The Crown's Dog

  “You didn’t have to lie to them.” Jax put his hands behind his head, fussing with his hair, pulling it into a high knot and letting it lose.

  “I don’t lie.”

  Jax snorted.

  “I try not to,” the prince insisted.

  “Just half-truths?”

  “Those are different.” Baldair gave a tired grin that quickly vanished when he looked back at the woman. He finally entered the room, venturing closer. “Mother, what happened?”

  “I wish I knew. I was trying to get a few more hours of shut-eye and came up to my bed. The door was locked, so I melted the mechanism and came in. She was like this.”

  “It was locked?” Baldair arched his eyebrows.

  “From the inside.” Jax fetched a key from the dresser next to the bed, holding up the only key to the room. “Didn’t take it with me.”

  Baldair’s eyes swept across the space, landing back on Jax with purpose.

  Jax nodded, walking to the window. He threw back the curtains and looked down. It was a sheer drop, higher than anyone could jump without sustaining some kind of injury. There was no blood or marking of a rough landing below, and there were no scuffs or scratches on the windowsill from any hooks or ropes. He ran his fingers along the window latch, still in perfect condition.

  He turned back to Baldair with a shake of his head. The prince gave a small nod, and they both started in opposite directions. If the killer hadn’t escaped through the window, and the door had been locked from the inside, that meant whoever had committed the crime was still somewhere in the room.

  Jax clenched his fist, feeling magic surge at his behest. He took a deep breath, ready to summon an inferno with a thought. He crept up to the wardrobe, opening the door at the same time as Baldair pulled the duvet up to peer under the bed. They looked at each other with a quick turn.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing.”

  The room was not sparse, but there weren’t many places for a person to hide. For good measure, Baldair popped open the linen chest at the foot of the bed. But there was nothing within other than clean, folded blankets and sheets.

  “Could they have escaped through the door in the chaos?”

  “Not without my seeing,” Jax insisted. He may have slipped into distraction at a point, but there was no way someone had made a dash for the door without him noticing.

  Baldair turned back to the body with a grimace.

  “I’ll do it.” Jax walked over to the bed. He took a deep breath through his nose, reaching for the corpse. Jax situated the body so that she was neatly on her back, arms and legs splayed for their investigation.

  “Are you all right?” Baldair asked during the process.

  “Finding a dead body in my bed is now the highlight of my summer.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I.” Jax flashed the prince a wide grin. “And here I thought we had exhausted all our excitement weeks ago.”

  “You’d call last night boring?” Baldair balked.

  “I think you can do better.”

  The back-and-forth helped them both, and stalled their inspection of the dead woman. But there was only so much that could prolong the inevitable, and the second Baldair’s eyes fell back to the bloodstained sheets, Jax knew they had reached their limit.

  “I think we can rule out suicide, judging from these cuts… She put up a fight, at least.” As if that would make it any better.

  “Killer made quick work of her, however.” Baldair motioned to the gash on the woman’s neck. The prince paused, shifting his perspective.

  “You recognize her?”

  “I do.” Baldair sighed heavily. “She worked here.” The prince’s cerulean eyes floated up to Jax’s. “You don’t remember her?”

  “I’m not as good with faces as you.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. The fact was, Jax never paid much attention to the various men and women who worked as staff around the prince, especially not here in Oparium.

  The Imperial Palace in Lyndum where they made their home was a different story. But here, the majority of those employed were temporary members of the staff who would go back to their lives after the Golden Prince’s summer adventure had come to a close. Jax didn’t pay attention to them.

  However, Baldair clearly did. The prince was notable for giving attention to staff and common folk. Jax was even surprised he hadn’t recalled the girl’s name immediately.

  “Renalee, I think her name was.”

  Jax stood corrected. “Why would someone kill her? A drunken scuffle? A jilted lover’s fit of passion?”

  Baldair clenched his fist with a low growl. “I sincerely hope that is not the case.”

  “Don’t want to have two people who killed in a lover’s rage in your service?” Jax joked darkly.

  Baldair sighed heavily. “I am too hungover for this.” He motioned to the body. “I don’t need your smart remarks atop.”

  “Understood, my lord.”

  “Don’t go all formal on me. We’re past that.” It had taken the majority of the past three years, but that much was true, especially if last night was any evidence. “I just don’t want you calling yourself something you’re not.”

  “What I call myself is my decision.” Jax looked back to the woman. “But this isn’t about me.”

  “No, it’s not,” Baldair agreed.

  “Was Renalee one of the ones we brought from the palace?”

  The prince shook his head. “She was hired from town for the summer, I believe. But I lament I never learned much else about her.”

  “I suppose we should ask the staff, get one of them to confirm her identity?”

  Baldair agreed.

  Jax remained to guard the room while Baldair fetched a set of clothing and then Nana. Despite her age, she was strong and wiry, still able to haul a full bucket of water up a flight of stairs. But the moment she laid eyes on the ravaged Renalee, her back curled on itself like a deflated sail, and she suddenly looked very frail.

