by Delia Castel
Marigold’s eyes bulged. Why would he protect her?
“I wish to question young Berrin,” replied Governor Hertz.
“You will do nothing of the sort,” snapped the General. “I told you already that he is not to be disturbed.”
Marigold bit down hard on the soft flesh inside her cheek. He could insist. He could barrel past, charge up the stairs, and find her. The brothers could do nothing to stop him. She was a fugitive!
“You realize that you had a dangerous criminal in your abode?” asked the Governor. “She is wanted for numerous crimes against shifters in Boreas. Withholding any information that could lead to her apprehension is a serious offense—”
“Leave this house.” The menace in Matheson’s voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
“I wish to see the holding facility,” replied Governor Hertz. “Where did you keep her?”
“The wine cellar,” Polaris growled.
“Very well. Lead the way.”
Berrin placed his finger on his lip and jerked his head to the door. Marigold nodded. It was time to plan her next move.
Chapter 9
Polaris leaned forward, resting his elbows on Father’s desk and glared into Uncle Hertz’ gloating face. Obviously, all that talk of wanting to see Marigold was a ruse to seize control of the Auburn estate. Father had told him often enough while he was growing up to take responsibility for his own actions so that he wouldn’t become a degenerate like Uncle Hertz.
The older dragon lounged on the leather sofa with his arms stretched over the top of its cushions. The dragon’s gold rings he wore on each of his spread fingers glinted in the sunlight. He ran his fingers through hair that had turned steel-gray due to the overuse of papaver. Polaris clenched his jaw. He would likely lose the entire estate within half a year of gaining control.
Uncle Hertz smirked and reached into the pocket of his gold brocade jacket. Polaris flattened his lips, suppressing the urge to sneer at the dragon’s choice of garment. The last time he’d seen such gaudy fabric, it was adorning the sofa of a brothel he’d invaded. He’d found the deserter passed out in the lap of the madam, having smoked copious quantities of papaver.
The older dragon pulled out a silver flask and twisted off its stopper. The bitter, pungent stench of fermented wormwood stung Polaris’ nostrils.
After taking a long drag and wiping droplets of green liquid from his chin, he smirked. “Having second thoughts about showing me the wine cellar?”
“Not at all.” Polaris stood. “Please, follow me.” He walked out of the study into the hallway. Uncle Hertz’ footsteps echoed from behind. Halfway towards the stairs to the cellar, he gasped. Polaris turned around. Uncle Hertz stared, open mouthed, into the parlor.
“This is where it happened,” he whispered, wonder shining in his pale, lavender eyes.
Polaris sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes darted to Matheson’s, who had just left Father’s study.
His younger brother’s face contorted. “How did you know?”
Uncle Hertz smoothed down the lapels of his jacket. “As a Governor, I’m often involved in the investigation of murders. It is a hobby of mine. A fascination, so to speak.” He stepped into the parlor lifting his nose in the air like a hunting dog and inhaled. “Whoever perpetrated these murders has committed the perfect crime.”
Matheson slammed him against the wall. “What do you mean?” He shook the older dragon so hard, his hair fell out from its tie. “Tell me!”
“Unhand me.” Baring teeth that had sharpened into points, he transformed his arm and grabbed Matheson by the throat. “You will treat your elders with respect!”
Polaris jumped into action. He leapt across the hallway turning his own hands into claws. His skin hardened, and he grabbed Uncle Hertz by the arm. Baring his own sharpened teeth, he snarled, “Unless you wish there to be a third murder, I suggest you let go of my brother.”
Uncle Hertz loosened his grip, and Matheson fell to the floor, coughing. A memory of Marigold in the same position made his heart twist, but he focused his attention on his uncle.
“Forgive me, Polaris,” he said, with no trace of remorse. “I was merely defending myself from a hot-headed boy.”
“A true dragon never uses his strength against those with lesser power!”
