The Autobiography of the Dark Prince

by Dan Wingreen

  Much like the Prince's royal guest quarters, the main doorway of the baron's suite opened into a large sitting room, though not as large as the room Elias had started to think of as his home. It was also a great deal messier, with papers and clothing strewn about, covering the floor, several small desks, and thrown over the backs of chairs and one of those mirrors which were oddly warped to make someone look thinner than they were. The mess was far too large for it to be anything other than a lifelong habit, and it covered almost every available surface, all except for one corner where a large desk was pushed up against the wall next to a door which most likely led to the baron's bedroom. The tidy desk was covered with gleaming tubes and beakers, along with various other objects Elias recognized as alchemical in nature. There seemed to be a four-foot semicircle surrounding it, which the clutter was not allowed to pass; even the few papers on the slightly gouged desktop were arranged neatly and placed in a single corner.

  Connolly cowered behind the comfortable-looking wingback chair placed right in front of the alchemical equipment.

  "Well," the Prince said disdainfully, "he's murdered a perfectly lovely room, if nothing else."

  Elias let out an amused snort before he could stop himself.

  "Wh-what are you doing?" Connolly squeaked. "Th-these are my p-personal quarters! I didn't invite y-you in!"

  "Oh, please, I'm not a vampire," the Prince said with a sneer.

  "I think he was referring to the fact that we forced our way into his rooms without asking," Elias said.

  "Then he should be clearer." The Prince took a step forward, making Connolly twitch before attempting to pull more of his bulk behind the chair. "Do you honestly think a chair is going to protect you from me?"

  To Elias's surprise, after letting out a high-pitched whine, the baron actually stood up from behind the chair, placing his hand on the desk to steady his shaking legs.

  Apparently he did.

  "Wh-why are you here?" Connolly asked, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

  The Prince smiled. "Finally, an intelligent question. We're here because you murdered somebody, and everybody but my dear Elias thinks I did it. While I don't blame you for the murder, as such—she really was a wretched female—I do very much take issue with being accused of a feat which I did not, in fact, perform."

  Connolly froze, his face somehow getting even paler.

  "Ah, now that is a very welcome sight," the Prince said, his smile widening into a grin. "We've been looking into this issue for several days, you see, and every time we think we've found our murderer they turn out to be depressingly innocent. But you? You are the very picture of guilt."

  "You can't accuse someone of murder because of how they look!" Connolly shouted. It was a surprisingly competent and stutter-free point.

  "We are well aware," Elias said, taking over from the Prince. "However, we can accuse the only alchemist in Ellington of murdering someone with alchemy."

  "It's somewhat of an obligation, actually," the Prince put in.

  The change, when it occurred, was so rapid Elias almost missed it. There was a brief, raspy intake of breath, and then, like a lever had been pulled, Connolly sprang into action. With a snarl, he whipped his arm—the one that had been braced on the desk—around faster than Elias would have thought possible for a man as large as the baron. Because Elias was looking into his eyes, he saw Connolly rapidly looking back and forth between him and the Prince as his arm came around. He had just enough time to realize the baron was trying to make a decision, but by the time he realized the nature of that decision, it was too late. The baron opened his fist and threw several small objects.

  They sailed through the air, directly towards Elias.

  Time seemed to slow to a crawl as his entire world condensed until all he could see were the projectiles, the only thoughts in his head were about death and alchemy and how nothing was ever what it seemed with an alchemist. Which was why he wouldn't recall the Dark Prince's panicked shout or the purple flash which briefly lit the room until much later. And why it took him longer than it otherwise would have to notice the objects which had been flying at his head were floating harmlessly in the air, less than a foot away.

  Elias wondered if perhaps he was dead, and the afterlife wasn't the eternal bliss or torture the religious always made it out to be, but instead it was to be suspended forever at the very moment of one's death. But then the baron shrieked and dove under his desk, and Elias's world expanded back to its normal dimensions, and he realized he was very much alive.

  How unexpected.

