by RJ Metcalf
“I’m back!” Zane announced. He started unloading his arms of food. “Here’s some jooj berries and chocolate for Saph, rock candy for Zak—don’t tell Mother how much I bought you—and …” Zane dropped down on the open seat next to Zak and held out a large paper bag between him and Brandon. “Dragon jerky for us. He had a good price on the biggest bag, so we’ll just split it.”
“Aww, a man date!” Sapphire teased. “Brandon buys the tickets, you get the food … maybe Zak and I should sit together while you two enjoy your time!”
Brandon choked on the jerky he’d just swallowed, and Zane pounded him on the back. He glared at his wife through watering eyes. “I bought tickets for you and Zak too!”
“True, true. But it’s—wait a minute.” Sapphire sat up straighter and motioned left and down, her eyes narrowed. “Is that Slate?”
The odds of Slate being at the same game and with seats so close to them would be pretty slim, but Brandon turned and shaded his eyes, searching.
Lo and behold, it was Slate. Dressed as a civilian like them, but much more snazzy. He gestured to the seat next to him, and a woman with long dark hair sat down. She laughed, her hand on his arm, and she turned to speak to another woman and a bearded man next to her. Slate leaned over, speaking to the second woman, who turned to respond, and Brandon could then see four jagged scars running from cheek to ear, marring the right side of her face.
Brandon looked at Sapphire quizzically. “Who’s the lady with him?”
She shrugged. “No clue. I don’t think I’ve seen her before, and he hasn’t mentioned anyone.” She leaned forward to look around Brandon. “Hey, Zane, do you know who Slate’s sitting with?”
“Eh?” Zane half stood to look over the rapidly filling up seats. “Oh. Captain Samantha.” He sat down casually, then froze and looked at Brandon and Sapphire from the corner of his eye. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Brandon leaned back into Sapphire to better look at Zane. His friend squirmed under the scrutiny. “Are you implying that you knew of a female in Slate’s life before his own sister?” He looked over his shoulder at Sapphire’s large eyes. “Scandalous!”
She dug her shoulder into his back, urging him to move. He obliged, and she leaned over him, bracing her forearm on his thigh. “Scandalous, indeed. Details, Zane. Details. Who is she? How did they meet? Are they seeing each other? Why hasn’t he said anything? Who’s the other couple? Why did he tell you and not us?”
A trapped expression crossed Zane’s face, and he looked down at the playing field as if it could save him somehow. Brandon cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows expectantly, trying not to laugh at the glare Zane shot him.
Zane coughed to clear his throat. “Ask your mother, she’s the one who essentially introduced them.” Zane scratched at his jaw, not looking at Sapphire. “I’m pretty sure Slate didn’t mention it because he didn’t want to get interrogated.” He squirmed and looked at Sapphire, palms up. “Don’t tell Slate I told you? He’d kill me. And, according to him, they’re just friends.”
Brandon raised an eyebrow in Slate’s direction, barely able to see them through the people. He had his arm around her as he talked animatedly with the other man. Samantha said something that made Slate laugh. Then he swooped in to kiss her on the lips.
Judging by the gasp of delight Brandon heard, Sapphire saw the kiss too. He grinned at his wife and wiggled his eyebrows. “Just friends, eh? We were ‘just friends,’ too.”
Sapphire laughed aloud. “Oh, I hope he’ll slip up and say something soon! This is going to be too much fun to not say anything!”
Zane slouched and covered his eyes with a hand as he groaned. “He’s going to kill me.”
The rumble of drums from the opening ceremony prevented Sapphire from questioning Zane any further, and Zak bounced in his seat. “Finally!”
Doldra threw off the disc, and then the crowd was on its feet, Brandon and his group following suit.
Seven men in red darted across the field, two standing on mounds on either side of the stadium as the opposing team swept in, weaving through the field, the disc a constant blur of motion. One of the Doldra men on the side jumped off the mound, flipping and snatching the disc in midair. The crowd cheered and yelled as he landed, flinging the disc to a teammate further down the field.
