Allies & Assassins

by Justin Somper

  Hedd darted off to pursue a fresh scent and Jared was once more alone. Or was he? He had heard a twig snap but it had come from the opposite direction in which Hedd had gone. Jared paused, engaging all his senses. Sure enough, he heard Hedd snuffling through the undergrowth to his left. The twig had very definitely broken to his right. Still, there was no further sound. Perhaps it was simply another forest creature, or one of Jonas’s team. The Prince moved on.

  He hadn’t got much farther when he saw a shadowy figure move between the trunks of two trees. He might not have noticed it were it not for the fact that the low sun had suddenly assailed his eyes through a gap in the foliage directly ahead, making him turn away instinctively. Of course, he had been followed! The Poet might have allowed him to leave the confines of the palace, but he wasn’t about to let the new Prince wander freely. Jared couldn’t find it in himself to be angry.

  “Hal!” he called. “I know you’re out there. Stop lurking in the shadows and show yourself!”

  He waited. He could feel with certainty now that he was not the only human in this part of the forest.

  “Hal! Stop playing games!”

  Surely his bodyguard would have come out at his first summons, let alone his second? Jared felt a sudden icy shiver pass through him. If it wasn’t Hal Harness skulking in the shadows, then who was it? All at once, he realized how rash he had been to venture out on his own like this—not that he went anywhere, these days, without a dagger. Giving a whistle to summon Hedd back, Jared reached for the hilt of the weapon, which jutted up above his belt.

  Frustratingly, Hedd did not return on cue this time. Had something—or someone—detained him? With a sudden paralyzing dread, Jared watched as the shadowy figure emerged from around a tree to his right. He held himself in readiness, adrenaline rising once more, his dagger solid in the firm grip of his hand.

  The figure moved closer toward him. He saw, from its silhouette, that it was a girl. She was wearing a long coat, its collar turned up against the autumn chill, and boots. As she stepped into the light, Jared caught sight of her flame-red hair, and he knew immediately who she was and that she posed him no threat. Her gray eyes met his as she walked toward him.

  “I’m not Hal, your highness” she said, running a hand through her untamed hair.

  He nodded, smiling softly at her. “Indeed you are not.”

  She nodded tentatively toward his hand. “Could you please put that dagger away, your highness? You’re not in any danger from me.”

  As he slipped the dagger back into its sheath, he glanced back up at her. “You were following me, weren’t you?”

  She nodded guiltily. “Yes, I’m afraid I was. All the way from the Palace Gardens.”

  “Why, may I ask?”

  “You didn’t leave me much choice, Prince Jared. I needed to talk to you and it was proving impossible to gain an audience at the palace.”

  “It seems we’re at a disadvantage. You know my name but…”

  “Oh, yes, sorry, your highness” she said. “I’m Asta Peck.” She extended her hand.

  She should really have curtsied, Jared thought, as they shook hands, but he was actually relieved that she hadn’t. It would have felt much too formal, especially in this setting. The flesh of her hand was pleasantly cool, like the stoned in the fjord.

  “It is I who should apologize,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I should have known your name. I seem to be seeing you with increasing frequency.” He thought how her reassuring smile had twice guided him through moments of pressure. “You’re Elias’s niece, aren’t you?

  She nodded. “His niece and his apprentice. I’ve been at court only six months.”

  He smiled. “Well, it seems you and I are both fish out of water, Asta Peck.”

  She seemed surprised by his words, but she smiled back at him. Just then, Hedd came hurtling back from his latest travels. But to Jared’s surprise, in spite of the ongoing lure of more chicken treats, Hedd bypassed his master and instead made a beeline for his new companion.

  “Hello!” Asta said, ruffling his neck, just where he liked it. “What’s your name?”

  “Asta, meet Hedd.”

  “Hedd?” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a curious name for a hound.”

  “I know,” Jared said. “I named him after one of the grooms. I sort of idolized him at the time.”

  Asta stared up at him, still tickling the delighted Hedd. “You… a prince, idolized one of the grooms?”

  Jared shrugged. “I was young and this groom seemed able make all the hounds do amazing tricks. My brothers and I were deeply impressed.” He tapped his nose lightly. “Keep that to yourself, though.”

  “We’ll see,” Asta replied, daring to hold his gaze.

  Jared felt suddenly awkward. He was just about growing accustomed to being stared at by the members of the court; somehow the gaze of this one, extremely pretty, girl was far more unnerving. “So you wanted to see me?” Jared said, moving things onto more certain ground. “Why don’t you join us on our walk?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, releasing her hold on Hedd and falling into step with Jared. The Prince noted that instead of bounding off to investigate fresh scents, Hedd chose instead to trot along at Asta’s side. He shook his head at this show of instant, obvious devotion. On the other hand, he could see the dog had a point.

  “So what was so important that you chose to trail me to the forest?” Jared inquired.

  Asta took a deep breath. “It’s about the investigation into your brother’s murder,” she said.

  Of course it was. Though he had hoped with every fiber of his being that what the pretty stranger wanted from him might prove a distraction, somehow Jared had known that this wouldn’t be the case. It seemed that the sanctuary offered by the forest was illusory. Every last corner of the princedom was tainted by his brother’s murder.

