Calder shook his head. “No, I don’t have any larkspur.”
The colors swirled smooth as silk.
“Did you poison Lady Becka?” Hamish asked.
“No, I did not.”
Calder’s colors were level as a reflecting pool.
“Have you assisted anyone who you think might harbor ill will against Lady Becka?” Hamish asked.
“Never,” Calder replied.
“Do you suspect anyone of poisoning Lady Becka?”
“No.”
Hamish looked at the interrogator, then at Quinn, and shrugged. It was clear he didn’t think Calder knew anything, but he kept going. “Is there anyone you feel we should focus on?”
“No one. Are we done yet?”
Before anyone else could answer, Becka had to ask one last question. “Wait. Do you know of anyone else who is upset I’m back?”
Finally, she had movement on the pages of the book. Familiar squiggles moved to and fro, but didn’t yet coalesce into a message.
His brow furrowed. “Everyone knows I am emotional at times, sharing my feelings on the situation. Several people have supported me, but I don’t know if that means they’re also upset. Do you know what I mean?”
“You rant about me to get it off your chest?” she said, feeling aggravated that this was his default, normal behavior. But was she upset because he openly vented his emotions, or because he didn’t like her? After all, she wasn’t fond of him either.
“Sure, to willing listeners. Perhaps I’ve gone a bit far. I know Alvilda has encouraged me to calm myself a number of times when I became overly upset, but that’s what good friends—lovers—do.”
Words formed in the squiggles. Anger is an infection.
Becka shivered. “You might be an asshole, but you’re not guilty of poisoning?”
“I’m being honest, and you are still crass.”
Astrid nodded at him in apparent agreement, which didn’t help Becka’s mood one bit. Her gaze flicked to the interrogator, whose screen continued to exhibit smooth ribbons of color. “That’s something we can agree on.”
The words had disappeared from the book.
“We’re done with him,” Quinn announced. “Luce, can you bring in Alvilda?”
Luce disappeared out of the room and returned a moment later, ushering Alvilda in. The lady stepped cautiously into the room, hands wringing, but her expression appeared carefree and relaxed.
Caeda removed the neural cap from Calder and he jumped up, a wide smile across his face at Alvilda’s arrival. He walked over and stepped in close to her, uncaring of others watching their movements. He ran the outside of his hand down her jawline.
“I’ll wait for you outside. Perhaps after you’re done, we can go for a walk to clear our heads?”
Becka wondered if a walk was indeed what he intended. She suspected it was couple-speak for a rendezvous.
Alvilda nodded, her smile not reaching her eyes. Her movements were jerky, and she appeared relieved when Caeda motioned for her to move to the hot seat.
For all that Becka wanted to believe Alvilda was the poisoner, she’d yet to even notice Becka. Instead, her focus was on the enforcers and shifters. And Calder. Becka looked at the book and wasn’t disappointed.
Mask.
Alvilda moved toward the chair, but Calder caught her by the arm. “Wait,” he said. “What’s going on?”
Becka closed the book and jumped to her feet. Astrid, who’d stopped knitting to follow the interaction, set her partial shawl aside and stood up, crossing the room to where Calder and Alvilda stood. Even the enforcers stepped back to give her space, but Becka followed her forward.
“Calder! Let go of me!”
Calder continued to hold Alvilda’s arm. “Your birthmark is missing! Who are you?”
Astrid took a moment, looking to Calder and then to Alvilda. She then stepped in close to the girl, raised her hands in the air before her, and, through a series of hand gestures, dismantled the illusion surrounding the girl.
“Yaeli?” Calder said, confused, releasing her arm. “Where is Alvilda?”
Without the illusion you could see the fear on Yaeli’s face. Now the stiffness in her movements made more sense.
“I didn’t mean to do anything improper, Lady Astrid. Alvilda asked me to cover a duty shift for her while she ran an errand away from the manor. She left just this morning. I didn’t think there would be any trouble.”
