Fortunately, the annual tour of the realm he was embarking on tomorrow included Marcelo. And Marcelo was looking forward to their travels and to meeting more people and seeing the varied terrain of Zioneven that had been described to him as much as Efren was looking forward to showing him.
A mild breeze ruffled Efren’s hair as his horse carried him home, and he plotted his plans for the coming evening with Marcelo. Warmth spread through him as he imagined the look of joyous surprise on Marcelo’s face when he opened the package of Mr. Tolly’s Nutter Buzzers.
Efren sat straight and tall as he slowed his horse on the stretch of road adjacent to the practice grounds. He scanned the scattered groupings of men in hopes of catching a glimpse of a certain strawberry blond head.
A thrill he couldn’t have suppressed even if he’d wanted to coursed through him when he caught sight of a long queue of just that shade of hair trailing behind a lean body as the owner of those features pumped his legs, mid-sprint across the field.
More determination than pure power fueled Marcelo’s progress, but his strength grew daily. Still, raw muscle-fueled power would never be his strong suit, although he needed to gain as much as his build would allow.
Speed and agility were his forte, and it showed. Even with no formal training prior to his journey to Zioneven, Marcelo was near the front of the pack of runners. Not the first…yet, but closing in on that goal.
Efren returned his gaze toward the castle. Soon enough, he was rapidly pacing through the passageways toward the kitchens to inquire as to Jeffery’s whereabouts.
Chapter 6: “I Underestimated You”
Marcelo, present day
Efren’s add-on was calmly spoken, but Marcelo shivered. Was he under suspicion? He was an outsider coming from Zioneven’s former enemy.
Denis opened his mouth, but Merewina spoke first. “No, Efren arranged it as a surprise for Marcelo.” She gestured in Efren’s direction. “He did coordinate with Mr. Othes, though.”
“Ah,” Denis said. “Good to know.”
Marcelo let out a breath that was more audible than he’d intended, then winced. A lifetime of training in diplomacy and decorum, and he was failing to hold his composure under the strain.
“Don’t worry, son,” the king said kindly, “You’re not under suspicion.”
Marcelo swallowed and nodded. “Thank you, sir.” Not simply for the relief of being told he wasn’t a suspect, but for that word, “son,” which had been spoken with such sincere warmth.
That one word was sending him an unstated message. This powerful man honestly empathized with the emotional distress he knew Marcelo must be feeling, waking up to a whole new unfamiliar life, and he wanted to ease the unnerving anxiety he knew had to be simmering beneath the surface, even when successfully masked by a lifetime of training, by letting Marcelo know he was an accepted member of their family now.
Merewina shook her head vehemently. “No, of course not! And I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner, Denis.” She gnawed at her lip. “It completely escaped my mind until you mentioned them just now.”
Denis said, “One of our men has been sent to question Mr. Othes. I expect his report shortly.”
The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, and the guard who’d been at the door earlier returned with an older gentleman dressed as one would expect a royal servant to present.
“Ah, Jeffery,” King Alnod said. “Join us, please.”
“Of course, sir.” Jeffery’s countenance projected a mild curiosity with a touch of sadness since he’d probably figured out something was wrong. But no fear.
Another good sign that life here in Zioneven was much as it appeared to be on the surface. People were treated fairly. Marcelo breathed easier, despite the still unknown foe behind the poisoning.
King Alnod gestured to Marcelo. “Jeffery, have you met this young man?”
“Not that I recall, sir, although I can guess who he is based on the distress call this morning, and the other servants trying to figure out what might have happened up in Prince Efren and Prince Marcelo’s bedchamber. I didn’t let on that I was initially confused by their references to Prince Marcelo, and it didn’t take me long to work out what must have happened.”
King Alnod nodded. “Thank you, Jeffery. Your discretion is greatly appreciated.”
Efren said, “I’m so sorry you were caught up in this, Jeffery. Did it look like anyone else was confused, too?”
“No sir.”
