Axel had now stood up and was pacing up and down on the other side of the desk. At last, he came to a stop and reached out to pour himself a fresh slug of aquavit. He turned and gestured to offer Jared a refill but the Prince held aloft his still brimming glass. He had little taste for the stuff, but hadn’t wanted his cousin to think him rude before. They had endured so many clashes over the past few days but now, more than ever, they needed to come together and work as a team.
In a nutshell, he needed Cousin Axel’s help.
“All right,” Axel said, sitting back down and setting his glass on the desk in front of him. “I’m prepared to concede that Silva’s death may not have been either accident or suicide. There is, as you say, sufficient evidence to consider murder a very real possibility.” His eyes met Jared’s. “But you must acknowledge that Silva could still have been assassinated as part of a plot from the court at Paddenburg or any one of our neighbors—with the exclusion, I think we can agree, of Woodlark.”
As he paused to take another swig of his drink, Jared seized his opportunity to respond. “So we are agreed that murder is a strong possibility here too. Forgive me, Cousin, but I don’t understand why you won’t consider the possibility that there was absolutely no political aspect to both these murders and that they were crimes of passion?”
“Let me explain,” Axel said, leaning forward across his desk. “In these past four days, Archenfield has lost its Prince and the Prince’s Consort, right?”
Jared nodded. There was no argument with these cold, hard facts.
“Well, these two murders have achieved two—no actually three—outcomes. First, our ruler has been removed. The first murder achieved that. Second, our alliance with Woodlark is in jeopardy—given that Silva Lindeberg was very likely assassinated on our soil.” Axel frowned. “Third, as a result of Anders’s death, we now have a much weaker, less experienced Prince on the throne.” He attempted to soften the brutality of his words with a smile. “No offense, intended, Cousin. I’m just telling the truth as I see it. In time, I’m sure you will dazzle us all and Logan Wilde will tell your epic deeds in the history books.”
Though it wasn’t exactly pleasant to be reminded of his youth and inexperience, Prince Jared couldn’t honestly fault Axel’s logic.
Axel leaned back in his chair. “So you must see how all these factors point very clearly to two politically motivated killings, murders, assassinations—whatever you choose to call them, the impact is the same.” Axel reached forward, lifted his glass and drained its contents. When he had done so, he looked back at Jared. “You’re still not convinced, are you?”
“Everything you have said rings true,” Replied Jared slowly. “But I think it is just as likely, given the evidently tangled love life of my brother, that these were murders motivated by deeply personal matters rather than by politics.” Jared frowned. “I just don’t want us to create a tense situation with one of our neighbor states when this might have nothing at all to do with them.”
Axel granted him a nod. “It doesn’t help your case that you don’t know who your brother’s inamorata was.”
“I know that’s the missing pieces of the puzzle,” Jared said. “That’s why I came to talk to you tonight. I would really appreciate your expertise and insight.”
It seemed that the last thing Axel had expected from his cousin was praise. It stopped him in his tracks and Jared could see fresh thoughts passing through his mind.
“All right then, if you want my expertise I’ll tell you how I see this.” Axel rose to his feet once more. “Motivation is actually of secondary importance here. The primary thing we must focus on is this—for both Anders and Silva to have been killed, the killer—or killers—must have been someone either of high rank or in residence within the court to have the necessary access.”
Jared nodded. “That makes sense to me. Elias said the same thing.”
“So now we’re getting somewhere.” Axel refreshed his drink once more. “Look, one of the most useful things you have brought to me tonight is this information about Anders’s hunting wound…”
Jared was tempted to ask why, when this had been spelled out so clearly in Elias’s postmortem report, Axel was treating it like fresh information. But he didn’t want to wreck the amiable tone of the meeting—so he just nodded.
“As you say, Prince Jared, all those within the hunting party were of very high rank. I propose to question each of them anew, starting in the morning. My aim will be to flush out if any of them have a secret affiliation to Paddenburg. It seems unthinkable but we have to face facts, I fear.”
