A good sign that she was healing.
King Rupert allowed Richard to lead the internal investigation the moment Finn had declared Sapphire stabilized and out of immediate danger. Finn himself was granted immunity as he had been the one to save her life, but everyone else had to account for where they were during that time—and why.
How Finn had convinced Richard to not press about the exact location of the secret passageway still had Slate baffled.
Richard did admit upfront to having belladonna leaves in his room, but those were a prescription from Doctor Jaxton for Richard’s anxiety, and Sapphire felt no need to question Richard’s loyalty, so the investigation moved forward.
Slate liked Richard. He really did. But Richard’s anger throughout the investigation was already wearing Slate’s patience thin. Slate needed to find the almost-murderer just as much as Richard did, but at least Slate wasn’t terrorizing every servant and staff member during his questioning.
And Slate couldn’t fault Brandon for his obsessive care over Sapphire right now—not when he’d been hovering over her just as much—but Brandon seemed blind to the fact that the attempt on Sapphire was likely because she’d birthed the heir that had made Brandon crown prince. What if someone made an attempt on Adeline next?
Slate rubbed at his forehead. It was good that Doctor Jaxton was back in town in case something happened again. Jaxton had returned two days after the incident. Because he’d given Sapphire the tea, he’d been questioned. He’d seemed surprised to hear about the attack and was downright shocked that she’d survived the poison. After he’d been questioned by Richard, Doctor Jaxton started an investigation of his own, trying to learn the identity of the mysterious healer who was so powerful that he’d saved Sapphire’s life.
Then they discovered that one of the staff, Bodrik, was missing, and a jug of prepared belladonna tea was found in his quarters. Any lingering suspicion on Jaxton immediately transferred to Bodrik, and the military began an intensive search for the missing servant.
No one could come up with any solid motives for why Bodrik would try to kill Sapphire, nor could anyone explain how he would have access to anyone powerful enough with Void magic to nearly kill her. Maybe he was jealous of a lower-ranked noble family marrying up into the royal bloodline. Maybe he had ties to the Reformers—a theory that gave him some motive, and a shaky explanation for the Void magic. Or maybe he was being blackmailed or coerced by another nation—probably Aerugo. Possibly as a retaliation for Doldra “stealing” Princess Violet from the arrogant nation.
But none of it seemed right, and it rankled for Slate. He wouldn’t risk—couldn’t risk—his sister being hurt again. Let alone Adeline or Brandon.
Slate ran his hand over the smooth river rock that created the bridge leading away from the palace. They had to figure out the mystery. Soon.
“Is that you, Slate?”
Slate yelped and flailed, swinging toward the unexpected voice behind him.
Cole caught his punch and raised his eyebrows. “It’s been awhile since I managed to get the drop on you.” He dropped Slate’s fist and crossed his arms, looking Slate over. “You’ve lost weight. And color. You feeling alright?”
“Yeah.” Slate rubbed the back of his neck and gave an awkward laugh. “I’ve been holed up with Sapphire these last two weeks. This is the first I’ve been outside since.”
“That explains much.” Cole’s jaw twitched. “How is she? I’ve heard she’s doing well in her recovery, but that’s rumor, not verified fact.”
Slate found a relatively smooth part of the rock bridge and leaned against it, arms crossed. He shrugged. “She’s doing better. Still weaker than she wants to be—something about the Void aging her internally—but Finn says she’ll recover with time.” He snorted. “She’s the one that insisted I get out for a bit, actually.”
“Finn?” Cole’s eyes brightened in recognition. “Connor’s father?” Slate nodded and Cole smiled. “I’d wondered who it was that saved her. Now it makes sense.” Cole’s smile turned sly. “And did Sapphire really insist that you go out for a bit, or did you stifle her to the point that she kicked you out?”
Slate smoothed a hand against his vest, not deigning to respond. Cole snorted, and Slate couldn’t bite back his rueful expression. “She’s married, has a baby of her own, and sometimes I still struggle with letting her go. I’m lucky she puts up with me as much as she does.”
