“This is the proof we need!” Jax leaped to her feet, feeling victorious. “Perry is being framed by these rogues.”
The captain’s face darkened. “The Shadow Brethren are hired help, Jax. Someone else is likely footing the bill while they do the dirty work.”
The Duchess felt her face go white. “I wouldn’t put it past my grandfather. That might explain why he demanded I attend this ridiculous feast in the first place. Perhaps this has all been an elaborate setup to take Saphire down.”
Hendrie whimpered at the accusation, Captain Solomon’s harsh look silencing the young man. “If we can prove the Duke is financing the Brethren, we may have a chance at catching him.” The weary man wandered around the room. “We need to speak to the ducal camerlengo. Perhaps one of us can charm their way into getting the information we need?” He cocked a suggestive eyebrow at Jax.
Her eyes sparkled at the hint. “Of course. But my grandfather could have covered up the transactions very easily, or possibly used his own private reserves for payment,” she pointed out, well-versed in the numerous ways dukes could launder money without anyone being the wiser. It was one of the first lessons her father taught her: Not every leader had their people’s best interests at heart.
“We have to start somewhere.” Captain Solomon thanked Hendrie for his diligence and escorted Jax back to her room, their tiff already forgotten.
“It will have to wait until tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. If I’m not present for the ball, it will surely raise questions that we don’t want to be asked.” Jax cast an anxious look at the clock. “Poor Perry. I can’t believe I’ve gotten him tangled up in this mess.”
“Perhaps I can do some research this evening while everyone else is at the ball. I’m sure I’ll be able to finesse my way into the treasury room.” George reassured her, taking his leave to allow her enough time to get ready. It took all her restraint to keep from trailing after him, but she needed to be mindful that her duchy’s reputation was at stake. Tonight’s ball was rumored to be the most elaborate event Duke Mensina had thrown in years, and several sovereigns were said to be joining the Feast of Champions for the evening.
“Shall we begin, Jax?” Uma waved a powder-covered brush, motioning to the seat in front of the vanity mirror.
“Do your worst,” the Duchess jested as her lady’s maid set to work on her transformation.
Chapter Ten
“My, Jacqueline, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful sight before in my life,” Annette complimented as her niece entered the small royal chamber attached to the ballroom.
Her other aunts tittered their agreement. Jax felt her face coloring at the unwanted attention. Her ball gown billowed to the floor, the lavender silk shining in the candlelight. Her caramel hair was woven skillfully into a regal crest, her most dazzling gold crown resting securely, the blue and green gems radiating her power. Uma had used more makeup than she normally did to complete the dramatic look, to the point that Jax hardly recognized herself in the mirror.
Her ducal family gathered together as they waited for the courtiers to announce their official arrival. Duke Mensina was noticeably absent from the group, causing Jax’s mind to spin with wild conclusions. She couldn’t imagine what could be keeping her grandfather from his hosting duties at the most important party of the year, but she had suspicions that she desperately wished weren’t true. If he is indeed tangled up in this mess, I’m sure he has more pressing matters on his mind.
Jax watched her aunts chatter on as if nothing were amiss. It nearly broke her heart that she’d been so quick to pin these murders on her grandfather, but after years of strained silence and feuding, should she really expect anything else? She remembered listening to the courtiers who’d been sent to extend the invitation to attend the Feast of Champions, part of her praying to the virtues that her grandfather finally wanted a clean slate. They’d lost so much because of the tension; perhaps it was time to bury the hatchet. Her hopes had quickly been dashed, as her grandfather’s request came across as more of a command than genuine invitation.
As their wait grew longer and the crowd in the ballroom became audibly restless, Annette took charge, her forehead wrinkled in concern. “I suppose I shall take over as hostess, since Father appears to be detained.” She instructed her sisters to assemble tightly behind her and gave Jax an apologetic smile. “You’ll enter after us, Jacqueline.”
