The Ducal Detective (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 1)

by Sarah E. Burr

  As he promised, the captain of the ducal guard gave them a wide berth, allowing them plenty of privacy to talk freely about growing up ducal and all it entailed. Perry was particularly candid with stories about being the seventh son of a duke, and how most days, he simply wished he was anyone else but a useless heir. Jax, on the contrary, shared how being the only child of a duke had caused for much unwanted responsibility that often felt overwhelming as a teenager, thus why she was so desperate to go to the Academy. Perry had been privately tutored his entire life, and found her stories of the school completely fascinating. All while they chatted, Jax skillfully led the way to the tavern Master Vyanti had mentioned, and by midmorning, it came into sight.

  “The Blind Unicorn?” Perry chuckled, reading the sign hanging over the well-maintained building. He was barely winded from the intense riding they’d done, having found much of the countryside outside of the city to be quite picturesque and charming. Many spots they came to, he wanted to revisit with his paints and canvas at a later time. Looking at the three-story inn, he assessed the spot and found it to be rather upscale for a rural watering hole.

  “The owner found a wounded unicorn on this parcel of land once he purchased it. The poor thing had lost an eye battling another creature. He nursed the beast back to health, and in return, it decided to stay. What better attraction than a unicorn?” Jax giggled as she told the story, remembering the times she came here as a child to see Beau. Sadly, the enchanted creature passed away four summers ago, the tavern now a memorial to the famed stallion.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never seen a unicorn up close before?” Perry asked.

  Jax whipped her head around. “Never?”

  “Only in picture books,” Perry sighed. “Pettraudian hunters disseminated their population years before I was born. I find it one of the saddest things in our history, really.”

  It made Jax’s heart ache to think about the annihilation of such purity. The creatures possessed a special aura that made anyone who stroked their manes incredibly happy for a time, which is why so many had been domesticated a hundred or so years ago. But the duchies got together, knowing that this false happiness was not good for their people, and banned the taming of unicorns. They were meant to be wild, her father always reminded her whenever she begged for one as a pet. The Blind Unicorn’s owner was only allowed to keep his because the creature’s magic had disappeared with its eye.

  Captain Solomon trotted up alongside them, giving Jax a reprimanding look. “Your Grace, you know I cannot allow you to have refreshments here.”

  Jax rolled her eyes, her annoyance bubbling up. “I had the kitchen prepare us a picnic for the day, Captain. You need not worry that I’ll break the rules. I simply wanted to show Lord Pettraud where the legendary blind unicorn lived.” She cursed inwardly, knowing George would never allow her to go inside and ask about the ducal carriage’s visit. Discreetly pulling out the map Master Vyanti had marked up, she urged Mortimer forward and continued their journey. The Saphire roads were in very decent shape, an initiative she and her father had worked on nearly five years ago. Too often had she visited a duchy who failed to maintain their roads outside the palace limits, causing merchants to delay and lose cargo on the disheveled paths. Having not had any rain in the past ten days, Jax’s eyes were alert, keeping watch for any disturbances around the road.

  About an hour after they’d left the Blind Unicorn, Jax noticed something promising. A large set of carriage tracks veered off the road, disturbing a bramble bush, berries squished all over the ground. “I think I need to stretch my legs for a bit. What do you say, Perry?” Turning in her saddle, she slid gracefully off Mortimer’s back.

  “I wouldn’t mind digging into some of that picnic, if you’re up for it?” Perry hopped to the ground, reached for the saddlebags on Jax’s horse.

  “Oh yes, let’s eat. Why don’t you set everything up over there?” She pointed to a small clearing on the opposite side of the road. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Without any protests, Perry hauled their treats over to the spot she indicated, whilst Captain Solomon watched cautiously from the road. “I see some flowers I want for my table, captain. I’m just going to go pick them before joining Lord Pettraud.” She stated, not really asking for permission. Seeing the captain nod in understanding, she carefully followed the carriage trail off the road, through a wall of bushes. The tracks stopped shortly after, only to circle back onto the road.