“That you are. Maybe you should make it up to her by taking her to the discus tournament when it starts?” Cole suggested. “Her favorite team is going to be playing.”
“Not a bad idea.” Slate thought for a moment. “She should be healed enough by then, and, assuming nothing else is going on and we can confirm the safety, it should work.” He looked up from watching the road.
Cole’s distant gaze in the direction of the eastern garrison ranged between anger and sorrow.
Slate backpedaled. “Did I just say something wrong?”
Cole’s eyes snapped to him, then slid away. He sighed. “No, it’s not you.” He gestured down the road. “Want to go to the field and throw around a disc for a bit? I need to blow some steam and clear my head.”
“Sure.”
Slate waited for a few minutes before he ventured to ask, “What happened that has you so steamed?”
Cole clenched his jaw, thick muscles in his neck popping out as he ground his teeth together, a shudder rippling through his shoulders. He fisted his hands and took a slow, deep breath before answering. “I got demoted.”
Slate stopped, stunned. “Demoted? Why? When?” He hesitated, already guessing, but he had to ask. “By whom?”
“Last week.” Cole didn’t stop walking, and Slate hastened to stay abreast. Cole glanced over at him. “I argued with Prince Richard. I have questions about how we were ambushed at Selvage, and he keeps insisting that there’s no concern about the Reformers and Aerugo working together. Then he gave us a new mission, and I told him it’d be too dangerous as it was, we needed more men and supplies.” He shook his head. “So he demoted me, put Captain Jennings in charge of my men, and sent us all out regardless.”
Slate absorbed Cole’s angry explanation, making a mental note to return to the idea of Aerugo and the Reformers being affiliated with each other. “Jennings? From the Western Command?”
Cole dipped his head in a nod.
Slate didn’t say anything, considering. Jennings was a strong commander, but he led his men in a very different way than Stevens or Cole. Whatever the mission was, however it went, something had happened.
Cole walked straight in the direction of the field, jaw clenched. Slate followed, waiting for his friend to cool down a bit before asking him to continue the story.
Trees that lined the left side of the road broke away, revealing the empty discus practice field between the citadel and the palace. Grassy mounds and ramps flowed up out of the ground like natural knolls, despite their purposeful placement by the shapers. With no one else here, they would be able to run the whole field if they wanted to.
They moved with one purpose to the player box on the side of the playing zone.
A small panel of ten different polished stones sat on top of the green-mottled copper box, the wires running from the panel in decorative designs down to the seam between crate and lid. Slate touched the stones in sequence and reached for the brass clasps when the rocks all flickered. The lid popped open with a hiss, revealing a small stack of pale bone discs and a medical kit.
Slate pulled out a disc and hefted it, somber. “What was the mission?”
“Are you going to wear your jacket playing? Because I’m not.” Cole shucked off his jacket, pausing to carefully fold it in half and lay it across the top of the box. He unclasped his belt, sword, and leg holster, weighing them in his hand with a distant look before setting them down with a sigh. “We were sent to wipe out a dragon nest.”
Slate gently dropped the disc back into the box to slide off his own jac
ket and effects. Curiosity burned, but he didn’t want to pressure Cole and have him snap. Slate dropped into a lunge and fought to remain casual in his tone. “Where was the nest?” He shifted his weight to the other leg.
“One of the main roads east out of Doldra—the one heading to Lucrum, actually.” Cole’s face twisted at the mention of Aerugo’s capital. He swung an arm over his shoulder and used his left hand to push his elbow down. “The whole area was teeming with stalkers. I don’t know how they’d managed to get settled there or how it went on for so long.” He looked up at Slate. “Have you ever seen one?”
“A stalker nest? You crazy? Whales, no!” Slate twisted left and right, stretching his spine while he tried to wrap his mind around the horror. “I haven’t seen one alive, and as is, they scare me half to death. I can’t imagine a whole nest of them. How many would that be, anyway?”
