“Shall we retire to the parlor to play a game?” Carriena challenged the much more subdued group as the meal concluded.
Vita yawned, covering her mouth with her napkin. “A game? I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
Jax wondered for a moment if Vita was really tired, or just disappointed that she had not connected with any of the eligible men the way Uma had. Vita had tried to engage with two soldiers seated by her, but Lucas and Gordon, as they were called, seemed more eager to hear the story of how Corporal Highriver lost his hand than pay attention to her. She’d spent most of her meal sampling the various wines on the table, instead.
Uma glanced at Yanis, clearly trying to gauge his reaction to Carriena’s suggestion. “A game sounds fun. It would do me good to move, or I might become congealed to this seat.”
Sabine leaped from her chair, hands clasped. “How about charades? That would get us moving around.”
Nods of agreement bobbed among the younger people at the table. Thanasis rose, placing his napkin over his empty platter. “I think I shall leave you to your merriment. It is much too late for my old bones.”
Corporal Highriver grunted his agreement. “Yes, I’m needed at the gatehouse for my nightly briefing.” His bushy eyebrows hedged together as he assessed his men. “I expect you all to report to the border for duty at midnight. And don’t think I won’t be watching. I plan to remain at the gatehouse tonight.”
The soldiers cringed at the notion. “A nap is in order for me, then,” Lucas said, and Gordon nodded, rising from the table with two others whose names Jax had not caught. Rayan, too, followed suit, much to Carriena’s dismay.
“Thank you for a grand evening, Your Grace.” The five guards bowed before departing.
The debate as to whether or not he should follow his comrades raged in Yanis’s gaze, but in the end, he remained at Uma’s side. “I got some rest before dinner. A few rounds of charades shouldn’t wipe me out.”
“Well, then,” Carriena said, recovering quickly from her obvious disappointment at Rayan’s departure, “we must not waste another moment.”
As everyone prepared to shift to the parlor, Jax noticed the color drain from George’s face as he pushed himself out of his chair.
Threading her arm through his to offer support, she murmured, “I think it’s best for you to call it a night.”
“I won’t fight you on that,” he replied through clenched teeth.
Charles arrived at George’s other side, having spotted his patient struggling. “The painkiller I gave you before dinner has obviously started to wear off. Let’s get you upstairs.”
Flushing at the inconvenience he’d caused, George shook his head. “I can make it up the steps myself, and you left the vial on my nightstand. Go enjoy yourself.”
The young physician did not appear convinced that he should abandon his duties, although the look of longing to join in the fun swirled in his amber eyes.
Jax cut off Charles’s forming protest. “I shall assist George to his room and make sure he takes his medicine. It’s been a long day for me, and as much as I’d like to see your acting skills put to the test, I’m afraid my bed is summoning me.”
Hearing her excuse, Uma and Vita’s expressions shrouded with concern. “Shall I prepare another bath for you, Duquessa?” Vita asked, pausing at the doorway.
“No need.” Jax smiled in reassurance. “Enjoy yourself.”
Vita squeezed through the parting crowd and took over for Charles, giving George her arm to lean on. “I think it’s best that I retire for the night, too,” she said, stifling another yawn.
Carriena blew a lock of her hair out of her face in a huff. “You all are going to bed already?” Her eyes narrowed in on Jax. “Since when did you become so boring?”
Jax laughed. During their time together at the Academy, their evenings were just getting started at ten o’clock. “I’m not as young as I once was, my dear.”
“Speak for yourself.” Carriena latched onto a bemused Bernard, dragging the Lord Chamberlain toward the parlor. “You’re only as old as you allow yourself to feel.”
Chuckling, Jax waved goodnight to the charades group as she, Vita, and George limped their way to the staircase. Her lightheartedness turned to worry, as with each step, she could practically hear George’s teeth grinding in concealed pain.
“You’re horrible at taking care of yourself,” she chastised him as they started their slow ascension up the carpeted steps.
“Before you lecture me,” he growled, “I didn’t even realize the painkiller had worn off until I stood up. I felt fine all through dinner.”
