Allies & Assassins

by Justin Somper

  Jared nodded ruminatively. “That’s a shame about the note,” he said. “But tell me, did the key look anything like this?” Reaching under the collar of his linen shirt, he lifted out a chain of his own and revealed a vial—identical to that worn by his brother—Nestling against it, glinting in the sunlight, was a key.

  “It’s a perfect match,” Asta said. “What does it unlock?”

  “It’s not a perfect match,” Jared explained. “But it is very similar. We were each given one—Anders, myself and Edvin. They are keys to our own bathing houses down on the fjord. It’s a tradition dating back to my great-great-grandparents’ day. The thinking is that there are few places in the Princedom where a member of the royal family can enjoy true privacy. So we were each given a bathing house. They are only small but they are a place, by the fjord, where we can go to be alone, away from the noise and watchful eyes of the court.”

  “Or to be with someone you can’t be seen with at court.” The words fell from Asta’s mouth before she had a chance to edit them.

  Jared did not contradict her. “I suppose so,” he said, letting the chain fall back beneath his shirt.

  “Are there duplicates of these keys?” Asta asked. “I think it might be useful to take a look into your brother’s bathing house.”

  “There are no duplicate keys. That was all part of the plan—to keep them private.” Jared frowned. “But I’m lost. What has the bathing house to do with my brother’s poisoning?”

  “It would seem that your brother’s personal life was far from straightforward,” Asta said. “Whatever his true feelings for Silva, it seems certain he was romantically involved with someone else. Why else would he have carried the love note in the locket, always close to his heart?” Asta’s eyes met Jared’s. “I can’t help but wonder with this evidence if your brother’s murder was, in fact, a crime of passion, rather than a politically motivated attack. Could Prince Anders have been killed simply because someone found out about the affair?”

  Jared now put a question of his own to Asta. “I know it’s a dreadful question to ask but… Do you think that Silva could have murdered Anders?”

  “Yes,” Asta said slowly, wondering why she hadn’t arrived at this possibility on her own. “But remember, she only found out about Anders’s betrayal this morning—when I stupidly showed her the note.”

  “Not stupidly.” Jared shook his head. “It was rather a brilliant move on your part, even if it wasn’t intentional. But what if Silva was putting on a show, reacting—overreacting—to the note when you showed it to her? It sounds, from what you told me before, that she knew her marriage was far from perfect. She seized on the opportunity today to try to change what she’d said about that. The note gave her the perfect opportunity to act surprised, but we can only guess at her true feelings. Maybe that note only confirmed what she already knew—what she has known for quite some time.”

  “Oh dear,” Asta said. “I don’t think I’m a good influence on you. I thought I was breaking every code of the court, suggesting that your brother’s murderer might be one of the Twelve. But now you yourself are pointing the finger at members of the royal family, your own family.”

  Jared nodded. “You’re making me question everything I thought I knew, it’s true—but not in an unhelpful way.” He paused, thinking. “Silva would have had plenty of opportunity to poison Anders, whether via his food or by rubbing salve into his hunting wound.”

  Asta suddenly gasped, her face was pale.

  “What is it?” Jared asked, wondering if he could ever keep pace with her quick mind.

  “I’ve just remembered something else Silva told me the first time we met. She said that, on account of her pregnancy, she was unable to eat much. And so, because she and Anders wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret, he offered to eat her food as well as his own.”

  “It would have given her the perfect opportunity,” Jared agreed.

  “But, in that case, why would she have told me?” Asta wondered aloud.

  Jared shook his head. “I can’t answer that,” he said. “But if everything you have told me is true, and I see no reason to disbelieve you, then I fear my brother and his wife were caught in a tangled web. Albeit of their own making.”

  “What on earth do we do next?” Asta asked now.

  “We don’t have enough evidence to accuse Silva,” Jared said. “I need to think further on all this.”

  “And I should get back to my uncle, before he grows suspicious,” Asta said.

  Jared nodded. “It’s time I made my return to the palace.” He checked to see that Hedd was still at his side. “Good boy, come along then!” He slipped him another scrap of chicken to reward his good behavior.

  “And when do we meet up again, your highness?” For the first time, Asta sounded unsure of herself. “I mean, I’m assuming you would like for us to meet up again?”

  “I told you before not to call me that,” Jared said, his smile undercutting the harsh words. “Of course I need to see you again. What Silva told you about access to me is nonsense. You only have to come to the palace at any point, and request an audience…” Jared blushed a little and hurried to correct his own pomposity. “Just come to the palace and say you would like to see me.”

  “Might it be better that I have a way to get to you, without making our association widely known?” Asta said.

  Jared nodded. “You’re a step ahead of me, again. When we get back to the palace, I’ll show you a private way of reaching my rooms.” He smiled. “Of course, you’ll still have to contend with my bodyguard. He never leaves my side.”

  “Except now,” Asta said. “His name is Hal, isn’t it? You thought I was him. Where is he now?”

  “Probably lurking in the undergrowth,” Jared said. He still couldn’t quite believe that the Chief Bodyguard had not followed him into the forest. But, if he had, he hadn’t made a sound and Hedd hadn’t sniffed him out. A dark thought crossed Jared’s mind. Was there a chance that Hal had been there and had overheard some of their very private, potentially incendiary, conversation?

