by Sarina Dorie
“Tell us what they looked like. The rogue Fae.” Errol’s voice was a raspy whisper.
Pauline leaned toward the prince conspiratorially. “They had long black hair and metal armor that was shiny and iridescent like beetle shells. One of the robbers, her head was half shaved, and she showed off blue tattoos on the side of her head. I think they were wards.”
Errol had seen a similar look donned by enemy warriors in battle twenty years before.
The brothel owner crossed his arms. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they were Raven Court.”
“Here? In the Silver Court’s capital?” Prince Elric-Atherius asked. “But surely my father wouldn’t stand for such a thing? Have you reported this?”
The brothel owner snorted. “Do you truly think the high and mighty care about people like us?” He didn’t come right out and say the king didn’t care, but what he said was close enough to treason it would be dangerous if any of the soldiers in the party repeated what the man said.
Prince Elric-Atherius frowned. “Indeed, I do think the king would care. You are tax-paying citizens. You are subjects of our court and in our care to protect.” Prince Elric-Atherius paced back and forth. “How many more incidents have there been?”
With Errol’s Fae sight, he noticed the guards glamoured invisible squeezing to the edges of the room to stay out of the prince’s path. He didn’t make it easy for them to perform their duties.
“I think they’ve only been here a couple more times since that incident,” the brothel owner said. “They moved on, I expect.”
“To another part of the city? Or elsewhere in the kingdom?” Errol asked.
The room was growing uncomfortably stuffy with all the soldiers crammed into one space. The more they asked questions, the more the heat pressed in on Errol. He couldn’t stop thinking about his sister. King Viridios had made a feeble attempt to bring Errol retribution, but what about all these other people? Didn’t they deserve justice? Was the king just going to permit the miscreants to attack his loyal subjects?
The Raven Court had stepped into their kingdom. Surely these acts upon their people couldn’t be seen as anything less than an insult upon their king. Errol clenched his fists. If he had to face those harpies, they wouldn’t know what hit them.
His heartbeat drummed in his ears. Norris nudged him. Errol pulled himself out of the gloom of his thoughts.
“We will, of course, pay you for the inconvenience of being woken and questioned.” Prince Elric-Atherius gestured to Errol, who held his purse. They’d agreed upon how much they would pay people for information. They were supposed to use the silver in case they needed to bribe people, but it seemed Prince Elric-Atherius’ title and winsome face was enough to convince people.
Errol had warned the prince against frivolous spending, but he didn’t mind his generosity in this case. He emptied the agreed-upon amount into his hand and held it out to the man, who accepted it with dazzled eyes.
“I beg your pardon for asking, but is this enough?” Errol looked from the prince to the man. “What would it take so that your daughter could live a comfortable lifestyle without needing to . . . sell herself to men?”
The young lady’s eyes went wide. “I’m not a harlot.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m a maid. My mom and aunt are the harlots.”
“It’s that blasted wig and your mother’s rouge.” The girl’s father sighed.
A door creaked open. Errol shifted to see the woman who came in.
“Speak of the devil. . . .” The brothel owner grinned and opened his arms to his wife.
A Witchkin woman halted in the doorway, taking in the pacing prince. Her eyes flickered from her family to the prince and finally settled on Errol. Her jaw dropped.
It was Delilah. She was twenty-five years older than when he’d last seen her and still a harlot, though she had exchanged one house for another.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Past Problems and Present Predicaments
Errol’s eyes went wide with horror.
Delilah’s mouth worked, but no words came out.
Errol ducked his eyes down, guilt resurrecting in his soul. He hadn’t meant to kill Jezebel with muse magic and leave her daughter orphaned. He didn’t even know if that was what had happened. He had no memory of the incident after the theatrical that night. He’d done his best to make amends for what he might have done. He had bought Delilah’s freedom, yet she hadn’t left the life of a prostitute. She’d married a man who sold her each night. Errol’s only consolation was that she hadn’t forced that fate on her daughter.
The brothel owner introduced his wife. It didn’t escape Errol’s attention that he hadn’t thought to introduce himself.
Anger flashed in Delilah’s eyes, though she pressed her lips into a flat line. Errol was aware of all his soldiers in the room, no doubt observing every second of this. The suffocating stuffiness of the room made it impossible to breathe.
“Do you two know each other?” Prince Elric-Atherius asked.
Delilah glowered at Errol. “A lady of the night does not speak of her visitors.”
“Oh,” Prince Elric-Atherius glanced at Errol out of the corner of his eye. “Well, this is awkward.”
“Are we done here?” Errol’s face flushed with heat as he felt all eyes judging him. “We have no more questions? Let us be on our way.”
“What about the old man who was the original victim of the attack?” Prince Elric-Atherius asked. “Does anyone know who he is? We might want to interview him.”
“I deem it unnecessary,” Errol said firmly. He was ready to return to the castle before too many questions were asked about his past.
Unable to stand the stuffiness any longer, Errol marched out of the house into the cool air, expecting the prince to follow, but he didn’t. Leaving his charge wasn’t his most professional move. He was thankful the rest of his soldiers had the presence of mind to remain with Prince Elric-Atherius.
