THE KING HUNTSThe tea on the table was stone cold. I had been staring at the rim of the cup for an hour, waiting for the sound of her voice in the next room. But the silence in the royal wing was heavy. It wasn't the peaceful kind of silence. It was the kind that felt like a warning.

"Esmeralda?" I called out. My voice sounded thin in the high-ceilinged room.

No answer.

I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. I walked to her bedchamber and pushed the door open. The bed was ...