by Delia Castel
Chapter 18
Polaris steered the cabriolet onto Rex Boulevard. The orange light of the setting sun made the cherry blossoms lining the road shine like rose quartz. He glanced at Matheson, who was still reading through the evidence against Uncle Hertz. Polaris needed to reach the Crown Court and speak to the judge and return to the mansion so as not to leave Berrin and Marigold unguarded. An iron fist of worry clenched at his heart at the thought of the pair of them huddled together, fretting for their safety. He shook off his concerns and focused on the battle ahead. A large number of vehicles parked along the roadside. Polaris frowned. Most families stayed at home for Festival Week, as the establishments in Sigma Central closed for the holiday.
He parked outside the Crown Court, a limestone building with huge, stone pillars along its front, extending to its flat, overhanging roof. Human ushers, dressed in their pale, gray tunics and breeches, stood at the steps of the building, ready to guide visitors throughout the interior. Polaris blinked hard. Why was the court open for business? He had initially thought Uncle Hertz had visited the home of Judge Ember and persuaded him to open a side-door to conduct the absentia trial.
“What the name of Libera is going on?” asked Matheson.
Polaris disembarked from the driver seat and smoothed down his dress jacket. “That is what I intend to find out.”
They crossed the road and ascended the steps into the courthouse, waving off the ushers’ offers of assistance. Like many buildings created by dragons, its interior consisted of valenstone. The white, fire-resistant rock came from the Claw Islands, uninhabited landforms to the west of Igneous.
A middle-aged, female bear shifter lounged behind a desk of black marble. Her charcoal-colored robe strained over her mighty bosom. As soon as she made eye contact with Polaris, she sat straighter in her high-backed chair and smoothed down her white hair. “How may I serve you, Noble Dragons?”
“I wish to petition with Judge Embers,” replied Polaris.
Her plump face pinched. “The judge’s itinerary is full today, Sir. Princess Snowdrop is being trialled in absentia.”
Polaris raised his eyebrows. “What was her crime?”
“I am not at liberty to say, Sir.”
Matheson slammed his palms on the marble, causing the shifter to flinch. “Are you at liberty to tell us if Judge Embers is presiding over the Princess’s trial?”
An angry flush filled her round cheeks. “Well, I never—”
“I apologize for the behavior of my brother, Madame,” said Polaris. “However, it was a reasonable question.”
Her lashes lowered, and she pursed her lips, as though working out what to say next in a way not spark Matheson’s ire. After pressing her short, podgy fingers to the top of her breastbone, she glanced up. “The judge is observing today. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Yet he made a ruling earlier in favor of Governor Hertz,” said Polaris.
Her face twisted into a grimace. “Well, those were extenuating circumstances, of which I am not permitted to divulge.”
“Of course.” Something about the female’s uncomfortable demeanor made him wonder if she was also in league with Uncle Hertz. “I have a set of extenuating circumstances to present to you. As an officer of the King’s Regiment, I invoke the King’s Priority.”
She leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. “On what grounds?”
“At any time, I could be recalled to duty.” He placed his fingertips on the cool marble, leaning into the female’s space. “As the Regiment offers a limited amount of leave, I exercise my right to priority in gaining access to the courtroom of Judge Ember.”
She let out a long, weary sigh. With the lethargy of a tortoise emerging from its shell in winter, she placed her palms on the marble surface of her desk and pushed herself out of her seat. “I will see what I can do.”
Polaris eyed the name card on her desk. “Your help would be much appreciated, Madame Kermodei.”
She sauntered down the hallway, passing the tall, mahogany doors. At the end was a pair of doors, spaced twelve feet apart. Between them stood long benches, stretching from left to right. Madam Kermodei opened the nearest courtroom door and stepped inside.
Matheson asked, “Do you think she could have taken a bribe from Uncle?”
“She would be foolish if she had,” replied Polaris. “The King takes the justice system very seriously. If caught, one of the gentler penalties she would face is execution.”
“Then why was she acting like fetching Judge Ember was too much of an effort?”
