by Vella Day
“I’m glad you like it, but her family would not benefit in the least. They would want the union, because it would make their influence in the realm stronger. While no one spoke of such things, I had the sense Aunt Drina was a little jealous of my mom, because she had most of the power. I think that was why she was willing to go along with the union between Tamarella and Tristan.”
“Makes sense. So, no one in your family would have done it?” Wanting to be thorough, she listed Bevon’s family next to his aunt’s family and then studied the names.
“No. They would have nothing to gain by my cousin’s death.”
“Okay. Then what about Tristan’s family?” she asked.
“Besides, Tristan, there is only his brother Carmen and his parents. It was actually their idea to match Tristan with Tamarella.”
“They did seem to benefit the most from the union. You said Tristan’s family are warlocks and witches, right?”
“Yes.”
“I imagine they would have no problem with Tristan mating with a Fairy?”
“I’m thinking not. Tamarella was a mix between a Fairy and a Fey, but her predominant characteristic was that of a Fey.”
This was frustrating. “Someone killed her.”
“You’ve already spoken with Betina, right?”
“I did. Tamarella’s handmaiden either didn’t know anything or she was lying. I just couldn’t tell which.”
“This might be harder than I thought. Someone has to know something. I say we go to my aunt’s house. I’ll pretend to be Derrick who has just arrived from Tarradon.”
“Why would your aunt let Derrick in? Unless you tell her the truth that it is really you.”
He shook his head. “I can’t trust that one of the staff isn’t in cahoots with the killer.”
Damn. “Who will you question? Your aunt or your uncle? Or are you thinking Betina might still be there?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see Betina as the killer. I imagine her job was rather nice. Losing it would cause her financial hardship.”
“I’m sure it would,” Zulema said. “Then how about we head to town and ask around? When I first arrived, I went to a coffee shop. The girl behind the counter was very forthcoming with information. If Feyrion is anything like where I live, the death of a royal will be the main topic of conversation for weeks.”
He smiled. “That is an excellent idea.”
Bevon grabbed her hand, and they teleported to the middle of town. Zulema enjoyed the fact that they could flit from one place to another without causing a stir in this realm. “The coffee shop I went to is over there,” she said.
“I’ve been there—or rather Bevon has. I could use a good cup of coffee.”
“Remember, you aren’t from here,” she said.
Bevon tapped his temple. “I got this.”
She was glad someone did. When she spotted the chatty counter girl she’d first met, Zulema relaxed. Because the café was abuzz with noise, no one would be able to hear them—unless Feys had super hearing. “That’s her.”
He inhaled. “I just have to remember I’m Derrick Valoric from Tarradon.”
Frequently, Zulema had to call the people she was guarding by a different name. This would be no different. When she walked up to the counter, the girl looked up and smiled. “You’re the one from Tarradon. Did you ever find the Warnom house?”
Zulema smiled. “I did and thank you. I was saddened to learn that my friend, Tamarella Warnom, had been murdered though. I had no idea she had died, or I wouldn’t have come.” Zulema thought that tidbit would make for better conversation.
“I didn’t know you were a friend of the family.” Her brows rose. “You said the princess was murdered? I thought it was suicide.”
She looked over at Bevon. “That’s why I’m here. I’m a private investigator from Tarradon,” he said.
“Oh.”
While Zulema wanted to question this girl further, it would be friendlier if they ordered first then picked her brain. “Could I have a coffee? Black, please.”
“Sure, and for you, sir?” Her demeanor turned professional.
He looked over the mounted menu. “A number seven. Oh, and two sweet rolls.”
Clearly, this man didn’t have to worry about his weight. Zulema wouldn’t be surprised if he swept a hand down his body to sculpt it. No diet or exercise needed.
“I’ll bring it over to you. Have a seat.”
They grabbed a booth near the door. “You want to ask your questions first?” she asked. “You are the private investigator.” Zulema thought that role fit him well.
“Since she knows you, you start,” he said.
“Okay.” Zulema looked up. “Shh. She’s coming.”
The girl set their drinks and pastries on the table. “Will there be anything else?”
Bevon smiled, and this young girl sighed. Really? The sad part was that Derrick Valoric wasn’t a particularly good-looking guy, which begged the question: why would a princess want to give up everything to be with him? Unless Tamarella hoped he’d move to Feyrion. But to what end? He was a warlock just like Tristan—unless Derrick was far more powerful.
Zulema looked up. “Yes. Do you remember Tamarella ever coming in here?”
“Oh, yes. Not often, mind you, but a few times. She either came in with her cousins or her mate. Mostly her mate in the last few months.” She leaned closer. “Did you meet the cousins yet?” The girl practically giggled.
“Bevon and Kenton?”
“Yes. Kenton, who is the old brother is a bit too reserved for me, but his younger brother? Oh, my.” Her eyes lifted to the ceiling as she sighed.
Bevon leaned back in the seat with a rather smug look on his face. “Is that so?”
“Yes. He was really nice, and he tipped good, too.”
