Harrowed Heir

by Sarah E. Burr

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  “It’s been a while since it’s been just you and me, Captain.”

  Jax’s liltingly coy words startled George from his reverie. He’d been puzzling over why Ziri had so easily given in to Jax’s menial request. If Jax had asked him to leave her side during such a crucial moment, he would have called her mad. After all, it was Ziri’s sworn oath to protect the Duchess, not clean up after her.

  “Ready?” Jax floated to his side, taking his arm in hers. The simple touch eased his tense muscles and he relaxed.

  George extended his other arm toward the door. “Lead the way.”

  As he and Jax departed the dining hall, he studied Ziri from the corner of his eye. The leonine spymaster now flitted around the grand high table, gathering plates and silverware. She had been unusually aloof toward him since their arrival and had barely made any eye contact with him throughout the tension-filled meal. Had he somehow offended her? Or was her mind simply elsewhere?

  “Everything all right? You look unusually broody.”

  George gaped at Jax a moment, her amethyst eyes bright with bemusement. Flustered by the offhand remark, he quickly recovered and chuckled. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  She prodded him with her elbow. “Oh, come now. I know you too well to realize when you’re lying.”

  Her concern touched him, but he wasn’t sure if his worries were appropriate to share with her. Yes, they had pledged to one another that their friendship would never change, even after he had stupidly confessed that he still harbored feelings for her. Part of him wanted to ask Jax what she thought of Ziri, to talk through the conflicting feelings that warred in his heart and brain. Yet, there was a part of him that was afraid to broach the subject. For, although Jax had made no declaration in response to his revelation of love for her, he suspected it had nonetheless somehow awakened feelings she’d been forced to bury long ago due to his own cowardice. To top it off, it was clear to him that Jax and Perry had parted on strained terms, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause her any more pain by bringing up the past.

  “I suspect Ezarath’s flippant remark before we began lunch might have dampened Ziri’s mood,” Jax commented in an airy tone. “Once you explain to her that you and I have never been more than good friends, I’m sure she’ll stop glaring daggers at you.”

  A treacherous ache seized his pounding heart at Jax’s forced words. She doesn’t believe that we’ve only been good friends; I know she doesn’t. She knows better than that, and she knows I do, too. George glanced at his Duchess, the woman he’d do everything in his power to help become Queen. And here she was, trying to help him find love, a love she already had with Perry, by dismissing what had transpired between them so long ago. “Perceptive as always.”

  “You’d do best to hurry your courtship along.” Jax stifled a giggle. “Goodness knows Ziri has been receiving admiring looks everywhere we go. Virtues, if I didn’t know Carriena was committed to Bernard Hoftstead back in Saphire, I might have thought she’d take a go at her.”

  An incredulous scoff lodged itself in George’s throat at Jax’s weak attempt at humor. He had to stop and pound his chest as a wracking cough worked its way through his lungs.

  Jax raised an eyebrow as she patted him on the back. “Women don’t like to be kept waiting.” Her teasing smile did not quite reach her amethyst eyes. “Come, now. The archives are in the subterranean area of the fortress.”

  George kept his head forward as they walked the long, decorated halls, but he was very much aware of the sudden tension brewing between them. So, Jax did know about his growing affection for the new spymaster. Was that why she’d given Ziri the position in the first place? Had she invited Ziri to join her court simply to give him someone to whom he could give his heart? The notion both touched and disappointed him. Perhaps it was finally time to let go of the past and set his sights solely on the future. Would a life with Ziri be so bad?

  He immediately regretted asking himself a question so insulting to Ziri. Any man in the realm would be lucky to have her affections. She deserved someone who thought the world of her. His gaze slid to Jax, admiring her strong, radiant profile. Was it fair to seek Ziri’s heart when his own was already full of love for someone else?

  Whatever the answer, he needed to speak with Ziri, to see where things stood between them.

  Determined to seek Ziri out once they had examined the providence documents, George’s stride became more confident as they rounded a corner.