“Do you know where Alvilda went?” Astrid asked.
“I’m not sure. She’d said she needed to pick up a delivery from Nadal’s dairy farm at the far meadow. Said she’d forgotten about it and would get in trouble if anyone knew she was gone.”
Immediately Becka thought of the grazing land near Nadal’s farm and the larkspur that grew near the river. Her bile rose, the sour juices burning her throat. Was Alvilda getting more larkspur to poison her with right now?
“Brent,” Quinn called out, and the shifter opened the door and stepped into the room. “I need your help hunting a stray.”
Brent smiled, his wolfish grin reminding Becka of Caeda’s predatory look earlier. “I thought you’d never ask. Where do we pick up the scent?”
“Calder,” Quinn said, “take us to Alvilda’s room.”
He gaped. “Wait, you can’t hunt her down like a dog! This is just a misunderstanding. She’d never have harmed Becka!”
“We can, and will, hunt her down,” Quinn spat out. “But I promise we won’t harm her, unlike what she might be planning right now in some twisted attempt to further your standing. Now, take us to her room.”
Chapter 28
Becka watched as the enforcers searched Alvilda’s room. Located on the first floor of the manor, her room was oddly smaller than Becka had expected. She’d always lived in and visited the quarters reserved for the immediate family of the duchess. While Alvilda’s room was well-appointed, it lacked the luxury of rooms just one floor up. On the upside, as the room was about the size of Becka’s en suite bathroom, there was much less space to search.
The small, modest room implied that Alvilda wasn’t a high-ranking fae and also that her gift wasn’t powerful enough to command substantial income for the house. No wonder she’d been so aggressively courting Calder; the alternative was remaining in her meager station.
Calder stood just outside the doorway, fuming as he watched the enforcers rip apart the room and Brent pick out clothing from her laundry to be used in tracking. Becka left the room and stood next to him, trying to imagine what he was thinking. Somehow his blatant honesty during the interrogation had dissipated her remaining frustration with him. Becka didn’t care if he liked her; she’d long ago gotten used to being the odd one out in the group. Now that he’d been honest, there was no longer any pretense hanging between them.
Becka liked to know where she stood with someone, even if it was alone in the desert.
“How did Alvilda come to live at the manor?” Becka asked.
Calder’s expression was grim. “She’s the daughter of Padrig, cousin to the duchess. She grew up on his estate, just down the road.”
“I remember him. He’s renowned for his dressmaking.”
He nodded. “When Alvilda came into her powers, they brought her to the manor so she could study with Astrid. She’s good, but not an adept.”
Becka could have mentioned how Alvilda’s illusion at the tea party was well done, yet the first to be called out. But she thought better of it.
“Few are,” she replied.
“Anyway, that’s how I met her. When she finished training, she stayed on at the manor to continue our affair. She took on duty assignments as a lady’s maid for Sigfrid and Ingrid, doing dress alterations, even working in the kitchen. It’s how we first met.”
“She sounds devoted to you.” Which was syrupy sweet, if possibly also a smidge mercenary. Had it ever occurred to Calder to wonder at his lover’s motivations?
Calder wobbled his head from side to side.
“Mother wouldn’t approve the engagement; said she’s aiming higher for my prospects than a village girl. We’d hoped if Alvilda conceived then Mother might change her mind.”
“If Alvilda was pregnant, Mother would allow her to stay here, near you,” Becka replied.
Quinn emerged from the room followed by Hamish, who carried a box filled with jars, containers, dried herbs, notebooks, and whatnot. Brent was close behind him, carrying a handful of socks.
“Get those items inventoried and set off to testing,” Quinn said to Hamish, who gave a sharp nod and then headed off in the library’s direction.
Quinn turned to Calder and Becka. “Things were already in disarray when we started. It looks like she left in a hurry. I found dried herbs that I think are larkspur, but our lab will confirm. There were several tinctures and unguents which we will also test.”