  His thoughts were interrupted by the chimes of the Priest’s Bell.

  “Come on, Asta,” Jared said, with renewed urgency. “We need to get going. The steward is due to be executed one hour from now. I need to find the Captain of the Guard and tell him things might not be what they seem.”

  Asta’s face broke with relief. “That’s wonderful news,” she said. “But how will you tell him what you know, without telling him where the information came from?”

  “Leave me to work that out,” Jared said. “And trust that I will.”

  “I do trust you,” she said.

  “And I you, for some reason,” Prince Jared told her. He was gratified to see that his words brought a smile to her pretty lips.

  The light was beginning to fade from the sky when they made their return to the palace.

  Jared bid Asta farewell. He was surprised how alone he felt, as he watched her disappear down the path toward the village. Though she had come to talk to him about his brother’s murder and much of their conversation had strayed into very dark territory, what he held on to from their meeting was a sense of fellowship. They had both, in their way, been thrown into new worlds. Maybe they could help each other find a way through them? It was also good to have the chance to talk to someone of a similar age to himself. And it certainly didn’t hurt that she had the most bewitching gray eyes.

  His meeting with Asta had certainly restored his confidence; Jared realized that he was going to need every bit of it to tackle Axel. No time like the present, the thought, with a small smile. He wondered where Axel might be at this time. In his office at the palace, or at The Captain of the Guard’s villa in the Village of the Twelve?

  He didn’t have to wonder for long, because as he stood there in the palace grounds, Axel himself soon hove into view. He was coming from the direction of the Dungeons, Jared noted ominously.

  “Cousin Jared,” Axel ca
lled. “Where have you been? I was about to send out a search party.”

  “I went for a walk,” Jared told him, unwilling to dwell any further on his temporary disappearance. “But I’m very glad to see you now. I need to talk to you about your investigation.”

  “Of course,” Axel replied. “Shall we decamp to your quarters or mine?”

  “What I have to say won’t take long,” Jared said. “I want you to stay the execution. I have reason to doubt that the steward was my brother’s assassin.”

  Axel’s face paled. “What reasons? The case against him was watertight.”

  Jared shook his head. “I don’t believe that to be so,” he said. “But before I go into detail, do I need to sign something to delay the orders on the death warrant?”

  “I’m afraid you’re too late, Prince Jared,” Axel said.

  “Too late? Surely the papers can be drawn up at any time? I will talk to Logan.”

  “No, Prince Jared, you need to listen to me. You can’t sign anything to reverse the death warrant because the prisoner was beheaded an hour ago. I was there when the Executioner swung his axe.”

  “What?” Jared felt his whole body begin to shake.

  “That’s why I was looking for you. I decided to bring forward the execution.”

  “You decided… why?” Jared’s face flushed. “That wasn’t your decision to make.”

  “Actually, it was,” Axel said. “The Executioner and I made the decision together. Of course, we looked for you but you were nowhere to be found.”

  “And so you just elected to press on with the execution anyway.”

  “I’m sorry,” Axel said.

  “No you’re not.” Jared shook his head, anger coursing through him.

  “You need to tell me what you think you know,” Axel said. “Why have you suddenly decided that the prisoner, whose death warrant you yourself signed, was not in fact guilty?”

  “You’re the one who owes me an explanation,” Jared said firmly. “Not the other way around.”

  Axel’s face grew clouded. “I’m constantly making allowances for you,” he said. “You’re a sixteen-year-old boy with precious little understanding of how this Princedom works. I keep giving you the benefit of the doubt, cousin, but I fear you are starting to try my patience.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” Jared shot back angrily. “Remember I am your Prince and start treating me accordingly.”

  “I’ll treat you like a prince when you start behaving like one!”

  Shaking his head, Axel Blaxland turned and walked back in the direction from which he had come.

  Jared realized he was absolutely powerless to do anything about it.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The Prince’s Quarters, the Palace

  JARED WAS SITTING IN THE CHAIR AT HIS DESK, his head cradled in his hands. tufts of dark hair poked up between his long, rather graceful fingers. He had been sitting that way for ages now, as still as one of the marble renderings of his ancestors in the statue garden.

  Logan had long since given up trying to draw him into conversation. The only sound within the chamber was the muffled drumming of the persistent rain on the other side of the mullioned casement. It was a filthy night and one on which to be grateful indeed to be inside the palace walls and close to a lit hearth.

  Jared thought back to what Asta had told him of his brother’s hunting expedition. Axel had been there. Axel had had access to the wound. Jared shuddered. How did he not know that Axel Blaxland—his cousin, the man whom he himself had made Edling, against his own better instincts—was not the real assassin? If so, it was no wonder he had been intent on serving such swift “justice” to the prisoner. Michael Reeves might have been nothing more than a scapegoat.

  Jared’s right elbow abutted an untouched tray of food sent up from the kitchens, at Logan’s request, more than an hour before. The bread had been torn into pieces, morsels of it rolled into tiny doughy balls, thanks to a flurry of nervous energy. The meaty soup remained untouched, an unappetizing film of fat now congealing on its surface. It made Logan’s thoughts turn to winter ice that would lay similar claim to the fjord during the coming months.

