Page 32 of A Treachery of Swans

Suspicion prickles at me. First Damien’s warning about the Regent’s corrupt guards, and now this? “I’m assuming you have not seen the body yourself?”

“No,” the Dauphin admits tightly. “It is well guarded, and frankly I… I have not dared.”

Well, that will not do. If what Marie told me is true, the King’s body is likely to be covered in scratches from the monster. But I can’t simply reveal that to the Dauphin without raising suspicion. He needs to see it himself—only then will he have proof that Damien is innocent, proof he can confront the Regent with. In the meantime, I can search the body for any clues as to the beast’s sorcerous origins.

“Where is the body being kept?” I ask.

“In the chapel. No one is allowed in but the priestesses—they are preparing it for the funeral.”

I move for the door. “Then we must go see it now.”

“No, we can’t!” He grabs my wrist, eyes imploring. “You saw howmy stepmother reacted yesterday. I cannot go against her again. And Mothers forbid that my uncle find out—he might simply have me locked up for good. No, it is not worth it.”

“So you would rather sit in your rooms and let yourself be lied to?” I burst, unable to hold myself back any longer. “Your father is dead and your favorite guard is imprisoned. Your uncle is leeching power from you. And you’re really going to content yourself with this—this withering?”

The Dauphin laughs hollowly. “The universe seldom leaves me a choice,” he says, uncorking the near-empty bottle of wine and pouring the remaining few drops onto his tongue. He lowers it and gives me a dispassionate look. “You do not understand, Marie. Every time I have ever tried to take a matter into my own hands, it has been torn from them ruthlessly.”

“Then perhaps you weren’t holding on tight enough,” I say.

He smiles wanly. “You sound like Damien.”

Nowthatis an insult I will not tolerate. “Would Damien tell you to break into a chapel to look at a corpse? I think not. Now stop moping and get up.”

Unfortunately, it does not take long for the Dauphin’s suspicions to be confirmed, as we are stopped at the chapel doors by two guards.

“No one is permitted to enter at this time,” says the guard on the left, a man built like a mountain.

The Dauphin’s shoulders slump in immediate resignation. “I told you this would happen.”

“This is nonsense,” I declare, whirling on the guards. “On whose orders?”

“The Regent’s. He believes the prince is too fragile to see the King’s body. He fears it may turn the Dauphin hysteric.”

“I amnothysteric,” the Dauphin mumbles.

I huff and pull him aside. “You need to command them. They can’t refuse a direct order.”

“What’s the point?” he says, shuffling a foot uncomfortably. “My uncle is probably right about me.”

I cross my arms. “Power is claimed, not given, Aimé. You did not take it, so your uncle did. Now you must wrest it back.”

“But how…” Aimé’s brows draw together. “How do I get anyone to listen to me?”

I shrug. “Well, when diplomacy doesn’t work, you can’t go wrong with some good old-fashioned threatening.”

“Threatening?”

“Try it. Thank me later.”

The Dauphin sighs in resignation. Then he takes a shaky breath and squares his shoulders, lifting his chin. “This feels ridiculous,” he mutters, then approaches the guards once more.

“Stand aside. I would like to see my father’s body.”

The guards glance at each other. “By the Regent’s orders—” the one on the left begins, but the Dauphin interrupts with a surprising amount of passion.

“I am theDauphin,” he proclaims. “Heir to the throne, the soon-to-be-crowned King of Auréal. You will let me pass.”

“Or be punished for insubordination,” I whisper.

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