Calder ran a hand through his hair. “I still can’t believe she’d hurt Becka. Alvilda knows how important family is to me.”
Becka didn’t point out that Calder himself hadn’t considered her one of the family for some time, only grudgingly tolerating her presence for weeks. No wonder Alvilda had disliked her; he’d emotionally poisoned her against Becka, day in and day out for months.
Quinn extended a piece of folded parchment out to Calder. “She left you this letter.”
Calder snatched it from Quinn’s hand, turning it over and revealing a broken seal. “You dare read our private correspondence?” he replied, his cheeks instantly ruddy.
Quinn put his hands on his hips. “I do. Read it.”
Calder fumed, but opened the letter and scanned it, paling as he did so.
“I meant,” Quinn continued, “read it out loud.”
Calder’s lips formed a hard line and Becka wondered if he’d yield. “As you say.”
He took a deep breath, and then read.
My darling Calder,
I regret leaving you under these, or any, circumstances, but I fear fate has caught up with me.
The arrival of the new enforcers can mean only one thing. Therefore, I must flee before they find me.
Never doubt in my unending and enduring love for you, my light. I would have done anything for you. Even in leaving, I do so confident you will be held blameless.
I freely admit I poisoned Becka. I grieve Duke Vott’s poisoning, but that was at Becka’s hand.
Never fear, my love. One day soon I am confident you will take your rightful place as heir. It’s only a matter of time before Becka brings destruction upon herself and threatens House Rowan, and then your opportunity to shine will present.
I only wish I could have remained by your side. Although you may miss me, please do not try to find me. I understood the risks and now I travel the Helvegr for my redemption. Perhaps one day we will meet again, free of our present constraints.
Ever yours,
Alvilda
Calder’s tears fell freely. “I swear to you, Becka. I knew nothing of her plans. I would never have asked this of her.”
“You didn’t have to,” Becka replied, her voice quiet. He might not have poisoned Vott and herself, but by his relentless ranting he’d persuaded his lover to do it on his behalf. Becka wanted to hate him for it, but he’d have to live knowing his lover had poisoned his beloved father and scorned sister. Calder was too pathetic to hate. “Your hate did it for you.”
Calder was stricken into silence by her words.
“Are you up to riding with us?” Quinn asked Becka. “We must make every effort to find her before she passes beyond our reach.”
“Ride?” She bit her lip. “I haven’t ridden since I returned to the estate, but sure, I want to come. Wait, do you know where she went?”
Quinn gestured for her to lead the way. Caeda followed them out. She guessed Hamish would be busy with inventorying evidence. Brent, Luce, Shamus, Saige, and Lorelai ran ahead, already committed to the search.
The stables were out back next to the garage, not that Becka had been there in some time. As they walked down the hall, the fae gave them a wide berth. Calder tagged along, much to her confusion.
“May I accompany you?” Calder asked.
“No,” Quinn replied.
“But she knows me,” Calder replied. “I can make sure everything goes smoothly.”
Quinn stopped short, stepping up close to Calder. “It’s non-negotiable. We have a small window of time where we might be able to save her if we can find her before they do.”
Calder’s earnest expression filled with fear. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The phrase she used, ‘travel the Helvegr,’ is one we’ve seen associated with the Shadow-Dwellers and those who cross the road into the underworld to join them,” Quinn replied.
At the mention of Shadow-Dwellers, Becka felt a shiver of fear trickle down her back. That… can’t be good.
“So she’s off to meet some mythic boogeymen? Then there’s time!” Calder replied.
Becka rubbed her temples, so very, very tired of hearing the threat of very real Shadow-Dwellers minimized into mere boogeymen.
“I can assure you, if she does meet these very real persons, that she will not be fine. She will most likely be dead.”
All color drained from Calder’s face.
Chapter 29
Fae Territories - House Apple
Quinn placed a hand on Calder’s shoulder. “Leave this to the professionals. We’ll do our best to bring Alvilda back alive.”
