Harrowed Heir

by Sarah E. Burr

  A snap of a twig near a blooming rosebush grabbed his attention, thoughts of denying his attraction to the Crown Princess vanishing the moment she stepped out from the shadows, a beaming smile on her glorious face.

  “You came!” She raced over to him, taking his hands in hers. “I didn’t know whether you would come…whether you would want to.” She chewed on her lower lip, the action igniting fires of desire inside his very soul.

  “Whatever you ask of me, Princess, I will gladly comply. For I am yours, and yours forever to command.”

  George bolted awake, his heart pounding rapidly against his heaving chest. As his dream faded into the nighttime shadows, he rubbed his temples. At first, he had thought the dream was merely the re-creation of a memory from long ago, awakened by the familiar surroundings of the Academy. But then it had taken a sudden turn. He had never made such a declaration to Jax, as much as he had wanted to.

  Wiping sleep from his eyes, he straightened, his muddled thoughts vanishing with sudden panic as he realized he wasn’t in bed but at his post. What had he been doing asleep? He glanced across at Ziri’s chair, only to find her still slumped over in slumber.

  Anger raged through him. How could they both fall asleep while protecting Jax? What had he been thinking, allowing himself to be lulled into such a sense of peace and security when there was a dangerous thief among them?

  George rose, readying himself to shake Ziri from her dreams when he noticed a copper goblet at the foot of his chair. He remembered Lady Carriena bringing them out a pitcher of water with two glasses, to quench his and Ziri’s thirst during their nighttime watch. He and Ziri had gladly accepted the drink, and they’d nursed the refreshment in companionable silence, alert and focused on the task at hand.

  George reached for the knocked-over goblet, a frown growing deeper into his face. He didn’t even remember finishing the last of his water.

  He studied Ziri more carefully and found her goblet to be leaking out on the floor, too. Suspicion unfurled in his chest. In a swift movement, he brought the goblet to his nose and sniffed.

  Damn it all. He growled, the sound reverberating in his throat. He’d know that sugary scent anywhere. Nightswallow residue.

  George tossed his goblet onto the cushion on his chair. If the effects of the nightswallow were only just wearing off on him, poor Ziri would be out at least another ten minutes, given her smaller stature and lithe form. Plenty of time for him to figure out why Carriena had tainted their water. As a joke? Or had it been something more sinister?

  With hurried strides, George arrived at the door to Jax’s suite within seconds. He pressed his ear against the wood, listening for any movement or noise on the other side. He was met with only silence.

  Not bothering to knock, for he felt Jax and Carriena had forfeited their right to privacy, George pushed on the latch and barged into the room.

  Pillows lay sprawled by the crackling fire, the embers beginning to suck the life from the twisting flames. George’s gaze darted around the suite, his fear doubling with every breath. She’s not here.

  Back in the hallway, George tiptoed to Perry’s door to check on the ailing Duke. Was he somehow a part of the scheme? He had his answer soon enough.

  From the doorway, George spied Perry’s dark curls splayed across his pillow from his bed in the rear of the room. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, which brought a wave of relief to George’s heart. After seeing how ghastly Perry looked this afternoon, George worried something more menacing than his injuries might have its claws in Perry, but it seemed all the Duke needed was a bit of respite after his travel.

  George quietly closed Perry’s door and surveyed the hall. Where could Jax and Carriena have gone?

  At that moment he noticed one of the torches had been snuffed out toward the opposite end of the corridor. Odd. George stroked the stubble on his chin as he moved closer to the darkened sconce.

  His eyes widened as he neared. The torch hadn’t gone out; it had been removed! He glanced down the hallway at Jax’s door. Why take this one and not the torch right outside her room?

  The answer hit him like a burst of lightning. The hidden stairwell! Mentally summoning the layout of the Academy’s labyrinth of secret passages, George remembered that one of them connected directly to Jax’s dormitory. She’d used it more than once to sneak out to meet him in the gardens, and no doubt, she’d used it for other purposes, as well.

  George doubted that Jax and Carriena had lulled him and Ziri to sleep simply take a nighttime stroll. No, they were up to something more dangerous and underhanded…something Jax knew he would not approve of.

  It took him several moments to find the brick that popped loose the hidden door, but eventually, a dark staircase appeared before him. Grabbing the burning torch opposite the one Jax and Carriena had taken, George darted into the passage, leaving the door open behind him, in case Ziri should awaken and want to trace his steps.