Polaris pinched the bridge of his nose. “That, brother, is something I will never understand.”
“Have you ever met Princess Snowdrop?” asked Matheson.
“Several times. It confounds me that such a well-bred young lady would be trialled. And in absentia.”
“Do you think she eloped with someone unsuitable?”
Polaris shook his head. “In all my observations of her, she appeared to be a dutiful daughter.”
The courtroom door opened, and the female bear shifter emerged with another clerk. This one stood around six feet five in height, a few inches taller than Polaris, with long, black hair and a matching beard braided to his rotund belly. The pair leaned into each other, speaking in hushed tones. Polaris tilted his ear to the side, trying to pick up recognizable words or phrases. He furrowed his brow. They appeared to be conversing in some mix of shorthand and legalese.
When they ended their conversation, they made a slow walk back to the black, marble desk. Polaris straightened the confused expression from his face and raised his chin. “I was expecting to see Judge Embers.”
The male shifter glanced down at his papers. “Is this in relation to the Judges ruling in the morning? Which of you Noble Dragons is the plaintiff?”
Polaris clenched his teeth. They knew damn well from his uniform that he wasn’t in the position to challenge any rulings regarding inheritance. He shot Matheson a helpless glance. His brother stepped forward. “That would be me.”
“What a difficult situation we have,” said the male clerk. “You see, I was under the impression that the General was the plaintiff. If that were the case, I would gladly make a space in the judge’s schedule.”
Polaris’ nostrils flared. He was about to reply when the court doors opened again. A range of noblemen and ladies streamed out of the courtroom, all looking thoroughly entertained. There was some chatter about Queen Grimalda’s vendetta against Princess Snowdrop, but an infuriating sight distracted him from the gossip.
Emerging from the courtroom was a smirking Uncle Hertz. The dragon wore a floor-length graphite silk coat, embroidered with silver thread. A waistcoat and breeches of the same fabric made up the ridiculous ensemble. He caught sight of them and beamed.
Matheson growled low in his throat. Suppressing his own rising anger, Polaris held onto Matheson’s arm. “Do not play into his hands by making a scene.”
“I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction,” Matheson replied through clenched teeth.
Uncle Hertz pushed his way through the throng and stopped in front of them. “I must say that I’m surprised to see you here, boys. Are you here to appeal the judge’s ruling?”
“Yes,” replied Polaris.
He raised his brows. “Why the hurry?”
“I do not wish to delay the inevitable.” Polaris placed a hand on Matheson’s arm. “Grandfather disinherited you for good reason. As soon as this fact is brought to Judge Ember’s attention, he will overturn his previous ruling.”
Uncle Hertz chuckled. “I suppose he will.”
Polaris narrowed his eyes, examining his uncle’s features. The older dragon’s violet eyes gleamed with a satisfaction that made no sense. Why would he go to the trouble of obtaining the family’s wealth by deception, only to have his favorable ruling overturned on the same day? Polaris clenched his fists. He was missing something, but what?
Matheson snorted. “After what you did,
I’m surprised you have the nerve to show your face in polite society.”
Uncle Hertz flicked his wrist, showcasing an array of jeweled, platinum rings on each finger. “I care nothing for that wretched house or the fortune attached to it. What I am seeking is a bigger prize.”
As Matheson and Uncle Hertz exchanged barbs, Polaris bowed his head. What was the dragon really saying? It sounded like the kind of double-talk often used in subterfuge. A crowd formed around them, but Polaris ignored the onlookers’ murmurings and his brother’s raised voice. Was Uncle trying to rile Matheson so he would appear deranged in court? It was possible, but Polaris would take over proceedings if his brother was too upset to petition Judge Embers. He balled his fists. Had Uncle found another way to sabotage Matheson’s case?
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” asked a guard. He was a well-built, red-haired dragon, clad in the black uniform of the Crown Court. The male bear shifter from earlier hovered behind him, wringing his hands.
