Prince of Traitors

Jasper

The dungeons are cold, despite the summer heat. I sit curled up, my arms wrapped around my knees to try and trap the heat in my body. My forehead presses against my folded arms as I try to rest. I am weary. I haven't slept. I'm not sure how long I've been down here--I lost count after about ten days. My jaw itches with the short beard I've started growing. There's a small window high up in the wall of my cell, but the light never seems to reach me.

"I buried our father today." I raise my eyes. Alix stands before me. He is in all black, save for the heavy golden crown on his head. His honey-brown hair is smoothed and tied back, his expression stony. He stares at me through the bars of the cell.

"You didn't even let me pay my respects," I say quietly. My voice creaks, hoarse from disuse. Alix cocks his head to one side.

"Should I have let you?" he asks. "When you murdered him in cold blood?"

"You know I didn't do it, Alix—"

"What was I supposed to think? I found you covered in his blood with your damned knife in your hand," he says.

"You don't believe me." I sigh, resting my chin atop my folded arms. "You won't even listen to me," I say shortly.

Alix is quiet for a long time. "I get it, Jas. I do," he says. "You were angry, worried about you future. You wanted to continue to do what you wished—"

"Are you even listening to yourself?" I ask, rising to my feet. I try hard to not let my legs quake with fatigue. "You really think I'd kill our father over that? Over a-a tantrum? You think I'm that childish?"

Alix spreads his hands in supplication. "I'm not sure what to think anymore, Jas," he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The fatigue overpowers me, and I slump against the bars, grasping the cold iron with one hand. My eyes flit to the crown atop his head. It's our father's, I realize.

"The court crowned you king already?" I ask.

Alix sighs. "Saints know Odrend needs a king," he says. "Under normal circumstances it'd be you..."

"But I'm locked away in a dungeon."

Alix's smile is wry. "Yes." He shuffles his feet, glances down at them as he puts his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, Jas. I am." He sighs. "The council has deliberated. You're to stand trial in a few days."

"And then?" I ask.

Alix bites his lip, frowning down at his feet. "I don't know." He sighs heavily. The crown glints in the dim torchlight. "I'll have someone bring you a blanket," my twin says, and he leaves me with the cold seeping into my bones.