“Most likely due to the Shardeaux,” Vita said, referring to the dry wine Mistress Ellamae had paired with the main course. “It has a way of dulling the senses.”
Jax shuddered. “I’m glad I only had one glass, or I’d be the one you’d be lugging upstairs.” While the wine had complimented the flavors on the table, it was a tad too bitter for her taste.
Vita smirked. “If a Shardeaux is too strong for you, Duquessa, it was a wise decision to forgo my family’s wine as payment for your financial assistance.”
“Virtues.” Jax stuck out her tongue at the thought. “I nearly spit out the sample your father gave me in his face when I tried it. Your patrons have much stronger constitutions than I.”
A bittersweet smile curled on Vita’s rosy lips, as she likely recalled the memory. Instead of taking an impressive stock of wine as payment for clearing the Bellarose family debts, Jax had taken Vita on as her lady’s maid. “Poor Father would have died of humiliation if you’d done that, so I thank you for suffering the taste for his sake.”
“Despite my objections, your father did send us back with one barrel of a particularly fine—so he claimed—vintage,” Jax began. “I believe I had it stored here at Galensmore, should it be a comfort to you, my dear. A little taste of home.”
Vita smiled, her tired eyes reflecting a wave of sadness. “Ellamae mentioned it earlier when she learned my last name.” She chuckled. “Thank you for humoring him.”
Focusing on getting the Captain to his room, they traversed the rest of the stairs in silence.
“I’ll handle it from here,” Jax said, releasing Vita of her duties once they reached the door to George’s chambers.
Vita’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
With a playful swat, Jax shooed Vita toward her own room. “I’m sure. You looked ready to die of boredom at dinner. Get yourself some rest.”
“Thank you, Duquessa.” With a graceful curtsy, Vita gathered her skirts and ambled over to the door of her own suite.
George fumbled with the door handle before a successful click resounded down the empty hallway. “Everything all right with her? She seemed rather down.”
Jax sighed. “The poor girl is homesick. She’s just had a note from her father about everything she’s missed while we’ve been away this past month.”
“Ah,” George said with a nod of understanding.
She watched as his chest laboriously rose with every step they took into the suite. “Do you get homesick, George? I can’t remember the last time you requested to visit your family.”
He shrugged her arm off, making his way to his awaiting bed by himself. “I miss my parents and my siblings, of course, but I keep in contact with them enough to still feel that I’m part of their lives. I wouldn’t call it homesickness, though.” He paused, reaching for the vial of green liquid by his bedside. “After all, my home is with you.”
Jax started at the revelation, and from the instant regret that formed on his face, George realized how his words had sounded. “I mean, my home is with the Crown, with the Ducal Guard,” he clarified, although his cheeks grew pink in the flickering firelight.
Jax drifted over to the windows, closing them one by one as the cool night air chilled her bones. “You should visit them, you know. Before the War Council commences.” She glanced over her shoulder, his dark eyes meeting her troubl
ed gaze. “Who knows when you might have the chance to see them again?” Her throat constricted at the uncertainty that lay ahead.
His eyes trailed her as she moved around the room, as if taking note of the distance she purposefully kept between them. “Once you are safely back at the palace, perhaps I’ll take a trip out to the farm.” George’s family had cultivated a small plot of land outside of the capital city of Sephretta for generations. It had been George’s legacy that he’d abandoned to serve the Xaviers.
“Good.” Jax rarely found herself at a loss for words, but the truths unearthed during her earlier conversation with Carriena still weighed on her mind. “Do you need me to fetch you anything?”
George shook his head as he eased back into his collection of pillows. “Goodnight, Duchess.”
He must have sensed her reluctance to have resorted to such formalities. “Goodnight.” Closing his door quietly behind her, Jax glanced across the hallway at Olavo’s suite. Lieutenants Wynn and Ansel had been assigned to check in on the man periodically and had reported nothing of note during dinner. He certainly was the most well-behaved prisoner she’d ever encountered, but Olavo had yet to share anything useful with her about Tandora’s plans. Did he really know anything she could use against her enemies? Perhaps if she spoke with him alone and not in the presence of the Ducal Guard, he’d be willing to speak more freely…
Don’t be daft, Jax chided herself. George would keel over on the spot if he learned I’d spoken to Olavo alone. She shook the idea from her mind, and instead sought refuge in her own apartment.
