“Provided it’s real.” She looked far too serious and stoked his anxiety that much more.
“Yes, provided it’s real,” Vasi confirmed.
Picking up his thought, Cora continued, “The threat of regicide makes this extra messy. Was she working by herself? On someone’s behalf? To what end? Either way, with the coronation coming up, it casts your brother in a sympathetic light.”
“And me, not so much, right?”
“You do have the most to gain if he dies,” she reminded him gently. It wasn’t a fact he wanted to think about, but it was certainly unavoidable.
The implications bloomed and unspooled in front of him spreading out like some acid-tripping fractal painting. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, looking far too serious for his comfort.
“What are we going to do?” He looked from her to his best friend and back. The idea that this could happen, that someone would do this to him for no reason he could think of other than his proximity to the throne, sickened him.
“I don’t know yet.” The look on Vasi’s face made him fear for his coworkers’ lives honestly.
“We need a plan!” he asserted, feeling all of the anxiety bubbling out of him and his hackles fighting to come up.
“We need sleep,” she countered, still watching him carefully.
“You expect me to sleep after this?” Had she lost her mind?
Cora nodded. “At least a couple hours, we’ll plan everything after that, okay? You too, Vasi?”
“No dice. I have to take care of this. I can’t just leave this on Driscoll’s shoulders.” He sighed and pushed to his feet, rubbing his palms on his thighs in agitation. “You’re my best friend, I can’t let this go.”
Finn got up and hugged the other man before stepping back. “Thank you. For everything.” He could barely think, his mind so cluttered with all this new information.
Cora’s hand on his arm was cool, the temperature change a brief distraction. “We’ll be here. Let us know if you need anything.”
Vasi nodded and was out the door, leaving them alone in a roomful of thoughts, worries, and potential accusations.
“C’mon,” she cajoled, leading him to the bed and all but forcing him flat. She pulled the sheet over them as she laid her head on his shoulder and threw an arm over his waist. The silence stretched on between them, thoughts and things left unsaid settling down like rain around them as neither one of them slept. And then she spoke, soft, strong, with lethal levels of promise. “I don’t know how yet, but I will protect you from this too. Believe that.”
Chapter Sixteen
CORA
It was two days of hell that followed. The paparazzi descended like a swarm of starving mosquitos, dogging Finn’s every step off the palace grounds. For her part, she did what she could to stay anonymous in the background, but of course, pictures from the gala had been publicized and now everyone wanted to know about the new ‘it’ girl on the arm of the Lupine prince.
Her contacts on both sides of the law had damn little for her in the way of enlightening information, and Mos… Hell, the longer she went without speaking to her brother, the better as far as she was concerned.
By Wednesday morning, she’d put her foot down about Finn leaving the house. He was extra jumpy and hostile and having people constantly on his ass, asking invasive, personal, and frankly inappropriate questions was tiring, and he hadn’t slept enough to keep his temper in check. Cora felt he was one overzealous paparazzo away from a public mauling the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the thirteenth century. Thankfully, he listened.
She yawned and stretched as she sat up, the room filled with the wispy remnants of late morning sunshine. One look at her phone said that they’d slept through breakfast. No idea when she’d passed out, but honestly, she could do with more.
Finn grumbled at a knock at the door, pulling the pillow over his face and she smiled despite the circumstances. He was so fucking cute, and she truly wanted nothing more than for him to rest before he dealt with any more body blows.
Throwing open the door, she prepared to snarl at whomever was on the other side. Vasi, however, looked even more haggard than he had when he’d left two days before with hollow shadows below his eyes and an unnaturally large refillable coffee mug. “You look like shit.”
“Fuck off,” he muttered but there was no heat behind it, as he stalked into the room past her.
“Keep your voice down.” Cora closed the door and looked to the bed, relieved that Finn was still asleep. “You have news, I take it?”
“As such.” He cut his eyes to the bed, seeing what she did, and moved closer to the sitting area. “We can prove you and Finn weren’t on that side of the palace when she died.”
“Do tell.” She took a seat on the couch and held out her hand to bid him to do the same, but he kept shifting restlessly from foot to foot.
“Timestamped video outside of the ballroom. Shows you and Finn leaving and also entering that sitting room for,” he cleared his throat as he fluttered his lashes at her, “quite some time.”
“There’s no camera in that hallway.” It wasn’t a denial, there was no point, and she wasn’t ashamed, but the idea that she missed a camera was… concerning. Her handler had given her a layout of the palace security system in case some of her more finite skills were needed. She still avoided cameras on principle, even if they weren’t.
“There is when I have half the shifter leaders from the Western Hemisphere, in the building. We had double patrols and several extra guards besides.”
Ignoring the implications about Vasi seeing her half naked and sneaking around the palace, she focused on the investigation. “Makes me wonder how she managed to get through the palace unseen to kill herself.”
He hummed and took a long sip of his drink. “She was seen. We have time stamps that show her on the other side of the palace at the same time you and Finnegan were… indisposed.”
“Excellent, so then what’s the problem?”
