by Delia Castel
With a heart as heavy as a boulder, Matheson trudged down the stairs of Papaver Palace. How was he going to tell Polaris he had failed at obtaining a list of all the people Magnus Rex had supplied? He didn’t want his brother coming into this squalid den and seeing where he had spent his time while Mother and Father had been killed.
“Matt?” Lilac stood at the bottom of the stairs. She had changed into the silk chemise and negligee he had bought her months ago. “I’m so lonely without you.”
He shook his head, as his words had died in his throat. While Lilac had helped him through those difficult months of losing Kaida and Kennett, he could now see that she had been playing a role. His gaze swept down her scraggly form, confirming that the plump bosom had also been artifice. “Go back to the dungeon. I am no longer your customer.”
“Wait!”
He stalked through the downstairs hallway, taking shallow breaths, so as not to inhale the cloying scent of burning papaver. A soft hand gripped his arm, and he growled. Lilac, if that was even her name, gasped and snatched it away.
Ignoring Lilac’s entreaties for him to return to the basement, he clenched his fists. He was a disappointment and a failure who couldn’t even apprehend a flightless dragon like Magnus Rex. Polaris would have dragged the information out of him and dealt with those wolf shifters.
The servant opened the door, and Matheson stepped out into the light of the courtyard. This so-called palace was a ruin, as were the people who patronized it. Even if it meant writhing in agony in front of the servants, he would not smoke papaver again.
“Wait here, sir, while I retrieve your chariot,” said the footman.
Matheson gave him an absent nod and wiped sweat off his brow. He would have to report everything back to Polaris. His brother would be able to make sense of events and pull together all the clues. Matheson’s mind was so jumbled, he was ready to believe anything.
When the human servant brought the carriage, he drove back home, lost in the replay of his conversation with Magnus Rex. It no longer mattered that the half-blood had humiliated him in front of wolf shifters. Magnus Rex might have revealed something that would bring them closer to apprehending the murderer. Based on the evidence, all signs pointed to Uncle Hertz.
He clenched the reins, wanting to throw back his head and roar. Life had dealt him the worst of circumstances. Mother and Father had tried to compensate for his cursed and pain-filled childhood by giving him all the love and attention. At the time, he had reveled in the special treatment, thinking it was his compensation for a life of agony. But now, it meant nothing if he didn’t have his brothers by his side. Shaking his head, he muttered, “What a mess.”
The rest of the journey was a blur, and eventually, he reached home. As the carriage moved through the gravel courtyard, Matheson glared at a group of males at the door. The insignia on their carriage had two hateful words: Austellus Bailiffs.
Chapter 15
Marigold sat in the driver’s seat of the carriage, leaning on Berrin’s shoulder. That conversation with Ella’s stepmother had been disturbing for multiple reasons. There was the risk that Lady Brimstone could punish Ella for Berrin not falling at her daughters’ feet. Also, Marigold suspected that the dragon hadn’t been bluffing about her acquaintance with Governor Hertz. How else would she know he’d been inquiring about an escaped convict?
She turned to Berrin. “Ten days is a long time for me to wait around for the ship.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he stared ahead into the long, cobbled road. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. We need a hiding place that Uncle will never think of looking. The house might be safe for a few days while he works out how to get around the legalities of extracting you.”
Marigold bowed her head. She had already taken up enough of the brothers’ hospitality. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if they were caught hiding her. “Maybe Captain Riso would let me hide on his ship.”
“I won’t let you stay there on your own,” he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer. “But now that Uncle Hertz has announced his intentions, Polaris or Matheson won’t let him in the mansion for any reason. He might be the Governor of Boreas, but in Austellus, he has no influence.”
“I suppose.” she stared at the passing houses. How many of them would be empty for Festival Week?
“You’re better off staying with me. We’ll secure the mansion. Between Polaris and me, no one will get to you.”