This suited the Duchess fine, as there was no doubt the guests would gossip about Duke Mensina’s absence, paying no attention to her when she entered. She was here merely to show her ability to carry on quite well without her father’s guidance, nothing more. She would do her due diligence and mingle with the visiting dukes and duchesses, but she could refrain from talk of political alliances and networking, given her duchy’s position in the Realm of Virtues.
She was right in her prediction that Duke Mensina’s failure to attend his own ball catapulted the room into a frenzy of speculation, allowing her to slip in almost completely unnoticed. For a while, she watched her aunts try to remain calm in the face of the sudden turmoil, giving reassurances to their more important guests that their host for the evening would be with them shortly. Few of the visiting dukes even bothered to approach her, and none of the duchesses even looked her way. Their sour expressions told her they were displeased with her successful reign thus far.
“How is it that the most beautiful woman in the room is standing here all alone?” A familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts, forcing her to furtively pop the rest of a half-eaten fudge bonbon in her mouth. Sir Antoine laughed as he watched her devour the treat.
Refusing to be embarrassed by her love of sugar, Jax wiped her lips free of chocolate. “Perhaps everyone senses my reluctance. Dances were never a favorite of mine, even growing up. Too little opportunity to eat.” She motioned to the small plate of food resting on a high-topped table next to her. “The size of this plate is pitiful. I had no room for vegetables.”
Boldly, Antoine reached out a nimble finger and plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from her stash. “I agree that this is all a bit tedious. Give me a joust followed by a raucous feast, any day.”
Scowling at the empty spot on her tiny platter, Jax surveyed the man with renewed interest. “Why are you really giving up your life as the Knight with No Face? I’m sorry, but I find it hard to believe your philanthropy is the reason.”
Antoine stroked the stubble sprouting from his chin. “I guess I was getting tired of it all. Probably rather impulsive on my part. I decided the day I set out from Beautraud to attend the feast that this would be my final hurrah. I sent one of my men ahead of our party to let Duke Mensina know I would be making my announcement at the festival. It’s only a shame I didn’t take home one last win in the contest against Lord Pettraud.”
Jax thought back to that day and how pleased the Duke had been that the Knight with No Face had chosen to announce his retirement in the Mensina dukedom. “Well, I’m sure your legacy overshadows that one defeat.”
Antoine chuckled, looking around at the splendor as he caught his breath. “Yes, I can only hope. And even if I’ve been disgraced by it, I’ll just take my winnings from the tournament and hide away back in Beautraud.”
It took Jax a moment to realize that he referred to the prize money from the Tournament of Virtues they were all gathered here to celebrate. “I imagine some of the knights were displeased by the fact my grandfather withheld their winnings for so long.”
Antoine shrugged. “He explained it well enough. He wanted to truly celebrate our achievements after he had time to mourn his daughter’s death.” The former Knight with No Face suddenly looked abashed, as if just realizing he’d been speaking about Jax’s mother. “Although from what I’ve heard across the fairgrounds, everyone was quite surprised that we received the invite so soon.”
To one not of ducal blood, she imagined it would seem rather crass to host such a lavish event so soon after a beloved daught
er’s demise, but emotions in the royal world tended to be caged and concealed. Not wanting to dwell on the uncomfortable topic, Jax longingly gazed at the doorway. “What would you say to a walk in the gardens? It’s a lovely evening out. We can nab some more strawberries, too.” She motioned her head toward a platter floating by on the shoulder of a servant, scooping up three more treats to add to her heaping plate.
Antoine reached for some of his own and followed obediently behind her as they made their escape from the swarming ballroom. A light summer breeze cooled her bare shoulders as she waltzed into the moonlight, winding her way to a bench by a flickering torch. “Now, this is much more my style.” She giggled devilishly, popping another chocolate-dipped fruit into her watering mouth.
They ate in companionable silence, the humming of elegant violins and cellos dancing on the soft wind from the grand ball. “This is much better, Duchess. Brilliant idea,” Antoine said as he reached for another piece of chocolate, shuffling closer to her.
“Ouch!” she squealed, something sharp poking into her side. She felt her face flush red with embarrassment, disliking how girlishly flippant she sounded.