  Glancing around, Jax took in the scene. “This must be where the assassins found the ducal envoy poisoned and ushered the horses off the road.” Her eyes traced the disturbed grass and dirt. It was easy to detect a myriad of footprints around the indents left by the wheels. Her insides grew cold. My parents were dead by the time they arrived here, she thought. Whoever met them here had a hand in their death. Scanning the area, she looked for any other signs. Caught on a bush, she saw something flapping in the wind. Swiftly, she reached out, untangling a small piece of fabric from the branches. Turning the plush material over in her hands, she found that it was blue and red silk, most likely woven for a tunic. Not knowing as much about textiles as she would like, Jax knew she’d have to ask the royal tailor specifically what kind of silk it was. Only then, could she begin to narrow down who and where this had come from.

  Deep in thought, Jax ambled back to where her companion lay sprawled out on the grass, soaking up the invigorating sun, a glass of honey mead in his hand. She sat down on the blanket beside him, picking a grape from the basket and popping it into her mouth.

  “The flowers not to your liking after all, Your Grace?” Captain Solomon appeared in the clearing.

  Startled, she foolishly realized she’d not followed through on her ruse. “No, they were already wilting, unfortunately, captain.” She said in a dismissive tone, something she normally refrained from using around George.

  “Perhaps we shall find some on our return journey?” Perry lazily suggested, squinting his eyes up at her.

  She replied by pouring herself some mead, sipping it greedily. Their picnic was spent in a comfortable silence, although Jax felt at ease with the odd way Captain Solomon was watching her. Had he figured out her true intentions for this trip? She did her best to ignore him, immersing herself in studying Perry. With the sun sparkling on his golden skin and dark ringlets of hair, he was truly a beautiful specimen. He slept before her now, his lips barely parted in relaxation. She found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke his face.

  She cursed internally at her diverted attention. Here she was, longing for physical attention, when she had the scrap of a traitor fastened in her pocket. She had to get back to the palace and question the tailor at once.

  “Perry, shall we return home? I have some ducal matters to attend to before supper.” Jax’s request clearly was not a request, but a command.

  Twitching as he heard her voice from his dreams, Perry pulled himself off the ground, resigned. “Saphire truly is breathtaking, Your Grace,” he commented reverently, and she found herself filled with pride. She really did have a marvelous duchy.

  Their journey home was uneventful, with the occasional stop to greet commoners and merchants traversing the roads. All were quite taken with the duchess, who acted as graceful and charming as ever. She hoped word would spread of how serene she appeared, clearly strong enough to lead in the wake of a tragedy.

  They arrived back in the palace courtyards by midafternoon, where Jax quickly passed her horse off to a waiting stable hand. “Perry, I’ll see you for dinner,” she said, not even paying attention to his response as she walked briskly into the grand hallway. Tired and sweaty in her clothes, Jax knew it would be best if she changed before going to see the tailor, but her patience had run its course. Rushing through the southern wing of the castle, it only took her a few minutes to find his chambers.

  “Monsieur Duval, may I have a word?” Jax knocked on his
door, retraining herself from pounding. The scrap of fabric burned a hole in her pocket with the secrets it contained.

  “Duquessa! I was not expecting you. How may I be of assistance?” The flamboyant young man scrambled to attention when he saw who was at his door.

  “I am sorry to surprise you, monsieur, but I have an important question for you,” Jax rushed in, shutting the door behind her. The tailor’s main quarters doubled as his workshop, various pieces of cloth and silk draped everywhere in a haphazard fashion. How the renowned ducal tailor got any work done in this mess was beyond her, but the man before her truly was gifted, despite his young age.

  “But of course, Your Excellence,” he flourished his words with a bow.

  Jax pulled the torn fabric from the pockets of her dress, her story already carefully crafted. “I was out riding today when I came across a woman wearing the most gorgeous dress. She was far enough ahead of my party that I could not call out to her, but I noticed her gown got snagged on a nearby bush and picked this piece of silk from it. Could you tell me what you know about this material, for I must order you some for my summer gowns.”