Zulema didn’t need to hear how he had the locals swooning, nor did they need him to give away his real identity. “To answer your question, I have not met either brother. They weren’t here when I visited before. Can I ask if when you saw her, did Tamarella seem happy?”
“For the most part. I mean, the man she was to mate with was also very good looking, so there was no reason not to be happy.”
“Better looking than her cousins?” Bevon asked.
She shook her head. “Oh, no.”
Zulema had had enough and kicked him under the table. Bevon shot a quick glance at her, clearly enjoying having his ego stroked.
“Back to my friend. When you heard she committed suicide, what did you think?” Zulema asked.
“I couldn’t believe it. She was a princess. She had everything to live for.”
Money didn’t necessarily bring happiness. “Besides me, did anyone else come in and ask about the family?”
Their server looked over at Bevon. “Just you,” she said to him.
His mouth slightly parted. “When was this?” Zulema asked, not wanting Bevon to slip up.
“It was one month ago.”
He nodded. “That sounds about right.”
“You, too, wanted to know how to find where the princess lived,” the server said.
“That’s because it was my first time here.” Thankfully, he sounded quite convincing.
“Are you sure about the date?” Zulema asked. How could a waitress remember who came into a coffee shop a month ago?
“Very sure. It was my birthday, and I thought the gods had answered my prayers to bring me a rich and handsome man.” Her face turned red. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward.”
“It’s okay. We’re not together.” Zulema wasn’t with Derrick Valoric, and she didn’t need the world to think otherwise.
“Oh.”
“Do you remember anyone else coming here to ask for directions?” Zulema asked.
“There are always tourists, but they just like to look at the outside of the castle.”
Zulema glanced at Bevon to see if he had any other questions.
“What’s your name?
” he asked.
Zulema wanted to kick him again.
“Ceylon.”
“Well, thank you, Ceylon, for the information.”
“Just ask if you want to know anything else.”
She nodded, turned around, and left. Once she was back at the counter, Zulema leaned on her elbow and partially covered her mouth. “What do you think?”
“My mother told me the same thing about Derrick.”
“She knew he was here?”
“Yes. How else would she know what he looked like?”
Zulema had wondered about that. “Did your mom say if he was angry that his mate was to be…given to another man?”
“I didn’t ask her about his state of mind, but I will.”
“Do you know why he came here? I thought Tamarella didn’t talk about him to her family.”
He smiled. “I don’t know. Just so you are not confused, Derrick didn’t come knocking on my mother’s door. My mom was with her sister at the time. I think Derrick said he wanted to say goodbye or something.”
“I’m betting he either wanted to get the lay of the land or wanted to try to convince your cousin to change her mind about being with Tristan.”
“All of that is possible,” he said.
He wasn’t helping. “Does this point the finger at Derrick or away from him?”
“Hard to say. If he was here, he might have tried to talk my cousin into returning with him. If she said no, he might have become angry.”
“I agree with the angry part, but why not kill Tristan to pave the way for Tamarella to be with him?”
His eyebrows rose. “You know, you should consider a career change.”
What did that imply? “To what? I’m a damn fine bodyguard.”
He held up a hand. “To being a private investigator.”
“Oh.” Zulema had to admit this was getting her blood pumping. “I’ll think about it—assuming we can solve this case in another week.”
“I love your attitude. What’s next on the agenda, detective.”
“Funny. We should talk to Tristan, though if he sees you—or rather who he thinks you are—he might not be very hospitable.”
“True, but I doubt he’d make a scene in front of the staff—or you.”
“I wonder why Tristan isn’t investigating Tamarella’s death?” Zulema asked.
Bevon polished off his drink. “Excellent question. Maybe we should ask him.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Zulema asked. Meeting with Tristan at his home was like purposefully walking into the opposition’s locker room.
“I’ve known him for much of my life. Tristan is harmless,” Bevon said.
Harmless as a murderer.
“Master Tristan will be right down,” the butler said.
This home was not nearly as grand as either Bevon’s family estate or the one Tamarella lived in, but it was still lovely.
Tristan came down the hallway and halted. “You!”
Bevon held up his hand. “I just want to talk. I need to find out who killed Tamarella.”
“It wasn’t you?”
Oh, shit. Did he know it was Bevon?
“Me?” Bevon asked. “Tamarella was my mate. Why would I harm her?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been going crazy trying to figure it out. I know it wasn’t suicide,” Tristan said. “Tamarella loved life.”
If Tristan believed that, he should be pounding the streets looking for her killer—or demanding the medical examiner re-examine the body. In truth, she had no idea if Feyrion even performed autopsies.
Tristan turned his back and led them toward a parlor where they all sat down. “You’re positive she didn’t take her life?” Zulema asked.
His brows scrunched. “Who are you again?”
She hadn’t said. Zulema inhaled. “I’m Anna DeLeon.”
His eyes widened. “Tam’s friend from Tarradon?”
Zulema wasn’t sure how much Bevon’s cousin had revealed to this man. “Yes.”