Uncle Hertz smiled and shook his head. “Allow me to introduce myself.” He stepped back, addressing the entire crowd. “I am Hertz Auburn, the Governor of Boreas. With the unfortunate murder of my dear brother, Ignatius, I am now the acting Governor of Austellus. Clerk Boring, please bring forward my nephews’ appeal against this morning’s ruling in my favor.”
The clerk inclined his head. “The next case will start in ten minutes. I will rearrange Judge Embers’ schedule.”
Polaris reared back. “Why would you help us, Uncle?”
He spread his arms, eyes wide. “Is it not customary for an uncle to aid his dear nephews?”
Matheson growled, and Polaris held him back. They couldn’t afford to appear angry and unstable in the presence of other high-ranking dragons. People flocked around Uncle Hertz, offering their condolences and congratulations. Polaris rubbed his brow. It still made no sense. If he hadn’t killed Mother and Father to inherit the family fortune, then what was his motive for getting a ruling against them? And even more ridiculous was him helping them to overturn it! He narrowed his eyes, glaring at his uncle. Was his bigger prize Father’s position as the Governor of Austellus? A happy flush bloomed on Uncle Hertz’ cheeks. He seemed pleased with all the attention, but was it motive enough to murder one’s own brother?
“This way, Sir,” muttered the male clerk.
Polaris placed his hand on Matheson’s back. “Let’s go.”
“But—”
“I know,” muttered Polaris. “But making a scene will not get us answers.” He suspected that Uncle wanted to generate sympathy for himself. The dragon was certainly playing the role of the bereaved noble, taking up the responsibilities of his brother. Any confrontations here would discredit Matheson’s claim to the Lordship and the fortune. Polaris followed the clerk to the end of the hallway, keeping Matheson from even looking at their uncle.
In the minutes before Judge Embers was ready to open up his courtroom, Polaris paced between the two doors. His stomach fluttered as he pondered the motives of Uncle Hertz. Matheson sat on the bench, tapping his foot. He should have been preparing his brother for appealing to the judge, but he couldn’t focus when his gut was troubling him. Uncle Hertz was playing a much bigger game than stealing his brother’s inheritance.
Matheson clutched at the papers they were going to submit as evidence. Wet patches spread across the leather dossier from the moisture in his hands. “So, I have to ask the judge to reverse his ruling and to appoint a solicitor of our choice to manage the estate until I’m able to shift?”
“That’s right.” Polaris took the dossier and gave his brother a smile. “Perhaps I should hold this.”
“Thanks.” Matheson let out a shaky breath. “I still can’t believe it.”
A lump formed in Polaris’ throat. Given everything that had happened recently, Mother and Father’s death seemed an eternity away. He could not imagine how his brother, who had spent the most time with them, was coping with the loss. “Me neither. At times, I wonder if this isn’t a bizarre nightmare.”
Matheson glared into the corridor at their uncle, strutting in his silver finery. “Why are they all crowding around him? Anyone with half a brain would know he has the biggest motive for murdering them.”
“Indeed,” Polaris continued pacing, clenching the leather dossier. “I expect that with the announcement of his new position, they all seek to influence him on one district policy or another.”
“Why would he suddenly help us get to see the judge? Do you think he’s somehow fixed the outcome of the appeal?”
Polaris halted to stare at Uncle Hertz who had stopped to kiss the knuckles of Lady Brimstone, the stepmother of Marigold’s half-blood friend, Ella. The pair shared flirtatious smiles, and Polaris wondered if his uncle was courting the widow. The female dragon had been the youngest daughter of the deposed King Draco of Habilis who had lost his kingdom when his human subjects had rebelled. If the haughty tilt to her head was any clue, the dragon thought she was still a princess.
Uncle Hertz must have said something amusing, because her hand shot to her mouth. The sleeve of her burgundy, velvet gown gaped open, revealing a charm bracelet of dragon gold. Polaris tilted his head to the side. The jewelry reminded him of something Princess Snowdrop also wore.
“Judge Ember will see you now,” said the clerk.