  He turned to Asta. She clearly took this as an invitation to proceed. “I’ve been doing some investigating myself, as it happens. And, well, I have some doubts I thought I should raise with you before you execute the wrong man.”

  This was a lot to take in. “You’ve undertaken your own investigation? How? Why? And how can you be sure that the wrong man is about to be executed?”

  “I can’t be sure,” Asta admitted, ignoring the Prince’s first questions and jumping straight into the last. “Not yet. But I can certainly prick significant holes in the case against him. And, after what you said in your speech yesterday morning, well I knew I had to find you and talk to you…”

  For a moment, Jared was back on the palace balcony, gazing out nervously at the populace but seeing her, only her. Her copper hair, her wide gray eyes, had seemed like a beacon to him then, just as they did now.

  “I came to the palace to try to gain an audience with you this morning, but I was waylaid by the late Prince’s Consort and she told me—in no uncertain terms—that there was no way I’d succeed in gaining access to you.”

  Jared’s mind was racing. He barely knew where to begin. “You talked to my brother’s wife? Of course you did—I remember you waved up at me from the fountain.” He paused. “How long have you known Silva?”

  “Not long,” Asta said, realizing how immediately at ease she felt with Prince Jared, in spite of the gaping differences in their rank. She brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes as they walked on. “Uncle Elias offered my services to sit with her two days ago, during the meeting of the Twelve.” She blushed. “I think he, and others too, were concerned for her personal safety. Not only because of the harm someone might inflict upon her, but that she might inflict upon herself.”

  Jared’s eyes widened at this. Asta continued. “She seems to like my company. When our paths crossed this morning, we ended up going on a walk together. And there are things she told me then, well not told me exactly, but things I really think you need to know. Assuming, of course, that you don’t know them already.”

  Jared drew to a halt, raising his
hand. “All right,” he said. “You need to slow down.”

  “You can match my pace,” Asta replied.

  “Not your pace of walking!” Jared exclaimed. “Your talk! It seems like you have an awful lot to tell me but you need to help me find a way in here. Start at the beginning. Let’s focus on the assassin, the steward…”

  “The supposed assassin,” Asta corrected him.

  “All right,” Jared said. “But the case against him does seem pretty conclusive.”

  “In certain ways, yes,” Asta agreed. “There’s the unholy trinity of evidence, right? One, he had access to your brother’s dinner plate. Two, my uncle’s book of poisons was found in his quarters. Three, he fled to the forest. Oh, and added bonus, he just happens to be an immigrant from Paddenburg, the nation that may or may not have launched a fresh attack on Archenfield.”

  Jared nodded. “It does seem pretty conclusive.”

  “Of course,” Asta allowed, “but it might well feel that way because someone has gone to great lengths to mislead us from the true state of affairs.”

  “You think the steward has been set up by the real assassin?”

  “I think it’s a possibility we have to consider,” Asta said. There was an utter fearlessness in the way she said “we.” Jared rather liked it, in much the same way he’d enjoyed her failure to curtsey. “It all goes back to the postmortem my uncle and I prepared. Have you read it?”

  Jared did not reply instantly. She took his silence as her answer. “That’s all right,” she said. “I mean I wasn’t entirely sure how these things work. Though I assumed you’d be as anxious as anyone to know what led to your brother’s murder.”

  “I am,” he said, bristling with sudden anger. “Of course I am! But the investigation into the murder is being handled by the Captain of the Guard. It was presented to me that he would read the postmortem on my behalf.”

  “That makes complete sense,” Asta said, realizing she had overstepped a boundary. “I mean, in one sense, you are too close to all this to be objective. That’s why I hesitated before coming to you. But now I’m glad I did.”

  Jared nodded, his earlier anger draining away. “I think I am too. Tell me about the postmortem.”

  Asta didn’t waste any time. “My uncle has identified two possible poisons that may have been used on your brother. It could have been either one of them or it could have been a combination of both. According to the case against Michael Reeves, the poison was conclusively savin, a plant not native to Archenfield. It only grows in the Physic Garden, which, in spite of its proximity to the Kitchen Garden, is not easily accessible to a kitchen steward.” She came to a sudden halt, gazing at Prince Jared, giving him a chance to catch up.

  “All right,” he said. “So are you saying that the poison used wasn’t savin? Or that it would have needed someone else to get into the Physic Garden—someone who had easier access?”

  “I’m putting both of those down as possibilities,” Asta said. Seeing Jared’s look of frustration, she added, “Just like my uncle did in the report. He did not say definitively that the poison used on your brother was savin. I fear they have seized on that to make the case against Michael Reeves stronger.”

  “It was pretty strong to start with,” Jared rejoined. “You can’t argue that he did not have access to my brother’s food, nor that he didn’t have the book of poisons in his possession. Nor that he fled, before anyone had put him into the frame.”

