Special Deceptions (The Coursodon Dimension Book 5)

by M. L. Ryan

  Sebastian wagged his index finger at me. “It is not arrogance if it is true.”

  I was about to wag a different finger back when a disturbing thought distracted me from flipping him off.

  “Does Alex know?”

  The muscles in his jaw tightened. “If he does, the information did not come from me.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you’re the boff-and-tell type, but if she thought Alex knew, that might explain her hostility.”

  “If the queen believed I shared the intimate details of our coupling with Alexander, hostility would be the least of my worries. I’d be dead, and rightly so, I might add.”

  “Not that I plan on passing any of this information along, but why tell me?”

  “I am not certain,” he answered, tilting his head. “Perhaps I needed to unburden myself.”

  “You expect me to believe you feel guilty?”

  “It is not remorse that weighed upon me, rather the Herculean task of keeping such a juicy tidbit to myself all these years.”

  I hated keeping secrets from Alex. Or anyone for that matter, and this one, as Sebastian already pointed out, was a whopper. “Thanks so much for sharing,” I grumbled.

  “Oh, any time, my dear.”

  We managed not to discuss Sebastian’s conquests for the rest of the evening, mainly because the four shots of tequila I consumed rendered me tipsy. Well, three and a bit if one subtracted the Sebastian disclosure-induced discharge. He, as usual, was unaffected by swilling two-thirds of a bottle of scotch, but he acceded to calling it a night when I dozed off during his particularly involved monologue concerning Boklym’s possible hideouts.

  “Get some sleep, my dear,” he suggested, patting the shoulder on which my head was not leaning. As I drifted off, still sprawled on the sofa, I could have sworn he whispered, “Your actions to protect yourself make me immensely proud.” I might have dreamt it, or the alcohol may have clouded my brain. I decided to believe his approval was real.

  *****

  An ache in my neck roused me from sleep. My head, still tilted in the same awkward position as when I first zonked out, felt like a bowling ball, and it took a concerted effort to straighten myself.

  Once mostly crick-free, I glanced around the sitting area to get my bearings. The room was dark, except for the soft glow from the moonlight through the French doors. A cool breeze fluttered the gauzy curtains, and I breathed in the familiar fragrance of lilacs mixed with the crisp night air.

  I wondered why Sebastian would open the doors before leaving—they remained closed while we chatted—but I decided to just shut the damn things as trying to assign reason to his actions was pointless. My stiff muscles protested, but they loosened soon after I pulled myself off the couch.

  Closer to the balcony, the temperature changed from refreshing to downright chilly. I inhaled the courtyard’s rich bouquet one last time before pulling the doors closed.

  “Lilacs have always been one of my favorites,” a soft voice called out behind me.

  “What the hell?” I croaked out as I spun around. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” I’d expected to see Myrjix, but the woman in the shadows was too tall to be my lady-in-waiting.

  My heart rate, which revved up when I realized I wasn’t alone, nearly pounded out of my chest. An electrical buzz swelled through my fingers, and of their own volition, my hands raised, ready to send some destructive magic toward the intruder. I may have been ill prepared for Boklym, but self-preservation kicked in just fine this time.

  “Wait,” she pleaded, extending her palms in front of her chest. “I mean you no harm.”

  Like that would make me stand down; no one with evil intent would admit to it. “Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

  “A friend.” Her voice was unfamiliar, but the velvety contralto suggested she wasn’t a kid.

  “I don’t know how they do things here, but where I come from, friends don’t break into someone’s room and scare the crap out of them.” I gestured with my head to the French doors. “What did you do, shimmy up the drainpipe or something?”

  “No, I opened the doors when I entered to wake you in a non-threatening way,” she said in a measured tone.

  Ah, how lovely—a thoughtful intruder. It also seemed my uninvited visitor knew a thing or two about counter-interrogation. Lesson fifty-seven from Sebastian’s unofficial Xyzok training guide: if you weren’t going to remain silent, answer the question you wanted, not the one asked. I tried again. “So, how did you get in here?”

  She remained in the dark, but some of her features might have been visible had she not worn a long, hooded cloak. I took a step closer, trying to get a better look.

