Page 116 of Charmless

If the little man was angry, he gave no sign of it. Even as he turned accusing eyes in Horatio’s direction, his tone was mild. “It would appear that you have broken your promise, Commander Crushington.”

Before Horatio could muster a response, Mal said quickly. “It wasn’t Crushington who told me. It was someone else.”

“And exactly who would that be, Mr. Hawkridge? Even the king didn’t know. There is only one person besides myself and Crushington who knows my identity.” Greenleaf paused and then rolled his eyes. “Of course. Withypole Fugitate. You should not believe everything he says. Fugitate is a liar and not at all to be trusted.”

“Are you telling us that it is not true?” I challenged him. “You are not in fact Sidney Greenleaf, the real wizard Mercato?”

Greenleaf frowned for a moment, then he shrugged, “Yes, it is true, but it no longer matters who knows. The time has come for my charade to end. Bryce will be excessively disappointed.”

“Bryce?” I echoed. “Who is Bryce?”

“Bryce Wetherbee. The actor I hired to portray Mercato.”

“Bryce Wetherbee?”Despite his tension, Mal laughed. “That’s as bad of a name for a wizard as Sidney Greenleaf.”

“I entirely agree. Hence the Great Mercato.” A fleeting smile touched Sidney’s lips, but he immediately sobered. “However, this is no time for levity. I have some sad news to impart.”

“We already know.” Horatio recovered enough to speak. “The king is dead.”

“Alas, our kingdom has suffered a double loss. Prince Florian has also perished.”

“What!” Horatio exclaimed.

I could not understand why he looked disturbed by this news. My immediate reaction was one of overwhelming relief. Florian would not become our king. We need never fear being threatened by him again.

Mal made no effort to conceal his jubilation.

“Yes!” He pumped his fist into the air, grinning from ear to ear. Delphine so far forgot herself as to issue a happy mew from beneath the bed. Fortunately, Greenleaf did not appear to have heard her as Mal chortled with glee.

“That bastard of a prince has really snuffed it? That’s the best thing I have heard in a twelve-month.”

“Do try to show a modicum of respect for the dead, Mr. Hawkridge,” Sidney reproved him.

“Excuse me for not weeping for that villain,” Mal drawled. “I’m all out of clean handkerchiefs.”

Horatio frowned. “But I don’t understand. When I left you last night, you said that you would look after the two princes, and they would recover.”

“Prince Ryland did. But after Florian was conveyed back to the palace, he succumbed to the blow Miss Upton dealt him during the skirmish at the prison.”

“What blow?” I demanded. “I am sure I did nothing worse that whap him with a sunflower and… ”

I trailed off as another memory from last night crystallized in my mind. Florian lurching toward me with that nasty leering expression on his face, me defending myself, smacking him with a sunflower. Except it hadn’t been a flower at all. I’d bashed him over the head with a thick wooden cudgel.

“Oh!” Trembling, I sank down upon a wooden stool near the hearth as the realization sank in. I had killed a prince. Therecould be no worse crime in our kingdom. I would be charged and executed. My hand crept to my throat as though I could already feel the Royal Garroter’s rope cutting off my air.

“I was only trying to defend myself from Florian. I never meant to—” I faltered.

Mal snapped, “Be quiet, Ella.”

Clutching the bedpost, Mal struggled to his feet, defiantly declaring, “It was me. I crushed Florian’s skull, and I am not the least bit sorry.”

“Exactly how did you manage that, Mr. Hawkridge?” Greenleaf asked. “When I arrived on the scene, you were lying unconscious, halfway down the hill.”

“Well, I-I hit him and then I staggered away before I collapsed.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Horatio said. “I was the one who felled the prince.”

“No, Horatio,” I protested. “I remember you taking the cudgel away from me.”