The Captive Heir

Chapter Twenty

The return ride took much longer than expected. They had to stop several times to allow Fitz to rest, and it was well after dark by the time they reached home. It was going to take some getting used to, this new, weaker Fitz.

At last, however, they were slipping into the castle by way of the stables. As soon as Elisabet found a page who could leave at first light for Copertie with the "borrowed" horse and compensation for the wronged brewer, she was hustling Fitz into an out-of-the-way guest room.

Skylar bid them farewell as he slipped off, likely to haunt the library some more.

Leaving Elisabet to notify her parents that they had returned...and somehow break the news about Fitz.

Like a coward, she sent word via a maid that she was safely back at the castle and left out any mention of an extra guest. She would find a way to explain in the morning.

A sleepless night left her with one possible way. She would have to convince everyone that it was the best solution available. Given the number of ideas she had considered and discarded over the course of the night, it was the only solution available.

When the summons came from the queen, it was almost a relief. No more putting it off.

She was to meet the queen in the war room, for yet another conference with her parents and the advisors. It would likely take the entire morning and solve nothing—unless they took her advice.

She took extra care in washing and dressing, even going so far as to select a full parure to match the emerald diadem she shoved into her hair. She could not remember the last time she had been so particular or formal with her jewelry, but she would need to look the part of the heir today. There was no telling what might help to convince her parents of her plan. The way the stones called out the green in her eyes didn't hurt—a girl should be allowed her vanity, especially after discovering her lover was still alive and bringing him home to meet her parents.

Upon leaving her rooms, she almost collided with Patrick, who was lurking by her door.

"Heard you were back," he said, stepping back quickly to avoid the impact. "How'd it go?"

"He's alive," she blurted, the need to share the news forcing the words from her inelegantly.

Bafflement greeted the pronouncement. "What?"

"Fitz." Elisabet gripped Patrick's arms urgently as the information spilled out for the first time. "He's alive. He survived his wound. The witch saved him somehow."

Patrick blinked twice as he absorbed the news, then his jaw dropped. "He's...truly? How?"

Elisabet shook her head. "I still don't know." She would find out as soon as she could, but for now she had to focus on the impending meeting.

"Where is he? How is he?" Patrick craned his neck to look behind her, as though expecting her to somehow have Fitz hidden behind her diminutive frame.

"I brought him back with us," Elisabet admitted. "He's walking, but not fully recovered. He'll need the healer."

"Still?" Patrick asked. "What did the witch do, then?"

Elisabet shook her head. "I wish I knew." She glanced down the hall, the first hums of the day beginning to stir through the castle. "Can you take the healer to him, actually? And then I need him in the war room, as well."

Patrick raised his eyebrows at her.

"Please," she said, meeting his stare. Let him think whatever he liked of her. She had a war to prevent.

"Your wish, Princess," Patrick said with a smart bow.

Elisabet rolled her eyes, hurrying off. Never enough time to be in all the places she needed to be.