Denis said, “If it was, indeed, those Nutter Buzzers, precisely three were missing from the box Erich found.”
Rolland said, “Those two facts would seem to point toward them being the source, then. Food in general would’ve been eaten by all of us, and, depending upon when in the food preparation process the toxin was administered, possibly most of the servants, too.”
If food service was presented here as it was in Sheburat, then the plates weren’t prepared individually in advance before being passed out. The family sat in front of empty plates, and servants walked around the table placing portions of each dish onto those plates. If a serving platter or bowl was tainted, most likely everyone at the table would be affected.
“Uh…” Marcelo cleared his throat and stood tall. He wasn’t used to being included in top-level discussions, let alone the topic of conversation, but here in Zioneven it appeared his presence, and possibly his participation, was usual. Eyes turned toward him expectantly rather than with a look of disbelief that he would expect to have a voice in the conversation, so he pushed on. “Is there reason to believe Prince Efren and/or I were specifically targeted, or is it possible an opportunity presented itself to someone out to hurt the royal family, and it was simply chance that we became the victims?”
“Excellent question,” King Alnod said with a reassuring smile. “Of course, it is possible you were merely the victims of opportunity, but there is reason to believe one or both of you were the intended target. Efren, you won’t remember any details of this, either, since it all happened in the past couple moon cycles. Denis, will you give us the broad strokes, please?”
Denis nodded, and Marcelo breathed another sigh of relief. If Efren were faking his own victimhood, as Marcelo had considered possible in the early minutes of this ordeal, the family were all smoothly and seamlessly working in the fake story. Perhaps they were that practiced and skilled at lying, but it didn’t seem likely. Not only did Erich also believe they’d both been affected, but everything that had been said and done since he and Efren had entered this room rang true.
Denis spoke. “Long story short, a few days before your wedding, Princess Marcella perished in what appeared to be a riding accident.” He turned to Marcelo and added, “I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”
Marcelo nodded, and Denis continued his narrative. “But we discovered within a few days it actually was an attempt by Gagel to frame Zioneven for what was intended to look like only an attempted murder.”
Marcelo gasped. “King Deverick was behind Marcela’s death?” Gagel’s king had always seemed so jovial.
“Maybe. It is beginning to look like it might have been a Gagel noble rather than the royal family behind all of this. It gets worse.” Denis’s jaw tightened and he drew in a deep breath. “On the return journey to Zioneven after your wedding, you were abducted. Gagel tried to frame Proye for that one. We figured it out too late, and if you hadn’t facilitated your own escape, they would have killed you.”
“I—” Marcelo choked on his words as his head spun. He had the presence of mind not to insult Denis by accusing him of mistaking things, but none of that made sense. Grandfatherly King Deverick, or possibly one of his nobles, had sent men to abduct and kill him? And just as unbelievable, he’d managed to escape from the clutches of trained soldiers?
“You even managed to kill a couple of them along the way,” Denis deadpanned.
Stevyn nodded. “Your actions inspired a new element in our training exercises: makeshift weapons.”
Efren once again tilted his head to regard Marcelo, raking his gaze over Marcelo’s frame, assessing him. “I underestimated you.”
“I’ve underestimated myself,” Marcelo muttered, then clamped his lips together. He shouldn’t have said that aloud. But Efren reacted by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and continuing his quizzical assessment.
“And Gagel underestimated you,” Denis said. “They won’t do it again, which is one reason you—” Denis nodded at Marcelo “—were interested in formal self-defense training. Because we never know when or from where or whom a surprise attack might come.”
“Motive?” Efren asked. “I’m assuming the first was an attempt to rekindle hostilities between Zioneven and Sheburat?” To Marcelo, Efren added, “Gagel supplied Sheburat during the war, and their economy has suffered greatly in the ensuing peace.”
Marcelo nodded. That made sense. “But why did they abduct me? Because if everyone already knew they’d tried to trigger a war between other realms, a second attempt was doomed to fail in achieving their goal, wouldn’t it?”