Jared sighed. “So, you persist in viewing these as political assassinations?”
“I do and I think that’s the best next step in this investigation. I intend to have my team continue going through the immigration files to see what they can turn up.” Axel smiled once again. “You still think it’s important to discover the identity of your brother’s mystery lover, don’t you?” He shrugged. “Look, it certainly won’t hurt us to know that information. And I have absolutely no problem if, while my team and I interrogate the hunting party, you—and your little friend—want to start questioning the women of the court. You never know—you might unearth something useful.”
Could Cousin Axel be any more condescending if he tried? Jared doubted it. Nonetheless, it seemed like a reasonable division of labor—one team pursuing the political conspiracy, the other (he rather liked the idea of him and Asta being “a team”) investigating the personal angle.
“Perhaps you would like my help in drawing up your suspect list?” Axel offered.
“Why not?”
Axel seemed to be enjoying himself now. “Well, as I say, we need to think high level here. So members of the Twelve for starters.” He made a face. “I think we can rule out Vera Webb. Let’s credit your brother with better taste than that.”
“The Beekeeper?” Jared said.
Axel nodded. “Yes, put her on your list. Though she is such a tightly strung shrew, I can’t quite see her throwing herself into an epic romance.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Jared said, noting down her name.
“The Falconer,” Axel said, lost for a moment in his thoughts. “You should definitely talk to Nova Chastain. She’s a bit of a mystery altogether. I’m not sure I can see her forming a relationship with anyone other than her birds, but she was certainly shaken up after your brother’s death. That might prove significant.”
Jared added Nova Chastain to his list.
“Those are the only women on the Twelve, so that’s your suspect list…” Axel paused. “Unless you think your brother had a preference for his own gender?” Jared looked up, with a start, to find Axel grinning at him. “Now that would open up several more possibilities—Lucas, for instance. He’s quite the pretty boy, is he not? Or Logan? Your brother and the Poet were practically joined at the hip.”
Jared shook his head. “Don’t you think I’d know if my brother’s tastes ran to men?”
Axel shrugged nonchalantly. “It seems to me that, as the days march on, neither you nor I seem to know very much for certain about your brother. Who did? You must admit—good Prince Anders is proving to be more and more of an enigma.” Axel’s tone of voice changed. “Obviously, I’m not making any value judgments here—just sifting through the possibilities.”
Jared frowned, reluctant to continue any further in this vein. He realized he didn’t really care whether his brother was heterosexual, homosexual or asexual. What bothered him was Axel’s barb that he hadn’t really known Anders. It was the unassailable truth and it rankled. Suddenly, he had a fresh thought. “There is one possibility we have overlooked.”
“Kai Jagger?” Axel shot back with a smile.
“No,” Jared said. “Koel Blaxland.”
Axel let out a laugh. “My little sister? You think your brother and my sister.… No, trust me when I say I think we can safely rule her out.”
“On what basis?”
Axel’s voice became huskier. “On the basis that I do know my sister. And, believe you me, I would know if she was in love with your brother—or anyone else for that matter.”
Jared shrugged. “All the same, I think I will put some questions to her, if only to definitely rule her out.” It was his turn to smile. “Assuming you don’t object.”
“Object?” Axel’s eyes narrowed. “No, of course not. I know Koel would want to help. She feels as passionately devoted to Archenfield as I do.”
Jared added Koel’s name to his list. He’d talk to Asta in the morning and work out how best to divide up the three interviews. He rose from his seat. “Thanks for your help, Cousin Axel,” he said. “I’m very glad I came to see you.”
Axel nodded slowly. He seemed distant for a moment, lost in thought.
“I’ll let myself out,” Jared told him, heading for the door. As he reached out for the door handle, he heard Axel speak once more.
“You know,” Axel said, “it would have made a lot more sense if Anders had waited a few years to marry Koel instead of rushing into the union with the spawn of Woodlark. There were other ways to achieve an alliance.”
