James, Tobiah, and I started for the messenger. Meredith looked to the crown prince for guidance. Francesca turned her glare on me, as though this were my fault; maybe it was. But Tobiah could barely stand, let alone walk, so with a pained groan he crumpled. James switched trajectories and the queen regent rushed around Meredith to help move the prince back to his bed. While the others were busy, I approached the messenger. “What else do you know about the wraith? How fast is it coming? What towns? How many refugees?” “Nothing. That’s all I heard.” I grabbed the messenger and shoved him against the wall. His head thudded. I held my knife to his throat and growled, “What kind of messenger doesn’t get important details and then barges into the crown prince’s chambers? Do you work for Patrick?” His eyes widened. “You’re too incompetent to be an assassin. Are you trying to lure Tobiah into public so someone else can kill him?” Meredith let out a peep of surprise, like she hadn’t even considered that, but then she saw my knife.
