The Broken Crown

Chapter 4

Jeffroy

Daylight illuminated the temple from the window in the ceiling. It was a round window, which showed the blue sky and, at midday, when the sun was at its highest, a clear view of the sun, hitting perfectly at the altar placed right below. The window was encircled by a serpent, biting its own tail. A symbol of self reflection, and of time.

He walked across the marble floors, his steps resonating in the tall room. The red and orange toga, which sometimes seemed to be aflame like the Sun itself when you walked, flowed around his legs. Many would say that the clothing was one of the downsides of his work, but in the heat, it was actually rather comfortable. Of course, Jeffroy had never been one for dressing up.

He kneeled by the altar, lighting a candle and whispering a prayer to the silence,  and to the Sun.

The sound of the door opening and the steps that followed was no surprise. He stayed still, waiting, until he heard the sound of fabric twisting beside him. Without opening his eyes, he knew it was her.

"Your Grace," he said quietly, though he knew no one else would come at this hour. "What did the counsil meeting tell?"

Her voice was equally quiet, but it still seemed to cut through the air. "Not much." Jeffroy frowned. The council meetings were renowned for being some of the most secretive meetings in the kingdom. He had never heard of a secret that slipped from behind the thick, oak doors that shielded it from the world. "The investigation will end. Maybe they will at least manage to find someone to blame for the sake of humouring the people."

"The investigation ends?" He heard her nod.

"It is believed that my husband was too loved to be murdered by any other than one of the whores that he raped. Lords know most of them were begging for it." Jeffroy winced at her way of speaking but said nothing. “They believe it impossible to find the killer, especially if it is woman.”

“A woman, you say,” Jeffroy mused. “Who thought that?”

“Lord Thomas,” Lucretia said, and Jeffroy was not surprised. The dwarf was known to have strange ideas at times, yet his intelligence was unquestionable. He was the son of Jon Bonney, lord of the Pinelands in the north – and Lord Jon was truly a northerner. He was harsh as a long winter and cold as ice. The fact that the diseased king had been more than a little afraid of the man was no secret. His fear had done no good; the Bonneys now seemed to think themselves above everyone, even the king. The dwarf had all the arrogance, but his confidence had never seemed real to Jeffroy.

“Did he stop to think that the late king, may his soul be at peace, was killed by a knife?”

“You think that women are not capable of using a knife?” The smirk could be heard in her voice. “The blade was extremely thin and most like light as well.”

“Makes for easier cutting,” Jeffroy remarked, though he let the subject rest after that. “They are certain there is no way of finding the truly guilty one?”

Jeffroy finally opened his eyes, just in time to see her nod to herself. The light threw shadows on her face, beneath her eyes and nose. Somehow, it made her appear older than she was. It made him notice the lines that now scarred her face. “Yes.”

It was the shadows on her face that gave him the idea. “If it is truly a woman, she would have to have sought help somewhere.”

“Certainly, if she is truly a lowborn wench.”

“Then we must simply find the man who taught.” He could tell that she was interested, even from the corner of his eye. “The Shadow.”

He could see realization hit her face, her eyes widening and her mouth curving. “Of course,” she whispered. “Of course.”