  “I certainly won’t argue that he had access to your brother’s food. Of course he did, but so did countless others who work in the kitchens, including the Cook. And it’s possible that your brother wasn’t even poisoned by food—I’ll come to that. As for the book of poisons, that could easily have been placed there by the true culprit. And while Michael didn’t help his cause any by fleeing, isn’t it possible that he knew that the fact he was from Paddenburg would be uncovered and what was likely to happen when it came to light?”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Jared said, none too keen on the picture Asta painted of Archenfield’s judicial system. One thought swiftly chased away another. “What do you mean that my brother may not have been poisoned by food?”

  Asta nodded once more, “I spoke to the Cook…”

  “Of course you did!” Jared interjected.

  “She doesn’t believe that the poison could have been administered in her kitchen,” Asta finished.

  “Sure,” said Jared, “but you can see why she’d think and say that.”

  Asta gave a quick nod. “Another possibility raised in the postmortem was that the poison was admitted through a patch of broken skin. Last week, your brother went on a hunting expedition—”

  “Nothing unusual in that,” Jared observed.

  Asta glared at him, wondering if she could dare rebuke a prince for interrupting too much. “During that expedition, your brother had a run-in with a stag and was lightly wounded. But though the wound was only light, it could have been the ideal channel for someone to poison him, little by little, perhaps by means of a salve.”

  Jared felt as if his head was about to explode. “Have you found this salve?”

  “No,” Asta said. “I’m still looking for it. But when I spoke to Kai Jagger…” She paused, perhaps expecting him to interrupt again. He did not. “When I spoke to the Huntsman, he told me who was with your brother in the hunting party. It included the Huntsman himself, the Prince’s Bodyguard, the Captain of the Guard and his deputy, the Woodsman and the Chief Groom.”

  Jared shook his head. “You have certainly been busy!” Though his words were light, they belied his true feelings. He was thinking how many of the Twelve were on that hunting trip—including the very man he had made his Edling earlier that day. “If only I’d been on that hunting trip myself,” he said, “I might be able to shed some light on what happened.”

  Asta didn’t miss a beat. “Why weren’t you part of that hunting party?”

  “I’ve had more than my share of hunting expeditions of late. Yes, I know I’m supposed to embrace each of the courtly pursuits, but there is a limit!” He smiled again. “Instead I brought the dogs here, into the heart of the forest, making sure I gave Anders and his party a wide berth. We had a great time—didn’t we, Hedd, eh boy?”

  He ruffled the fur under Hedd’s chin, then glanced up as Asta’s intelligent eyes absorbed what he’d told her. He wondered if she would press him further, and if he would continue to feel compelled to answer any query she put before him. To his relief, she simply smiled. They continued their walk in companionable silence.

  Suddenly, Prince Jared stopped dead in his tracks. He had realized where all Asta’s questions were leading. “Are you saying that, in your opinion, my brother was assassinated by one of the Twelve?”

  Asta’s face was level with his own. “Yes, I believe that is what I’m saying.”

  “Do you have any idea what a treasonous thing that is to think, let alone say?”

  Asta was flushed but she did not recoil. “I’m new to the court,” she said. “Protocol doesn’t come easily to me.”

  “You’re not joking!”

  Asta looked somber. “My uncle is always telling me I should be more careful. But the truth matters to me. And I think it does to you too. That’s what you said up on the balcony.” She paused. “I took you at your word. Was that a mistake?”

  He let out a sigh. “No. No, you have done the right thing coming to find me and telling me what you know. But Asta, you need to listen to me. For your own safety, you must not share these thoughts and theories with anyone else. Only with me, understand?”

  Asta nodded. This time, she allowed herself a small smile, born of relief. “Who else would I need to talk to, now I have the ear of the Prince?”

  Jared smiled at her joke. Then his thoughts grew clouded again. “You said you had spoken to Silva,” he remembered. “That you wanted to tell me something about her?”

  “Yes,” Asta said, her own brow furrowed. “I
t’s all rather confusing. During that first meeting with her, she was emotional. Understandably, given what she was dealing with. But during that meeting, she told me that her marriage to your brother was—” Asta broke off, staring into the distance.

  “Well?” Jared pressed her.

  “I think I’m about to really overstep the mark,” she said.

  “I think so too,” he agreed. “But time isn’t on our side. If you think I need to know this, tell me. Don’t try to find ways to pretty it up.”

  She nodded. “Well, Silva told me that their marriage was not the fairy tale it was painted as being. Then this morning, she was very keen to take that back and tell me that they were in love—that although their relationship started out as a political union, they came to develop deep feelings for one another.”

  “Perhaps she was simply talking out of grief when you first saw her?” Jared suggested.

  “No.” Asta shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Jared was taken aback by the force of her response. “You seem very sure of that,” he said.

  “During the postmortem, we removed the chain your brother wore around his neck. The chain had three items hanging from it—a vial of your father’s ashes, a key and a tubular locket. When we opened the locket, we found a love note, which we assumed was from Silva to Anders.”

  “What do you mean you assumed it was from her? Who else but my brother’s wife would send him such a note?”

  Asta shrugged. “That’s the question,” she said. “When I showed Silva the note, she was shocked. She told me that she did not write it.”

  Jared was briefly speechless. “Do you have this note? May I see it?”

  Asta shook her head. “Silva took it from me. Along with the key. I still don’t know what that key was for.”