And now Mr. Othes had been found dead. Murdered.
Marcelo shivered as the likely scene played out in his mind. Mr. Othes’ wife and daughter had been abducted during their trip. Probably killed immediately because they would be witnesses to who was truly behind the poisoning, and bodies would be easier to transport than live, unwilling hostages.
But the criminals would have lied to Mr. Othes, who would have held onto the hope that his family would truly be released unharmed if he cooperated. An unlikely glimmer of hope, but he would have clutched it regardless, convincing himself that at least the Forget-Me-Not would not kill its victims, and if there was the slightest chance his family would be released unharmed, he had to take it.
Except, like his wife and daughter, Mr. Othes had also become a witness to be ruthlessly eliminated.
“But why?” Marcelo breathed. Then snapped to attention with widened eyes. He’d said that aloud.
“Indeed,” the king muttered, as if, again, there were nothing at all out of place with Marcelo participating in such a serious conversation. Marcelo really needed to get used to that feeling rather than repeatedly second-guessing himself. “Those are extreme lengths to go to if the motive is merely revenge.”
“Horrible lengths.” Efren gave Marcelo’s hand a squeeze, and the heaviness in Marcelo’s heart lightened a touch. How very kind of Efren to make that comforting gesture in the midst of all he was going through himself. “And it should be noted that they made no effort to cover up how the Forget-Me-Not was introduced.”
“Yes,” Roland said. “That might very well tie into their motive.”
Marcelo nodded with more confidence. “Like they wanted us to see that to misdirect the investigation?”
“Precisely,” the king said. “On the other hand, they might simply feel sure that the deed can’t be tied back to them.
“Do you think it’s possible poor Mr. Othes might not have been involved at all?” Merewina asked. “Only set up to look like he was? He was such a good and kind man. It would have been agony for him to face the terrible choice of either poisoning Efren and Marcelo or having his own family murdered.”
“An awful choice.” Queen Ellyn shook her head sorrowfully. “Poor man. Whether or not he was forced to participate, I feel bad for what he went through.”
“Perhaps,” Denis said, “we should start by looking at this by making a closer examination of possible motives.”
“Agreed.” King Alnod nodded. “One, the possibility that this was purely an act of revenge, while unlikely, does exist.”
Everyone nodded.
“Two,” Stevyn said, “the motive could be the same as before. An attempt to instigate war between other realms to boost their local economy.”
“And,” Roland said, “it wouldn’t necessarily have to be the same kingdom behind it. Especially with his guilt for the earlier attacks in question, I find it hard to believe King Deverick would be behind those cold-blooded murders, although it’s still possible a Gagel noble was.”
Marcelo’s head swiveled back and forth as each person spoke. His chin raised. Even though he didn’t have much to contribute, he was part of this high-level meeting. Compared to his life in what his mind thought of as yesterday, his inclusion was nothing short of amazing.”
“I agree,” Efren said. “And although we are confident in our attribution of that motive to Gagel for the first two incidents…correct?” Efren raised his brow for confirmation. He would no longer remember living through the events, only being told about them. Everyone nodded, and Efren bobbed his head and continued, “That same motive could possibly apply to Proye, although to enough of a lesser extent, last I recall, as to make it unlikely.”
“Excellent point,” the king said. “It is possible they have successfully hidden a more significantly depressed economy from our ambassadors. Any more thoughts on motives?”
“Yes,” Efren said. “There was mention earlier that Marcelo and I were meant to be heading out on a tour of the realm this morning. Possibly coincidental timing, but could there be reason someone would need that to be canceled or delayed?”
“Hmm.” The king turned to Denis. “What do you think?”
“I can’t think of any particular reason offhand, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
Marcelo cleared his throat. “Could we have been specifically targeted, not so much for revenge, but because one of us knew something that someone didn’t want us to be able to remember?”
“Might be,” the king said. “The toxin could have been specifically chosen for that purpose rather than simply to attack us without thought to its effects.”