“You are quite right, my boy,” King Alnod said. “But, it was a few days before we figured it out. Gagel knew your sister had died, but they’d thought the frame failed because it was originally assumed to be a legitimate accident. They attacked soon into your journey, before word had gotten back to them that we’d figured out what they’d done. So we do believe they were still looking to provoke a conflict that might bolster their economy, only in that case, it would have been with Zioneven and Sheburat allied against Proye.”
“I see.” Marcelo’s chest puffed with pride at being included. It had always rankled that he’d been treated as if his intellect and innate abilities were lacking. It was true that his education had been deficient, but that omission had been thrust upon him as customary in Sheburat’s matriarchal society, not by lack of interest.
His head spun as he tried to process how this information fit into this fresh attack. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten any information I’ve recently gained regarding inter-realm politics, so while I understand why we would consider a possible link to these recent attacks, I’m in the dark regarding possible motives for this fresh assault.”
King Alnod nodded. “You needn’t worry overmuch about your missing memories as far as your education is concerned. You were a quick study, and you will be back to feeling comfortable in political conversations in no time at all.”
The king paused to heave a heavy sigh. “Alas, although you are always good for a fresh perspective, I’m afraid more knowledge might not help this time anyway.”
“Indeed,” Efren said. “Unless there’s something else that happened during the time I’ve lost, I am also at a loss as to the possible motive. Retaliation for the death of two of their soldiers might fit, but that’s a standard risk so unlikely, and it would also be rather self-destructive once this deed is tied to them.”
“Right,” King Alnod said. “And so, rather than baseless speculation, we will wait to hear back from the men and women tracing each of your steps yesterday and making inquiries in town about those confections that were eaten by only the two of you and Jeffery. They do seem to be the most likely source for the introduction of the toxin.”
Chapter 7: Waylaid
Efren, the previous day
“Efren!” Merewina’s merry voice rang out behind him. “You’re not on the practice field this morning?”
Efren paused in his tracks and turned to face his sister. “I had…” He double flashed his eyebrows. “…an errand to run.”
To say that Merewina’s snort was inelegant would be charitable, but Efren was in a jovial mood and magnanimity flowed through his veins like a bubbling brook, so he didn’t seek a less charitable description with which to tease her, as they were wont to do with each other.
Her gaze lit on the package he was carrying, and her eyes widened. “Ooh, is that a gift for Marcelo?”
“It is.” He didn’t elaborate, because it would be more fun to let her draw it out of him.
To her credit, she didn’t stamp her foot. She didn’t even roll her eyes. She narrowed them, but her overall countenance remained playful. “Do tell. Or better yet, show.”
“Promise you won’t forewarn him? It’s a surprise.”
“I would never!” Her expression reflected a genuine affront.
“Sorry.” He proffered the loosely wrapped package for her inspection. “I know you wouldn’t. Not intentionally. I plan to give this to him this evening.”
As she unfolded the wrapping and lifted the lid to the box, her lips twitched, giving lie to her apparent outrage. “Oh! Are these those Nutty Buzzies he’s gone on about?”
“Nutter Buzzers. Yes. Mr. Othes procured them for me.”
“Splendid. May I offer myself as a stand in for Jeffery?” She batted her eyes, but he knew she was jesting.
Much as it had been many years since a Zioneven royal food taster had fallen ill from the completion of their duties—it was, in fact, a desired position for some who might otherwise be aging out of service—the protocol was deeply ingrained.
They would never truly consider bypassing the royal food taster. Besides, Jeffery loved special treats like this. It was a perk of his potentially dangerous job.
Efren grinned. “Hands off, sis’. You can ask Marcelo to share tomorrow.”
“I will absolutely do that.” With a final smile, she flounced off.
Efren pushed through the doors that led into the servants’ domain. “Hello,” he said when multiple sets of eyes turned his way. “Where might I find Jeffery?”