“Of course, of course. It was remiss of me.” He offered an outstretched arm to Matheson, who scowled and pulled himself up of his own volition. Placing his jeweled fingers over his lips, Uncle Herz tittered. “In all this excitement, I almost forgot. Will you lead me to where you kept the girl?”
Polaris offered him a tight smile in return. “Indulge us, Uncle. How did you know the location of the murder?”
“I will answer that when you have shown me what I wish to see.”
“You will answer me now.”
Uncle Hertz pursed his lips. “If you insist.” He pointed up at the ceiling. “The faint traces of smoke up there speak of an attempt by a dragon at self-defense.”
Polaris stared up. Where it should have been white, pale gray tendrils marred the plasterwork. “It makes no sense. A flame would have scorched the walls and ceiling black.”
“Not if the dragons concerned were under the influence of papaver. It tends to have a dampening effect on one’s fires.”
“Mother and Father would never take such a substance,” said Polaris.
“That’s right,” said Matheson. “They were always lecturing me to avoid it.”
Uncle Hertz waggled his fingers as though flicking off droplets of water. “Such is the hypocrisy of dragons! That which one condemns is oftentimes the longing hidden deep within the heart.”
Polaris narrowed his eyes. “Or somebody poisoned them with papaver to make it easier to stage an attack.”
“It is possible…” The older dragon’s eyes sparkled. “But I like my theory better.”
“He was your brother,” snarled Matheson. “Don’t you even care?”
Uncle Hertz glanced up at an imaginary point in the wall, pursing and relaxing his lips, as though deep in thought. “We were brothers once, yes.” He drew out the last word, making himself sound wistfully reminiscent. “But he disowned me at my time of need. That is something I will not forgive.”
“This is a waste of time,” snapped Polaris. “Come, Uncle. I will show you to the cellar.”
As they strode through the ground floor hallway and down the stairs to the cellar, Polaris studied Uncle Hertz’ features. He certainly had a motive for wanting Mother and Father dead. Anyone with enough funds could contact the Assassin’s Guild to carry out a murder, but could someone as feckless as him pull together such funds? While he had no sense of grief about their deaths, there was no evidence that he had committed the crime.
Polaris pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened cellar. The scent of wine engulfed him, and he shifted his eyes for night vision.
Uncle Hertz stood at the door, his brows raised. “Are you not keeping the lanterns fueled?”
“Has papaver robbed you of the ability to see in the dark?”
With a dramatic sigh, he transformed his eyes, giving his irises vertical slits. “Your grandfather would never have allowed such disrespect.”
“He was the type of dragon who believed in judging a person on merit, rather than age.”
“True, true… But one must take advantages wherever one can.”
Polaris walked past the walls of shelves, laden with Father’s finest vintages. Hertz paused, presumably to examine a bottle.
“Keep walking,” Polaris growled.
“I am well aware of the location of the cage. This was once my home.”
“Then make haste and leave.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this between us, nephew,” Uncle Hertz whined. “We are the same. Eldest brothers overlooked for their inferior.”
Polaris whirled around, making his eyes blaze. “I’m nothing like you. My position in the King’s Regiment precl
udes me from inheriting wealth.”
“That is the lie you tell yourself to protect your heart.” The older dragon tutted. “You joined the regiment because you saw yourself charmed out of your birthright by your younger, more favored, flame-haired brother. Do not tell me that a small part of you isn’t relieved that the tyrant has gone.”
“Keep talking like that, and I’ll start thinking that you engineered the murders.” He strode to the cage. “There.”
Uncle Hertz stared at Polaris. The minuscule light streaming in through the gap in the door brought out his hollow features. Compared to Father, Uncle Hertz was gaunt and appeared much older than the three-year age difference between them. Polaris briefly wondered whether this was to be Matheson’s fate, as his younger brother also indulged in alcohol and papaver. The moment stretched on, and Uncle Hertz continued his expectant stare.