  “Oh, Renalee, what did they do to you?” she wailed from the door.

  “I feared it was her,” Baldair sighed heavily.

  “Do you know who did this?”

  “We’ll find out.” The prince rubbed the woman’s back. “I promise we will.”

  That was a tall promise, but Jax focused on being productive and seeing the prince’s word to fruition. “Did she have any enemies?”

  “Not here. She was a good girl. She had never even been so much as late for work,” the woman insisted.

  Jax and Baldair exchanged a look. If there was one thing the previous night’s revelries proved, it was that there were very few “good girls and boys” in their world.

  The elderly woman made her way boldly to the bed. Jax wondered, in seventy years and a number of wars, what else she had seen. Was the body even remotely as horrifying to her as it was to him? Did it still her as it so obviously had Baldair? Or was she desensitized to it?

  She ran her gnarled fingers down Renalee’s shoulder and arm, ghosting over the abuse that had taken place to her body. Nana’s hand closed around the girl’s, who looked even younger next to the nearly ancient woman. A glance down, and the manor mother jumped away, the hand that had been holding Renalee’s clutched to her chest.

  “What is it?” Jax studied the horror on her face, trying to make sense of the sudden shift.

  The woman said nothing, timidly reaching back with trembling fingers for the hand she’d just held. Her tears had been stilled by horror, and she slowly turned the palm upright. Once again, as if the corpse’s hand had come to life and grabbed her, Nana darted away.

  She had taken no issue with the other marks and cuts, but the one in Renalee’s palm gave her genuine pause.

  “What is it?” Baldair repeated Jax’s question and moved for a better look.

  There, in the center of Renalee’s hand, was a carefully carved mark. A straight line with a forked end, like a trident, had
been cut into the skin and muscle, flesh pulled away. It was a neat incision and unbloodied, clearly done after death had stopped the girl’s heart beating.

  “The pirate queen,” Nana whispered.

  Jax had never thought he would see the mark again, not least of all on a corpse. But there it was, plain as day. They had been looking for traces of Adela Lagmir along the coast. They should have been more careful what they wished for.

  7. ERION

  GO TO THE coast, they said. It’ll be fun to hunt for lost pirate treasure, they said.

  Erion’s head was about to explode. His things had been ransacked by revelers in the night, he was having to manage a hoard of disgruntled people, and like the cherry atop a proverbial cake, he was now dealing with the stench of vomit.

  Baldair owed him. A lot.

  The prince owed him the whole damn manor house for the past day’s affairs.

  “I’m terribly sorry for all this.” Even in his strife, his upbringing won out. He could hear his mother in the back of his mind, scolding him for last night’s indulgences. Her voice was shrill, reminding him that he had a very narrow window to salvage face, and the Le’Dan name, before all those assembled. As if anyone actually cared about the Le’Dan name this far South.

  “Don’t fret so, Lord Erion.” The man smiled, grabbing his rags and bucket that were now utterly soiled. “I’ve been attending to the young prince since he was born.”

  “So I imagine you’ve seen even worse than this?” Erion said hopefully.

  The man at least made a show of considering it. “Not that I can recall, but I’m sure there’s something.”

  “At least we can hope it will be the last such adventure for our prince, now that he has it out of his system.”

  “I doubt that.” The man adjusted his grip with a knowing smile. Given Baldair’s history, the prince was likely just getting started on his wild years. Erion looked at the ceiling, remembering the body that had been discovered just upstairs. Perhaps that would be enough to quell Baldair’s impulsive tendencies for at least a little while.

  He frowned. It shouldn’t have to take a murder to stem the prince’s over-the-top habits.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you? Or shall we begin cleaning up the manor?” the servant asked.

  “Hold on cleaning the place. It won’t become any messier for the wait, and there may be something important to find,” Erion thought aloud. “Check the larder and see what there is in the way of food to be served to those still here.”

  “With haste.” The man disappeared with a bow.

  Erion turned for the two rooms on either side of the foyer. The doors had been closed, and, on his order on behalf of the prince, no one had come or gone all morning. He needed to begin questioning them. Did he want to start with the door on the right or left?

  He started for the billiards room. He had spent far too much time in the study the night before and felt queasy merely thinking of being in there again.

  A group of about fifteen were huddled into small groups, each in various states of dress. Erion resisted the urge to permit the ladies to locate their clothes or rummage through the upstairs to find something acceptable. Until he heard from Baldair again, he wasn’t letting anyone move about.

  A woman raised her head. Her hands clutched a gentleman’s jacket that had been draped over her shoulders. She had a vague expression of recognition the moment Erion entered the room.

  “Did the prince find the culprit?” she asked.

  “We already found the culprit,” one of the men said sharply. “He was standing with blood on his hands, caught in the act.”

  “You heard the prince, no one is guilty until solid proof is produced.” Erion glared at the man for even suggesting Jax was the responsible party. He knew how it looked, but that didn’t stop the surge of protectiveness he felt for his friend. Jax had endured enough… and now this. “Furthermore, Jax didn’t do it.”

  “You have no proof of that.”

