by Dan Wingreen
The Dark Prince's lips pulled into a small, razor sharp smile. "Much better." He looked back to Harrington, crossing his arms casually. "If there's nothing else?"
Harrington's sudden unease around the Dark Prince was written into every tense line of his body, and for a moment Elias thought he would leap at the chance to leave. Yet, again, he found himself surprised when the captain visibly clamped down on his fear with an almost supernatural effort of self-control.
Elias was once again impressed despite himself.
"It doesn't matter if you were in your bedroom all night or not," Harrington said with a steady, determined edge. "You're still a suspect."
The Prince raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And just how does that work?"
"I have several witnesses who say you and the marchioness had an altercation at the Crown Prince's Birthday Ball—"
"She accosted me with innuendo and I rejected her thinly veiled offers out of hand."
"—and yesterday in the middle of the Fourth King's Garden, where, according to those witnesses, you made threats against her life—"
"She made several disparaging remarks about Elias," the Prince said, scowling.
Elias frowned. I never heard about that.
"Which, really, should be proof enough that I had nothing to do with her death because, if I was going to kill her, I would have done it then where people would have seen firsthand what happens when someone insults my intended. And"—he continued when Harrington opened his mouth—"even if you had a witness who told you I expressly stated I intended to murder that awful bint last night at whatever time she died, you still haven't explained how I did it in my own bed while I was asleep."
Harrington pressed his lips together tightly at the interruption, but waited until he was sure the Prince was done speaking before continuing.
"She was killed with magic."
It took every last scrap of self-control Elias had to keep from reacting. He knew the Dark Prince was innocent. He knew it, the same way he knew the sky was blue or that dragons don't appreciate marriage proposals. The Dark Prince had absolutely no reason to murder the marchioness other than wounded pride, and while the Prince had many, many faults, breaking his word to salve his pride was not among them.
And yet…
It wasn't the Prince who had been attacked, was it? It was Elias. Elias, who had never heard about yesterday's incident, even though they had talked about their day in-depth before retiring for the night. Elias, who already had one tormenter terrified into abandoning a decade long quest to ruin his life in whatever petty way he could. Elias, who knew for a fact the Dark Prince was the only person in Ellington who could actually use magic.
Elias could easily see the Prince breaking his word to avenge an insult towards someone he loved.
Slowly, he pulled his gaze away from Harrington to study the Dark Prince. He tried not to be obvious, tried to keep his face as expressionless as possible even as he prayed to any god who would listen that the Prince wouldn't be looking at him.
He wasn't. He was too busy staring at Harrington with a look of undisguised shock. It was wiped away quickly, replaced with an eyebrow raised in disbelief and lips twisted into a sneer, but it was enough for Elias to tell it was genuine surprise.
And that was enough for him.
"Magic," Elias said, his voice flat as he turned his attention back to the captain with a skeptical frown. "How provincial. I assume these witnesses are fishwives, then?"
Perhaps lying, even obliquely, to the guard was unwise, but there was a very good chance that his "case" was built on superstition and laziness.
"Nobles and servants," Harrington said, with a small, quick glare. "Honest, sensible people, every one."
The Dark Prince snorted. "Then they couldn't have been nobles," he muttered.
Harrington, and Elias, ignored him.
"And that makes them qualified to identify magic as a cause of death?" Elias asked.
"No," Harrington said. "That makes them qualified to give sworn statements on the Dark Prince's actions before the murder. The lack of wound or mark on the body of the marchioness is what identifies the cause of death."
Now it was Elias's turn to scoff. "That's what led you to magic? A wound-less body? What about poison? Or failure of the heart? There are many ways to be killed without a wound, none of which veer into the realm of fantasy."
"We're quite confident that it's magic," Harrington said, an odd gleam flashing in his eyes. "Though it's strange that you seem to be denying it so strongly."
"Strange?" Elias crossed his arms and for a brief moment wished he was wearing glasses so he could glare over their rims with scholarly disdain. "How is it strange that I'm questioning a supernatural force, which hasn't existed since the Unknowable Age, being the cause of a murder which took place last night?"
Harrington smirked. "It's strange because you already know about your prince's magic."
Elias's expression didn't so much as twitch. "And what led you to that ridicu—"
The word died on his lips as Harrington pulled a piece of paper from a pouch at his waist and held it open for Elias to read.
It was the Prince's letter to the Head Librarian.
"A signed confession to the murder would be better," Harrington mused. "But I think this is a good start."
"Where did you get that?" Elias asked, his voice somehow steady despite the invisible hand that seemed to be clawing at his throat.
Did the Librarian give it to him?
He couldn't imagine the Librarian volunteering information like that, especially to the castle guard with which he had several longstanding issues. He couldn't think of another way Harrington could have gotten the letter, though. The image of a concerned librarian asking Elias how the Dark Prince treated him flashed through his mind.
Could he be trying to protect me from a "murderer"?
"It was turned in by a concerned citizen," Harrington said, folding the letter and placing it in a pouch at his side.