Brandon held his breath, silently urging the man to get it before the Antius team stole it back. He whooped when the Doldra player jumped to catch the disc, pivoting in one smooth motion to throw it to the next man.
Zak’s shrill voice mingled with the crowd as they all shouted in warning as the two men in Antius yellow raced forward toward their end goal.
“Don’t let them steal it! Look out! Look out!” Zak yelled, gesturing frantically with a large hunk of rock candy in his hand, narrowly missing Zane with it.
The disc flew high through the air toward the goal, everyone leaning forward in anticipation, wondering who would get to it first. Before it could hit the back wall of the arena, the furthest team mate in red ran up the wall and pushed off, grabbing the disc and flipping before landing.
The floor and seats vibrated under them as the crowd roared in approval. Brandon laughed in exhilaration. He fell back into his chair as the teams set up for the next throw-off.
Zane grinned over at him and Sapphire. “This was a great idea.”
“Yes! We really needed this,” Brandon agreed instantly. “Now for life in the palace to mellow out a bit, and we can chalk up this year to being pretty good.”
Sapphire shook her head and added coyly. “We need to learn about Slate’s mystery girl. Then we can say it’s a good year.”
Brandon looked over in Slate’s direction, unable to see past the crazed crowd cheering on the next play. “Good point. Let’s see if Garnet knows anything.”
Sapphire laughed, then flew to her feet, yelling and booing at the Antius team as they neared their goal line. “Stop him! Stop him!” She yelled, wailing when the other team scored a point. “Noooo! Vengeance!”
The afternoon blurred into evening all too quickly, large luminary crystals lighting the stadium as darkness fell, and the heat of fevered fans kept the pre-winter chill at bay once the sun fully set. At long last, the game ended, Doldra losing by a single point. A small fraction of the arena celebrated while the rest slowly trickled out, despondent.
Sapphire and Zak shuffled out together, Zak reaching up to wrap his arm around her waist while she stooped to rub a hand on his shoulders.
“I think my brother is trying to make a move on your wife,” Zane commented to Brandon as they walked back towards the palace. He rolled his neck and sighed in satisfaction as it cracked. “Please don’t kill him.”
Brandon laughed and smiled at the two of them as they stumbled and laughed. “As Adeline grows up, she and Zak will eventually be friends. So it’s good if Zak and Sapphire have a friendship. Means she won’t hurt him if he ever looks twice at our daughter.”
Zane snorted. “You aren’t going to try to set them up or anything, are you?”
“Hadn’t had the thought actually, no.” Brandon winced. “I’m actually thinking more about how in the world I’ll get sleep tonight when Sapphire is going to be speculating about Slate and that Captain Samantha all night long.” A pained groan from Zane made Brandon grin. “Care to think of anything else I can offer her to keep her brain occupied while I attempt to sleep?”
“No. Go ask him yourself.”
“Hmph. I’ll just have to do that then. And I’ll tell him that you told me to ask him.”
Zane groaned again.
Chapter Forty-Two
Zak
The best thing about discus tournaments was that they had several games through the week, which meant that Zak could play by the arena and soak up the energy from yet another game. He’d found himself a tree that still clung to its golden and red leaves. Its branches scraped the outside of the arena’s wall, and there he perched, high amongst t
he spotty foliage, munching on his candy from Matthias, and basking in the cheers, groans, and general cacophony of noise that rolled out from the game. It was exciting and soothing all at once—the closest he could get to the action.
He’d been in the tree long enough that a few people had come by, sheltering in the shade for a few minutes before moving on, completely oblivious to him gleefully sitting above their heads. He watched with idle curiosity as a tall, slender man walked up to his tree. The man looked familiar—maybe he’d run into him before? Another man joined him, shorter in comparison, and they stood there awkwardly, not looking at each other while standing as close as Zane would stand to Miss Garnet.
The tall one flicked hair from his black ponytail away from his face. “The plan is for after the tournament.”