“Are you sure, because I don’t want to be a bur—”
“Don’t ever say that.” He stopped the cabriolet and stared into her eyes with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “If I were human, I’d leave my family and go to Habilis with you. But the revolutionaries would take one look at me and see that I’m a dragon.”
“I know, but—”
“No, listen. You don’t like the idea of Fafnir Island. I suppose it was selfish of me to keep on about it, but I want to make the last few days we have together count for something. If Uncle tries to trespass, I’ll chase him out with the Auburn Flamberge myself.”
Marigold’s heart melted, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She guessed a flamberge was some kind of weapon, but the vehemence in his voice stirred something within her she had never felt. No one in her life had ever offered her such intense devotion and protection. She couldn’t bear to leave Berrin so soon after finding him.
Berrin cupped her jaw and leaned in to press his lips against hers. It was the gentlest of touches, as though kissing a fugitive in public would bring the wrath of Governor Hertz and the Boreas authorities upon them.
Marigold stretched back her arm and pulled at the cabriolet’s lowered roof. Right now, she needed his passion.
He drew back, brows furrowed. “What are you—oh! I see.” He twisted away and pulled the roof over their heads. “We should really do this behind the security of the mansion’s gates.”
“I know.”
Berrin set upon her like a prisoner devouring his last meal, ravishing her mouth with his lips and teeth and tongue. Warmth spread through Marigold’s body, pooling between her legs. She moaned and pulled him closer. He deepened the kiss, roving his hands over her thighs, up her waist and cupping her breast. Marigold gasped. Any more of his ministrations and she would melt into the seat and lose all sense of everything that was urgent.
She broke the kiss, panting hard. “Berrin.”
“Mmmm?” He sucked on her neck.
Marigold pressed her thighs together. “If we carry on like this, we’ll be arrested for lewd conduct.”
With a groan, he rested his head on her shoulder. “Then we will continue this at home.”
Her hand drifted to his crotch, and she gave his wool encased erection a light squeeze. “I look forward to it.”
They continued along the road for a few more minutes, passing grand, stone-fronted houses enclosed within walled gardens. Marigold chewed her lip. “But what if he’s called the authorities already?”
Berrin tilted his head to the side. He pulled on the reins to allow another carriage to cross the intersection. “You haven’t committed a crime against a resident of Austellus, so the sheriff wouldn’t be interested. The only way he could mobilize the authorities is with the permission of the Governor.”
Marigold was going to ask another question, when she realized that the Governor of Austellus was Berrin’s father. Those kisses really had clouded her senses. “Oh.”
“But I share your concerns. We need a contingency plan.”
“What’s that?”
“If by chance Uncle Hertz convinces the authorities to raid the mansion, you will need to know exactly how to escape without being detected. When we get home, I’ll show you all the routes out of the house.” He picked up the reins, and the horses pulled the carriage across the intersection.
When they returned to the Auburn mansion, Berrin took her by the hand and guided her up the grand staircase. Instead of turning left to
pass the bathroom and Berrin’s bedroom, they turned right. “These are the guest quarters. Back when grandfather was alive, the family used to host social events and invite people from the other districts of Igneous and beyond.”
“Did you go to any?”
“He died before I was born. I heard that the distress of whatever caused Uncle Hertz to be banished killed him.”
“Was it really that bad? What’s the worst punishment for a dragon?”
“Imprisonment, I suppose. But he would have had to murder another dragon.”
Marigold nodded, tamping down her anger at the lopsided treatment. It wasn’t Berrin’s fault that shifters wouldn’t face jail for killing a human. By hiding her in his home and helping her to leave the country, he was rebelling against the unjust system. It still rankled that he referred to it in such a casual way, but she held her silence. He was an eighteen-year-old who had just left boarding school, not a lawmaker.
At the end of the hallway, he placed his hand on a door. “This is the servants’ stairway. On the ground floor, there’s a door that leads to the gardens. If you go down another level, it leads to the kitchen, which is in the basement. Shall we go?”