“You must be upset by her death, too.”
“I am. Totally. I had no idea she had passed until after I arrived here.”
Bevon leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Why do you think Bevon killed her?”
She was thankful to have that line of questioning discontinued.
“Bevon? Are you crazy? He didn’t kill her. What gave you that idea?”
Oh, shit. Good luck answering that one, Bevon.
“I heard that you accused Bevon of the crime.”
Tristan stabbed his fingers through his short dark hair. “I sent you a note saying that Tam was dead. That’s all.” He stilled. “William did give you that note, right?”
“Yes. William, the rather short man with sandy blond hair.”
“That’s him.”
She had to assume Bevon was aware of the staff at Tristan’s home. “Could he have written his own note for some reason?” Zulema asked.
“Why would he?” Tristan looked back at Bevon. “I know Tam loved you and not me, but we had a plan. You know it.”
Okay, this was news. “What plan?” she asked, fearing Bevon wouldn’t have any idea how to answer.
“Tam didn’t tell you?”
Zulema could feel herself sinking. “No. It’s not something we discussed.”
“Your best friend should have let you in our little deception.” Tristan waved a hand. “On the surface, we would be the loving couple. But…I had no problem with her portalling back to Tarradon to be with Derrick.”
Zulema had to work hard to keep her emotions in check. “You were okay with that?”
“Yes. I’m in love with Betina, but my parents wouldn’t allow us to be together.”
Betina? Interesting that the handmaiden left out that tidbit of information. The fact his parents would dictate who he could or couldn’t be with was a bit sad. “I see.”
Bevon crossed his arms. “I thought the plan was rather foolproof, but then someone killed her.”
Zulema wanted to settle this suicide thing once and for all. “Other than not believing Tamarella would have taken her life, how are you so sure she was murdered?” She directed her question to Tristan.
“I personally am not affected by treniam, but Tam explained to me what would happen if someone rubbed it on her. Her heart rate would skyrocket, and then her muscles would lock up. Even if she had been able to cut her wrists, I believe the blood would coagulate before she had the chance to bleed out.”
“What are you saying?” Bevon asked.
“I don’t think she died from blood loss. I think someone used the treniam to paralyze her, and then he—or she—poisoned her. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“What about the slit wrists?” Zulema asked.
“That was probably done afterward to make it look like suicide. Betina said there wasn’t a lot of blood.”
“That’s not what she told me,” Zulema said.
“I think she’s had time to think about things. I don’t fully understand a Fairy/Fey’s constitution to know how much she would bleed in that case.”
“What did the autopsy say?” Zulema couldn’t help but dig deeper.
Tristan’s lips pressed together. “There wasn’t one.”
Since he seemed to know the word, she bet they had them here. “Why not?”
“Her father refused, saying he didn’t want anyone to cut up his daughter.”
“I can understand that, but surely he’d want to know the truth.”
“What would be the point? His daughter would still be dead,” Tristan said.
Really? That was not a good answer, but it wasn’t her place to say so. “I see.” Zulema inhaled. “What about your brother?”
“Carmen? What about him?”
“Would he want to harm her?” she asked.
Tristan stood. “No, now please leave. And don’t come back. Either of you.”
Temper, temper, though
he probably had a right to be upset. Bevon clasped her wrist, and they disappeared a second later. She hoped that Derrick could teleport. Otherwise, Bevon might have just blown his cover.
They appeared in his cabin on Feyrion. “We need to return to Tarradon,” he announced with such seriousness, it almost scared her.
“Why?”
“We need to talk to Derrick.”
He’d lost his mind. “For starters, we’d have to find him. Secondly, why would he talk to you? You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Not as myself or Derrick. I’ll have to change my appearance again.”
She hoped she could still see the original Bevon after the change. Knowing who he was and seeing a different face and body creeped her out a bit. “What would you say to him?”
“I want to find out if the message he received from this William guy only claimed that Tam was dead. Tristan might be lying.”
“What if he says it said something else—that you, Bevon Forrester, killed her?” She didn’t see what this would accomplish. They couldn’t trust Derrick to tell the truth.
“I’ll ask to see the note.”
Zulema blew out a breath, needing him to realize this wouldn’t work. “What if he says he doesn’t have it?”
“Then I’ll find William.”
He seemed to have an answer for everything. “Do you even know this messenger’s last name?”
Bevon’s jaw tightened. “No.” He looked at the ground for a moment. Most likely he was soliciting help from one or more family members to find out. He nodded. “I should know that information shortly.”
“Nothing stops you, does it?”
Bevon looked up at her, and the tension from a moment ago disappeared. In its place was lust. He moved closer. “Not when I want something.”
The glint in his eyes implied he wanted her. “Do we have time?” He needed to have his face changed, and then they had to find Derrick.
He laughed. “When my princess has sex on her mind, we’ll make the time.”
That would be insulting if it weren’t true. “You can’t tell me you aren’t interested.”
He grinned, and her pulse fluttered. “I’m always interested. We are mates after all.”
