Chapter Nineteen
“It’s hardly enough proof to put your mother’s head on the executioner’s block,” said Oliver in a bored tone. He was lounging on the comfortable chair opposite the desk the filled the small office of the crown prince. This was the part of being royalty that Roderick hated: the actual work. He had in front of him a sheaf of papers that needed to be reviewed and either approved and signed, or rejected and sent back to the palace staff.
“It’s more than damning enough for me,” said Roderick, glancing up at his cousin. “Now I have to find a way to deal with it.”
“Do you really think your mother wants you dead?” Oliver asked, seeming to take an interest in the conversation.
“I think she wants someone from her side of the family to take the throne. That means if I wind up dea