Except for Norris. She joined him outside a moment later.
He was about to scold her when she placed a hand on his elbow. “Are you all right, Captain?”
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be all right?” He composed his face into a mask of neutrality.
She opened her mouth, concern in her eyes. He didn’t want to answer whatever she was about to ask—whether it was about his sister or a woman she probably assumed he’d visited in the past.
His voice came out sharp. “Go tell our driver we’re almost ready.”
She inclined her head and followed his order.
The prince exited the house a moment later, followed by an entourage of guards. Prince Elric-Atherius patted Errol on the back, his smile pleased. “I’ve got the name of the elderly man who was attacked. And they were kind enough to give me information on who might know his address.”
Errol didn’t see why the prince had bothered. The young woman had described the attackers. They knew the rogues had been around and left.
“There isn’t anything more to find,” Errol said.
“You know very well there’s more. Additional accounts will add credibility to what we’ve already discovered.” The prince leaned in closer. “We’d best ensure the young woman’s story wasn’t exaggerated to impress a prince. Ladies do such things when I’m around in case you haven’t noticed.”
Errol snorted. He had noticed.
Prince Elric-Atherius continued in a low voice. “Are you going to swallow your pigheaded pride and follow through with this quest you put me up to?”
Errol was not pigheaded or prideful! But he had put the prince up to this—and for a reason. He intended to find Alma’s attackers so that he could ensure justice was given. He hated that the prince was right, but he was being selfish and stubborn. It was his duty to do what was right. For Alma.
“Do we have enough time to make another stop before my appointment?” Prince Elric-Atherius asked.
They did.
Errol escorted the prince to a house one block down. He allowed the prince to do all the talking as he inquired after the old man and explained their reason for doing so.
Errol was in a foul mood. He didn’t know why he had suggested this task to the prince. He couldn’t identify the attackers, even with descriptions. Worse yet, he was now aware that Alma’s death could have been prevented—had the king been willing to do something about it. In seeking the truth, Errol had found himself in a brothel and nearly exposed secrets from his past.
Errol wished he’d insisted on his soldiers escorting the prince out. Because he’d left, Errol had no idea what Delilah had said about him when he hadn’t been there. She’d implied silence with her statement—yet she had also damned his reputation.
With Ivy coming and going from his room to deliver mending or cookies, and Meredith being spotted, his soldiers would think he was a hypocrite. What would Ivy think if she learned about his accident or that he had once visited a brothel in a moment of weakness?
After Prince Elric-Atherius bribed the old man’s address out of the people of the house, they took a carriage ride to the new address.
Prince Elric-Atherius sat across from Errol in the carriage. “I imagine this must be difficult for you, hearing about your sister’s death.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” That was part of it, but Errol didn’t feel like explaining the entirety of it to the prince.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, Your Highness. I would never impose on you in that way.” A prince was the last person Errol would confide in. He didn’t know why Prince Elric-Atherius thought Errol would trespass on their difference in social classes to do so.
“If you change your mind later, I’ll be happy to listen.” Prince Elric-Atherius offered a pitying smile. “You can impose on me whenever you like. I’m not like my father. I hate how unapproachable he is—even to his own family.”
They lapsed into silence for the rest of the ride.
When they arrived at their destination, Errol found that it was an apothecary shop. Tonics and medicines lined the shelves. The guards spread out, keeping themselves between the prince and the windows and patrons. Even through the invisibility glamour, Errol was able to see Lieutenant O’Sullivan eyeing one labeled “Sleep like a Baby,” and snorted. Errol recently had made a note in his ledger that O’Sullivan’s wife had given birth.
Prince Elric-Atherius introduced Errol as the brother of the woman who had rescued the old man.
“Is that so?” The hunched-over man squinted at Errol. “You don’t look much like you’re related.”
Errol made no comment. If this man hadn’t been an easy target on the street that day, Alma would never have had to intervene. She wouldn’t be dead. Part of him loathed this man, even if it hadn’t been his fault for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Errol knew his hatred was illogical, but there was nowhere else to direct it. He couldn’t very well declare it was King Viridios’ fault for not taking better care of his subjects.
The old man’s name was Warwick of Asgaror of the Northern Court. He hailed from the same province where Helga had served as a Valkyrie, though if this old Fae had once been a warrior, it was difficult to see in his withered frame. Many Fae aged slowly, but not everyone was entitled to take magic from all around them to keep their immortality and youth as royalty were.
“I wondered if you would be willing to give us your account of what happened in order to help us track down the murderers,” Prince Elric-Atherius said.
Warwick’s account wasn’t any different from what they’d already learned, though it did corroborate the young woman’s story. Errol shifted impatiently, growing more agitated as the man rehashed every detail of his sister’s demise.
“Your sister was a hero,” Warwick said.
“Right. Lucky her.” Errol crossed his arms.
He wanted to curse at Alma for being so reckless. Yet he would have done the same. If he had seen someone in need of help, he would have lent it. They came from the same stock. Even so, he wished she hadn’t been so foolishly brave.