“Goodness me! My sincere apologies. Sometimes I forget this isn’t a toy.” Antoine fumbled at his belt, pulling forward an incredible, uniquely hilted dagger. The torch flames sparkling overhead reflected on the weapon. Jax reached out a finger to stroke the spiraled handle, nearly as long as the sheathed blade, thinking how familiar it looked, a fuzzy memory from her childhood floating just out of sight.
“Is this a unicorn horn?” she gasped in wonder, the pearly grip suddenly sparking a vision in her mind.
Antoine grinned, impressed. “Indeed. I won it off a Cetachi merchant a long time ago. It’s gotten me out of many a predicament in the past. Sometimes, the hilt is more dangerous than the actual silver blade.” For effect, he slid the scabbard down to show the smooth edge of the glinting metal.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jax murmured, fascinated by the object. “I didn’t realize their horns could be used legally.” She was alluding to the blissful magic unicorns embody.
Antoine wagged a finger. “Once the horn is separated from the beast, the magic disappears. Believe me though, sometimes I wish this lulled me into an idyllic oblivion.” He flipped the weapon skillfully in the air, catching it with one hand.
Jax pondered the dagger a moment longer, realizing there was something else battering away in the back of her mind. “Did you hear about the unfortunate accident one of Duke Mensina’s messenger boys encountered?” The news her grandfather shared that first day flooded her mind. She remembered how the accident upset the crotchety old man, surprising her at the time. Where was this compassion with his own granddaughter? “I believe it was the young man who delivered your invitation to the feast. He was returning home from Beautraud.”
Antoine’s eyes darkened with sadness. “No, I hadn’t heard. That’s terrible. What a way to go, to be run through by such a beautiful creature.”
Jax parted her lips to agree, but a menacing realization made her words catch in her throat. She hadn’t mentioned that a unicorn impaled the young boy, or even that he’d been killed. A wave of terror surged through her veins, but she forced herself to meet the knight’s somber expression. Fearing words would betray her, she nodded, hoping Antoine would assume her sudden change in demeanor was due to her sorrow for the deceased lad. A young man whose death had been overlooked, presumably dying from a wild animal attack. Her mind now raced as the pieces began to fall into place. The page boy, unbeknownst to everyone, was the first victim of the Feast of Champions. The murder weapon that ended his life was mere inches away from her clenched hands, being fondled by what could only be a sadistic madman. Instead of fearing for her life, all she could think about was why. Why was the boy killed? How did his murder connect to those of Chalfant and the young woman?
Steeling herself for what was to come, Jax met Antoine’s curious gaze, studying him carefully. And for the first time, she saw her answer, now realizing how foolish she’d been to be duped by the ultimate deception. She saw the truth in the man’s eyes, not because she was good at reading people, but because of his very eyes. Their color. She’d always assumed they were a deep shade of amber, because that was the eye color noblemen of the realm always had. A bit on the dark side, yes, but amber all the same. Now, as she looked at him closely, she cursed her foolhardy assumption. The man staring back at her had brown eyes. Regular, common folk brown eyes. This man was not Sir Antoine of House Wincaester.