“It appears she was running from someone. Looking over her shoulder as she ran down the hall, the camera didn’t catch anyone else, though. And the autopsy…” he drew his hands through his hair, taking down his bun and shaking out his shoulder-length curls. “She had perimortem blunt force trauma to the back of her skull.”
Cora sat up straight at that. ‘Hit in the head and thrown off a balcony with a makeshift noose’ made this a whole new ballgame. “Homicide?”
“Suspicious death and leaning that way, yes.” They both grimaced, thoughts on prior cases and prior deaths. It was never easy. “It gets worse, though,” the owl volunteered.
“Worse for whom?” she inquired carefully. The phrasing raised her hackles something fierce.
“She was knocked up.”
Well, that was certainly motive. Growling, Cora pushed to her feet and stalked to the window, an eye toward the bed and the unmoving body of the prince. This was the very last thing he needed, close to the edge as he was. She came back to the couch, working very hard at both keeping her voice down and also not exploding in a ball of incendiary rage. “How far along was she?”
“Ten weeks, give or take.” He looked as disgusted as she felt about the whole situation.
“And the father?”
Vasi shook his head. “Preliminary tissue tests show wolf DNA in addition to goat. I have rush in on further testing. Late tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest?” He held up his phone. “This is the first time I’ve had a moment’s peace in days.”
“Cherish it,” she snickered. She didn’t envy him, but she definitely saw how seriously he took his responsibility to both the crown and Finn himself. “What do you know about her?”
“Sweet girl, by all accounts. Worked in the kitchen for a couple years with her mother and her brother. I believe you’ve met him. Finn’s attendant, Francis?”
Shit, the one she’d pulled her gun on. “She was the little Hircine kid’s sister?”
&
nbsp; “Their poor mother, she must be heartbroken.” Finn gave up the pretense of staying in bed to join them in the sitting area, rubbing his eye with his fist. “Obviously, we’ll take care of her family. It’s the least we can do.”
Vasi rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was fighting a cringe. “I’d hold off on that, if I were you.”
“What? Why?”
“The news… they’ve been going out of their way to insinuate and fabricate connections and the girl, even going so far as suggesting it’s a failed lover’s tryst between you and her. Some kind of pact to off your brother to put you on the throne and make her queen. Offering her family money or any kind of compensation right now would only add to that story.”
“Fucking hell!” Finn shot to his feet and stalked into the closet and back out, holding a fresh shirt in his hands. “How the fu—I don’t even unders—”
Vasi held his hands up in a physical demonstration of his lack of malice. “I know, and I’m sorry. I wish I had better news.”
Cora walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. “On the upside, all evidence puts you in the clear, so there’s that.”
“Cold comfort for Francis’ family.”
“Finnegan, we’ll do press on it to dispel as many of the rumors as we can. But we need to get ahead of this media storm before the court of public opinion puts a rope around your neck.”
The prince stomped over and collapsed into his armchair like a puppet with cut strings. Even though he’d just gotten up, he looked so, so tired. “I’m listening if you have suggestions.”
Chapter Seventeen
BRENDAN
It would not be unreasonable to expect him to be pissed. Extravagant birthday gala interrupted by something as tawdry as a suicide, and of a member of the household staff, even. And yet Brendan could not be more pleased than if he had a crown. Sure, the young woman’s death was inconvenient, but it was necessary, and that was what was truly important.
“You’re in a good mood.” His dearest Auntie Gwen sat across the table from him, eating her burnt toast and coffee as black as her soul. Even though she’d long retired from public life, the Dowager Duchess was dressed to the nines in an Hèrmes turtleneck and skirt, ready for her closeup at a moment’s notice.
“Why wouldn’t I be? Seeing my saintly brother’s good name being dragged through the muck in the media puts a bright spin on any day.” He popped half of a hulled strawberry in his mouth and grinned cheerfully.
“That was a cunning bit of work on your part.”
“Thank you,” he preened smugly.
“How did you manage it? With the girl, I mean.”
“Timing, mostly. And a few well-placed and loyal staff willing to curry favor with the crown prince.” She was a nuisance, a dalliance who forgot her place. That type of thing had consequences.
“It’s perfect, honestly,” he gloated as he delicately punctured the egg yolk of his breakfast, over easy. “I’m in the clear, seen by all and sundry on the other side of the palace. But Finn, on the other hand…” he trailed off as his kitchen steward poured him more coffee. “Well, I don’t know where he was, do we?”
“Off with that Corvid tramp, I suppose,” Aunt Gwen sulked. Ever since the failed drive-by and Cora moving into the palace, however temporarily, there was no appeasing her. The whiff of impropriety proximal to the throne sent her into paroxysms of righteous—and relentless—indignation. “Did you see that dress? I mean honestly, who wears that to court?”
Brendan looked down at his ramekin, barely able to squelch his smirk. Cora, for all that she was an obstacle to him dealing with his brother directly, was a beautiful woman and he would absolutely kill for the opportunity to have her at his side. And maybe he would.