Efren breathed out a heavy sigh. “Trouble is, we can’t remember what it might be.”
“Right,” the king said. “And unless you recently happened to see or hear something away from the castle, there isn’t anything either of you have been privy to that all of us here in this room don’t also know.”
“And if we’d encountered anything that seemed suspicious, we would have reported it,” Efren said.
“Could it be tied to knowledge in the earlier days of the missing time?” Marcelo gnawed his lip. “Something that seemed unimportant at the time? Or that, in my ignorance, I didn’t recognize as important?”
“It’s a valid thought,” Denis said. “You, in particular, are the only one who’d gotten a good enough look at any of the attackers before succumbing to the effects of Knockout to be able to identify them.”
“But you’d never seen them before,” Stevyn added. “You described them, but they had no standout identifying features or clothing. And the two men you were close enough to see, you also killed, so there wouldn’t have been a chance you might stumble upon them and identify them in the future, and therefore no particular need to wipe your memory of it.”
“Not to mention,” Denis said, “it’s been more than a moon cycle since then, and they would have to know you’ve already described them.”
Marcelo shivered. “Not that, then.”
“No,” agreed the king. “But there’s merit to your thoughts about something one or both of you didn’t recognize as significant at the time.”
“And unfortunately—” Efren slumped “—is now lost forever.”
King Alnod bobbed his head for a few moments before turning back to Denis. “What do you propose as our next steps?”
“Our alchemists are already analyzing the remaining Nutter Buzzers, although we don’t expect any surprise there. We’ll continue canvassing the town for anyone who might have heard or witnessed anything unusual either last night, or in the past couple of days. Nail down a consensus of when Mr. Othes’ demeanor changed and became disheartened. Try to align that timing with witness testimonies.”
“Is there any reason to suspect inside participation?” The king’s brows came together. Clearly, he wouldn’t relish a positive answer to that.
“No, nothing pointing to it.” Denis shrugged. “It might be a little early to completely eliminate the possibility, but the thing is, the palace often placed orders with Honey’d Dreams, so the culprits wouldn’t have needed any insider information.”
Stevyn said, “It would have been easy for the culprits to have people staying in the area and have one enter the shop around the same time as anyone from the castle, then wait until an order was placed that best fit their needs before striking. Mr. Othes’ family had been away for weeks, so the culprits had a wide window of opportunity.”
“Of course,” Denis said, “we are making inquiries with that possibility in mind.”
“Hmm.” The king tilted his head and scratched his chin. “That does rather point more to the possibility the princes were specifically targeted—although whether for retaliation, the need for a memory wipe, or to just muddy the waters is still unknown. And perhaps they preferred to avoid collateral damage if possible.”
“Or maybe that’s more misdirection.” Efren sighed.
“Goodness,” Marcelo murmured. “Noth
ing’s ever straightforward, is it.”
“No,” the king said with a rueful smile. “It really isn’t.”
Chapter 11: Plans
Efren, the previous day
“Sir?”
Efren startled when Dru slunk around the corner as he approached the dining hall for the evening meal.
“Ah, yes, Dru. Is everything in place?”
“Yes, sir. Will you require assistance when you retire this evening, or should Erich and I make ourselves scarce?”
“Wonderful. Thank you.” Efren nodded. “Scarce, I think, would strike a more romantic note.”
“Very well.” Dru smiled and backed away. “Enjoy your evening, sir. I will see you in the morning.”
Marcelo was already seated in the dining hall. He looked up when Efren entered and blushed prettily when they locked gazes.
Efren sat and gave Marcelo a light, dining-hall-friendly kiss.
Marcelo tipped his head inquiringly. “Why do you look so much like the cat that got the cream?”
“Because I am reminded every time I see you that I am the cat that got the sweetest cream in the cellar.”
“Thank you, dearest.” Marcelo tittered a soft laugh. “But I believe you do have something up your sleeve.”