  Up ahead, he caught sight of a fallen torch smoldering on the ground.

  “That’s odd.” Jax had obviously noticed it, too. Her keen eyes rarely failed her. “How did it fall from the sconce?”

  George moved closer to the torch, examining its abandoned post on the wall. “The sconce isn’t damaged, so I’m not sure how it could just pop free.” He bent down to retrieve the piece of wood and returned it to its nest. “Maybe someone knocked it down?”

  “And didn’t see fit to return it?” Jax’s elegant nose wrinkled, clearly not satisfied with that scenario. “I know Headmaster Ezarath didn’t display the best tidiness by leaving his dishes on the table at lunch, but I hardly think anyone at the Academy would simply leave a torch on the ground.”

  He knew she was right. Something was amiss. “How close are we to the archives?”

  Jax glanced around the hallway, as if to gather her bearings. “The entrance is down this corridor, to the left.”

  “Stay here, if you please, Duchess.” George could already guess her response.

  She didn’t disappoint him. Hands on her hips, she declared, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m coming with you.”

  With a shake of his head, George started down the hallway in the direction she’d indicated. “At least stay behind me, then.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a smirk envelop her lips. “Of course, Captain.”

  George’s hand rested upon the hilt of his sword as he moved silently down the corridor, his eyes sweeping the area for anything else out of the ordinary. The hallway, save for the fallen torch, appeared undisturbed and empty. He knew from experience that the Praesidio were traditionally stationed outside across the Academy grounds with a smaller squadron posted inside but limited to the main floor. Down here in the belly of the fortress, they were quite alone.

  Moments later, they arrived at a set of gleaming walnut doors, etched with floral designs. The artisanship was worthy of great ducal halls. It seemed unfitting for such beautiful etchings to be buried in the recesses of the Academy.

  Jax raised her hand and knocked on the door. “Master Gautherd? Are you in there?”

  George cocked his head in question.

  “Gautherd has always kept the archives locked,” Jax intuitively explained. “Only he, Ashcroft, and Ezarath have keys. Anyone else wishing to use the archives for research must do so under Gautherd’s watch.”

  With a frown descending on his lips, George reached for the brass handle of the great door. “So, the fact that it’s already unlocked is not a good sign?”

  Jax’s amethyst gaze followed his outstretched finger. “What?”

  “Look at the bolt.” George tapped on the lock, already in the upright position. He knelt in front of the door and examined the keyhole a moment before straightening. “The lock has been tampered with.” The steel of his sword rang out as he drew his weapon. “Go find a member of the Praesidio, Jax. There should be someone posted in the main entrance hall.”

  “And leave you alone?” she snapped. With a deft hand, she extracted a burning torch from a nearby sconce, holding it like a club. “Who knows what’s on the other side of that door?”

  It was futile to convince her to retreat. Whatever awaited on the other side of the door, it was his job to protect her from it.

  “Behind me,” he ordered. Once she complied, George reached for the handle and pushed open the great door.

  For all its weight, it swung silently inward, revealing a small, circular foye
r.

  Jax gasped softly, but George turned and shot her a silencing look, tapping his ear to encourage her to listen.

  An eerie silence greeted them. George could not detect any echoing movement from Master Gautherd shuffling around the cavernous archives.

  “The processing room is toward the back of the hall.” Jax’s words were barely audible. “He’ll be reviewing the Troissaint collection in there before adding it to the main archives.”

  With a nod, George stepped into the sandstone foyer, noting three separate archways opening into various areas of the renowned gallery.

  Jax was right behind him. “The processing room will be off to the left,” she instructed, her lips almost touching his ear. He told himself the heat on his cheeks came from the torch she brandished in her hand, nothing more.

  Together, they crossed the foyer and took a tentative step over the threshold of the archway, the massive archives sprawling out ahead of them. Bookshelves and glass display cases covered the expansive space, standing at attention like a ducal army. A person certainly could get lost down here if they weren’t careful.