Calder’s jaw clenched and he shrugged off Quinn’s effort to comfort him. “Becka’s not an enforcer nor a guard, yet you are taking her.”
Quinn smiled, but it lacked all warmth. “Becka’s with us because I say she is.”
“Fine.” Calder took a few steps back, and they continued on their way. “I want to talk with Alvilda when you find her,” he called after them.
“Of course you do,” Quinn said under his breath.
Becka walked beside him, relieved Quinn had insisted on her presence. She felt safest by his side. “Do you think she’s gotten far?”
He shook his head. “By all accounts she left on foot this morning.”
Becka quieted as they walked down the great staircase. The house had been disrupted by the investigation, and while fae had perfected the art of watching while looking otherwise preoccupied, none of those lingering in the common areas appeared to bother hiding their interest. Crowds had gathered, voices fell silent as they passed on the stairs and in the foyer. Becka saw fear in their eyes, hate directed at the enforcers, and a bit of distrust when they looked at her.
Nothing about this aided Becka’s ongoing image problem. Perhaps Quinn was right. Perhaps some time away from the house would help? It would give her a chance to earn money for Rowan and prove she had control over her power at the same time. Then she could return as a proven asset.
Assuming I don’t have any more accidents.
The walk to the stables felt like a bizarre fashion show with all eyes on them. The shifters were nowhere in sight, but they or someone must have alerted the stable hands to their arrival, because three horses were prepped and ready to go.
Caeda walked right up to the tallest horse, a dapple-gray stallion, and stepped up into the saddle with ease. Quinn walked up to a black mare and held out his hand to help Becka up.
“Is now the time for me to mention my general dislike of, or at least lack of familiarity with, horses?” Becka asked. What she wouldn’t give for a bike or pair of good running shoes right about now. Too bad she’d thrown on sandals this morning; they wouldn’t do her any favors now.
The stable hand who held the reins frowned.
“Would you prefer to stay here?” Quinn asked.
“No. I’d feel safer with you until all of this is over.”
Becka poked her sandaled foot into the stirrup, grabbed the pommel, and dragged herself up into the saddle the hard way. She flung a leg around the horse’s rump and would have went over if not for Quinn catching her.
Becka straightened herself in the saddle. “I haven’t ridden since I’ve been back at House Rowan, and there aren’t exactly horses in the city. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine now that I’m up.” The stable hand handed her the reins, his expression pensive.
Quinn’s look was equally dubious, but he mounted the chestnut horse next to her, and then led them down the road, away from the manor and stable.
“How far could she have gotten on foot?” Becka asked.
“Up to a dozen miles,” Caeda answered. “Assuming she stayed on foot and went in a straight line.”
“That’s still well within House Rowan’s lands,” Becka replied. “Unless she went to the river and crossed over into House Birch’s territory?”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Quinn replied.
A soft bark caught her attention. Becka looked to the right, where a pack of five very large gray wolves had emerged from the trees. They ran alongside for a few moments, before pulling ahead and loping down the winding road ahead of them.
“Looks like they found the scent,” Caeda called out.
Becka hadn’t seen a shifter in animal form since her fight with Woden after Tesse’s funeral. As always, the sight did not disappoint. Their burly forms moved with grace and flow she associated with the predatory hunters. Were regular wolves this large? She guessed not, but wasn’t about to ask now. She wasn’t sure which one was which, but assumed the largest, with the brilliant white coat, was either Brent or Shamus.
Every so often a wolf would fall back and run next to them for a short while, only to yip and then run forward again at full tilt, rejoining their packmates. Becka had the impression the wolves were going slower than they’d like so the horses could keep up, and that these brief interactions were their way of saying, hurry!
Becka wasn’t surprised when they passed Padrig’s estate. Becka had expected the excuse Alvilda gave Yaeli, that she had something to pick up from his house, was a cover story.
Poisoned Shadow: An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Detective Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 2) Page 22