  He descended the steps two at a time, trying to figure out where Carriena and Jax might have gone. He needn’t have wasted his time. On the first-floor landing, he found a smoldering torch. Kneeling, he fingered the chunk of burnt fabric that must have been used to smother the flames. Virtues! His cheeks burned once he realized what type of garment it had once belonged to. Either Jax or Carriena had used their petticoat to complete the task. He dropped the singed fabric to the floor, feeling as if it might sear off his fingertips.

  Great, so now I have a Duchess on the loose in the Academy, possibly without any underclothes. The exaggerated thought both mortified and amused him. With Jax, there was never a dull moment.

  Keeping his own torch lit, George found the door latch and scrambled out of the secret passage. He adjusted quickly to his surroundings, noting he was somewhere near the headmaster’s office, at least he was if he remembered correctly. What in the Virtues brought them down here?

  Up ahead, he heard the unmistakable, albeit muffled cry of a woman.

  Urgency whipped at his heels as he sprinted down the hallway, toward the sliver of light seeping out onto the carpet from a slightly open door.

  As he neared, the muffled noise inside the room became more distinct.

  “What do we do now?” a familiar voice hissed.

  George barged in, his right hand already reaching for his sword.

  A grim-faced Jax and a tearful Carriena jumped back from a large desk situated in the corner.

  George scanned the area quickly. This was the headmaster’s private office.

  “George!”

  The relief in Jax’s voice made his anger subside, but only minimally. He met her strained gaze with a fearsome glare. He wanted to berate her right then and there, but the lifeless eyes of Headmaster Ezarath forced his concern to be directed elsewhere.

  “What happened?” With three strides, he was at Jax’s side.

  Her entire body trembled, but she kept her words calm. “Carriena and I came down here to see if we could sneak a peek at the letters Ezarath received during dinner. We…we found him like this.”

  Carriena dissolved into muted whimpers. “Who could have done such a thing? The headmaster…he was a good man.”

  Jax moved toward her friend and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, but her hardened gaze never left George’s. “I’m no physician, but I believe he’s been dead at least an hour.”

  George nodded and moved close to the body, placing three fingers on the headmaster’s bloodied neck. A shiver ran through him, and not from Ezarath’s papery skin. “I agree.” He searched for a clock around the room, finding one over the fireplace. “That puts time of death any time between eight and ten, I suspect. Perhaps Master Yokudran could confirm.”

  Having left Carriena’s side, Jax reached for his forearm. “Do you think it wise to involve him?” She bit her lower lip as it quivered. “This puts everything into a new light.”

  George assessed the dead man before them. “The theft of the documents, you mean?”

 
; “I think someone killed Ezarath because he was getting close to identifying the culprit.”

  George arched an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  “Everyone at dinner saw Ezarath receive those two letters. I was too caught up in trying to see who they were from to notice whether anyone else at the table recognized the wax seals.” A shrewd look enveloped Jax’s face. “If we’re right, and Ezarath had written to check on the references of the new hires, then maybe one of them panicked upon seeing Ezarath receive a response.”

  George did a quick scan of the headmaster’s workspace. “Did you find the letters?”

  Jax shrugged. “We haven’t really had time to look. We only just found him like this when you burst in.”

  George massaged his temples with one hand. “Lord Ashcroft must be notified immediately. It could be a diplomatic disaster if we conceal the headmaster’s death to suit our own ends.”

  “I-I’ll go find him.” Carriena shivered. She clearly did not relish being in the presence of a dead man.

  “I shall find him for you, Captain.”

  George and Jax whirled toward the door where Ziri stood, noiselessly flipping her twin daggers in her hands.

  He gave her a tight grin. “I’m glad to see you up and about.”

  Ziri’s gaze focused on Jax and Carriena. “Yes, apologies. I usually do not require so much beauty sleep.”

  Carriena cleared her throat. “Before either of you bite Jax’s head off, she had no idea I laced your water with nightswallow.”

  “And yet, she left us drugged and defenseless with a cunning thief on the loose.” Ziri slid her blades into the scabbards that hung from her slender waist. “I thought you cared more about us common-born, Duquessa, than to leave us to the wolves.”

  In the torchlight’s shifting shadows, George saw Jax’s cheeks flush crimson in unbridled horror. A smile twitched on his lips, as he couldn’t help but feel she deserved the shame Ziri’s covert teasing brought forth.