Elias had to reluctantly admit that it was a possibility.
"And the proof you have that I actually wrote it?" the Dark Prince asked.
"We're confident that it's accurate."
"Well, that doesn't answer my question at all," the Prince said. He shook his head slightly and gave Harrington a disappointed frown. "It's almost as if you have no real proof of anything. If I were the type to speculate on these things, I would be inclined to assume that you're trying to trick me into confessing to a crime."
Harrington controlled his expression, but Elias thought he could see some of his own telltale signs of suppressed frustration on the guard captain's face. "This is—"
"A piece of paper with my name on it, nothing more," the Prince said, cutting him off with a dismissive gesture. "Even if it were written by me and even if I could perform acts of magical brilliance, you still have no proof that I used that magic to kill poor, unlamented Selma. The legal system in Mournhelm may not be as robust and longstanding as Ellington's, but even back home we require much more proof than a letter of dubious origin before we throw someone to the executioners. Surely you aren't saying that the White Kingdom does less to protect its accused than a dark realm ruled by a Dark King?"
Everything the Dark Prince had just said was a lie, of course. The royal family of Mournhelm could execute anyone they wanted for almost any reason they wanted, a fact which Elias spent an entire chapter exploring the consequences of in the Prince's book. And while he was surprised the Prince would tell so bald a lie, he was even more surprised that Harrington—who had, up until then, been a sterling example of Ellington's believe the absolute worst about anything Mournhelm attitude—seemed to believe it.
"Our system of justice is thorough and infallible." Elias could hear the barest hints of a growl in Harrington's voice.
"So, firm evidence is actually required before a conviction, then?" the Prince asked, not even trying to his disdainful skepticism.
"Of course," Harrington
said stiffly.
"Good!" The Dark Prince grinned. "Then you can return when you have some."
Harrington blinked and Elias heard Barnaby shifting uncomfortably behind him. The guard captain realized his mistake almost at once, but there was no way he could gracefully retract what he'd said without admitting Ellington's justice system was flawed. Something he was apparently unwilling to do.
Elias never would have guessed the man was that much of a patriot.
"I'll need to see a piece of correspondence that you've written, then. To compare the handwriting," Harrington said after taking a few moments to rally himself.
"Of course." Elias cut in before the Dark Prince could say anything else. He was back on firmer ground now that legalities had been brought into the conversation. "Just as soon as you get a written order of royal exception. His Highness is a royal guest, and the law states quite clearly that a royal guest's quarters are to be inviolable without written consent from the King."
Harrington's jaw clenched again and Elias had some trouble keeping a smirk off his face.
"Very well," Harrington ground out. Clearly he had been looking forward to dragging the Prince off to the dungeons. "We will return with the order."
Harrington started towards the door, Barnaby quickly following on his heels so closely that he almost crashed into the captain's back when he suddenly stopped.
"I would advise against destroying any evidence after I leave," Harrington said over his shoulder. "But even if you do, know that you will be brought to justice for the murder you committed."
The Dark Prince's grin took on a decidedly feral edge.
"I look forward to it."
Chapter 22
"Well, they were unconscionably rude." The Dark Prince scowled into the cold fireplace, his arms crossed across his chest.
After the guards left, they'd both gone to their respective chairs as if by silent agreement. It was always uncomfortably cool by the fireplace whenever there wasn't a fire lit, and Elias had wrapped the Prince's robe around himself as tightly as he could. It smelled slightly of wine and cake; a strangely soothing combination which lulled Elias into relaxation even as his mind worked furiously.
"They have every right to be," he said absently.
"Of course they don't," the Prince said, turning his scowl on Elias. "You said it yourself, I'm a royal guest. If they're going to accuse me of murder then they should show me due deference while doing so."
Elias sighed and resigned himself to waiting until after this conversation was over before he could try to figure out whether or not the Librarian had turned over the Prince's letter.
"Actually, they shouldn't. According to Ellington's Articles of Founding, every suspect of a major crime is treated as a suspect, regardless of rank, to ensure a fair investigation."
The Prince scoffed. "You call what just happened fair? Please tell me you're not naive enough to actually think they're looking into any other suspects."
"Of course not." Elias gave the Prince a pointed look. "But no amount of childish lashing out will change the fact their attitude is required by law."
The Prince, at least, had the good grace not to argue about being called childish. "I'm still a royal guest, though. Surely that gives me legal rights as well."
"It does. Which is why the guards need written permission from the King to search your quarters. But beyond that? It means very little when you're the suspect of a murder investigation. Not even the King is exempt from being bound by the Articles, nor can he overrule them. They are sacrosanct. Even if many laws passed after the Articles were ratified tend to be more…fluid."
"Surprisingly practical then, your Articles." The Prince uncrossed his arms and started drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Though I still think I should be an exception, of course."
"Ellington was founded as a nation of scholars," Elias said, ignoring the Prince's narcissism with satisfying ease. "No matter how far we've fallen since then. And stop that."