  Taking the scrap in his calloused hands, the tailor examined it profusely, as if it contained the secret to eternal life. “This is monarch silk, Duquessa. Made from the chrysalis of butterflies. Quite rare in this province.” His accent twirled his words.

  Jax’s heartbeat quickened. “Might you know where it comes from?”

  The young man nodded, eager to show off his wealth of material knowledge. “This particular piece looks to have come from a lion butterfly, Duquessa. Lion butterflies are known to be found in Tandora, Crepsta, and Cetachi.”

  Cetachi, Jax thought bitterly. The untamed region that Vyanti believed the bloodsleaf came from. “Cetachi, you say? Are they civilized enough to make silk?”

  Monsieur Duval pushed his tiny spectacles down his nose, giving her a look berating her prejudice. “Your Excellence, the Cetachi people may not like to bow to ducal lines, but that doesn’t mean they are not artists in their own right. Many a season’s styles are dictated by what comes out of Cetachi. Remember the ceremonial gown you wore during your Savant trip? That was inspired by Cetachi.”

  Rather than rebuking him for his tone, she accepted his lesson in humility. She did have a jaded view of the region, but knew very little about it. Perhaps that’s why this was happening. Her whole family had been blind for too long. She turned away from the tailor, pinching her nose to alleviate a building headache. Composing herself briefly, she turned around, thanking Monsieur Duval for the information, taking the fabric from his hands.

  “Shall I order a ream?” He asked, somewhat taken aback by her change in mood.

  “You know what, the more I look at it, the more I think it would not bode well with my skin tone,” Jax flippantly held the scrap up to her cheek. “Don’t you agree?”

  Duval bowed low, not even looking at her face. “Of course, Duquessa.”

  Sighing, she longed for the day when someone disagreed with her. Bidding the tailor farewell and leaving him to his work, Jax began the walk back to her study in contemplative silence.

  Chapter Nine

  She half-hoped Vyanti would be sitting in her chair when she entered the room, but she found it ominously empty. The curtains had been pulled shut, blocking the afternoon sun. A lone candle flickered beside the doorframe, waiting to ignite the other flames in the room. Opting for sunlight over candlelight, Jax skillfully maneuvered her skirts to the windows and threw back the heavy fabrics, a rush of warmth flooding the room. Even though it was cleaned regularly, she still saw whirlwinds of dust rising as she glided over to her desk. Taking a secret key that hung invisibly under the neck of her dress, she unlocked the bottom drawer and placed the fabric inside, securing it away. It was now evidence in a ducal murder, and needed to be kept safe.

  Sitting down at her regal desk, Jax busied herself with paperwork to pass the time. Vyanti warned her he may need to stay overnight in the market until the bloodsleaf merchant arrived, so she did not expect him home just yet. She needed the distraction of the ducal estate to keep her mind from conjuring accusations she wanted to make based on little evidence. Sitting there on her stately seat, she knew she had the power to send her army to Cetachi’s borders and tear down their defenses as payback for their treachery. She chastised herself for her irrational conclusions. She would reserve further judgment until Master Vyanti returned with his report.

  She joined Arnie and Perry for dinner, relying on them to keep conversation flowing. She listened politely to their back and forth on the best brushes for painting a sunset, but found her mind wandering throughout the meal. It was only Arnie’s gentle prodding foot that snapped her to attention.

  “Did you hear what I said, Jax?” Arnie’s concern was written all over her face.

  “I’m so sorry, Arn, I was thinking about a trade agreement I’ve been asked to ratify. What was it you were saying?” Jax focused on her friend.

  “I was saying that Earl Crepsta responded to your invitation to stay at the palace. He’ll be arriving in three days,” Arnie frowned at the blank look on the duchess’s face, “that is, if the offer still stands.”

  Jax needed only a moment to recall her scheme to secure an engagement for her friend. “Of course, the Earl is still welcomed here. Excellent, I’m so glad he’ll be able to come.”