  “I-I,” Jax stuttered, at a rare loss for words. “I…”

  Ziri waved a hand aside. “Please, Duquessa. I only jest.”

  Jax still looked as if she had taken the barbed words to heart.

  “Now,” Ziri continued, “Where might I find the Lord Praesidio at this hour?”

  After informing Ziri that the easiest way to alert Lord Ashcroft would be to raise the alarm outside the professors’ wing where Praesidio would be stationed in full force, George turned to the two chastened women next to him. “We have precious little time before Ashcroft arrives. Now, what are we looking for?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  George’s warm chocolate gaze quelled the rising storm inside Jax. “Let’s see if we can find anything with Vyanti’s seal, since we know for certain that Ezarath received a note from him this evening.” She sprang into action, rummaging through the drawers in Ezarath’s desk, careful to steer clear of the poor man’s body.

  “Or anything that mentions Lotus, Nightingale, or Yokudran.” Carriena wiped the remaining tears from her lilac eyes.

  George took one of the worktables in the far corner, while Carriena began leafing through documents on a nearby chair.

  Minutes passed without any success. Jax straightened the blank pages of parchment on the headmaster’s desk, hoping it looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed by her hand. Her gaze trailed around the room, trying to figure out where the letters could be.

  She paused, her attention hovering near the roaring fireplace. If Ezarath had been dead for at least an hour, why was the fireplace still crackling with vibrant life? She wandered closer to the grate. Had the headmaster fed it shortly before his death? Had his killer?

  Kneeling on the floor, the heat caressing her cheeks, Jax scanned the hearth, her hopes both rising and falling simultaneously. “I found something!” With deft fingers, she reached for a scrap of paper sticking out from a cool pile of ash, away from the heart of the blaze.

  She examined the torn corner of a piece of parchment, her heart dropping at finding nothing written on the page.

  “It’s a piece of paper.” George raised a dubious brow when he reached her side.

  Carriena, however, stifled a gasp. “Virtues! You think whoever killed Ezarath burned the letters?”

  As Jax nodded, George cleared his throat. “Mind explaining how you both arrived at that conclusion so quickly from just a torn scrap of paper?”

  Carriena snorted. “Have you taken a look at this office? Ezarath would never throw anything away, nor would he ever feed a fire with anything other than wood. It’s all history in the making to him, even silly lists or scribbles.” Her face softened with sorrow as she glanced over to the body keeping them silent company. “No. Ezarath wouldn’t have burned a piece of paper for any reason. He would have preserved it.”

  “So, we can assume his killer did this.” Jax slipped the torn slip of parchment into the pocket of her dress with a frustrated growl. “And now we’ll never know who penned the other letter Ezarath received.”

  Before George or Carriena could say anything further, Lord Ashcroft Carthington stormed into the room, Ziri trailing behind him.

  “Tell me this is some cruel joke, Solomon. I mean—” Ashcroft’s words died in his throat as his astonished gaze fell on the slumped body of Gregorio Ezarath. “Virtues, no.” He visibly stumbled, the shock of seeing his mentor, dead, overpowering him for a moment.

  Jax rushed to the Lord Praesidio’s side. “Dear Ashcroft, I am so sorry for the Academy’s loss.”

  Ashcroft stiffened under her sympathetic touch. “What happened here?” His eyes narrowed. “What were you all doing in his office at this time of night?”

  Carriena spoke up. “I forgot something in the billiard room earlier tonight, and given the state of things, Jax offered her delegation’s protection to come help me fetch it. We spotted the firelight coming out from under Ezarath’s office door and figured he’d changed his mind about going to bed early. I suggested we stop by to say goodnight.”

  As Lord Ashcroft’s gaze traveled around the room, Jax, George, and Ziri remained impassive, trying not to react to Carriena’s bald-faced lie.

  “We found him like this when we entered,” Carriena concluded. She swallowed visibly, her emotions getting the better of her.

  Jax felt for her friend. Carriena had clearly forged a deep bond with the headmaster since she’d joined the ranks of the Academy’s teachers. Ezarath had given Carriena a chance to follow her passions when few would.

  With a steeling breath, Ashcroft approached the desk, motioning George to bring the torchlight over.

  Since they had not spent much time examining the body itself, Jax edged closer, eager to hear the Lord Praesidio’s assessment.

  Ashcroft examined the hilt protruding from Ezarath’s neck.

  “Does the blade look familiar to you?” