Page 137 of Exiled Heir

Nia was holding them up, her muscles strong, even taking their weight. A rainbow color pulsed between the two of them.

I flexed my hands, moving my back and shoulders. I didn’t look as perfect as I had after their first appointment with me, but I felt lifetimes better than I had only a few minutes prior.

“This is great.” Something occurred to me, and I looked at Cade. “Why couldn’t you heal me?”

“I don’t have the talent. Healing is a delicate art.” Cade gestured to Rhys and the clothes around them. “And Rhys has turned that art into something that belongs in a museum.”

Rhys mimed a quick curtsy. “What he lacks in talent, our prince makes up for in sheer, raw ability. Don’t let him sell himself short.”

Nia led Rhys to a chair and sat them down, giving them a severe look when they tried to stand. She disappeared behind a curtain and returned with a tea tray.

“All right, you can stop being so mysterious. Spill the tea.” Rhys gestured with their cup. “Not literally—I had this rug shipped directly from Turkey.”

For a long moment, I looked at them. We had spent so long treating Rhys like they were an obstacle, someone we had to keep from learning the full truth, that I wondered if we had missed something obvious. Cade was so quick to dismiss anyone in House Bartlett that was potentially a suspect, but Rhys had all the gossip. They had all the information we lacked.

“You know someone is trying to kill Cade,” I said. “They almost succeeded last night.”

“The car explosion, the mass murder at the club.” Rhys put their teacup down, the porcelain clinking against the plate underneath it. “The dead servant, you coming in looking like someone had tried to kill you.”

I nodded. Rhys’s eyes narrowed on some distant point. “Who could it possibly be?”

“Sonja?” I floated my favorite suspect. “And Tyson?”

Rhys scrunched their face. “She’s been making noise for years that Cade isn’t princely enough for her. But I don’t know that she wants the crown. The crown comes with a lot of eyes on her, and people don’t like that she has a male consort. She’d have to get rid of Tyson if she wanted full consent from the council. And, tragically for both of them, they’re far too in love to give each other up. Very Romeo and Juliet, if Juliet was incredibly wealthy and powerful, and Romeo ate steroids for breakfast.”

“Is there anyone else in House Bartlett who has it in for Cade? Something you heard in whispers or glances. Something he might have missed?”

Cade straightened at that, and I shot him an amused look. I was sure there were a lot of subtleties that were glaringly obvious to Rhys and completely invisible to Cade.

“Not to speak ill of you, Prince Cade, but alotof people have felt for many years that you aren’t taking your position in the house seriously enough.” Rhys picked up their tea again and took a long sip, considering. “The Jennings family. They were angry even before their daughter was killed in the car explosion. There are some whispers that maybeshewasn’t supposed to die. That maybe she was supposed to survive.”

Rhys let that hang in the air, not needing to say any more.

“Tragically, Prince Bartlett died in the explosion, but their favorite daughter, the most powerful of their children, managed to survive.” I leaned back in my chair. “How heartbreaking, how cruel. But doesn’t it prove how powerful she is?”

“People seem to have a very poor opinion of my survival abilities,” Cade observed. “I did manage to survive all of these assassination attempts.”

“But how would they have known that?” I asked. Several things fell into place. The disdain some of the other members of the house felt toward Cade. The surprise every time he used magic efficiently. “It’s not like you’ve ever shown off your power.”

Cade blinked, then pulled his lips to the side. “No. What was the point? I wasn’t some other family’s child, scrabbling for my position in the hierarchy. My position was guaranteed.”

“Was it?” Rhys’s question was pulled taut, a trap that hadn’t been set off yet.

When my eyes snapped to them, they took a significant sip of tea.

“What happens if they think you’re incompetent?” I asked Cade.

“If I’m like any other heir, they give me the throne anyway and hope that by marrying me to someone more powerful, my children will inherit more than my abilities,” Cade said.

“With House Morrison breathing down their necks?” I challenged. “With every single person in the house looking for leadership? You spent the past eleven years acting like you didn’t care about the throne, acting like you didn’t have to worry. They’ve spent eleven years sharpening their knives.”

“I am not some pig to the slaughter. I am the prince of House Bartlett. The crown is in my blood.” Cade stood, pacing back and forth across the room.

Nia handed me a cup of tea, and I took a long sip. It was so oversteeped I was pretty sure a spoon would stand upright in it. When I raised my eyebrows, she smirked at me. Then she disappeared again, reappearing with a massive sandwich straight out of a cartoon with a housewife and a layabout husband.

I ate it as Cade paced back and forth. “That means any of them could be at the heart of it. If even the Jennings think they could have gotten their little brat on the throne, this whole house is a powder keg.”

“I have tried to help where I can,” Rhys said sympathetically. “But there’s only so much flame retardant you can throw around before people start calling you a brownnoser. And I enjoy my gossip far too much to give it up for you.” Rhys winced. “My prince.”