  "Are you all right, Elias?" The Dark Prince placed a hand on Elias's shoulder as he asked, but Elias was too busy wondering at the strange tone in the Prince's voice. It sounded like the other man was speaking in slow motion, and Elias wondered if he was still experiencing some sort of aftereffect of his near death experience. Shock, perhaps?

  He turned to the Prince. "Yes," he said, surprised that his own voice seemed perfectly normal. Not so much as a tremor marring his words. "I'm fine."

  The Prince frowned. "Are you sure?"

  Elias scowled, but since he was actually fine, he finally recognized the worry in the Prince's tone and decided it was the height of pointlessness to get cross at the Prince for being concerned about him. "Yes," he said, with a small half-smile. "Intact and whole, if slightly confused as to how."

  The Prince's lips twitched into what could almost pass for a smile. "I'll tell you later."

  And with that, the Prince's gaze shifted three inches over Elias's right shoulder, and his entire demeanor changed.

  "Baron Connolly," the Dark Prince said, his eyes darkening as he stepped around Elias. This time, the scholar had little trouble recognizing his tone. It was the same voice he'd used to threaten Elias the first day they met. He recalled it having little effect on him, but it seemed the baron was a far more receptive audience, if the way he whimpered and trembled was any indication. "You tried to take something which belongs to me."

  "I—"

  "Shut up," the Prince snarled. The baron squeaked, but otherwise obeyed. The Prince's lips smoothed into a satisfied smirk. "Much better. It's very rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking to you."

  This time Elias saw the purple flash, even if he couldn't see the eyes that spawned it while standing behind the Prince, and so he wasn't as startled as he could have been when the baron was yanked out from under the desk by invisible hands, knocking the chair over along the way, to be suspended in the air in front of the Dark Prince. Connolly shrieked again, but the Prince held up a single finger, and the baron's mouth slammed shut. He tried to keep screaming, but was only able to produce a muffled groan.

  "I will let you know when you're allowed to make noises," the Prince said, before turning away to study the objects still frozen in midair. Only the Prince's burning purple eyes gave any sign of his anger, and Elias found himself, embarrassingly, becoming aroused. He quickly looked away, studying the objects as well.

  Since they weren't hurtling towards his face, it was much easier to determine what they were. A pebble, a broken quill head, two tarnished brass buttons, and what seemed to be a rather elaborate glass eye. Aside from the last, all very innocuous, commonplace objects.

  "Let's see what these really are, shall we?"

  Without waiting for an answer, the fire in the Dark Prince's eyes blazed, and the objects changed.

  The pebble and one of the buttons burst into flames, the other button and the quill head turned into a noxious, green gas which the Prince banished with barely a glance, and the glass eye turned into a tiny, flying demon which hissed at Elias before the Prince grabbed it and tore off its head. He stared at the corpse for a long moment before dropping it to the floor and turning back to Connolly.

  "Poison, flame, and a constructed demon," the Prince said quietly. "You are a very skilled alchemist. One my father would dearly love to have a conversation with."

  Somehow, Connolly turned
yet paler.

  "That wasn't a threat," the Prince said, his tone never changing. "My father is a collector of knowledge, and he truly would love to speak with you about your obvious knowledge of a subject which few humans are able to master. He wouldn't harm you."

  The Dark Prince took a few steps around the baron, before moving close and leaning in so his lips were inches from Connolly's ear.

  "I, however," the Dark Prince said as his lips twisted into a mockery of a smile, "am not my father."

  A wet stain spread across the front of the baron's robes, and Elias shuddered in disgust before taking several steps back.

  "Highness, we need him alive to clear your name."

  The Prince's smile turned more genuine as he turned his fiery gaze towards Elias. "Of course we do," he said, as if to suggest otherwise had never crossed his mind. The baron seemed to relax, slightly. "Though I would like to remind all present that there are varying degrees of 'living'."

  Connolly whined, and the Prince whirled around, his robe flaring out dramatically as he backhanded the baron across the face.

  "Did I say you were allowed to make a noise?"