  Arnie’s smile was one of lovesick joy. “Wonderful. I will make all the preparations, Jax, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

  Stuffing the last bit of roast beef into her mouth, Jax held up a finger while she chewed. “Please make sure that you set up a meeting with the Earl and myself the afternoon he arrives, that is all I ask.” She gave her lady-in-waiting a knowing look before setting down her silverware. “I’m afraid our ride today really took a toll on my muscles, Perry. I think I am going to retire early to my chambers to recover.” Wishing them both an enjoyable evening, Jax quickly shuffled her way back to her room. Her nerves were on edge, wishing she had the courage to deny Arnie this one bit of happiness, or at least postpone it. Having Perry around was strenuous enough, but hosting another foreign dignitary whilst trying to get to the bottom of her parents’ murders? She prayed Vyanti would return this evening with news.

  She waited for the physician priest until midnight before drifting off to sleep, her dreams a constant barrage of images of being trapped or drowning. When she woke, she felt like she had hardly rested, dark circles hanging under her eyes. Uma had to work a bit harder during their makeup routine, applying a heavy layer of powder to cover up her signs of distress. The Duchess couldn’t walk around like this, looking weak.

  Perry requested permission to spend the morning painting the palace gardens, something she heartily agreed to. While his affable nature charmed her, she was in no mood to entertain him at the moment. Knowing her duties as a hostess, she decided she would join him in the gardens for lunch.

  While her guest enjoyed the bountiful sunshine, Jax remained cooped up in her study, feeling like a princess locked away in a tower. Her ducal counterparts must have all agreed that she’d been given enough time to mourn her family, for her desk was piled with royal summons and requests. With Saphire as the leading duchy, she had more than just one region to take care of. Savant wanted this, Hestes needed that, the list went on and on. What did these duchies do before her father’s policies were in place? She grunted at the tedious requests she waded through.

  Arnie interrupted her just as she was signing her seal on an agreement with Trudeau’s Duchess regarding a fish tax. “Jax, it’s well past one o’clock. Might it be time to join Lord Pettraud for lunch?” She held out an overflowing basket in her hands.

  The smell of cheese and cured ham hit Jax like a pendulum. “I had no idea it was so late in the day. Yes, let’s head there now. I hope he doesn’t think ill of me.”

  Arnie snorted with laughter. “I don’t think there’s any possibility of that happening.”
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br />   Jax whipped her head around, narrowing her eyes. “What on the virtues do you mean?”

  Arnie sighed elaborately, heaving her shoulders in a dramatic fashion. “That boy is already head over heels for you. You could probably tell him you murder kittens in your spare time, and he’d still be at your beck and call.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Jax let out a girlish shriek, giggling at Arnie’s feigned exasperation. “He’s simply being polite because the poor sod has been shipped off by his emotionally stunted father. I’m sure anyone who showed him the least bit of kindness would receive the same treatment I’m getting.” Jax ignored her friend’s eye roll. “Besides, have you heard the way he talks to me?”

  “Yes,” Arnie pushed the basket into her hands, nudging her forward, “he talks to you like you and I talk to each other. Like he trusts you and values you as a person, not as a figurehead. Like he cares for you.” She eyed her suggestively. “I’ll leave you both to your picnic.” Backing away down the corridor, her lady-in-waiting respectively gave her and her future consort some privacy.

  Walking into the garden, Jax was hit with a wave of heat, surprised at how warm the spring day had become. She regretted her choice of gown. She’d so liked to have put on something with shorter, lighter sleeves.

  Perry was busy at his easel, a brush clenched in his mouth, while his hand waved around madly with another one. Not knowing the difference in brushes, Jax sat quietly on a bench behind him and watched him work. From her perch, she could see he’d captured a stunning, life-like resemblance of the ducal gardens. She had to admit, she was impressed, not only with his talent, but with his focused concentration. It usually took Arnie days to produce a portrait, where Perry had managed to create a beautiful scene, worthy of her palace walls, in mere hours.

  Her growling stomach interrupted her appreciation of the sight before her, and she demurely cleared her throat, hoping she didn’t scare the master at work. If he was startled by her appearance, Perry didn’t show it. He simply grinned with the brush in his mouth and indicated he would join her shortly. She used the time to unpack the picnic, nibbling on bits of cheese and fruit to satisfy her hunger.