  “The how isn’t important,” she remarked, taking a step backward further into the shadows. “I must give you some information, and I can’t stay long.”

  Ms. Barge Right In was beginning to annoy me. “Maybe instead of wrongful entry, you should have made an appointment to speak with me.”

  “I did, sort of. I paid a girl to give you a note during the ball. I know you received it; why didn’t you show up?”

  I winced. Clearly, this woman was delusional. That didn’t make her less dangerous than when I just thought she was a burglar, however. “Who are you?” I said softly. If she was unhinged, a kinder tone might be sensible. Also, I sidled over towards a table lamp, as conversing in the dark only added to the strangeness of the situation.

  “Don’t turn on the light,” she demanded, leaning back into the darkness. “It is better for everyone if I remain anonymous.”

  Right.

  My hands were still raised in a defensive position, and I wasn’t quite ready to lower either them or my guard. Gingerly retreating toward the bar area, I reached behind me with one hand, searching for the jyrgitsap I’d left there earlier. I normally kept it in the front pocket of my jeans, but the dress I wore to dinner had no place to tuck the device. It took a couple of passes before my fingers touched the metal disc, and I tried to appear nonchalant when I palmed it. I suppose I could have just screamed, but I opted for a less dramatic call for assistance. Hopefully, the appearance of my lady-in-waiting wouldn’t push Ms. Crazy Pants over the edge.

  Even in the poor light, I could tell she stiffened when I squeezed for Myrjix. Oh, crap. I didn’t know she could detect activation of the archaic, magical messenger.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that.” There was no anger in her inflection, only disappointment. “I had an entire presentation prepared, but now I’ll have to give the condensed version.”

  I wondered if this was where she handed me a copy of The Watchtower. For a second, I considered that my mother sent a lock-picking proselytizer to reinforce my religious training, but what came out of her mouth next blew that theory out of the water.

  “Kyzal’s death wasn’t an accident. He was murdered.”

  And monkeys are about to fly out my ass. “No,” I said calmly, speaking as one might to a small, irrational child. “He skied into a tree.”

  She shook her head. “That’s what they wanted it to look like.”

  Wonderful. She was some sort of wacky, conspiracy theorist. Probably believes the lunar landing was staged in Arizona, too, I fretted. Not certain if I was doing the right thing, I asked the next obvious question.

  “Who is ‘they’?” Actually, what I really wanted to ask was, “Are you insane?” but decided she might not react well. As it was, engaging her fantasies might not have been the greatest idea either, but I was stalling until Myrjix arrived.

  She paused. “I cannot say.”

  This was getting tiresome. “Can’t or won’t?” I growled. Zapping her just for being so damned evasive suddenly seemed like a good option.

  “Have the body scrutinized. If one looks close enough, I’m sure evidence will be found. I cannot risk telling you more; it is dangerous enough to set you on the proper path.”

  Before I could ask for additional information, there was a rap on the door, followed by Myrjix�
��s voice. “You sent for me, Your Haileyness?”

  I backed up, but was unable to find the lock without seeing it. Glancing quickly behind, I flipped the latch, told Myrjix to come in, and then turned my attention back to the stranger in the shadows. Unfortunately, she was no longer there.

  “Shit,” I snapped, sprinting around the sofa to the spot where the intruder had been. Intent on finding her, I flipped on the lights and checked the suite. As I emerged from the closet, I inquired, “How the hell did she disappear with all the praseodymium all over the place?”

  Myrjix, dressed in her nightclothes, stood just inside the threshold of the still-open front door, eyes wide and full of concern. “Are, are you okay?” she stuttered.

  I’d shouted the last part, and then realized how bizarre running frantically through the rooms, yelling about a vanishing intruder must seem. I was still on fight-or-flight overdrive—mouth dry and heart thumping maniacally—and my hands continued to prickle with magic. Not wanting to obliterate Myrjix by mistake, I concentrated on taking deep breaths to regain some much-needed composure.

  “No. I mean, yes,” I acknowledged once some of the jitters had subsided. “But there was a woman in here, and when I let you in, she disappeared.”