Zak grabbed a leaf and started imprinting it with his thumbnail, leaving little crescents along the edges. Not much was likely to happen after the tournament, except for all the adults talking endlessly of winter, snow, and “put on a jacket!”
The short man spoke. “Good. Security should be reduced by then.”
That caught Zak’s attention, and now he studied the men. The tall ponytail man wore a nice vest, shiny shoes. The shorter … Zak wrinkled his nose. If the shorter man came by Zak’s house, his mama would make him take a bath.
“Indeed.” The taller man crossed his arms, looking up at the arena and away from Zak’s branch. “How many more men do you need?”
A roar of excitement from the crowd nearly masked the short man’s reply. “Probably another fifty or so would do it.”
“You have a month until the tournament ends, you realize.”
“Plenty of time.” The short man shrugged, his too big vest settling strangely with the motion. He straightened it.
The tall man adjusted his white top hat. “Only a small group of those men will be going in. After we determine how we’re going to get in.”
“Still haven’t figured out that detail, huh?” The short man groaned. “Good thing we have time.” He pulled a chainless pocket watch from his pocket. “Speaking of time, I’m out of it. I need to get back before I’m missed.” He nodded and gave a bow of genuine respect before strolling away, whistling.
Zak waited for the ponytail man to leave before he shimmied down the tree, curiosity outweighing his interest in listening to the game. Whatever the two were talking about, it sounded like something almost ominous. But he’d waited too long to follow them, and now that he was on the ground, out of the cool breeze, he was aware of the unseasonably warm weather.
Maybe Zane would have some idea of what to do with what he’d overheard. It could have been nothing, but his father once told him to use all the tools he had with him, and that included listening and responding.
The road to the palace was surprisingly empty, but that was to be expected while the tournament was still going on. Zak walked closer to the bridge, and the clear running water called to him, promising a moment of fun before the inevitable return of cold and looming frost. He tromped down to the waters edge, shucking his boots and socks.
The entire bank was soft with moss and green wild grass, except for one area further up, away from the water line. Curious, Zak scrambled up the grass to investigate. As he slowed, a sickening scent assaulted his nose, making him gag. It was almost sweet, but unlike candy, this made his stomach clench in revulsion.
But inquiring minds could not be quenched by just a foul smell. Zak stepped closer, his bare toes barely touching the dead grass as he leaned over the brown sod, trying to puzzle out why this would be dead, when everything else around him teemed with life.
The ground beneath his feet sank, and he fell forward with a yelp, throwing his hands up to catch his fall. Scratchy dead grass pricked and stabbed his palms, then the soil slumped with a wet squelching sound. The distinct odor of rot and death choked him, and yellow-white, greasy ooze covered his hands.
“Yeargh!” Zak scrambled backwards, trying to wipe the wax-like substance off his hands in disgust. Dashing down to the river to wash his hands and feet, Zak still felt interest tug at him, pulling his attention back, even as he scrubbed at the residue clinging to his skin. Whatever it was, it almost felt like soap, but smelled horrible.
He took a few minutes to put on his socks and shoes to avoid getting the nasty ooze on his feet again. Then he found a few long sticks. Prepared, he marched back to the mysterious area.
Flies scattered from the ooze puddled in the ground. Zak poked at where his hands had been when he’d fallen. More of the stinky stuff came up and he wrinkled his nose, moving to a different patch of the dead plants. This time, his stick stuck, and he pulled gently, then yanked. The stick flew out with something on the end of it.
He pulled the stick close, examining it without touching the dirty end. It almost looked like fabric. He looked back at the dead grass, mystified.
Maybe it’d be better to dig, than poke.
He quickly scoured for four sturdy-looking sticks, then lined them together as a makeshift shovel. The ground was soft despite the brown grass, making it easy for him to shovel and toss dirt away. The sticks hit something. He dug around it, revealing leather. Even more confused than before, Zak used his brittle shovel to push dirt aside, uncovering a boot, and fabric tucked into it. Fabric that squelched and broke when his stick shovel touched it. Fabric that burst with ooze and rotting flesh and a hint of bone.
Zak gagged at the smell and backed away on his hands and knees, trying not to heave. He’d been poking at a body. He touched a rotting body. Zane would know what to do. Stomach still roiling, Zak scrambled up to the stonework bridge, yelling for his brother.
* * *
“And how did you find this? You said you poked it?” Prince Brandon looked at Zak, his blue eyes wide in disbelief.
Zak had found Zane with Brandon, the two of them playing an intense game of Compatibility in the library. Zak had managed to gasp out what he’d found, and the two men were immediately up and demanding that he show them. On the way out of the palace, Brandon had ordered soldiers to run for Doctor Jaxton to meet them for an on-site autopsy.
Zak led them back to the strange dead grass area and stood back while pointing to the boot. Zane and Brandon moved around it with caution while they discussed the brown sod, the handprints and ooze, the revealed leather boot and fabric. They both breathed through their sleeves, wincing at the stench.
Brandon was still looking at Zak, waiting for an answer. He nodded. “Yes sir. I poked it.”
Zane squatted by the boot and shook his head. “I hope the doctor can determine something from this. I’m guessing this guy has been dead for several months, at least.”
“How can you tell?”
Zane gestured at the terrain and then the bit of body they could see. “The dead grass is a clue—when bodies decompose, animal or human, they liquefy to some degree and it kills plants around it. Like you noticed.” Zane looked up and smiled at Zak. “Good instincts to check it out.” He pointed at the boots. “Those look like the ones worn by palace staff, don’t they?”
Brandon’s face had a slight green twinge to it as he leaned over Zane’s shoulder to get a better look. “Yes.”
“Know of any staff missing in the last year?” Zane used a stick to brush more dirt off the shoes.
“Only Bodrick.”
Zane shook his head. “If this is Bodrick, we’ll need to reopen the investigation.” He frowned and lowered his voice, glancing at the soldiers milling about the area. “And if this is our missing servant, then he wasn’t alone. Someone had to magick his body to speed the decomposition. He hasn’t been missing long enough for this, let alone with the weather, and—”
Zak tuned Zane out while he moved to be upwind of the body and the scent. He crossed his arms. “So there’s a second bad guy out there?”
Prince Brandon and Zane both looked at him, their faces somber. “That, little brother,” Zane replied slowly, resting his forearm on his knee, “i
s a very good question.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Clara
A muscle in Clara’s back ached to be stretched, and she shifted as discreetly as she dared to appease it. It would’ve been helpful to have worn a corset today—tight enough to lend support to her spine for standing for so long, and tight enough to prevent itches. But she couldn’t afford to stretch fully. No matter what. Too much movement would be dangerous.
Her wiggling caught Andre’s attention, and the skin around his eyes tightened as he smirked. She wrinkled her nose at him and glanced down at the deadweight baby in her arms.
“Is she asleep yet?” She kept her voice as soft and airy as possible.
Andre stepped around her silently and glided back into view, shaking his head. “Her eyes are half-mast.”
Clara tamped down on the urge to groan. Babysitting a teething baby was not high on her list of things to do this morning. She glanced back at Brandon and Sapphire’s gilded bedroom door, hoping that they somehow had had enough of a short rest to reclaim their daughter. She loved little Adeline dearly, yet Clara’s ear drums still rang from Adeline’s screaming earlier. Who knew babies could reach such a pitch?
Brandon and Sapphire had decided soon after Adeline was born that they didn’t want to have a nanny raise their child. They wanted to keep their daughter close, and share the responsibilities in rearing her. Naturally, that included sleepless nights like last night. It really wasn’t a surprise that the exhausted parents had asked Clara and Andre to watch Adeline right after breakfast.
Andre leaned against the back of a long gray couch and shot her a lopsided grin. “You look good, holding her.”
“Thanks,” Clara huffed. She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t suppose you want a turn? She’s heavier than she looks.”
Her partner shook his head and pushed back a stray brown lock of hair. “Now that she’s finally settled down? No way. Let her fall asleep, and we’ll put her to bed as planned.”