Polaris raised his brows. “Are you going to inspect the lock, or is there something to that flamboyant outfit that you’re not telling me?”
“I saw it after we rounded the corner” He chuckled. “Clever little thing… Using a hairpin to force the mechanism. She must have learned that in prison.”
“You know of her?”
“Let us just say that she is a person of interest.”
“Why is that?”
“The answer is moot, unless the little jailbird has charmed you into keeping her somewhere else.” His gaze drifted up to the ceiling.
Tamping down his reaction, Polaris gestured to the door. “If you’ve inspected the girl’s means of escape, I suggest you take your leave.”
Uncle Hertz tapped his lip. “Did you think to check the girl’s hair for instruments of escape? Or for weapons?”
“No. In case the contents of my letter escaped your notice, we had, at the time, discovered the slaughter of our parents. Finding hairpins on a human girl was low on our priority.”
“A pity,” he drawled. “You should have undressed her and conducted a thorough investigation. In Boreas our search procedures are rigorous. As the Governor, I’m often involved in the inspection of the female prisoners. It is a—”
“And you wonder why they escape.” Polaris longed to punch the leer off the dragon’s face, but such a violent reaction might alert him of a fondness for Marigold. Right now, he just wanted Uncle Hertz out of the mansion. He would bring this information to the King and see if a team of investigators could discover the facts behind the degenerate’s claims. “I have heard enough about your grotesque hobbies, thank you. Now, leave. You have what you came for.” Polaris moved towards the door.
Uncle Hertz walked to the cage and placed his jeweled fingers over the damaged lock. “Did your father ever explain the purpose of this contraption?”
“No.”
“This was where your grandfather would lock me for days if he ever caught me in the Papaver Palace.” A dry chuckle escaped his throat. “He would scour the fine establishments of Sigma Central and drag me out from wherever I rested. It was most humiliating.”
“Obviously, his efforts had no effect. Would you like to leave of your own volition?”
“That would be a delightful alternative to whatever you have left unsaid.”
Polaris gave him a tight smile and gestured towards the door. “After you.”
They walked back through the cellar, up the stairs towards the front doors. In the hallway, Uncle Hertz paused at a portrait of a younger, red-haired version of himself and father posing with Grandmother and Grandfather.
“Your mother was supposed to be mine, you know.”
Polaris closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. Uncle Hertz seemed to be trying to get a reaction. He could not fathom why, but he wouldn’t play along with his mind games. Despite his decision, he found himself saying through clenched teeth, “Why, in the name of Vulcan, have you chosen now to air out old grievances?”
“Which of you got close to the girl?” His lavender eyes glimmered.
Matheson emerged from the parlor, and Polaris stiffened. He hoped that his hot-tempered brother wouldn’t reveal something that betrayed Marigold’s true location. Her harrowing tale of being released early from prison to serve her parole in the brothel now seem to be believable, considering Uncle Hertz’ enthusiasm for searching female inmates. Matheson raised his chin to a defiant angle. “I caught her running from the house, covered in blood. Why?”
“Did you happen to see a charm bracelet on her person?”
Matheson curled his lip. “I didn’t think to conduct a search. Unlike some, I prefer the companionship of ladies.”
“One dragon’s cast-off is another dragon’s gold.” Uncle Hertz strolled to the entrance and opened the front door. A Boreas official carriage awaited him in the courtyard. He tipped an imaginary hat. “Good day, nephews.”
“Wait,” said Polaris. “What is the significance of the jewelry?”
Uncle Hertz raised a shoulder and gave a crooked, half-smile. “It belonged to my new Deputy Governor. A bear shifter named Arctos. Should the young lady return, do send a message via swift.”
When Polaris didn’t reply, Uncle Hertz stepped through the doorway.
Polaris walked to the door and watched the other dragon enter his carriage. Its driver, a burly bear shifter, shook the reins and left the courtyard.
Matheson approached him from behind. “This isn’t the last we’ll see of him.”