  With Jax navigating the way, murmuring whispers to herself as she moved, they hugged the western wall of the room. A full minute passed before Jax gripped George’s bicep in a halting action.

  “The processing room is just up there.”

  Even from twenty feet away, George could tell the door was ajar due to the light spilling into the main chamber. A worrying scenario filled his mind as to what had happened, but he would let his eyes confirm it.

  Closing the distance with his sword at the ready, George pushed the open door further inward to reveal the state of the processing room.

  Before he could fully comprehend the chaos, Jax dashed past him in an instant and knelt beside the crumpled figure sprawled across the stone floor, a pool of blood forming around his head.

  “Virtues! Master Gautherd!” she cried.

  George scanned the room while Jax’s free hand grappled for the elderly man’s wrist. Although it was cluttered with scrolls, paintings, sculptures, and other academic works, no other humans were present, save for the three of them.

  “George, we must send for help.” Jax’s plea snapped his attention to her wide, fearful eyes. “He’s still alive!”

  Chapter Eight

  A faint, but steady heartbeat pulsed beneath her fingertips. It reassured her that the seventy-eight-year-old archivist was not in grave danger from the bloody lump bulging under his crown of white hair. Gautherd’s papery skin was deathly pale, but then, in her youth the old man had always reminded her of a ghost.

  After ensuring the room was clear, George had left her alone with Master Gautherd while he ran to find a member of the Praesidio. Before sprinting off, he pulled a sharp dagger from his boot, trading it for her burning torch.

  “Do not leave this room.” His tone had left no room for protest.

  Unsure what more she could do for the unconscious man, Jax rose from the floor and started to examine the surrounding area for any sign as to what had occurred. She kept George’s dagger tucked in the sash around her waist, the slim blade ready to be set free should danger arise.

  She began skimming some of the pages she had discovered strewn across a worktable that stood not even a foot away from Gautherd’s body. Based on his position on the floor, Jax theorized he had been hunched over the table, working, when he was attacked from behind.

  “V-virtues. Wh-what happened? What am I doing down here?”

  The groggy, confused voice startled Jax. She whirled around, hand at her throat. “Master Gautherd! You’re awake!” She knelt beside the befuddled man, helping him sit up from the cold stone floor. “Please, take it easy,” she urged, worried he would overexert his frail body.

  Gautherd’s amber-eyed gaze narrowed on her before widening with delayed recognition. “Duchess! Wh—how did you get here?”

  She shushed him as he grew more agitated. “Master Gautherd, it appears you’ve been attacked.” She fought to keep his searching hands away from the grisly lump protruding from his skull.

  “Attacked?” He stilled beside her.

  Jax studied the haunted look in his eyes. “Do you remember anything? Anything that happened before waking up on the floor?”

  Gautherd stroked his long, white beard, his brow furrowed in concentration. “All I can recall is that I was in the process of studying the Troissaint collection—” In a sudden display of youthful agility, Gautherd leaped up and rushed to the worktable.

  “No, no, no, no!” he cried as he rifled through the clutter of documents lining the worktable. “Impossible! How can this be?”

  Jax arrived at the frantic elder’s side. “What is it?” she asked, although she had a sinking feeling she knew what had him so upset.

  “The providence documents,” Gautherd hissed. “They’re gone!”

  Jax placed her hand on his elbow to steady his shaking, frail frame. “Master Gautherd, please, you’ll endanger yourself.”

  A clamoring outside the processing room announced George’s expedited return, along with the Lord Praesidio and three of his knights.

  Before Jax could say anything to explain the scene, Master Gautherd rounded his heel and marched toward Ashcroft. “Lord Praesidio, the Academy has been robbed!”

  Ashcroft held up a hand, shushing the agitated archivist. “Master Gautherd, please calm yourself. You must allow Master Yokudran to examine you.” He motioned to a stout figure looming in the shadows behind the guards who Jax had not noticed until now.