  Her forehead wrinkled slightly. “Are you saying someone gained access to your suite?

  “Yeah, and she didn’t use the door coming or going. I thought that kind of thing wasn’t possible inside the palace.”

  “One cannot enter the palace magically. Once inside, however, it is possible to transcommute, but it is highly improper to use supernatural means to move from room to room.”

  “Not if you want to sneak in,” I countered.

  The adrenaline rush must have worn off, because my knees started to quiver and I suddenly felt the urge to collapse. “Please go find Sebastian,” I croaked, slumping into a chair. Myrjix hesitated, but I waved her off. “Go, I just need to sit down for a minute.”

  She did as I asked, but insisted I keep the jyrgitsap in hand until she returned. I had little fear I’d get another unplanned visit in the next few minutes, but frankly, if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d have the energy to squeeze it.

  Any lasting effects of my encounter faded the second Sebastian burst through the door. Wearing only a dark, silk robe and a furious scowl, he gave me a cursory once-over. Once assured I was okay, he smoothed his sleep-rumpled, ebony hair and implemented a reconnaissance sweep of the area. When he returned, he sat on the sofa and propped his bare feet on the coffee table.

  “You never seem to lack for odd admirers, do you, my dear?” he announced, arching an arrogant brow.

  “I don’t think this one found me particularly praise worthy.”

  “Your stalkers seldom do. Now,” he urged, patting my leg. “Tell me what happened this time.”

  This was getting to be an unpleasant pattern; I was the ultimate psycho-magnet. Despite a similar conversation just hours before, I recapped my encounter with the most recent crazy.

  “Did she say why she broke in?”

  “Oh, yeah. That was the strangest part.”

  Sebastian scoffed, apparently convinced nothing could be odder than her being there in the first place, but waved his hand in a circular motion to encourage me to continue.

  “She said she came to tell me Kyzal was murdered.”

  A flicker of surprise clouded his eyes, but it quickly faded. “Did she supply any proof?”

  “Nope. She suggested checking his body for magic. That’s what really made me think she was a fruitcake; wouldn’t there have been some magical autopsy at the time of death?”

  “Of course. When a crown prince dies unexpectedly, the authorities launch a full inquest. They would have explored and ruled out any signs of foul play. However…”

  His voice trailed off, and he lightly tapped his steepled his fingers against his lips. I’d seen him like this before; he could be deep in thought for hours. While I waited for Sebastian to ponder, I considered calling Alex. Sebastian had assuaged my fears, but only Alex could truly settle my jangly nerves. I quickly realized, even if I omitted the part about his brother, burdening him with this would only make me feel better. It made more sense to let Sebastian figure out if there was any truth to my visitor’s assertions before sharing any of this.

  “It occurs to me that some types of magic might not be routinely checked in a post-mortem examination,” Sebastian announced after a few minutes of silence. “Evidence of direct, destructive power or the use of magical means to propel Kyzal into the tree would be obvious.” He stared into the distance as he continued. “However, if an assailant used something more subtle, such as distorting his perception so he didn’t see the tree, this would leave a decidedly more nebulous signature. One which, if not specifically looked for, would likely go unnoticed.”

  It didn’t seem like he was talking to anyone in particular, rather working through the problem out loud. The verbal meanderings continued until he turned back to me. “We must handle this with the utmost care, my dear. If her contentions are merely the wild ramblings of a disturbed mind, there is no danger. On the other hand, if Kyzal was killed, it is unlikely a solitary individual perpetrated the crime. Until we know more, this must remain secret.”

  He set a piercing gaze on Myrjix, who sat behind us in a nearby chair. “If you value your lady’s well-being you shall not mention any of this night to anyone,” he warned.

  Fierce Sebastian was a scary SOB, and Myrjix was unprepared for his withering stare. “I-I would never divulge anything,” she spluttered, all color draining from her usually rosy cheeks.

  I moved to where Myrjix was now clutching the arms of the chair. “Don’t worry; he’s not as ferocious as he seems,” I said, draping my arm around her quivering shoulders in reassurance.