“I have no doubt about that.” Polaris closed the front door. “I want you to go to the owner of Papaver Palace to find out if anyone purchased the substance but didn’t consume it on the premises.”
“Anything else?”
“Marigold’s bracelet might be significant.”
“But you said she had nothing to do with the murder.”
“And I still maintain that she is innocent. But don’t you think Uncle Hertz was unusually interested in her? People escape both prison and parole all the time, but they don’t have Governors taking a special interest in their cases.”
Matheson rubbed his brow. “I thought the questions were his way of finding a reason why he should be in charge of managing the estate.”
“That is his most likely motivation, but I wish to rule out all possibilities.”
“I will fetch my chariot,” said Matheson.
Polaris headed for the grand staircase. “And I will speak to Marigold about her bracelet.”
Chapter 10
Marigold walked back to Berrin’s room, on limbs that shook so hard, Berrin had to prop her up with an arm around her waist. From the upstairs hallway, she could not hear the goings-on between Governor Hertz and the other brothers. However, she still imagined the old dragon charging up the grand staircase at any moment to drag her to the gallows. Her chest tightened, and she struggled for air. The marble floor tiles spun beneath her feet, and she wished they would swallow her up and transport her elsewhere. She had to get out. It was only a matter of time before the Governor demanded to search the rooms.
Berrin gave her a comforting squeeze, which made her stomach sink. He had enough problems of his own, and she hated to add to his burden. It seemed that finding and being implicated in the murder of two dead dragons had robbed her of her self-confidence. Since when had she become the type of person to rely on the strength of a man? She’d fought for her independence in prison, not giving into the guards’ intimidation. Prior to that, she had taken care of Unwin… until he had sold her out.
She bowed her head and sighed. Perhaps if she had had a good friend like Berrin, he would have kept her hiding place a secret, and she would never have ended up in jail. Unwin had definitely reported her to the authorities. He had always spent more than he earned, and the promise of a reward, no matter how paltry, would have been too much of a temptation.
As soon as they entered the safety of Berrin’s room, she collapsed against the wall. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re shaking.”
“Didn’t you hear him ask about me?”
“Uncle Hertz doe
sn’t care about his role in government.” He guided her to the edge of the four-poster bed. “He’s a greedy, self-serving libertine whose only interest is acquiring money. I’m sure the questions about you were just a ruse to undermine Matheson’s inheritance of the Auburn estate.”
She sank onto the feather mattress and stared up at him, rubbing the back of her neck. “Are you sure?”
“Think about it from the point of view of a corrupt dragon. You took a bracelet from one bear shifter then you defended yourself from another. Those aren’t reasons that would concern Uncle Hertz.”
She lowered her gaze, pondering Berrin’s words. Since the General had written to Governor Hertz to verify the truth of her alibi, it would make sense that the older dragon would bring her up in conversation. Especially considering he was looking for a way to steal the brothers’ inheritance. Chewing on her bottom lip, she let out a frustrated breath. Something in the back of her mind told her that wasn’t the whole story. “Then why did he have me released from the House of Corrections six months early?”
A pained grimace crossed his handsome features. “Your instincts are probably better than mine in these matters.” He strode to his study desk, and gestured at to the map of Igneous. “I will help you leave the district. My Academy is on the island of Fafnir. It’s a very peaceful place. You would be happy there, and I could—”
“Actually, I already have plans.”
His shoulders drooped. “Oh.”
Marigold’s stomach churned with guilt, which wound around her chest like a tight band. It was clear that Berrin was about to suggest some kind of arrangement that allowed him to visit her. Once again, she’d blurted something insensitive. This time, instead of accusing him of not being affected by his parents’ murders, she’d shot out a callous rejection.
She pulled herself up and walked to where he stood, eyes downcast, by the study desk. His arms hung loose by his sides, and she grabbed his hand. “I-I meant to say that I had already worked out what I was going to do on the stagecoach.”
“I see…”