She gave him an eager nod, and he pushed the door open into a stone stairway. Sunlight streamed in through large, paneled windows, making patterns on the whitewashed walls.
Their footsteps echoed down the stairs until they reached the wooden door with an iron key in its lock. He opened the door, letting in fresh, flower-scented air.
Berrin grabbed her hand and led Marigold through the door. They stepped out into the grounds. One gravel path led to the side gate, and another wrapped around the house, presumably to the courtyard. In the middle of a pristine lawn was a thick limestone table, made of the same material as the mansion’s exterior. Two benches lay on both sides. It looked a little out of place, and she furrowed her brow.
They approached the table, and Berrin chuckled. “What’s funny?”
“The first couple of years at St. Fafnir’s were terrible, as I was homesick and confused about why Mother and Father sent me away. The only contact I had with the family were letters from Polaris, who was in officer training.”
She stroked his arm. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“After two years, the King’s Regiment allowed him some leave, and he came straight to the island to see me.”
Marigold smiled. She had the feeling they were especially close. However, learning that Berrin had been cast out as a child made her feel differently about the two murdered dragons. “Did he stay with you?”
“He brought me home, but a day later, he was recalled by the Regiment headquarters.”
“Oh?”
“I was so upset, I ran into the gardens and hid under that table. None of the servants could get me out, and I wouldn’t leave even when a thunderstorm hit.”
Marigold wrapped her arms around his waist. “What convinced you to come out?”
His eyes softened, and he placed an arm around her shoulders. “Someone sent a griffin to Polaris, because he swooped down in the middle of the thunderstorm, jumped off the creature’s back and gathered me in his arms.”
She squeezed him tight. “Did he get into trouble.”
Berrin sighed. “Yes, but he said it had been worth it.”
Marigold swallowed back a lump in her throat. Polaris had the makings of a great father.
He gave her a kiss on the head and pointed at the row of large magnolias at the foot of the garden. “The tallest tree has a few indentations you can use to climb out. Here, let me show you.”
They walked through the row of trees and along the wall, stopping at one with a trunk thicker than the others. Along its surface, several deep notches ran in two parallel, vertical lines, each as deep as the other. Berrin’s gaze flickered down to her breeches-clad thighs. “It should be easy enough for you to climb.”
“I’ll give it a try!” She grinned, placed both hands on the tree to steady herself, and stuck her foot in the first groove. She hoisted herself up and placed her other foot in the groove next to it. Climbing the tree was simple, and soon, she was twelve feet off the ground. “What now?”
“Look up,” said Berrin. “Climb above that thick branch. It’s strong enough to secure the weight of a grown man.”
Excitement bubbled up in Marigold’s belly. This was the first time she had ever climbed a tree, and with these notches, the task was easy. She scrambled up over the branch and stood atop it. The wood beneath her feet was thick and steady and wide enough to accommodate the largest of feet. With her arms outstretched, she walked down the length of the branch to the top of the stone wall.
“Good.” Berrin stood below, a few feet off to the left. “If the time comes, you’ll be able to jump down and run away.”
“Yes.” Glancing down at the twelve-foot drop, she tightened her lips and grimaced. It was high, and there was no mound of snow to break her fall, but in dire circumstances, she would jump. She climbed down and beamed at Berrin. “Thank you! I feel much better now.”
They walked back through the gardens in silence. Marigold stared up at Berrin, who stared at the ground with sad eyes. She squeezed his hand. “What’s wrong?”
A sigh escaped his nostrils. “I’ve been so wrapped up in your problems, it’s been a distraction from Mother and Father’s murder.”
“I’m here to help, if you want to talk about it.”
“Thank you. I can’t help wondering why I haven’t been as distraught as Matheson. Maybe that thunderstorm story said it all.” A harsh laugh escaped his throat. “Callous, isn’t it?”