  “Correct,” he snarled. “I am more so.”

  Myrjix stiffened at the threat. Giving Sebastian a dirty look, I cautioned, “Stop it. She won’t say a word.”

  She nodded enthusiastically, never taking her eyes off the posturing Xyzok.

  Sebastian smirked. “One can never be too careful.”

  “Or, in your case, too much of a bastard,” I grumbled.

  14

  Sebastian notified the king about the intruder, but citing jurisdictional privilege, left out why she was there. Given the Xyzok were a pan-Courso entity, and he was not an Alenquai royal operative, I wasn’t exactly certain how not mentioning her contention that Kyzal had been murdered was a matter of provincial sovereignty, but I didn’t argue the point.

  Uncle Fry did place two King’s Guards at my door and one in the living area of my suite. The added security wasn’t unexpected, but the dude on the couch seemed over the top. The captain of the Guard remained adamant, given my “personal area had been penetrated,” which sounded a hell of a lot worse than what actually occurred. I planned to continue to argue one sentry seemed like plenty, but Sebastian calmed me with news that Ulut would arrive by morning, and he could take over the position of my in-room babysitter. I figured for a few hours, I could put up with a strange man on alert mere steps from my bedroom. Satisfied I’d be well protected in his absence, Sebastian went to contact “trusted informants to initiate a low-profile inquiry.”

  Going back to sleep was pointless. Thinking Kyzal died because of his own arrogance was bad enough, but I wasn’t sure how to process the possibility of homicide. Between running various unpleasant scenarios of murderous mayhem on an endless loop in my brain and the sunrise-inspired, freakishly raucous birds, I gave up.

  Breakfast improved my mood, as did a visit from Uncle Fry. He came to apologize, and to verify the incident hadn’t left me overly traumatized.

  “I’m fine,” I declared. “And having Sebastian here has helped.”

  At the mention of Sebastian, the king frowned. “In truth, I was a bit put out when Aldegrexynthor sent him to look into the other problem, as if our investigators couldn’t handle finding the scoundrel. However, given last ni
ght’s encroachment, I suppose it is good fortune he is here, especially if it makes you more comfortable.”

  He didn’t look or sound as though he felt the least bit fortunate to be hosting Sebastian. More of that jurisdictional bullshit, I supposed. Or, maybe his pride was wounded. Perhaps both. Either way, I had no idea the Xyzok’s presence ticked him off. Hoping to smooth things over, I offered, “I’m sure Alex didn’t mean it that way, but he is worried about me, and trusts Sebastian.”

  “Yes, I can understand why if he could not come, he might task his mentor with the journey.” The irritation that had clouded his expression cleared, but not completely.

  Tilting my head toward the sofa-sentry, I added, “And I appreciate the added protection.” I didn’t, but if he could take time out of his busy, monarchal schedule to come check on my well-being, I could thank him for his efforts.

  He nodded. “It is the very least I can do under these unfortunate circumstances. I assure you, this won’t happen again.”

  Our conversation shifted to more pleasant topics—the weather and the upcoming Klydilap festival—and any lingering displeasure concerning Sebastian seemed to dissipate. When Pixie arrived, Uncle Fry glanced at the clock above the bar.

  “Look at the time,” he announced, gravitating toward the exit. “If I leave now, I can just make my meeting with the prime minister.” Uncle Fry was a smart man; I suspected his abrupt departure had more to do with the PA’s appearance than not wanting to keep his next appointment waiting.

  Even having nixed my usual third cup of morning coffee, I felt unusually fidgety. Although, Pixie’s incessant carrying on about the lack of security and the perceived PR nightmare that might entail was as likely a contributor as caffeine. I briefly considered a form-bend to calm me, but decided to go for a jog instead. Both options would get me away from my PA’s hand wringing, but as I’d been neglecting my cardio lately, pounding the pavement seemed like the best option to blow off some steam.

  I changed into running attire, laced up my purple and lime Saucony Triumphs, and took to the outdoors. The two guards who accompanied me had no trouble keeping up with my pace and admitted the assignment was preferable to sitting or standing around, despite having to run in heavy boots.