“About twenty.” Cole’s voice was dark. “They really do blend in with their surroundings. Especially out in nature. All you see is a blur that may be just the way the sun is hitting the tree. Or it’s actually a stalker that’s about to jump out.” He paused a moment, and his eyes darkened with memory. “One came out of nowhere and ripped the guy next to me to shreds. We had nothing to bring home to bury.
“We’ve been slow to get fresh recruits to re-fill our unit, and we lost two of them on the mission. They had no chance at all. One moment we’re wondering where the bloody dragons were; the next moment we were surrounded and fighting for our lives.” Cole shook his head as he bent forward to touch his toes. “They were everywhere and nowhere. It’s blazing hard to fight when you can barely see the enemy.”
Slate grunted at the story. “But you were able to wipe out the nest?”
“Yeah. But it was definitely an unpleasant mission gone wrong.” Cole sighed. “Jennings wasn’t half bad, he knows how to fight dragons. But my men are having trouble adjusting to the change in command.”
Cole straightened and looked at Slate soberly. “Do you trust Richard?”
Slate paused mid-stretch to look at Cole’s face. His friend watched him, his eyes unreadable. Slate blinked. “What?”
“Do you trust Richard?” Cole repeated.
“Yes. Well, not with making judgment calls on missions or anything, but I trust him in general. Why?” Slate straightened, giving up on the stretching so he could focus on Cole. Why would Cole ask such a random question? And trust in what way? Slate knew he could trust Richard to take care of his family, if nothing else. Even while broken up over Rose and everything happening with Violet, Richard had a deep love for Brandon and Sapphire and his own.
Even if his way of showing it drove everyone crazy right now.
Cole was silent for a long minute. He sighed. “I can’t think of an easy way to ask this or say this. What if it was Richard who tried to have Sapphire killed?”
Slate stared and made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat. He coughed and tried again. “How did you come up with that idea?”
Cole lifted a hand and started ticking off his fingers. “He’s been through a lot this last year with the loss of Rose. He could be feeling like his throne is threatened now that Brandon has an heir and he doesn’t. According to rumor, he had breakfast with her and Brandon that morning. He sent the palace doctor away that same day for an unnecessary mission. Then he ordered a lockdown that nearly was the death of her. You said yourself that he wasn’t even in the room with the family when you came back with Finn. It’s just suspicious, you know?”
Slate blinked and closed his gaping mouth. “Seriously? Richard may be going through some issues right now, but he does care for and love her, in his own way. He was frantic during that time, absolutely panicking that she’d die, just like Rose.” Slate shook his head at his friend. “No. Richard had nothing to do with it. You’d have to show some serious proof for me to believe that of him.”
Cole blew out a breath. “Okay. That’s what I was hoping to hear. Just had to be certain.”
“Certain that the first prince isn’t a murderer of his own family?” A shocked laugh broke out of Slate. “I’m pretty certain.”
Cole shoved his hands in his pockets and offered a shallow nod, his brow creased. “Good enough for me.” He scuffed his boot tip against the ground, furrowing the moist dirt. “I know I’m still mad at Richard for causing the deaths of my men and what he’s done to my command. I promise that I’m only trying to get to the bottom of what happened in Selvage and to your sister. I’m not trying to stir up any extra problems.”
“I believe you.” Slate looked back at the players’ box and lightly huffed an incredulous laugh to himself. Cole had been through the wringer recently because of Richard, but this was a speculation that he hadn’t seen coming from a mile away. Richard was more out-of-sorts of late, but he’d done nothing to deserve such theories.
Slate picked up a disc and twirled the smooth dragon bone in his hands. “But let’s not get carried away with speculation, okay? I want to find the Void Born who tried to kill Sapphire and give him a piece of my mind, but only once I know without a doubt it’s the right guy.”
“Fair enough.” Cole rubbed a hand against his cheek. “Enough talk.” He nodded to the disc. “Let’s play, and we’ll each do our own investigation. Whoever figures out the truth first buys the next round at the Hawk.”