“I don’t know who they were, those ruffians, but it isn’t the first time I’ve heard of someone being attacked.” Warwick leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“Indeed,” Errol said. “We’ve already heard this band of rogue Fae have attacked others in Caern.” He looked to the prince, ready for the signal he was ready to depart.
“Not just here, but in Alfheim as well.” Warwick wet his lips, taking his time to explain himself. “I wrote to my cousin and recounted what had happened. She told me of her neighbor whose child was abducted by the Raven Court. Right here in our own kingdom!”
“But that would be an insult against our king to kidnap a child from this kingdom!” Prince Elric-Atherius said.
The old man shrugged. “I don’t think they care—so long as they don’t get caught.”
Errol wondered whether Ivy had been in the same situation—kidnapped from her kin and brought to the Raven Court to work as a slave. It was a horrible fate he didn’t wish upon anyone. Yet it was happening to children in their own kingdom.
“Are these the same rogue Fae or a different group?” Errol asked.
Pauline had said the brigands who had been harassing citizens in the Codpiece District primarily focused on robbery. She hadn’t said anything about abduction.
“I don’t know.” Warwick said. “I can write my cousin and find out.”
That would take forever. Errol didn’t want to wait. “Give us your cousin’s name and address, or her neighbor, and we will investigate the matter ourselves.”
The shadows behind the old man shifted and changed shape. For a moment Errol thought he saw movement, a spindly figure behind Warwick’s knees, but the shop door opened, and the light changed. What Errol thought he had seen a moment before was gone.
“This will definitely take more than one outing,” Prince Elric-Atherius said. “Goody! I will have more excuses to leave the castle.”
Leave it to a prince to think investigating deaths and kidnappings was a “good” thing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Spies and Lies
Errol saw to it that Prince Elric-Atherius arrived at his appointment in the tavern on time. As Errol had arranged, the entire building was empty save for the tavern keeper and his wife. They bowed to the prince and kept their eyes on the floor.
Three royal guards had protected Meredith and Ned as they transported them to the tavern. They reported to Errol that there had been no incidents. Meredith was attired as a serving wench as she brought Prince Elric-Atherius his meal. Her hair was covered to further conceal her appearance, and a mild glamour had been applied to her face to give a greenish tinge to her complexion.
She looked too much like Ivy. Errol didn’t like that. He didn’t want any chance of Ivy being mistaken for the prince’s mistress.
Ned’s hair was glamoured blond. Ned ran up to his father and hugged him before breaking away and running to Errol next. He hugged Errol’s legs while he stared at the child, perplexed. He didn’t move, unaccustomed to interacting with children. Laughing, Ned ran to his mother’s side.
Despite the disguise, there was no camouflaging the love in Prince Elric-Atherius’ eyes as he gazed upon his mistress and child. Errol wondered what it was like to have a family. The prince loved them so much he couldn’t stay away from them—even though it was in all their best interests to do so. Errol couldn’t fathom love being so addictive that it could do that to anyone. He hadn’t pined for Kendra or anyone his sister had tried to set him up with. Even when Errol had been engaged, he’d been accused of placing his work over his relationship. Perhaps he was too indifferent about anything other than duty to be able to understand.
It was ironic that he, who had no love life, was now thought to be having an affair with the prince’s mistress because she’d been spotted going to his room by I
vy. He didn’t know what his charge thought of him.
Errol had allowed the prince to ruin his reputation. He hoped he was at least going to succeed in his mission to bring Alma’s attackers to justice.
* * *
On their second expedition, they went to Alfheim. The village once had belonged to the Northern Court, but when they’d fallen, many of the villages and manors in the north had been absorbed into the Silver Court. Errol had only been there once while in the air navy.
Because it was a territory Captain Helga was familiar with, and one she still visited with her husband on holiday, she offered to make arrangements with the village’s mayor so that Prince Elric-Atherius would be able to use this as an opportunity to meet with his guests. She agreed to take Meredith and Ned to a safehouse there herself and speak to her friend, the mayor of Alfheim, on the prince’s behalf. If she held it against the prince that he was cheating on his wife, she didn’t permit it to show, even with Errol in privacy. He supposed she had served in the royal guard long enough that the infidelity of royalty was nothing to blink an eye at.
Alfheim was just as beautiful as Errol remembered, the forest painted gold with sunlight, cottages built in the boughs of trees, multiple rooms of one household connected by sky bridges. Large oaks contained ornate doors that led to interiors magicked to be enormous compared to the size of the outsides. Clothes hung out to dry blended in with colorful flags decorated with ornate art. A river cut through the woodland forest village, the water so clear and still one could see the mermaids swimming below. Someone played a merry song on panpipes nearby.
A young lady who appeared to be made more of sunlight than anything tangible halted on the edge of the path when she saw them.
“You are our king?” she asked, falling to her knees and supplicating herself on the ground before the prince. “The muse of all artists?” Motes of light danced around her. Errol couldn’t tell whether that was creativity or a different kind of energy in the air.