Marcelo’s laughter never failed to ping Efren’s heart. Efren grinned and made a show of looking up his sleeve. “Goodness, what is that?”
But before Efren could push the lighthearted humor enough to get a proper, full-bellied laugh out of Marcelo, the king entered. Conversation stilled, and everyone stood until he took his seat at the head, then servants stepped around the table, filling plates.
“I must say.” King Alnod leveled his gaze on Efren. “I’m feeling a bit nostalgic, and perhaps a little regretful to be missing the tour this year.”
The tour of the realm was still on. That subject had been brought up earlier in the day, looking for final opinions regarding the safety of Efren and Marcelo traveling within Zioneven before the culprits behind the attack in Sheburat and during their journey to Zioneven were positively identified and shown to be no longer a threat.
The consensus was that although they hadn’t yet been able to prove who the guilty party was, whoever they were knew that their plans had been dashed. The rulers in all four realms knew what was going on so further attack would be pointless.
Everyone agreed that traveling into the other realms was still too risky, but a journey within Zioneven should be low risk. They and the security contingent would be traveling relatively swiftly via horseback only, and the princes would be indoors each night at trusted inns and homes.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Efren said. “I know how much you enjoy connecting with Zioneven’s citizens. I’m torn between knowing I shall miss your enthusiasm and guidance, and pride in being trusted to lead the annual tour myself.”
The king chuckled. “I think young Marcelo’s zeal shall offset the loss admirably.”
Marcelo gave Efren’s hand a squeeze before saying, “I am exceedingly keen to meet citizens from around your beautiful kingdom and to view with my own eyes the settings of Efren’s tales.”
Merewina laughed. “Indeed. I’ve only gone along on a few of Father’s annual tours, but I have such fond memories.”
“Mostly of the food.” Efren nudged her foot under the table. “You still wax poetic about the specialties of different regions.”
“I am eating for two now, so it should not be surprising.”
Triston winked. “Although, it is a mite inconvenient when you conjure up a craving for hazelnut wibbles—but only those made using hazelnuts from Hollow Point Farms, and using their proprietary recipe, mind you—in the middle of the night.”
“Inconvenient for whom?” Merewina sniffed—although a gleam of good humor remained in her eyes. “It’s not as if anyone—” she arched a lone eyebrow and looked pointedly at Triston “—has saddled up their horse at midnight to journey to the border after them.”
“In my defense—and experience thus far—the craving would be over and replaced by a different one long before I could make the round trip.”
Merewina blew her husband a kiss. “I know, my love. You are wonderful for putting up with my mood swings. And I greatly appreciate that you have arranged delivery of my favorites that travel well. The long distances involved are not your doing.”
Indeed, Triston had made such arrangements several times over the past year since marrying Merewina. It was his actions that had given Efren the idea to arrange a special order of Nutter Buzzers from Sheburat for Marcelo.
The balance of supper and after-supper conversation and games passed in a blur as Efren’s thoughts looked forward to Marcelo’s reaction when he entered their suite and saw the Nutter Buzzers, berries, and wine Dru and Erich had set up. At least he assumed Erich might have been filled in on the surprise now that it was imminent.
Chapter 12: Change of Plans
Marcelo, present day
Marcelo’s eyes had to be as wide as saucers, and he snapped himself back to the here and now when he realized how his face must appear. Efren’s expression looked much the same, with the addition of casting sidelong glances at Marcelo.
Thus was their reaction to the details Stevyn Wythers laid out of the drama on their journey from Sheburat to Zioneven less than two moon cycles earlier.
Stevyn placed his hands on the table. “Any questions?”
Again, Marcelo wasn’t about to insult Stevyn by asking, “Are you sure?” so instead, he shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t have thought I had that in me.”
“Actually,” Efren said, “the more I think about it, the more I’m inclined to recognize that you do indeed have that aptitude within you.”
