Kissed by Death - Book three of the Trueborn Heirs Series

by Queen, Nyna

  She held out her hand. “Can you hand me that knife, please?”

  A little confused, the girl obeyed.

  Darken’s eyebrows drew together in a frown when Josy pulled the knife from her belt and gave it to Alex. “What—”

  Tightening her grip on the handle, Alex took a deep breath, and stabbed herself in the neck.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  MURMURS fluttered through the courtroom.

  Stephane Dubois-Léclaire, recently still designated governor of the Southern Provinces now prime suspect in a murder case, tried to relax his stiff shoulder muscles and project calm confidence—a politician’s last line of defense in any situation.

  He stood inside the locked prisoner’s box across from the yet empty judge’s bench on which the Criminal Tribunal would be seated once the process began, his back to the already packed auditorium where the royal elite had gathered for the spectacle.

  A pair of sturdy tempering rings stamped with arcane glyphs cuffed his wrists together in front of his body, more a symbol than an actual detaining necessity. It wasn’t as if he could have exited the prisoner’s box at will, and even if he could have, the daunting number of court marshals armed with spellguns and batons lining the walls of the chamber would nip any idea of escape in the bud. Nevertheless, on the stage of the court, appearances were just as important as procedures, if not more so.

  Ah, appearances, the elite’s ubiquitous substitute for substance.

  Behind him, a transparent pane of bulletproof glass formed a protective semi-circle around the box, a measure that was meant for his safety while still having him on show—a farcical reminder that he was, at least for the time being, still an important public figure worthy of such protection. Yet whereas it kept people from stoning him prematurely or pelting him with rotten tomatoes or eggs, as had been quite popular in long bygone times, it did nothing to block out the busy chatter of the audience.

  They were in the biggest court room available in the courthouse of Arcadia’s High Court, the Republic’s supreme court, but Stephane doubted that it had ever been so full in here in its long history of trials. If his ears hadn’t deceived him, they had even carried in additional chairs, creating extra space for the parched elite, always so avid for the next scandal.

  Stephane made it a point not to turn around and look at the audience, but he felt their eyes on his back, the speculation in them, the doubts, the rage, all reflected through their agitated whispers.

  A dead body, was it really true? Yes, they had found Lord Debayne’s corpse in his basement. No, there was no doubt about that…

  …can you believe? … never would have thought … his friend … could be innocent … always known there was something wrong with him…

  Stephane closed his eyes, trying in vain to drown out the murmurs that were like constantly dripping water wearing away the stones of his nerves.

  True, many of the spectators were still fiercely promoting his innocence, but just as many were already convinced that he was guilty on all counts. Ah, what a few well-aimed words in the media could achieve. Didn’t he know for himself how useful a tool they could be?

  The people who believed those words were already calling for his head on a spike. Shapers killing trueborns was a dreadful atrocity but not unexpected, yet a member of the elite killing one of their own… The effrontery, the shame!

  Well, Stephane thought with dry self-irony, the real shame was that he might not be able to disprove them.

  He exhaled slowly and let his gaze slide over the empty seats of the glossy wooden judge’s bench. Somewhere, not far away, thirteen men and women were getting ready to pass judgement on him, and the Great Mother make sure they weren’t as prejudiced by the media as was the public.

  When the prison guard had brought the breakfast tray to his cell this morning and informed him that his trial was to commence that very afternoon, it had been immediately clear to Stephane that everything that could have gone wrong with their plan must have gone wrong.

  ‘Awfully rushed’ didn’t even begin to cover the course of his proceedings. No, it meant their enemies were aware that something was cooking, and they were pressing this trial to avoid evidence of their deeds to surface. It meant their plan hadn’t gone as expected. Alex must have had gotten busted, or worse, and he, being confined in an isolation cell and cut off from any information source, had no way of knowing if she or Darken were still alive. No way of gauging whether there was still any hope left for him to get out of this tricky situation he’d thrown himself into, or if the walk over from the prison to the court had been his last steps as a more or less free man.

  His lawyers, whom he’d been allowed to speak to this morning in preparation of the surprise-trial, painted a dire picture to say the least.

  They had put in a request for a postponement and tried every possible legal subtlety and trick, but the Tribunal had turned a deaf ear to it all. All things considered, it wasn’t much of a surprise since they couldn’t put forth any credible reasons that would suggest that they would be able to procure more evidence at a later court date. And without any evidence … well, his lawyers were rather pessimistic about his chances, to put it mildly. They hadn’t beaten about the bush, which he appreciated. If he was convicted, he could expect the ultimate penalty. Nothing else would sufficiently soothe the flaring tempers of the royal elite.

  It would be the first execution of a member of the elite in thirty years. Well, huzzah, if not as governor, he would at least make it into the history books on that account.

  Stephane briefly rubbed his thumb over the simple golden band of his wedding ring. Edalyne would be throwing a hissy fit if she could hear his thoughts right now. She wasn’t one to throw in the towel before the sound of the bell. Ah, his beautiful, gentle wife, who could turn into a wild lioness in the blink of an eye if her family was threatened. How he loved that woman.