Despite the inner turmoil ravaging her brain, it wasn’t long before sleep tugged at her eyes once her undone hair splayed across her goose feather pillow. Exhaustion muddied the events of the day, and her final thought was lost to her dreams.
I never did write my love to Perry.
Chapter Eleven
Muffled shouts snapped Jax from her quickly forgotten dreams. Throwing off the twisted sheets as she struggled out of bed, Jax strained her ears to make sense of the noise coming from outside her suite this early in the morning.
“Raise the alarm and summon the Corporal!”
“We need a thorough search of the estate.”
Tugging on her dressing gown, Jax darted into the hallway, only to collide with grim-faced Lieutenants Wynn and Ansel.
“Duchess,” Ansel’s voice was clipped as he steadied her, “we need you to return to your room.”
Wynn was already pressing past her, searching her suite and checking the windows.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her eyes wide with confusion.
Wynn, seeming satisfied with the state of her chambers, returned to the doorway, his arms folded. “There’s been an incident.”
Irritation overshadowed her initial concern. “I’m capable of guessing that much. What’s happened? Is everyone safe? Is Captain Solomon all right?”
Ansel’s arm shot out, barring her from barging out the door. “Captain Solomon is fine.”
“Then why am I not allowed to leave my chambers?”
With a glance to his counterpart, Ansel sighed. “Sir Olavo is not in his room.”
Eyes wide, Jax looked from Ansel to Wynn. “Tell me everything.”
Wynn sighed. “Captain Solomon tasked Ansel and I with providing Olavo his meals and checking in on the man every so often. I went into the Captain’s room this morning to fetch the master key Corporal Highriver gave him the day we arrived.”
Jax remembered Highriver dropping the ornate key into George’s hand and putting it away herself in the Captain’s bedside nightstand.
“I waited outside Olavo’s room with his food and water,” Ansel said, picking up where his counterpart left off. “Wynn brought the key and unlocked the door. I set the tray down in the sitting area while Wynn went to fetch Olavo from the bedroom.”
Wynn pressed his lips together, his growing stubble standing out in sharp contrast against his pale skin. “Only Olavo wasn’t in his room. We searched the entire suite, but he was nowhere to be found.”
“We sent one of the downstairs guards to wake Corporal Highriver down at the gatehouse and assemble a team.” Ansel ran a hand through his dark hair. “We need to do a thorough search of the house and the grounds.”
Jax tapped her chin as she processed the news. “I’d like to look around Olavo’s room for myself, please.”
Exchanging wary glances with one another, Wynn finally nodded. “This way, Your Grace.”
Olavo’s room was only a few doors down from her own. Wynn unlocked the door for her and let her step inside. “We haven’t disturbed anything, but granted, we only did a quick sweep of the area to determine he was missing.”
Letting her eyes adjust to the dim light, as all the curtains were drawn, she examined the scene. Whatever Olavo had been doing to keep himself entertained during his confinement did not consist of making a mess. The sitting room looked like it hadn’t been disturbed at all.
Her keen gaze focused on the curtained windows. With a few long strides she stepped across the room, pulling back the heavy drapes. The windows faced west, so little sunlight brightened the room. Jax checked the latch of each window. “All the windows are locked from the inside.”
Ansel came to her side to see for himself. “It would have been nearly impossible, given the man’s stature, for Olavo to climb out these windows with his legs in chains. We didn’t find his shackles lying around, either.”
Pressing her lips together as she thought, Jax turned her attention back to the interior of the sitting room. “If that’s the case, then he somehow walked out of a locked suite without anyone noticing.”
