She patted him gingerly on the arm. “Well, I’ll make sure Uma keeps them hidden away as soon as she returns from the Sephretta market.” The capital city’s greenhouse was the only place in Saphire that cultivated the fireblooms.
Perry tensed beside her as the heavy gates to the courtyard swung open, his father’s imposing shadow preceding his towering figure.
The familial resemblance is astounding, Jax thought as Duke Pettraud marched up the lengthy cobblestone path.
Bowing low, the Duke’s forest green cloak swirled around his muscular build. “Duchess Jacqueline, my sons and I are pleased to be in your lovely capital. I have forgotten how beautiful Saphire is in the spring.”
Jax extended her hand, and the Duke respectfully kissed it. “I am delighted you are here to share in our joy, Duke Pettraud.” She turned her focus to the three men standing behind him. “And I welcome my new brothers to our home.”
Duke Pettraud waved them forward to be introduced. “My eldest son and heir, Philippe, Your Grace.”
Philippe bowed low, his smirk unmistakable. This was clearly a man who relished being his father’s favorite. Unlike Perry and the Duke, he had long, wispy blond hair, so light it was almost white. Jax thought his chiseled features and large, wide eyes were reminiscent of Perry’s mother.
“This is Elias, my second born,” the Duke continued, pointing to the largest of the three. While not exactly overweight, he was bulky and thick. Elias’s hair appeared dark, like Perry’s, but it was shaved so close to his head that she couldn’t be sure.
“And this is Kaul, my second youngest.”
Jax put his age at two, maybe three years older than Perry. Out of the three, he resembled Perry the most, yet Kaul possessed a remarkably lanky and underweight build. Jax feared a gust of wind might blow him over.
“Percival, you’re looking well,” the Duke said, finally acknowledging his son for the first time.
Considering Perry was about to marry the leader of the strongest nation in the realm, Jax would have thought his family would demonstrate more acceptance, perhaps even appear impressed. In moments like these, she wondered why Duke Pettraud had put forth his youngest son as a marriage candidate when the negotiations had gone on with her father if he so obviously preferred his other sons.
“Hello, Father,” Perry said with an equal amount of warmth. “Brothers, good to see you all looking well.” His eyes held an expression reminiscent of physical pain as he stood before them.
Philippe, who Jax estimated to be Perry’s senior by a good fifteen years, nodded. “It has been too long, young Percy.”
Perry failed to conceal a cringe at the name and Jax wondered the reason behind it.
Before the situation became any more frosty—Jax felt enough of a chill to ruin her prized gardens—she came to Perry’s rescue. “I shall have my stewards escort you all to your private wing. My home is yours whilst you are here.”
“I hope you had the sense, Jacqueline, not to stuff me in a tower full of courtiers,” the Duke said with a grumble.
It shocked Jax to realize he was teasing her. “I, for one, know that you belong in the premier guest suite, Your Excellency.” It seemed Duke Pettraud had yet to forgive a slight committed by his host during the Lysandeir peace summit.
As the stewards assisted the accompanying valets with the bags, Jax searched for a topic to break the tense silence. “How are the rest of your children? It’s a shame they couldn’t all be here to celebrate,” she said to the Duke.
He stroked his chin, his lavender eyes darting to Perry. “They are well, thank you, Duchess.”
Well, I guess that is that, Jax mused as her stewards led the way to the guest suites reserved for Pettraud. She watched as the Duke and his sons were swallowed up by the palace, Jaquobie’s courtiers trailing them a respectful distance.
Turning to an ashen Perry, she reached for his hand. “What on earth was going on between you all?”
Growling, he stalked away, forcing her to follow him deep into the lush gardens.
“Perry?” she asked once more.
Dropping down onto a bench, his placed his head in his hands. “We shouldn’t have invited them, Jax. My father, yes, but my brothers…they don’t need to be here.”
She sat down beside him, patting a comforting hand on his back. “Darling, what has gotten into you?”
“They’ll just try to ruin everything and make it all about them,” he complained, his voice muffled by his hands.