  He stifled a sigh. He hadn’t heard a word from her yet, neither with regard to the mission nor with regard to the trial, which didn’t bode well either.

  It would be easy to blame Alex for his situation, but he had never been a man who took the easy way out. Wasn’t that why he was here in the first place? No, the only person he could blame for the quagmire he was in was himself. He had agreed to the spider’s plan, knowing he might end up right here in this very spot without any escape route. It had been her idea, true, yet there was no denying that part of him had not only reluctantly consented to but had fiercely approved of it. Its boldness, its gall. Why, it had been exactly to his liking.

  It hadn’t been a bad plan, either. Crazy, yes. Risky, for sure. But not bad. And considering their lack of alternatives, Stephane hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to it. Rolling over on his back and accepting defeat simply wasn’t the Dubois way.

  For a moment, Stephane was glad that the audience couldn’t see his face because none of them would have understood why he was smiling in a situation like his.

  She fit in right well with his kin, the fierce spider with the snowy hair.

  Ah, brother, what a woman you’ve chosen.

  To think he had come to thoroughly enjoy the company of a shaper. That he had started to think of her brazen candor as refreshing.

  Alex had brought a breath of fresh air—what was he thinking, a breath? A hurricane was more to the point!—into his orderly house. While his mother resented it—which wasn’t exactly a yardstick to measure anything by as she resented any kind of change—he, and Edalyne, welcomed the changes she had initiated, especially seeing the positive effect they had on Maxwell and Josepha. His sweet, serious daughter had blossomed in the past weeks since Alex’s arrival like a rose that had finally found the courage to open its bud to the sun to discover its own beauty and, he thought ruefully, the fact that it possessed thorns as well. His head wasn’t too bloated by his noble descent to acknowledge that he had, in large part, Alexis Harper to thank for this. Something about the bristly shaper had touched a chord that all their e
ncouragement hadn’t been able to reach so far, and they owed her for it.

  Unfortunately, it looked like there wouldn’t be any chance for repayment.

  Well, nothing to be done about it now. Right now, the only thing he could do was stick to the truth and go into battle with a fierce smile. That’s how Dubois fought. Head high, eyes front, smile on. Down, perhaps, but not out. Not yet, anyway.

  The heavy wooden door to his left swung open with a prolonged creak and the voice of a court clerk boomed through the room.

  “All rise for the honorable Tribunal.”

  THE vis-a hummed as a connection built up.

  A slightly distracted male voice poured out of the speaker. “Sylvaigne?”

  “Makesh!” Alex almost cried out in relief at the sound of the familiar voice.

  Shocked surprise. “Alex?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” Alex paused, hoping fiercely that she wasn’t making a big mistake. “Brother … I need your help.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  DARKEN brought the hover-cycle to a jerky stop at the edge of a freshly cut lawn. The moment it touched ground, Alex slipped off its back, caught herself before her nose headed for the floor, and hurried toward the side building with the huge clock tower that marked the meeting point, Darken only one step behind her.

  Using the number code Makesh had given them, they had entered the court grounds through the less frequented employees’ entrance, a small, unremarkable door in the high, ivy-clad wall that encompassed the premises, instead of using the main gate where they would have run a much bigger risk of stumbling right into the hands of court marshals.

  According to her brother, the grounds as such weren’t heavily guarded, but the courthouse itself? That was a different matter. From what he’d told them about the security measures, there was no chance in hell for them to get into the building through the front door. So that was right out.

  With its trimmed lawns, shade-giving trees and wrought-iron benches, the court grounds gave off strong vibes of a quaint university campus rather than a place where people were convicted for their crimes. Alex could easily imagine students sitting on the grass, poring over their latest assignments, enjoying the breaks between classes.

  Right now though, the grounds of the High Court were practically deserted as Alex and Darken scurried along the well-swept stone walks between buildings and grassy lawns. Everyone was probably either present at Stephane’s hearing or seeking another way to stay tuned to what was happening inside that specific courtroom.

  Good for them. Still. Coming here was beyond risky. But the time for secrecy had long passed. It was that time in the game when you staked everything on one card and either won big—or lost everything.

  Without forewarning, Darken grabbed her arm and yanked her into a gap between two buildings. Alex held her breath and dug her fingers into his shoulder, waiting for two court marshals to pass their hideout. The men vanished around a corner. She nodded at Darken. All clear.

  They moved on, swift and silent. When they reached the other side of the mess hall and the clock-tower rose up behind another big lawn, Alex spotted Makesh pacing nervously underneath a big tree close to the beige brick wall of the building. He was dressed in a traditional black court clerk robe with a white band collar. The moment he saw them, he stopped in his tracks and raised his arms, urgently waving them nearer.

  Alex and Darken abandoned the stone walk and made a beeline across the grass toward him. Since Alex’s limp got more pronounced with every step, Darken wrapped one arm around her waist and supported most of her weight.