“No!” Marigold furrowed her brow. She had never had a parent to lose, let alone a distant one, so it was impossible for her to imagine how Berrin felt. Her bracelet was the only connection she had to her mother, but mentioning it seemed glib compared to what Berrin had lost. She focused on the devastation she had felt in her first days at the House of Corrections and nodded. “Actually, I think your courage in this situation is something to admire. Most people would curl up into a ball and cry, but you’re being practical. It’s great that you’re focusing on things you can control.”
He swallowed. “Thank you.”
Marigold placed her hands around his neck, snaking them to the back of his head. “I’m so glad I met you.”
His aquamarine eyes softened, and he flicked a strand of wavy, blonde hair out of his face. “The feeling is mutual.”
She pulled his head down to hers, meeting his lips in a kiss. Berrin wrapped his arms around her back, pulling them closer together. Marigold hummed her appreciation. At least they wouldn’t have to restrain themselves this time.
“Berrin,” said a voice from behind.
They jumped apart. Marigold spun to find Polaris standing at a set of patio doors. “I have found Grandfather’s papers, which shed a little light on Uncle Hertz’ actions. Come inside, and I will talk you through them.”
“I’ll wait for you upstairs,” said Marigold.
“No, you’ll stay with us,” said Polaris. “I don’t wish to leave you alone and vulnerable.”
Marigold wasn’t entirely sure if he was referring to a confrontation with Matheson, the recent murders, or Governor Hertz, but she decided it didn’t matter. Staying close to Berrin or Polaris was the easiest way to keep safe.
She and Berrin followed Polaris into a well-appointed study, complete with a large, mahogany desk and bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes. A pile of papers sat on the desk, accompanied by half a dozen scrolls.
Berrin sat on a leather sofa opposite the desk and pulled Marigold down to his side. “Do we have a way to stop him from trying to claim the family fortune?”
Polaris raised a scroll. “Grandfather’s will named Father as his successor. He specifically disinherited Uncle Hertz from the family. The reason given was for bringing shame upon the name of Auburn.”
Berrin leaned forward. “So, Uncle can’t take Matheson’s inheritance?”
“I’m no expert on law, but I hope that with documents that explain Grandfather’s reasons, the estate will not fall into Uncle’s hands.”
Marigold glanced from Berrin to Polaris. Despite Berrin being blonde and Polaris having dark hair, the family resemblance was striking. They could almost be the same person a decade apart. “Why was Governor Hertz disinherited?”
Polaris placed his hand on a small pile of paper. “Correspondence between Grandfather and the King’s Secretary reveal our uncle’s role in a plot against old King Hydrus’ widow.”
Marigold’s hand flew to her chest. “Assassination?”
Polaris nodded.
“Wait,” said Berrin. “Are you saying that Uncle is an assassin? Because that would mean he probably killed Mother and Father.”
“Uncle Hertz brokered the deal between Prince Aurelius and the former head of the Assassin’s Guild. She was his wife. Somehow, Grandfather got hold of their letters.”
Marigold’s mouth fell open. “If there is enough proof to link him to an assassination, why is he not in jail already?”
“In exchange for revealing the identity of the Chief Assassin, Grandfather arranged for Uncle to be sent away from high society.”
Marigold bowed her head to hide her reaction. She had the King’s Secretary and the brothers’ grandfather to thank for the corrupt government in Boreas.
“That hardly seems fair.” Berrin squeezed Marigold’s hand. “Why did they allow Uncle to escape justice?”
Polaris massaged his temples. “To protect the family name. The assassination was a disaster and would have brought war to Igneous had it not been for the magical calamity that followed.”
“Are you talking about the bubble of magic surrounding the island of Chrysos?” asked Berrin.
“That’s correct. Now that both Father and Grandfather are deceased, it would be a good idea for a judge to re-examine the evidence and arrange a suitable punishment for Uncle Hertz.”
Marigold worried her bottom lip. “What makes you think a judge won’t just agree with their decision to keep him in Boreas?”