“Regardless, it seems my brother’s sterling reputation is not quite as shiny as it once was.” He hummed in pleasure as the creamy custard coated his tongue. “And all it took was one dead girl and some well-placed people with some interesting speculations.”
“Thank the goddess for the twenty-four hour news cycle.” She smiled as a servant poured more coffee into her cup. “He’ll be so busy chasing his tail, he won’t have time to worry about much of anything else.”
Brendan’s grin was accented with sharp fangs as he raised his cup to her. “And that is distinctly to our benefit.”
“Hear, hear.”
* * *
FINN
Everything he’d worked for, everything he ever stood for, was flaming around him. All of the goodwill his foundation had, had been on his back and now? Gods, how could he even face his employees, much less his donors or the board of directors. Would he be removed? Or given the opportunity to step aside?
Vasi’s cell phone going off startled him out of his thoughts. He stepped into the antechamber to take the call while Cora remained at his side, thumbs flying as she texted at light speed. Every once in a while, she’d reach over and pat his knee or gently squeeze his thigh.
The owl blew back in the room with a broad grin that gave Finn a measure of cautious hope. “Finnegan,” he said in his best Maury Povich voice, “you are not the father!”
Even though it had never been a question, the relief he felt was palpable as his shoulders relaxed a bit and his jaw unclenched. “Of course not, so what now?”
“Now, we get the results independently verified just for the sake of paperwork, but I’m comfortable with both your history and your alibi and, more importantly, everyone else will be, too.”
“What he’s saying is he’s gonna clear your name, right?”
Finn smiled at her fierce expression and the way she moved even closer to him like she would physically shield him if necessary. And just like that, there was a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel. This one, at least.
“And what does that look like, exactly?”
Vasily sat in the armchair and rested his forearms on his knees phone clasped in his hands. “I’m texting with the public information officer to set up the press conference now. Should be set up in a couple hours.”
“That soon?” Finn couldn’t decide if he was grateful for that or concerned.
“The faster we get your name off the list, the faster we shift the investigation to hunt for the real killer.”
“Is that gonna be enough?” Cora’s gaze was firm, unwavering and not nearly as hopeful as he’d prefer.
“What do you mean?”
He caught her quick look out of the corner of her eye before she continued interrogating Vasily. “I mean, is there a plan in place to get him off the front page? And quickly?”
The Commander sat back with a thoughtful expression. “You got something in mind?”
The devious curl of her lips sent a chill through his soul. “Well, the only way to shelve a scandal is to make an even bigger scandal. Preferably during the evening news cycle.”
The slightly feral look in her eye made him vaguely nauseated. “I don’t like where this is going.”
Vasi clearly had no such issues as he sat forward with a curious grin. “Keep talking…”
* * *
CORA
“...and we can state definitively that Prince Finnegan of the House Lupine was not involved in any way with the death of Bedelia Fielding. The investigation is still ongoing…”
Cora disconnected the call she’d been on as Finn pulled up the live broadcast on his phone. Everything that was about to happen would take split second timing, but she wasn’t worried.
Devon’s smooth delivery at the press conference just inside the Guard house roll call room, backed up by a glowering Vasily, was the perfect backdrop. Darkening sky in the window behind him reflecting back the bright white lights of the cameras, the click-whirr of still frame cameras, dour-faced detectives in suits. “This’ll do nicely.”
Her phone chirped in her hand, the message exactly what she’d wanted to hear. There was a reason she was the best at this. All it took was twisting the right arms and bending the right ea
rs.
Petting Finn’s arm, she grinned as she watched Devon wind his way to his closing. “And here we go.”
“What—?” She silenced him with a delicate finger over his lips.
“We’ll now be taking questions…” he didn’t get to finish the phrase before the reporters drowned out his voice with their first salvo.
“Are you looking at other suspects?”
“Have you ruled out suicide?”
“What was the evidence that cleared the prince?”
So far, so good. Exactly what she’d expected, and from whom, even. They were nothing if not predictable. Especially as it got closer to the end of Sweeps month, more often than not, the local stations wanted to finish with a bang, and today, she was happy to oblige.
Devon was the picture of competence, unbothered by the rapid fire interrogation by the press. This is what he did, and really, better him than Xander. He was barely civil on a good day so far as she could tell. Very little in the way of home training, that one.
“Do you have any further on the autopsy?”
“Right on cue,” she purred, wriggling in her seat as the plan proceeded to the letter.
“Are you sticking with suicide as the cause of death?”
“Wait for it…”
“Is there any truth that she was pregnant before she died? Do you know who the father is?”
There was a moment, a clarion moment of silence right before the first shockwaves of the bomb rippled through the air as it exploded. What happened next would have been charitably called a ‘feeding frenzy’ if all parties involved had been of the fishy persuasion. Question after question, demand after demand, practically leaping over and clawing at one another to get out their inquiries, it was perfectly orchestrated bedlam and went down exactly as intended.
A redacted copy of a copy of the autopsy report, with the important part revealed, was handed off to Mookie and Samson, who then couriered it to her media contacts, et voila. Instant scandal just add fetus. So long as people remained predictable, she’d remain employed.
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