  To his credit, the Baron shook his head instead of attempting to verbalize his answer.

  "Then keep quiet."

  The Prince moved away from the baron, turning back to Elias with a smile. "Now, my dear, are there any questions you would like to ask our captive audience?"

  Ignoring the pun—and the way the Dark Prince's threatening demeanor was somewhat appealing when not focused on him—Elias took a moment to think. He thought he had most of the mystery figured out, more than earlier because of the buttons, but a lot of it was guesswork and educated assumptions. He decided to start with an easy question.

  "The green poison? That is what killed the marchioness, correct?"

  The baron said nothing, and Elias sighed and glanced at the Prince, raising an eyebrow.

  "You can make all the noises you want now, Baron," the Prince said, waving his hand negligently. "Although you may wish to confine most of them to words. Your wails make me much too eager to cut off your face."

  The baron shivered—somewhat impressive whilst hovering above the floor—before testing to see if his mouth would truly open and asking, "A-are you going to k-kill me?"

  "Not if you answer my questions," Elias said.

  The baron nodded. "O-okay."

  "The green poison?" he prompted.

  "No. No it was blue," Connolly said. "It…it didn't hurt her. She went quickly. Poof! There and gone. N-no suffering. I'm not…I'm not a cruel man."

  The implications weren't lost on Elias. Or the Dark Prince, apparently.

  "So, Elias would have suffered, had he inhaled the green?" the Prince asked, his voice more chilling than a dozen underground ice rivers.

  The Baron's eyes widened. "Not on purpose! I just grabbed whatever was on the desk! I didn't know! I-I wouldn't have hurt Elias if I'd known!"

  "And yet you tried to kill him."

  "Because he knew! He knew and the King will believe him and I'll get my head chopped off." The baron froze, a look of horror blooming to life on his face. "I'm going to get my head chopped off!"

  "Perhaps," Elias said absently as he tried to decide his next question. "Why didn't you want the marchioness to suffer? Surely she offended you in some way?"

  He knew she hadn't, but he wanted to hear how the baron would react.

  For a moment, the Baron seemed stuck between his fear of future decapitation and his fear of current retribution from an irate Dark Prince. Fear of the Prince quickly won out.

  "N-no. I-I've never met her. She seemed like a lovely woman. Very pretty. Though not as pretty as—" The baron's face twisted into a look of absolute heartbreak and impotent rage.

  Ah! And there we are.

  "Not as pretty as the Lady Elladora, you mean?"

  The Dark Prince cocked his head in confusion even as Connolly's eyes widened and filled with tears.

  "You do know," Connolly whispered.

  "What does Ella have to do with any of this?" the Prince asked.

  Elias allowed a small, smug smile to pull at his lips. He'd guessed correctly, after all. It was a strangely wonderful feeling, solving a mystery with almost no facts and based mostly on supposition. He fought the urge to laugh as he realized the investigation was actually ending with a sudden flash of insight and a dramatic retelling in front of the killer.

  I can't believe I'm actually going to get to do this.

  "Allow me to explain. You see the baron, like many since the dawn of time, woke up one day and found himself the victim of one of life's cruelest afflictions. All-encompassing, unrequited love."

  He paused to let that sink in, surprised at how easy it was to purposely slip into dramatics after the first time in the basement.

  "And like most sufferers of this affliction, he was initially unaware that it was only one-sided. Baron Connolly is not a man to whom women flock. He is unattractively obese, he sweats profusely, he is inarticulate almost to the point of handicap and, most importantly, he does not possess the rank or fortune to overcome those deficiencies, nor does he possess the self-awareness to recognize their existence. So when he fell in love, the only thing keeping him from pressing his suit and being rejected before his love could turn to obsession was a crippling shyness.

  "But turn to obsession it did. Although I must admit to playing a small part in that transformation."

  "How are you even remotely responsible for anything the baron did?" the Dark Prince asked.

  "Not just me," Elias answered. "You as well."

  "After all this, you're blaming me for murder now?" The Dark Prince crossed his arms, pouting ever so slightly.