  “He wasn’t holding a knife,” Erion started on the man without missing a breath. “Jax is also a Firebearer. If he attacked someone without a weapon, they would have burns.”

  “He could’ve stashed the knife,” the man insisted. “To throw off even you.”

  Erion sighed. He was going to get nowhere when what he was really battling against was Southern prejudice. “Let us cease speculation and call it a stalemate, focus on the facts. We are going to get to the bottom of this…”

  Erion proceeded to question the room. Or rather, attempt to question. No one seemed to remember most of the night, not least what they had been doing at any given hour. He couldn’t even make any accusations on the grounds of them being subversive. He barely remembered what had happened last night, and judging from the state of the bar, it really was no surprise why.

  Getting nowhere with the first group of fifteen, he moved to the study, hoping for better luck with the other set of guests. But even the smell of hot bacon and feeling of full stomachs couldn’t bring back the night that had been spent in an alcohol-fueled haze. He was getting nowhere fast.

  “Have you questioned us quite enough?” A man stood. “I think we have all answered your inquiries in earnest, and we would like to go home.”

  A few nods of agreement pushed him onward.

  “We would like our clothes, and to bathe. Keeping us further is an affront to decency.”

  “An affront to decency is a woman murdered,” Erion snapped back. He hated using the memory of a dead woman to shock the room into silence. But he was under orders not to let anyone leave until Baldair had concluded his investigation.

  The man wasn’t dissuaded. “I will stand for no further questions. I must be home. Unless you have a reason to keep me, you cannot.”

  Erion bit his tongue from lashing out that, on the crown’s orders, they could all be kept as long as Baldair saw fit. Those were the benefits of being the son of the Emperor Solaris. The law was whatever Baldair decided to make it, and there were only two people who could say otherwise, the Emperor or the Crown Prince, neither of whom were anywhere even remotely close.

  “It is at the request of our prince that I’m keeping you.”

  “I demand you let me leave.” The man started for the door.

  Erion stood with a sigh. “I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

  “What will you do?” The man sized Erion up and down. Certainly, he didn’t look like much right now in his ill-fitting trousers and crumpled, equally borrowed, shirt. But he was Baldair’s right hand. He had spent his life on training grounds with some of the best there were, including the prince. “I would have you know I served in the Crystal Caverns.”

  “And the crown thanks you for your service.” Baldair’s presence in the doorway was like a sunbeam of blessing sent from the Mother above. “I would not like to see the Empire lose any good men this day, as Erion here is one of the best to walk onto the field any given morning.”

  The prince crossed the room and gave a sturdy pat on Erion’s shoulder. Erion looked for Jax, but the other Westerner was nowhere to be seen. He hoped it merely meant Jax was elsewhere handling arrangements that no doubt needed to be made. He tried for a questioning look at the prince, but Baldair ignored him, or was oblivious. Both were equally possible given the circumstances.

  “I have a few questions I would like to ask, and I request you indulge me if they are replications of what Erion has asked previously.” The room suddenly seemed more amenable to queries now that the prince was doing the asking. Even the man who had been eager to leave moments prior sat down with a resigned huff. “Foremost, I would like to ask if anyone here knows about a woman named Renalee Aeywir.”

  Brows furrowed, and people glanced about to see if any were about to come forward. No one did.

  “Very good, yes, right,” Baldair continued. “Have there been any incidences of piracy recently along the coast?”

  “Piracy?” There was a collective mumble across the room.
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  “We haven’t had a problem with pirates in these waters since…” a woman paused, chewing over her words a long moment. “Since the blight of the seas left.”

  “You mean Adela Lagmir?” Erion attempted to clarify.

  There were some uneasy scowls and a few disgusted noises at the name.

  “Don’t say her name,” a woman scolded under her breath. Erion had given so little heed to the superstition, despite the warnings, that he had almost forgotten to avoid Adela’s name. “You seek to damn us?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” The earlier troublemaker stood. “You have been asking about her.”

  “What?” another man asked.

  “I heard stories of the prince asking about the pirate queen in the brewery. He may have even said her name.”

  The reaction treated the fact as though it were more scandalous than the previous night’s events.

  “What do pirates have anything to do with this?” the woman, a little bolder, asked. “Is it the curse? The curse of the pirate queen?”

  “Curse?” Erion raised his eyebrows at Baldair to see if the prince was in equal disbelief at the insanity before them.

  “A curse didn’t kill Renalee. That was the work of a terrible—but very real—person. Someone I will find.” Baldair commanded order before the room could slip into chaos. He ran a hand through his hair and momentarily deflated from his commanding presence. “I would like all of you to leave your names and locations of residence with the doorman on your way out, just in case we should have further questions.”

  The people shuffled out of the room behind them as they crossed the hall. Baldair continued his line of questioning, and Erion made it a point to keep his mouth shut about the infamous pirate. The need to do so was completely forgotten when a woman who had been hanging back from the mass exodus gave her testimony.

  “I knew Renalee,” she said quietly. “Well, I think I knew her. I think that was her name.”