The Prince grunted, but stilled his fingers before falling silent. They both stared at the empty fireplace, lost in thought. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Chappy sitting in his chair in the corner, and was surprised he'd somehow managed to slip inside the room without Elias noticing. He glanced at the chaperone, wondering if the elderly man was going to say anything about his employer/charge being the suspect of a murder investigation, but he just studied them with his usual intense, yet somehow disinterested, stare. Elias's eyes narrowed slightly.
Chappy knows the Prince can use magic. And he only stays with us during the evenings…
"Where does Chappy go during the day?" Elias asked.
The Prince took a moment to shake himself out of his contemplation. "He stays with me, actually."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "All day?"
The Prince shrugged. "It's either that or have him shadow you, but since you aren't a disreputable slattern and I don't have to worry about you passing yourself about like a box of tobacco at a gaming hall, he's better off with me. It's not like he'd leave either of us alone and give us an opportunity to express our mutual desire to fornicate."
Sudden warmth bloomed in Elias's cold cheeks, but he resolutely ignored it. "Then he couldn't have told anyone about your magic."
The Prince sighed. "No," he said softly. "I'd already thought of that."
They fell into another silence. Scenarios and ideas flashed through Elias's head, categorized, explored, and rejected as necessary in the way he normally fleshed out new theories and ideas. He didn't see any way a murder investigation into the Dark Prince would just fizzle out and go cold the way so many unexplained murders tended to do. Not with the way people were superstitiously stupid about Mournhelm, and certainly not with the victim being the daughter of a duke. The only way the investigation would end is if the real murderer was caught and the Prince declared innocent. And Elias very much doubted the guards would even think to look elsewhere with so convenient a suspect just sitting around gathering dust. There was really only one thing Elias could think to do, and though it was something he'd decided on weeks ago, he had hoped he would have had more time.
"I suppose we should pack, then," Elias said.
After starting in his chair at Elias's voice, the Prince gave him a confused look. "For what?"
"Our trip to Mournhelm," Elias said, keeping his voice as even as possible.
The Dark Prince stared at him, blinking. "—What?"
"You already said the investigation isn't fair," Elias said. "And as loath as I am to leave behind everything I've ever known on such short notice, I am even more averse to languishing in an indefinite courtship while the castle's investigatory efforts are focused on attempting to prove you a murderer."
The blinking intensified. At any other time, Elias would have been immensely satisfied at so obviously throwing the Dark Prince.
"You can't just offer to pack up and go to Mournhelm with me to avoid a murder investigation," the Prince said finally.
"Yes I can. I just did, in fact."
"No you can't," the Prince snapped. "You… Elias, I'm courting you because I want to be with you. And I want you to accept because you want to be with me."
"I do. Do you really think I would spend all my time with you and sleep in the same bed as you if I didn't?"
The Dark Prince ran his hand through his hair and let out a frustrated growl. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it." Elias started to say that, no, he knew no such thing, but the Prince cut him off with a sharp look. "Can you say with all honesty that if this morning hadn't happened you would have woken up today and decided you wanted to leave for Mournhelm with me?"
"No. But—"
"I rest my case. And there are no buts to this, Elias. I refuse to start our life together because some awful, distasteful ogress went and got herself murdered." His eyes darkened slightly, and Elias was almost positive his anger was more at Selma daring to die and leave him as the sole suspect than at Elia
s.
Not that he would have given up even if it was directed at him.
"If the entire guard is focused on you, no one is going to even suggest other avenues of inquiry—"
"Then we'll just have to investigate ourselves," the Dark Prince said with no small amount of smugness.
Now it was Elias's turn to blink. "Excuse me?"
"I can't have my name dragged through the mud just because your guard has decided it wishes to be alarmingly incompetent," the Prince said. "I can't go anywhere until my name is cleared.
"You're refusing to leave because of pride?" Elias exploded.
"You say that like pride is unimportant. And," the Dark Prince added just as Elias was about to vehemently dispute the importance of pride, "it isn't just my pride which needs to be appeased."
"Then whose?" Elias said, sharply enunciating each word.
"My father's."
"Explain."
The Dark Prince looked away from Elias and, for a long moment, he fell silent. His fingers twitched slightly as if he was having trouble keeping them from resuming their tapping, and it suddenly struck Elias that the Prince was nervous. Which made Elias uncomfortable. He found himself almost missing the days when he felt little else but mild annoyance towards other people.
"Please, explain what you mean." Elias kept his voice calm and as soothing as possible, feeling horribly awkward as he did so. He'd never tried to comfort somebody before, and he wasn't even sure if it was necessary now, but it got the Prince to look at him again so he counted it as a success.
"One would think," the Prince said as his lips twisted wryly, "I would be more worried about the consequences of being suspected of murder in a kingdom which hates me, than I would be about scaring you off."
"Scaring me off?" Elias tried to keep his voice smooth, but a small bit of incredulity managed to creep its way in. "You aren't particularly frightening."
He hadn't exactly meant it as a joke, but the Dark Prince let out a surprised laugh anyway and Elias couldn't help but smile.
