turned up in the nick of time.

Pulling out the sword out from our uncle’s limp body, he looks for all the world like a conqueror in my eyes. Yet a sickening pallor tints his usually bronzen skin, and his entire frame seems to be wracked with shivers as he contemplates the weapon with all the bewilderment of a lost child.

“I-I found this by… by dad’s side. I figured it may still be poisoned.”

My heart drops. So Warwick saw our parents dead. And still, he garnered enough courage to save me despite the grisly sight.

“Thanks for coming for me.”

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