She decided to wait for him to share more, and it only took a few minutes of strained silence before he broke.
“I mean, Philippe has already started after it,” he said with venom. “He knows, as they all do, that I don’t go by Percy anymore.”
“Why not?” Jax didn’t see anything wrong with the nickname, although he’d never mentioned it to her before now.
“It was my mother’s name for me when I was little. She doted on me so much that when she wasn’t watching, they would take her handbags and beat me with them, yelling ‘Purse-y, Purse-y’ over and over again.” He shuddered at the memory.
Jax bit her lip. Perhaps being an only child, she didn’t truly understand the trauma behind the taunting, for to her it seemed like something Perry could easily look beyond. “Could it be his way of honoring your mother’s memory, by using that name now?”
Perry’s eyes darkened. “I highly doubt it.” He looked at his entwined hands. “After she was buried, I remember him telling me that no one would ever love ‘Mother’s little Percy’ again.”
Jax scowled at the remark. “For Virtues’ sake, you were both grown men when that happened. Why would you let that bother you?”
Turning his back to her, he stood up with his hands in his pockets. “I know you’re trying to help, Jax, but you just wouldn’t understand. Both your parents worshiped the ground you walked on. My mother was the only person in my family who made me feel I was loved. When she died, all that was left behind for me was hatred and disappointment.”
Jax moved to his side, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I suppose I don’t understand, Perry. I don’t understand how anyone could not love you.”
His eyes found hers, giving her a small smile. “I learned long ago that I don’t need their love or approval to be happy. All I need is yours.”
She cupped his cheek in her palm. “And you have it.” She rested her forehead against his, breathing in the scent of him. “Shall we enjoy the sunshine a bit longer? How about a stroll?”
He laced his arm through hers and whisked her away.
ǂ
“I hope your apartments are to your satisfaction, Duke Pettraud,” Jax said before popping a soupy crouton in her mouth.
His spoon hovered over the venison stew. “Yes, Duchess, our accommodations are quite sufficient.”
She smiled, knowing that was as close to a compliment as she was likely going to get from her future father-in-law.
On her left, Perry absentmindedly stirred his lunch, not having said a word since everyone sat down to the outdoor picnic. The dining hall staff had set up a lengthy wooden table outside, along with enough chairs for the assembled guests. Bran, Emyr, and Skander were noticeably absent, as was Carriena. Jax thought she had heard Hendrie mention to Perry that the group had opted to go for a horseback ride and would have a light lunch when they returned.
Poor Edmund was having a tough time handling the Pettraud brothers without his comrades. After two or three failed jokes, he turned his full attention to Giovanna and Charles, who were animatedly discussing their favorite scenes in their father’s plays.
It seemed that Perry and his family preferred the silence between them, so Jax concentrated on devouring her meal so she could escape and find Carriena. She wouldn’t mind taking her stallion, Mortimer, for a ride to pass the time until the Crepsta and Mensina delegations arrived.
Placing her napkin down once her soup bowl was empty, she excused herself and nearly ran out of the gardens to esc
ape the brewing family drama. Charles and Giovanna gave her sympathetic looks as she departed, but at least they didn’t seem to hold her in-laws’ frosty manner against her.
She arrived at the stables a few minutes later, tying up her long hair in a messy bun. Vita would no doubt chastise her for creating unnecessary tangles because of it.
“Hendrie? What are you doing here?” She squinted, realizing the valet was pacing at the head of the carriage path near the elaborate barn.
He looked up, startled. “Duchess, I didn’t hear you walk up. I’m waiting for Uma to return. I have something to ask her…” he trailed off.
The corners of Jax’s mouth turned up. It looked like the talk she had with Perry while they traipsed around the gardens that morning had done its job. “I think she must be in the cellar attending to the fireblooms.”
“I just came from there,” Hendrie said with a frown.
“Hmm. Perhaps she dropped off the flowers and grabbed lunch in the kitchens?” Jax offered.