Jared frowned. “It’s all very well saying that now. Maybe you should have made these feelings clearer at the time.”
“You may rest assured that I did make my thoughts perfectly clear,” Axel said. “But I was shouted down by your mother and Logan Wilde and others on the Twelve. They were all so utterly convinced they could pull off this political marriage and transform it into a fairy tale. But, as it turns out, they could not.”
“Perhaps not,” Jared allowed. “But Anders and Koel? I can’t really see that having worked, can you?” He was surprised to feel protective, not only of his brother but of his young cousin too.
“Well, we’ll never know now.” Axel’s eyes seared into his. “But such a union would have strengthened Archenfield from within, uniting more strongly than ever the Wynyard and Blaxland families. We can agree on that at least.”
Jared fought Axel’s fire with his own. “Now that you are my Edling, our two families are more closely united than ever. You and I may not agree on everything, but surely we can at least agree on that? I put you at the heart of the Princedom and I did so because I wanted you there, at my side.”
Axel shook his head. “No, Prince Jared, you and your mother put me close and threw me a bone because you knew I was your biggest threat.” His eyes blazed. “Can’t we at least be honest about that?”
Jared’s blood was pumping. “Be honest about me thinking you’re a threat? Or that you are one?”
Axel took a moment to consider. “Both,” he said, with evident relish.
DAY FIVE
THIRTY-ONE
The Beekeeper’s Cottage,
the Village
TO ASTA’S SURPRISE, EMELIE SANDS WAS WAITING for her outside her cottage door. “axel tipped e off you might be paying me a little visit. I was about to brew some tea. Won’t you join me?
Asta followed the Beekeeper inside her cottage, immediately liking the homey feel of the place. The narrow hallway led into an open living area, with a small kitchen to the left-hand side and comfortable places to sit by a small hearth on the right. The comfortable throws and pictures, and the air of cozy informality to which they contributed, reminded Asta in certain ways of the Prince’s bathing house. Had Emelie also influenced the decor there? If so, then Asta and Jared had their answer. But she knew she must resist jumping to conclusions. When Jared—she corrected herself—when Prince Jared had come to find her that morning, and proposed this fresh interview strategy, he had made it clear that the time for guesswork was over; between them, they needed to pinpoint the truth.
Asta felt a new sense of mission, now that Prince Jared and she were working together. The fact that only they knew this—and it was obviously best kept that way for the time being—only made it more thrilling. She had no doubt that, working together, they would finally prove, beyond all doubt, the identity of Prince Anders’s one true love. And, through that information, pinpoint his killer.
She watched as Emelie busied herself over the stove. The Beekeeper’s movements were graceful, precise—but also charged with an underlying energy. Asta was aware of herself trying to get the measure of the woman and thinking already of how she would frame her thoughts to the Prince when they met up again later.
At the back of the living area, a pair of stable doors—the upper one open—gave out onto a small, well-tended garden. Asta opened the lower door now and stepped out into a pretty cottage garden. Everything was on a small scale but she could tell that there was, nonetheless, as much artistry here as in the more showy Palace Gardens.
“I’m afraid it’s not looking its best,” Emelie called, from just inside the doorway. “Blame that on too good a summer! Everything came out early and died too soon.” She marched away again to attend to the boiling kettle.
Asta’s attention was drawn by a row of hives, which dominated one length of the garden. She knew that the main hives were in a dedicated section of the palace garden and that it was from these that Emelie harvested the plentiful supply of honey and beeswax for the palace and its many residents.
“We’ve nicknamed that Beekeeper’s Row,” Emelie said, appearing in the garden with a tray of tea things, which she set on the table just outside the living room doors.
“I thought you lived here alone,” Asta said, curious.
“Oh, I do,” Emelie said, setting out cups and saucers. “Well, there’s Chaucer of course.” She crouched down and stroked a cat that was dozing beneath the table. He luxuriated in his mistress’s touch for a moment, then rolled over and stretched out his limbs in the sun.