  Despite Josy’s provisional healing in Roukewood’s cellar, and a little more she’d strewn in while assisting Alex with the most superficial clean-up of the century and helping her into some fresh clothes, Alex was still exhausted to the bone and pretty weak in the legs. Well, at least she could walk without leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

  Darken had offered to carry her, but she had snarled loudly enough to make him back off. She was no puny damsel in distress and being carried around would most definitely attract attention, which was the last thing they needed right now.

  The moment Alex had been stable enough to be moved, Max had teleported them back to the Dubois’ townhouse to face a very distressed Heloise, who had almost gotten a heart attack at the sight of Alex. Or maybe her smell.

  Edalyne had still been out cold, which was probably for the best. Between learning what her children had risked and her husband currently being on trial, she would likely have passed out again right there and then.

  Max, too, had been in a rather bad shape after the second long-distance teleportation and had started vomiting on the spot. After Josy had promised to take care of him, and they had made sure the house was as secure as possible, Alex and Darken had mounted his hover-cycle together and taken off toward Shazam, where Arcadia’s High Court was located, hoping that nobody expected Darken to be suicidal enough to actually show up for his brother’s trial.

  Although they had taken the fastest route over the northeastern coach highway, it had taken them more than two hours to get there. A lot could happen in two hours, and the Jester only knew what they had already missed.

  Makesh impatiently bobbed up and down on the toes of his gleaming black leather loafers as he waited for them to reach him, the same thing he’d done as a kid when he’d been anxious about something. His blond hair was done in a neat ponytail fastened at the nape of his neck with a royal blue velvet bow. A true advocate in the making. Their sire would have been bursting with pride.

  Alex’s heart flipped inside her chest. She’d taken a giant leap of faith contacting him and still wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing—not that they had much of a choice at this point.

  When they were almost at the tree, her brother rushed forward to meet them.

  “Enforcer.” He gave Darken a curt, breathless nod, then turned to Alex. The moment he got a good look at her, shock slapped his face. Hardly surprising. While the internal damage might have been repaired by Josy’s healing efforts, on the outside Alex still looked as if she had apprenticed in a boxing club—as punching bag.

  “Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace, Alex, what in the name—”

  “Long story,” Alex interrupted with a sharp wave of her hand. “I’ll gladly share it over an ale later, if you want to hear it, but now we really need to hurry the hell up.”

  Makesh wavered only for a second before turning and motioning for them to come along. “Follow me.”

  During their brief call, Alex had only given him the most basic information: Stephane was on trial, he was innocent, and they might be able to prove it—if they could manage to get into the courthouse in one piece and get a chance to speak in his favor.

  Her brother had reluctantly promised to smuggle them into the courthouse. As for the chance to speak … well, one step after the other.

  Moving single file, they slunk along the wall of the clock tower building to a section that was shielded from the grounds by high cherry laurel hedges.

  Makesh led them behind the hedges until they reached a niche in the wall where the grass had been allowed to grow untamed. He prowled back and forth for a few minutes, searching the ground for something, then leaned down and pushed at a tangle of grass and leaves. It turned out to be a woven net that covered a wooden trap door with a heavy lock. Her brother produced a key ring from the inside of his clerk robes and knelt beside the trap door. Alex noticed the pronounced tremble in his fingers as he stuck a big key into the lock and opened it.

  Below the trap door was a sleek black cover with an inlaid identification panel. Makesh placed his right hand onto the panel, keyed the magic lock, and the cover slid aside soundlessly, revealing a slim concrete staircase leading down into absolute darkness.

  Makesh pointed his chin at the staircase. “Go. I need to close the door behind us.”

  Exchanging a fleeting glance with Darken, Alex squashed a bout of upcoming unease and
took the lead down the stairs. Her true eyes pushed upward immediately, penetrating the blackness.

  When she reached the bottom, automatic lights flared along the ceiling of a white tunnel, sending spider-webby whispers of magic over her skin. She quickly probed the area with her sensory threads. Empty, as far as she could tell.

  “What is this place?” she asked in a hushed voice when the others came to stand on the ground beside her. Being in this tunnel brought back unpleasant memories of her being marched to her interrogation through the catacombs of the Royal Palace.

  Her skin crawled. Sweet Jester, how she hated to be underground! She hated it so much!

  Makesh looked up from a piece of paper he had started unfolding, which showed a maze of criss-crossing lines.

  “Oh, these tunnels connect the courthouse with both the Blackrock High Security Prison and the Juvenile Borstal of Gota,” he explained, sounding almost relieved to talk about something mundane and not having to think too hard about what he was doing. “They are used to transport prisoners, who are either facing a danger to their lives, or who are likely to attempt a break out, directly from custody to the courthouse. They provide access to every courtroom in the main building.” His forefinger trailed one of the lines on the paper. “We use entrance points like this one”—he jerked his eyebrows toward the staircase—“to quickly get in additional security if need be and sometimes to ferry witnesses who should not be exposed to the public. Every court clerk has the access keys…” His voice trailed off, and he looked a little sick. Throwing one more glance on the paper map, he folded it in the middle and pushed past her. “This way.”

  Makesh guided them through the maze of tunnels, taking turn after turn until even Alex wasn’t sure she would be able to find her way back without help.

  While they walked, he quickly put them up to speed on the trial.