  Logan walked around the edge of the broad oak desk and, brushing past Jared’s side, approached the double mullioned casement behind him. The Poet lingered there for a moment, watching the teeming rain begin to fall and feeling the chill that permeated the closed glass, then reached up and drew across the heavy curtains to shut out the darkness, cold and damp. Turning back again, Logan saw that the Prince still hadn’t moved a muscle.

  Logan gave Jared’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was the smallest of gestures but it seemed to bring the Prince back to life.

  “Just answer me one thing, Logan. Am I or am I not Prince of All Archenfield?” Jared drew his hands away from his face and gazed at Logan through troubled, red-rimmed eyes.

  “Yes,” Logan answered him. “Of course you are the Prince. It’s a strange question, if I may say so.”

  “No it’s not,” Jared said abruptly. “For, if truly I am Prince here, how can it be that my cousin, the Captain of the Guard, has the right to act without my say-so?”

  Logan’s head tilted toward the Prince. “Can you be more specific?”

  Jared nodded, his anger easily perceptible in the set of his jaw even before he spoke. “How come I came back from my walk this afternoon to find that Axel had proceeded with Michael’s execution?”

  “The kitchen boy?”

  “The steward. And he had a name.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” the Poet conceded calmly. “You knew he was to be executed. You signed the death warrant two nights ago…” He reached into his pocket. “With this very pen.”

  “I know that! Though I’m equally aware that I signed it under duress from Axel, and actually from you.” Logan frowned, poised to respond, but Jared went on. “My point is that Michael wasn’t due to be executed until sundown tonight. What gave Axel the right to bring forward the execution?”

  “By a few hours? Well, Axel is Captain of the Guard. It certainly falls within his and Morgan Booth’s responsibilities to determine such matters. I’m sure there were practical reasons for this decision and I can look into them if you wish. But you must realize that, now you are Prince, you can’t simply disappear for hours on end.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Jared said. “That has been made abundantly clear.”

  Logan’s eyes met the Prince’s. “Why is this so important to you?”

  Jared gazed at the Poet with evident frustration. “It’s important to me because I went to Axel to defer the orders on the death warrant. But I was too late. Michael was already dead.”

  “You wanted to stop the execution while the Executioner was sharpening his blade?” Logan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s unusual to say the least.” His voice dropped a register. “What, I wonder, compelled you to this new course of action?”

  Jared waved his hand. “That’s a whole other story. What I’m trying to understand here is where my powers end and those of the Captain of the Guard, and the rest of you, The Council of Twelve, begin.”

  The Poet nodded. “I do appreciate your confusion and your understandable frustration. I suppose we all thought that, as Edling, you would have observed the workings of the Twelve. But, of course, the perspectives of Edling and Prince are significantly different. For instance, you are now charged with making decisions about life and death.”

  “Am I though?” Jared asked, genuinely confused. “Am I really? Or am I merely the Council’s puppet?”

  “The Council is here to support you,” Logan said. “In good times but especially in times of crisis. And, Prince Jared, Archenfield has surely never seen such a moment of crisis as we are experiencing now. The way you have coped these past few days has been nothing short of miraculous. If anyone had any doubts about your capacity to rule, then you have swept them away in the most decisive fashion.”

  “That’s very flattering,” Jare
d began but found himself interrupted.

  “Credit where credit is due. Whatever the dubious reputation of the Poets, my business is not to flatter you.” Logan paused. “My job, like the rest of the Twelve, is to empower you to be the best ruler you can. But it works in both directions. You need to trust in us and in our experience. We all have roles and responsibilities. And so, in terms of this investigation, you would do well to allow the Captain of the Guard to handle things his way.”

  As the Poet finished, the Prince stared silently at his companion for a time before speaking again. “Logan, can I trust you?”

  The Poet frowned. “Prince Jared, I would hope you know the answer to that question by now.”

  “Yes, of course. But I need to be sure. I need to tell you something in confidence.”

  Logan nodded.

  “This cannot go beyond these four walls. Not to any other Council members, nor my mother or Edvin…”

  The Poet nodded. “Whatever you tell me will remain solely between us two.”

  Jared paused again before speaking. “I’m not sure I trust my cousin.”

  Logan let out a sigh. “But you just made him your Edling.”

  “Yes,” Jared said. “I’m painfully aware of that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear you feel that way. It’s not helpful for you to have doubts to contend with, on top of everything else. But let’s be very clear about this—are you saying you don’t trust in his ability to investigate your brother’s murder or simply that you do not trust him?”

  Jared considered the distinction carefully. “Perhaps both.”

  Logan nodded. This was explosive information and needed to be handled with due caution. “I’m going to need some time to reflect on this.”

  “Yes, fine.”

  “And I’m going to need to know why you have lost faith in Axel’s handling of your brother’s murder. What made you want to stay Michael’s death sentence?”

  Jared’s eyelids flickered. “We’ll talk about that, but not tonight. I’m dog-tired, to be honest with you, and suddenly I’m really hungry.”