CHAPTER THIRTY
Rupert waited in his mother’s chambers, palms sweating, fingers fidgeting with his sword belt as he sat there. He’d never felt quite like this before. Oh, he’d felt angry and nervous and uncomfortable plenty of times, but he’d never felt this kind of self-doubt, never sat there wondering if he was about to do the right thing.
Then again, he’d never been about to kill his mother before.
“You need to do this,” he said. “You have to do this.”
“Have to do what, Rupert?” his mother demanded, coming in with precise steps. Her guards shut the door behind her. Clearly she wanted to be able to rebuke him without having to maintain all the propriety of a queen. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I not have come to see my mother?” Rupert demanded, standing.
“No,” the Dowager said. “