Slate flashed a predatory grin. “You’re on.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Clara
Clara released her breath as she ran the sharpening stone down the length of her blade, envisioning what she’d do with it when she found Sapphire’s would-be poisoner. A stab to the kidneys first. Let the pain be such that they wouldn’t be able to even scream. Then a slice across the gut. And—
Inhaling, she pulled the tool back, then set it down next to her leg. Sapphire wouldn’t want her to torture anyone, even if they deserved it. Clara lifted the sword to eye level, inspecting the gleaming metal for any nicks. Her father’s words echoed in her mind: “Your sword is your life. Take care of it, and it will take care of you.”
And she was supposed to take care of Sapphire, only now her friend was recovering from being poisoned. And Clara had done nothing. Unable to defend. Wasn’t even with Sapphire in her time of need.
The training room door behind her opened, and a light breeze flowed in from the open window throughout the work area. She suppressed a shiver and pushed a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her shoulder, purposefully ignoring the person who dropped on the bench next to her. That didn’t take him long.
Andre waited all of five seconds before interrupting her solitude. “Tell me you aren’t sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“Yes, you are.”
Bloody— Clara huffed and dropped her polishing rag on the bench and sheathed her sword before turning to look at him.
Concern etched tiny lines around his eyes. “Clara—”
“I’m not sulking.” She pushed away from the bench and strode into the large empty space meant for sparring. Once in the center of the ring, she stopped and stretched, twisting her torso side to side as she surveyed the rack of weapons. It was lovely to have access to whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, but little good it did in times like now. The sound of metal behind her spurred her to pivot on her boot heel and pace back to her partner, trying to keep the pure frustration out of her voice. “Who’s with them now?”
Andre had picked up her whet stone and had his own blade out to sharpen. He paused. “Joshua and Kodar.” He balanced his sword on his knees as he carefully rubbed oil along the hilt edge. “You can’t be with her ladyship every moment of the day. Accidents happen, and just like me and Brandon, you and Sapphire got lucky.”
“I don’t want to count on luck to protect her, Andre. I’m her shield. I’m supposed to take the hit, not her!”
Andre gave up on the pretense of cleaning his sword and set it aside, giving her a hard look, his jaw set. “What was it that you sai
d to me when Brandon and I returned from our mission? ‘He’s alive. You did your best. Don’t beat yourself up over it.’” He patted her vacated seat, his eyes softening. “She survived. We’ll find Bodrik, justice will be served, and the case will be closed.”
Clara shivered in the cool evening breeze and sank on the bench, face in her hands. Her heart still stuttered at the memory of Sapphire unconscious and draped over her bed as if dead. “What if it wasn’t Bodrik though? What if someone pinned the blame on him and kidnapped him, or killed him off, just to throw suspicion away from themselves?” She pressed the heels of her hands in her eyes, trying to grind the memory away. “What if we’re wrong? What if something happens again and it kills her? I can’t let that happen.”
Andre wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into his warmth, sighing as he wove his fingers through her hair. He gently nudged her head with his chin. “If it’s not him, then we’ll figure it out and find the rightful perpetrator.” He tugged her shoulder and she scooted closer, pressing her leg and side against him. “If it wasn’t Bodrik, my money would be on the Reformers. In which case, we need to find their contact within the palace.” He stilled, and she looked up at him. “Or Bodrik simply was a Reformer, and acting as their contact here,” he suggested.
Clara studied the worn brown leather tips of her boots, thinking. If Bodrik had been a Reformer, that would actually tie things up pretty neatly, if they could find him soon. If he wasn’t, then how would they track a Reformer in the palace without tipping them off?
“Why Sapphire?” She finally asked. This was the question they came back to every night. From the moment that Sapphire had been poisoned and on, Clara wrestled with this question, talking it over with Andre and questioning palace staff for ideas on motive. The staff adored Lady Sapphire though, and very few had any legitimate theories. Rumors abounded in the city, but Clara didn’t have the manpower to question every person as she wanted. She’d still hunt down every scrap of information that she could possibly get, though.
Betrayal by Blood Page 19