“No, Jax, the flowers weren’t in the cellar, either.” He crossed his arms and looked down the dirt road. “I don’t think Uma’s returned from Sephretta.”
“She left before breakfast. She should be back by now,” Jax murmured in thought, unease running through her veins. “Did she go alone?”
“No, she had two of my men with her,” came another male voice. Captain Solomon appeared from inside the barndoor, a beautiful bay mare beside him. “I expected them back at least an hour ago.”
Jax looked at the horse’s saddle. “What are you doing?”
“Going to ride down the path and see if their carriage lost a wheel or something,” George answered before hoisting himself onto the animal’s back.
Jax didn’t like his cryptic use of the phrase ‘or something’. Gathering her skirts, she hastened toward the stable. “Well, I’m coming with you.”
The Captain opened his mouth to protest but she sent him a silencing look. “I have time before my grandfather arrives, and I need to get away from all the angst brewing between the Pettraud clan.” She folded her arms. “Besides, the fresh air will do me good, and it will give me the chance to see the fireblooms.”
“I’ll come, too!” Hendrie chimed in. “If their carriage is broken, you’ll need a few extra horses to help everyone get back to the palace.”
George did not look pleased by his growing entourage. “Tack up quickly, then.”
As Hendrie ran to fetch the horses, Jax couldn’t help but be unnerved by George’s demeanor. He wasn’t acting like a mere carriage wheel had broken. “Is there something I should know about, Captain?” she asked, her tone brimming with authority.
He looked at her for a moment, as if weighing his thoughts. “Stay close to me, Duchess.”
A chill ran down her spine at the veiled warning. “George, is there something wrong?”
“I can’t be sure. But Uma has been away from the palace for far too long.” His eyes trailed down the carriage path. “I have to admit, I’m worried.”
The knot in her stomach tightened.
Hendrie returned a few minutes later with Jax’s beautiful midnight stallion in tow.
“Hello, Mortimer,” she cooed, rubbing the horse’s velvet nose. Given to her by Duke Crepsta and his wife for her eighteenth birthday, he was a treasured gift from the days when their duchies were close allies.
Hendrie had selected a chestnut mare for himself. “Lead the way, Captain,” he said, as if he were in charge.
Wishing she was wearing a more appropriate riding gown, Jax hauled herself onto the saddle without assistance. While she hadn’t ridden in a while, she’d been trained since birth and was a natural.
George waited for her to situate her dress before urging his mount forward. They took off down the carriage path, and it wasn’t long before the leafy trees of the forest obscured the palace from view.
Jax normally did not ride along the road and found she wasn’t as familiar with her surroundings as she felt she should be. Most of her journeys took place within the confines of a carriage, so it was a pleasant change to view her duchy from out in the open. Different view aside, she had unhappy memories of the last time she’d ridden Mortimer along this road. Shuddering, she pushed the thoughts of her parents’ murder out of her mind.
George, too, would no doubt be reminded of that tragedy, but he kept silent watch as they cantered along the dirt and rock.
After thirty minutes or so of riding, Jax guessed they were more than halfway to Sephretta’s city square but still hadn’t come across Uma or her guards.
“Wait,” George commanded, gesturing for her and Hendrie to halt in their tracks. “Duchess, I order you to stay right where you are. Hendrie, do not leave her side.”
It was rare that Jax ever did what she was told, but the quiet dread in George’s voice made her shake with fear. “What is it, George?”
He met her gaze, his dark eyes burning. “Jax, I need you to stay put.”
Nodding in promise, she gulped, exchanging frightened looks with Hendrie.
Drawing his sword, George kicked his mare forward and headed toward a bend in the road.
Narrowing her eyes to focus on the sight up ahead, Jax gasped. “Virtues, no! Is that one of the palace carriages?”
Nearly hidden amongst the dense foliage ornamenting the side of the road, Jax saw the wheels of an overturned coach spinning with sinister malice in the air. The sight brought forth a visceral reaction. Jax managed to slide to the ground from her horse’s back before she was sick.