  "Don't be dramatic," Elias said, rolling his eyes and ignoring the irony. "Our effect was almost negligible. It was just after we met, and I was still unaccustomed to dealing with the feelings you brought out of me. I was distracted, and the baron's poetical ramblings about the object of his affections were oddly soothing as background noise. It allowed me to focus. Which was why, instead of bluntly telling him no fair maiden would ever agree to his advances, and letting him go off to mend a broken heart, I foolishly recommended several books to help him in his suit. Knowing what I know now about how love can overwhelm the senses and throw logic to the wayside, I can recognize and acknowledge my mistake."

  The Prince smiled for a moment, before shaking himself. "So, you knew he was lusting after Ella?"

  "Not at all," Elias said. "In fact, I gave very little thought to who captured the baron's heart. It wasn't until I realized the marchioness was killed with alchemy that I realized he must have killed her, and after knowing that, it was easy to develop a theory as to why."

  Elias paused again, waiting for the question.

  "And you call me dramatic," the Dark Prince muttered. "Fine then, why?"

  "Because," he said, spreading his arms. "You stole Elladora from him."

  "What?" The fire in his eyes flickered in shock and, for the first time since Elias had met him, the Dark Prince looked utterly dumbfounded. "I…what?"

  It was rather glorious.

  "I did no such thing, Elias!" The Prince seemed torn between assuring Elias he hadn't pursued Elladora, and being angry at the implication he was cheating. Elias was about to step in and explain, but the baron interrupted him.

  "Yes, you did!" he screamed. "You stole her! You waited until the one night I gathered my courage to speak to her and then took her from me!"

  The Dark Prince's eyes blazed and Connolly's mouth slammed shut again. The baron glared murderously at the Prince as he tried in vain to continue his ravings.

  "Elias," the Prince said with a calm Elias could tell was at least partially forced. "Will you please tell me what he's ranting about?"

  Elias smiled. "The dance, of course." When the Prince simply raised an eyebrow, Elias elaborated. "I noticed the Baron seemed depressed when I arrived at the ball, and assumed it was because he'd
been turned down by his lady love"—the Prince mouthed the words "lady love" with a questioning look which Elias ignored—"and resolved to avoid him so he wouldn't attempt to unburden himself upon me. I saw him later that night seeming to be even more agitated, but at the time I made no connection between his distress and the fact you were dancing with Elladora. But in hindsight, it was somewhat obvious."

  He turned his attention from the Prince to the captive baron. Despite Connolly's obvious anger, the minor noble was practically covered in a nervous flop sweat.

  "'Her hair is like the most golden of suns, shining with a light which falls across her shoulders like a waterfall of light'. Your words, Baron, slightly paraphrased, of course, but they really only fit one noble lady. Golden hair is a rarity among the Ellingish, and despite her numerous other faults I cannot say Elladora's appearance is in any way lacking to those who find the charms of females appealing. Her hair, combined with the fact she is the only noble lady with whom the Dark Prince has had any positive contact with, leads to the inescapable conclusion that she was your reason for murdering the marchioness. Am I correct?"

  Elias glanced at the Dark Prince and, after a short pause, the Prince released his magical hold on the baron's mouth.

  "She never danced with anyone," Connolly said, his voice small and broken and a far cry from the furious denials Elias half expected. "I watched her for months at every ball she attended, and never once did she accept a dance with any man who wasn't married or elderly. She was waiting, you see. For me to summon the courage to ask her to dance. She saw me in a way no one else ever has, saw through me to the person underneath, and she was willing to wait for me."

  Elias's heart clenched at hearing portions of his own views on love repeated in the baron's words. He felt a brief, irrational surge of anger at the idea of someone twisting those feelings into an unhealthy obsession.

  "But then she danced with the Dark Prince, and I knew I had waited too long. She was taken from me before I ever had the chance to take her for myself. And what's worse, the moment he had her, the second he got what he wanted from her, he cast her aside to go after you."