Polaris’ eyes widened. Uncle’s bigger prize was Marigold! Lady Brimstone had been a Princess, just like Snowdrop… and just like Marigold’s mother. Each of them had a charm bracelet of dragon’s gold in common. Everything made sense. The early release from prison, his personal interest in her, and his assistance in getting their case against him seen quickly. There was even a reason for that little display before the crowd. He sought an alibi, and he wanted to keep Polaris and Matheson out of the house!
Matheson stood. “Are you coming, brother?”
Polaris unbuttoned his dress jacket. He shouldered off the garment and placed it and the leather dossier in his brother’s hands. “I have to leave.”
Before Matheson could protest, he sprinted through the crowds, out of the courthouse, and into the middle of the road. His uniform stretched and tore as he shifted. None of it mattered. He had to fly home before Uncle’s agents carried out his plan.
Chapter 19
Marigold bared her teeth and swung the sword once again at the bear shifters. Cinnamon, the larger one who had stabbed Berrin, turned to his companion. “Let’s stop toying with the wench.” He pointed at her breeches. “She’s obviously in need of rough handlin—”
She lunged, aiming for his heart, but he jumped back, and her sword only nicked him on the wrist. With a roar, his gaze snapped back to Marigold. Rage burned in his eyes, and they flickered like amber flames. “Have you ever seen a bear shift?”
Marigold gulped. Except for Poda’s partial transformation, she had not. None of the guards at the House of Corrections had needed to turn into bears to keep the prisoners under control. In their human forms, bear shifters were strong enough to rip off a man’s head. She tamped down her rising panic and held her silence.
“Show her, Cin.” The smaller bear’s yellowing beard split into a buck-toothed grin.
“With pleasure!” Cinnamon pulled off his tunic, revealing a massive, barrel-shaped torso encased in a linen undershirt. Large, sepia patches of sweat radiated from under his bulging arms.
Marigold’s stomach turned. If she didn’t do something now, they would drag her to Governor Hertz half-mauled to death.
The smallest bear snickered and folded his arms. “I’ll just watch the show. That cut you made on my brother? It’s going to heal the minute he transforms. Your little sword will never penetrate his pelt!”
Cinnamon lifted the hem of his undershirt over his head. Without a moment’s hesitation, Marigold lunged forward and slipped the short sword between his ribs. She pressed her weight into the thrust, jamming the sword to the hilt. The shifter bellowed and fell to the lawn with a thud.
Col
d shock drenched her skin, settling into her stomach, which dropped like a lead ball. She edged back, staring at Cinnamon’s huge, twitching form. Blood fountained out from the sides of the sword in massive spurts, and nausea splashed at the back of her throat.
“You bloody bitch!” Large hands grabbed her from behind, encasing her neck in a choking grip.
Marigold’s heart jumped. Had Poda transformed into a bear to heal his wounds? She wanted to turn her head, but the grip of the shifter holding her was too tight.
“I ought to squeeze you until your eyes pop out,” he snarled into her ear. He didn’t sound like Poda.
“Wait.” The shorter bear raised his palm. “Governor Hertz wants her alive and undamaged. He’ll burn us to cinders if we bring back a near corpse.”
“She as much as killed my brother!” A pained roar shook her eardrums. “He’s too injured to transform.”
Marigold’s eyes bulged, and she forced air through her choking windpipe. From the strength of his grip and the anguish in his words, it was obvious that this shifter would kill her. She resorted to a tactic that always worked in the House of Corrections: submission. Hanging limp as a ragdoll, she let her arms and legs dangle uselessly against his large frame. Her face felt ready to burst, like an overfilled bladder. The action only partially worked, because his bone-crushing hold loosened enough for her to slip a gasp of air into her lungs.
“Calm down, he’s my brother too, and you don’t see me crying about a flesh wound!” The smaller shifter raised his palms. “Hand her over to me, and you can take Cinnamon to the healers. Me and Poda will take her to Hertz, all right?”
He snarled, and the sound sent ice down Marigold’s spine. So, he wasn’t the probation officer. Turning her head to the side, she peeked at her attacker’s face. It was that young bear shifter who had apprehended her by the weeping rose. The one who had claimed to have been hibernating when Berrin’s mother and father had been murdered!