As she moved into the adjoining bedroom, it became readily apparent that Olavo had spent most of his time confined this chamber. The fireplace crackled with rosy warmth, although the embers appeared to be inching toward their last breaths. An empty silver tray with the remnants of crumbs from last night’s meal perched on a sofa in the corner, with a half-empty goblet of water standing watch from the nightstand. The tousled bedsheets suggested Olavo had slept in them at some point before vanishing.
Jax glided to the windows in this room and pulled back the curtains as well. “Locked in here, too,” she murmured, her ears detecting raised voices in the hall and getting closer.
Corporal Highriver thundered into the room, his eyes narrowed through a darkened scowl. “Duchess, I’ve just heard. I’ve ordered all available guardsmen to search the estate. The traitor couldn’t have gotten far.”
She paused mid-nod, her gaze landing on a small scuff in the windowsill. Crouching down, Jax traced a long scratch cutting deep into the wood paneling. It ran underneath the window closest to the bedroom door. What could have scarred the wall like this?
A horrifying idea forming in her mind, Jax rose and reached for the window latch. The glass pane swung outward, the dewy morning air seeping into the bedroom. Standing on her tiptoes, Jax leaned against the sill, arching her gaze below to a cluster of bushes that surrounded the outside wall.
“Corporal, I think you can call off the search…” With a glance over her shoulder, Jax beckoned the angst-ridden warrior to her side.
Extending a finger out the window, she pointed to the macabre sight of two chained legs sticking unnaturally out of a wilted rosebush.
‡
You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Jax cringed as Wynn and Ansel struggled to pull Olavo’s bent and broken body from the brambles, their crisp uniforms snagged mercilessly by raging thorns.
Beside her, Corporal Highriver stroked his bushy beard with his remaining hand. “Bring him to the wine cellar, boys. It’s cool enough in there to keep the body preserved for a few hours, at least.”
Wynn and Ansel nodded, but Jax held her hand up. “May I take a look at him?”
Highriver shifted on his feet. “Duchess, I know this isn’t the first time you’ve faced death, but leave this to your guardsmen.”
She tossed him a pointed
look and blatantly ignored his request. Wynn and Ansel rested Sir Olavo’s body at her feet for examination.
Her fears confirmed, she assessed the round, bloody hole in the center of the man’s chest. Despite the various shattered bones poking from taunt, pale skin, Sir Olavo must have been dead before his tumble out the window. Carefully keeping the skirt of her nightgown away from the body as she knelt closer, Jax studied the wound. No more than half an inch in diameter, it seemed to plunge deep into Olavo’s chest cavity. Tempted to roll the body on its side to see if it ran all the way through, she decided she’d let Charles make the discovery through an official autopsy.
Glancing up at the window they’d left open on the third floor, a storm cloud swirled in Jax’s mind. “Corporal, please go fetch Master Charles once the body has been moved to the cellar. I’d like him to confirm the cause of death.”
Highriver saluted, his expression stern. “Any other orders, Duchess?”
Rising to her full height, she pressed her hands to her hips. “See that no one leaves the estate, will you? I’m afraid there may be a killer among us.”
Chapter Twelve
Jax stood in the doorway of Sir Olavo’s bedroom, savoring the moment alone with her thoughts. Certain that Olavo had been dead before his plummet, she searched for signs of a struggle, yet found none. The chamber looked remarkably ordinary, not the place of a gruesome crime.
She’d been staring at the windowsill for several minutes, uncertain what she was hoping to find. “It’s what I’m not finding!” she hissed out loud, almost smacking herself on the head for her delay in realizing. Olavo had been run through like a pig on a spit and tossed out the window, but the only evidence suggesting so were the marks left behind by the metal chains around his legs. Where is all the blood?
Whatever had taken place here had been entirely erased by the culprit. The firmly-in-place window latches had been the first clue. Olavo couldn’t have made it outside on his own by leaving locked windows behind him. She didn’t think Olavo had the stomach to take his own life, considering how desperately he had begged her to allow him to live. Top it all off with a thoroughly cleaned crime scene, and Jax had no choice but to pursue Olavo’s death as a murder investigation.
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