After five minutes’ small talk, Asta decided it was time to get down to business. “I came to talk to you about the Prince,” she said, carefully setting down her teacup.
“Which one?” Emelie rejoined.
“Prince Anders,” Asta said. “I’m interested to know what you thought of him?”
“What did I think of Anders?” Emelie mused. “He was a natural leader. Well, no, that’s not quite true. It would be fairer to say that he was perfectly groomed to be leader.” Her bright eyes met Asta’s. “Do you know anything about queen bees?”
Asta shook her head.
“Well, you might think that a queen bee holds power over the rest of the bees in the hive. And so she does—in a way. But the queen bee is not born to rule. She is, at first, just a normal bee, but then she is chosen by the worker bees in the colony and fattened up on generous amounts of royal jelly.”
Emelie paused to take a sip of tea before continuing. “Swap the gender and forgive the clunky analogy, but Prince Anders was rather like the normal bee who was chosen by the workers and stuffed with royal jelly. Suddenly, before our eyes, he transformed into something majestic, something otherworldly. Our Prince.”
Asta nodded. “He became the all-powerful ruler.”
Emelie shook her head. “That’s not quite how this Princedom works. It’s not dissimilar with bees. It might seem as if the queen controls the colony, but this is not the case. Her only function is to reproduce. Oh sure, she is surrounded by worker bees who service her every need—bringing her food, taking away her waste. As long as she does what is asked of her, her position is assured.”
“And if she doesn’t do what is asked of her?” Asta wondered aloud. “What then?”
Emelie’s eyes met hers. “Very simple. The worker bees kill her and produce another.”
Asta was shocked. “So to continue your analogy, that’s as if Prince Anders failed to do his duty, so the workers—the Twelve in this case—killed him and replaced him with Prince Jared.”
“Exactly!” Emelie nodded, eyes wide. “Barbarous, isn’t it?”
Asta wondered if the Beekeeper was trying to tell her something.
Emelie smiled at her. “You may perhaps have heard,” she said, “that I don’t much enjoy beating around the
bush. If you have a question for me, I’d much prefer that you just ask me directly.”
“In that case,” Asta said, taking a breath, “Did you love Prince Anders?”
Emelie swallowed another sip of tea. “Did I love him? No. I respected him—greatly. I thought he rose to the challenge of being Prince marvelously. His metamorphosis was extraordinary and impeccable.”
“But as a man?” Asta persisted. “Forget, for a moment, about his being Prince. Did you love him as a man?”
“No! You can’t love someone you don’t know. You can be dazzled by them, infatuated with them, focus all your dreams on that person—and no, before you ask, I felt none of those emotions with regard to Anders.” She shook her head. “I’m a worker bee, Asta. It’s my job to feed the royals, if you will. But to love them? That’s very much beyond my brief.”
Asta sighed. The Beekeeper could not have been more lucid, nor more believable. Asta felt convinced that Emelie Sands was not Prince Anders’s carefully guarded secret.
Prince Jared watched from a short distance away as Koel Blaxland pointed her bow to the ground and placed the shaft of her arrow on the arrow rest, attaching the back of the arrow to the bowstring by the nock. Holding the bowstring and arrow with three fingers, Koel raised the bow and drew her string hand toward her face, resting it momentarily on her right cheek. Jared held his breath as Koel released the arrow. It flew toward the target but, disappointingly, only hit one of the outer rings.
Koel shook her head, clearly displeased with herself.
“That was bad luck,” Jared said, making his way toward her. “Your set up was near perfect. You just need to work some more on your follow-through.”
“Cousin Jared!” Koel exclaimed, turning as he walked toward her. “What a heavenly surprise!”
Jared smiled, seeing her standing there, an eye patch placed over her left eye. “Is that really you, Koel Blaxland, or are you some wicked pirate queen who has taken my dear cousin’s place?”
Allies & Assassins Page 25