  Jax rushed forward. “The master has been hit on the back of the head, likely by whoever stole—” she broke off. Lord Ashcroft knew of the providence documents’ existence, but caution flooded through her as she took in the three knights surrounding him. Who knew where their loyalties really lay?

  She cleared her throat and continued, “—some items from the Troissaint collection.”

  George’s narrowed gaze told her he knew exactly what had been stolen from the processing room, but he, too, kept his lips pressed together in restraint. The Academy was neither her domain nor the Ducal Guard’s, and thus, they would need to defer to the Lord Praesidio on the matter.

  The squat, round man wearing pale yellow healer’s robes waddled forward. “Please,” he announced with the jovial bedside manner so few physicians had these days, “Master Gautherd, allow me to examine your wound.”

  Jax guided the trembling Gautherd to a nearby chair, urging him to sit down and rest.

  “But the documents!” he sputtered.

  Master Yokudran, with whom Jax was not familiar, held a small vial under the archivist’s nose. Gautherd took one whiff and slumped back against the chair.

  “Noctis flower pollen,” Yokudran explained in answer to Jax’s questioning stare. “Only found in a small valley in northern Tandora. I make a special sojourn there every year to collect it. It’s become very useful for conducting surgeries.” Pushing his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose, Yokudran set about examining the back of Master Gautherd’s head. “It’s a good sign that the blood has already dried. That tells me the laceration isn’t too deep. I doubt he’ll even require stitches. I’d say that whoever hit him knew what they were doing.” The healer straightened and turned to face the Lord Praesidio for the remainder of his assessment. “It looks like the attack was only meant to knock the poor man out, Virtues be praised. Master Gautherd’s injury is not life-threatening, but I will urge him to rest for at least a day. Could you perhaps have your men bring him up to the infirmary, where I might keep an eye on him?”

  Ashcroft nodded and snapped his fingers at two of the knights standing behind him. “Please let me know as soon as he wakes, Master Yokudran. I should like to speak with him right away.”

  Yokudran dipped his chin before turning to Jax. “I regret we are meeting under such circumstances, Duchess Saphire, but it is a pleasure to welcome you to the Academy.”

  Jax reached out to shake
the man’s hand as two Praesidio knights went about collecting the unconscious Master Gautherd from his chair. “Thank you for coming so quickly to assist poor Master Gautherd. I hope Headmaster Ezarath wasn’t too put out about having his staff meeting interrupted.”

  Yokudran chuckled. “I didn’t stick around long enough for him to object.”

  After bidding them all a quick goodbye, Yokudran followed Master Gautherd and his escorts out the door.

  Lord Ashcroft turned to his remaining knight. “Send teams of three to search the entire grounds for any signs of an intruder. Get reports from all access points, immediately. I want to be briefed in my office in fifteen minutes.”

  With a salute to his superior, the remaining Praesidio vacated the processing room, leaving Jax and George alone with Ashcroft.

  The strapping warrior eyed them both. “The Duchess of Saphire arrives at our door, and not two hours later, the Academy is burgled.” A smirk twitched on his lips. “It seems you bring trouble everywhere you go, Duchess. At least we don’t have a dead body on our hands.”

  Jax lifted her chin a bit defiantly at the man’s distasteful joke, but remained silent. He had a point. Could her arrival at the Academy somehow be connected to the robbery?

  Lord Ashcroft clasped his hands behind his back and strolled thoughtfully around the room. “These stolen documents…are they valuable? Did Master Gautherd explain to you what they contained, Duchess?”

  Now that they were alone with Lord Ashcroft, Jax felt safe enough to let her guard down. “Master Gautherd said the providence documents have been taken.”

  He halted mid-step, his face drawn with concern. “This is troubling news.” He marched over to the worktable and began examining the various piles of parchment.

  Jax and George joined him at the table.

  “What are the chances Master Gautherd simply misplaced the documents and hit his head by accident?” George asked.