“Oh?” Marcelo cocked an eyebrow.
“Yes. I’m thinking of how you’ve handled yourself today. Of course, the events first thing this morning were emotionally shocking. But since you’ve learned what happened, you’ve been very composed and have even put yourself forward in a way that must feel utterly foreign given your history in Sheburat. That takes inner strength and fortitude. It doesn’t matter that today’s test wasn’t physical; the required character qualities are the same.”
Stevyn bobbed his head throughout Efren’s declaration. “It’s still in you, sir. Perhaps it’s not the worst thing that could have happened…that you’ve lost the tormenting memories. You don’t need them in order to be the same strong person who survived that journey.”
Marcelo’s chest swelled at their praise. He was proud of his participation in important conversations this morning. Proud to finally be included instead of assumed to be weak, both in understanding and physical strength.
He nodded, as much to himself as to Efren and Stevyn. “I am determined to continue to be that same man who fought for his life and won.”
“Good for you, sir.” Stevyn’s smile matched his words.
“I am proud to be your husband.” Efren’s steady gaze burned unwaveringly into Marcelo’s.
Marcelo’s face heated when Efren punctuated his statement by pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Marcelo’s wrist.
Marcelo lifted his chin. Neither would he allow himself to feel embarrassment at these small gestures that were apparently perfectly normal and acceptable in Zioneven. He enjoyed them.
“Thank you, Stevyn.” Efren gave a curt nod.
Stevyn gave a slight bow. “My pleasure, sirs.” Then he spun and exited the room.
“And now, my darling…” One corner of Efren’s mouth curled up, and Marcelo’s blood heated at both the glint in Efren’s eyes and the endearment spilling from his lips. “We will do as Father instructed. He’s right as usual. With our memories missing, we will not be of much use to the investigation, so I might as well show you around your new home—the castle and grounds—as we reacquaint ourselves with each other.”
“‘My darling’?” Marcelo grinned. “I thought I was ‘my lovely’?”
“Ah, but now I kno
w you are so much more than a beautiful face and body, and I deem such a superficial endearment to be no longer sufficient.”
“I wonder if I had an endearment for you…before?”
“I’m told we each had one for the other, but Merewina refused to tell me what they were, and once she made that declaration, everyone else supported the decision and said we should develop our new relationship naturally and not be influenced by our past behavior.”
“I like that idea.” Marcelo peered down at the training-ready clothing Erich had dressed him in this morning, perhaps thinking he should stick to the usual clothing routine until told otherwise. Efren was wearing much the same, and the garb certainly was comfortable. But at breakfast, the rest of the family had been dressed closer to what Marcelo would have considered typical back in Sheburat. Different styling, and leggings more appropriate to the cooler weather of Zioneven, but of a similar level of formality. “Should we change, or is this how people will expect to see us?”
“Typically at this time of day, this is how I and probably you would have dressed. Today, they would have expected us to be on the road by now on our tour of the realm, but the news of what happened is now spreading, and our plans have changed.” Efren shrugged. “Still, we will be doing a lot of walking and some riding on our smaller-scale tour of the area so we might as well keep these on.”
Marcelo swallowed and pushed himself to say what he truly wanted. The old Marcelo of Sheburat never would have, but the new Marcelo of Zioneven, whom he was determined to become, would.
He drew a breath. “Perhaps we should change into proper riding clothes, then?” His lips twitched, and he tilted his head ever so slightly before adding, “I’m sure we could manage without calling for Dru or Erich’s assistance.”
Efren’s grin looked exactly like what one would expect to see on a cat who’d gotten the cream. “I will be happy to assist you myself if the need arises.”
Marcelo’s smile mirrored Efren’s. “I think I rather like the new me.”
Efren offered his elbow, and Marcelo grasped it with a happy sigh, which he previously never would have considered could stem from the touch of another man’s clothing, or rather his muscles through them. But oh, that touch sent such a thrill tingling through him!
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