“This feast has been plagued with many unfortunate deaths,” she finally spoke, sounding nonchalant. “I know my grandfather wanted to keep them under wraps for fear of tarnishing the festival’s reputation, but a man died the very first night of the tournament. The night you revealed yourself as the Knight with No Face,” Jax added pointedly, although she was careful not to layer too much malice in her tone. Her companion’s face remained uncaringly neutral, so she continued. “A man traveling with the Savant delegation. I’ve heard rumors it was murder.” She paused only a moment, finally seeing a twitch in the man’s muddy eyes. “Of course, the Ducal Guard found a dagger and torn piece of clothing at the scene, belonging to, you’ll never guess—” she lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper— “Lord Pettraud! That’s why I’ve been having to cover for him, because my future consort, the Lord Pettraud, has been imprisoned for the poor man’s murder.” Jax rose from her seat, too caught up in the grips of unraveling the mystery to consider the danger of confronting the knight alone. “I’ve been spending my time here trying to figure out who would frame Perry for such a heinous crime, and the answer has been right beside me all along.” She turned on a heel, facing this Knight with No Face with a vengeance. “You couldn’t kill Chalfant with your unicorn dagger because that would be too suspicious. Having been bested by Lord Pettraud in the jousting match, you had to do something to protect your title as the legendary Knight with No Face, and what could be better than framing your final rival as a stone-cold killer? My grandfather’s invitation to stay at the palace was the perfect opportunity, where you could simply slip into Perry’s room, take his dagger and tunic, and place them at the scene of the crime. It was only a matter of time before Lord Pettraud was apprehended and you were off the hook. But then you overheard the Savant bannermen talking about a wayward woman who’d been a companion to Chalfant. Fearing that she would somehow link you to Chalfant’s murder, you sought a girl fitting her description and strangled her, and because she was a tourney wench, no one bothered enough to care. You had been so careful, your tracks so perfectly covered by the seeming randomness of the crimes. Your only mistake was dropping your Shadow Seal in Lord Pettraud’s closet.” Jax stared triumphantly down at the shocked man. “You are not Sir Antoine Wincaester of Beautraud, but a member of the Shadow Brethren, and Chalfant knew it. That’s why you killed him. Because he had to be silenced. And when you learned he may have had a lover, you had to get rid of her, too, in case she also knew you were impersonating the Knight with No Face.” Jax stopped, her bravado failing as she watched the thug stand up, his face a contortion of pure rage and hatred. “But why did you kill the page boy?”
The man before her began clapping, a menacing smirk spreading across his lips. “But you’re so smart, Duchess. Can’t you figure it out?” He moved closer, his once kind eyes now revealing a deadly threat. “The page boy delivered the missive to the real Sir Antoine. It wasn’t even until my men and I raided and killed Wincaester’s delegation that we even knew about the Feast of Champions. Once I pulled the invitation off the man’s cold, dead body, the idea formed. The Knight with No Face was going to be awarded a fortune for his performance in the tournament, and since no one knew who he really was, I could ride here on his prissy little horse and collect it for myself. Of course, to cover my tracks, I sent word that I would be retiring from the knights’ tourney circuit, just so I wouldn’t have to display my lack of physical prowess and blow the
cover of my ingenious ruse. We found the boy a day later and dispatched of him, confident that no one would be the wiser, given my unique unicorn dagger.” He twirled the gleaming pearl hilt in the air, the moonlight catching the exposed silver blade. “Once I learned Chalfant was here, I knew he had to go. He and I had a brief run in back when he did a knight’s residency in Beautraud. He was the only one here who could contradict my claim to the Wincaester name. Sir Antoine had always been such a shut-in, no one from the neighboring duchies would know him from a hole in the wall. A brilliantly executed plan, if I do say so myself.”
Jax folded her arms, growing nervous at the rustling bushes behind the imposter’s towering frame. She prayed his associates were not somehow following them. “Except for the part where I uncovered what you’ve been doing.” She forced herself to stall, in the hopes one of her aunts would notice she’d gone missing from the ball.
Shrugging, the deviant grinned. “I can easily rectify this new predicament. With the deaths of your beloved parents so fresh, you just couldn’t take the pressures of life.” He lunged forward and forcefully grabbed her arm, dragging his blade tauntingly along the skin of her wrist. “I’m sure no one will even think twice about you taking your own life.”
Plunging through a nearby rosebush, Perry launched himself to tackle the imposter, but not before Jax raised her knee and swiftly kicked the rogue between the legs. Howling like a wounded puppy, the faux Sir Antoine Wincaester crumbled to the ground, only to be pinned by a shredded and bleeding Perry. Captain Solomon and his men appeared out of thin air, wrestling with the murderous criminal, while Jax’s grandfather helped a breathless Perry to his feet.
A Feast Most Foul (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 2) Page 8