“Duchess?” Hendrie was at her side in an instant, offering a handkerchief so she could wipe her mouth.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, tears threatening to break through. “It’s just…this scene…it reminds me…my parents—” she broke off, unable to finish. If anything had happened to Uma all because of some stupid flowers…
“Hendrie! Bring the Duchess to me,” George ordered.
Jax leaned on Hendrie, still feeling weak. “George, what’s going on?” she whimpered, but he kept quiet until she reached his side. “What on earth happened? Where is Uma?” Her voice rose several notes with each word. She couldn’t comprehend the destruction she saw just yet.
George’s penetrating eyes roamed over the debris from the carriage. Its doors had been ripped off and tossed aside, along with several gilded wood planks torn from the sides. Filling from the cushioned seats inside the coach spilled out onto the ground. Bulbs of orange and yellow flowers were strewn everywhere. “She’s not here.”
Chapter Six
“Well, where is she?” Hendrie asked, clearly unable to process the scene of chaos before them.
Jax’s eyes darted around the leafy grove, trying to figure out what could have happened. Had the carriage overturned, leaving Uma and her escorts to walk back to the palace on foot? If so, why hadn’t they passed her on the road?
“Virtues, no.” George’s dismayed voice floated from behind the wrecked coach.
“What is it?” Jax gathered her dress and climbed over a broken axle to get to the other side.
“Jax, stay back!” George shouted, but it was too late.
Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of a Saphirian guard lying on the ground, his purple and gold tunic covered in blood.
“Is he…?” Jax didn’t want to fully voice the question.
“Yes, but not due to a carriage accident.” With rage boiling off his muscular frame, George bent down and ripped something from the man’s side. “He was murdered.”
Jax’s searching gaze danced across the small dagger, unremarkable in make or model. “Murdered? George, where is Uma?”
“Oh, heavens,” came Hendrie’s gasp from the front of the caravan.
“What is it?” George bounded over to the ashen-faced valet. He knelt to the ground, more sorrow building in his eyes. “Oh, no. Preston.”
Jax joined them, her blood chilled to her bones by the lifeless face of another guardsman, a wooden arrow
protruding from his chest. “Who could have done this?” she seethed, her words a mere hiss on the wind.
“Where is Uma?” Hendrie’s pleas were more frantic now.
“Wait here by the carriage while I search the area,” George commanded, giving Jax and Hendrie stern looks. For extra measure, he grabbed a small knife from his boot and handed it to Hendrie.
The poor man looked absolutely helpless, so Jax seized the blade for herself. “Be careful, George. The attackers could still be in the area.”
With a firm, knowing nod, he disappeared into the underbrush.
Despite the rising panic in her stomach, Jax took a deep breath, chastising herself. She needed to keep a cool head for Uma’s sake. Her keen eyes scanned the overturned carriage and two dead bodies, looking for any clues as to who could have committed such a violent crime within her borders.
A fluttering noise on the breeze caught her attention, and her eyes zeroed in on a nearby tree. A piece of parchment, no bigger than a page from a book, flapped in ominous announcement. Held in place by a bloody dagger, similar to the one George had pulled from the first dead guard, it beckoned her forward.
Leaving Hendrie’s trembling side, she took careful steps over to the tree, as if she was afraid it might suddenly yank up its roots and scatter. “What’s this?” she asked, mostly to herself. With trembling fingers, Jax ripped the parchment away from its sharp peg.
Fluid script tattooed the page, the black ink bleeding into the fibers of the note. As she read the warning, a conflicting surge of relief and fear hit her head on. “George!” she called out to the woods, and within seconds, the winded Captain stood beside her.
“What is it?”
“Uma is alive. She isn’t here, but she’s alive,” she stated, her calm voice detached from the horror welling up in her heart. “Whoever did this left a message behind.”
George took the parchment from her shaking hands and read it aloud. “You have something of ours, so we took something of yours. Now, you can wait.” He looked at her, confusion in his eyes. “What on earth is this supposed to mean?”
Throne of Threats (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 5) Page 6