“I’m here, sir.” Jeffrey himself popped out of another doorway, and his gaze landed on the still-opened package of Nutter Buzzers, and he grinned. “Ah. Right this way, sir.”
Returning the knowing grin, Efren followed Jeffrey into a kitchen alcove. “These are a surprise for Prince Marcelo. They’re called ‘Nutter Buzzers,’ and Mr. Othes special ordered them from a shop in Sheburat. They are Prince Marcelo’s favorite treat.”
“How kind of you. The young prince is fortunate to have such a thoughtful husband.” Jeffery reached for one of the nut-covered balls. He knew why Efren had sought him out, of course, and didn’t need further prompting. He examined all sides minutely, then sniffed it before taking a small nibble. “Mmm. Delicious.”
“So I’ve heard. I look forward to my own taste of them this evening.” No doubt Marcelo would offer, and though Efren intended for the bulk of the order to be enjoyed by Marcelo, he wouldn’t refuse one.
After a minute, Jeffery took a larger bite, and they waited another minute before he spoke. “I feel perfectly fine, and detect no questionable aftertaste.”
“Wonderful.” Efren had no particular reason to expect an adverse reaction, otherwise he would have abandoned the gift rather than put Jeffery in undo danger, but the package had traveled quite a distance to get to the Zioneven capital, so perhaps there was a slight elevated risk.
“Shall I inspect them all, sir?” Jeffery raised a single querulous brow.
“Please.” It was always better to be safe than sorry, especially when there was no good reason not to be.
Jeffery pulled on a clean pair of gloves before proceeding to pick up, carefully inspect, and sniff each of the remaining confections.
“Of course,” Jeffery said, “I’m not familiar with how these treats should appear in a fresh, untampered-with state, but I do not detect anything suspiciously untoward, sir.”
“Good enough.” Efren closed the container. “And you still feel well?”
“Perfectly, sir.” Jeffery nodded. “I will notify you immediately if that changes.”
“Thank you, Jeffery.” And with a nod, Efren turned with his package, exited the kitchen and workrooms, and headed toward the staircase leading to his and Marcelo�
��s suite of rooms.
On the way up, Efren crossed paths with his personal servant. “Ah, Dru.” Efren hitched his head, and Dru fell into step beside him. “The confections from Sheburat arrived this morning.” He gestured to the rewrapped package in his hands. “I would like to set up a romantic evening. Could you arrange to bring up some berries and wine for us tonight? Something to complement the nutty treats? Jeffery’s had a taste, he can recommend something.”
“Of course, sir, I’ll see to it.”
“Mum’s still the word, other than consulting Jeffery. I want this to be a surprise.”
“Absolutely, sir. I haven’t even told Erich about the special order. I know he would never betray a confidence, but neither would he outright lie to Prince Marcelo if the young prince suspected something and quizzed him directly.”
“Good thinking. What would I do without you, Dru?”
“Excellent question, sir. A mystery for the ages.”
Efren snorted a laugh. “Be off with you, then. I can change my own garments.”
Chapter 8: Utterly Merciless
Marcelo, present day
Why, oh why, with all that was going on, was Marcelo finding it so difficult to focus on anything other than Efren’s fingers as he manipulated his utensils? And Efren’s mouth as he opened it to take bites then slowly chew?
Deliberately slowly chew his food, if Marcelo wasn’t mistaken.
Had Marcelo been obvious in his observations? Were Efren’s actions in response to Marcelo’s interest? Or had Efren purposely drawn Marcelo’s attention in the first place?
Or was Marcelo reading too much into Efren’s simple movements?
Marcelo swallowed a bite of his own and told himself the reason he was so distracted was because the royal family had ceased to talk about the drama going on in the castle since it was their policy not to discuss politics at the table, and there was nothing more to do other than baselessly speculate until they gained more intelligence from the people out making inquiries anyway. Attending to the everyday chitchat between Rolland, Merewina, and Tristan as they attempted to maintain a sense of normalcy didn’t take too much concentration.
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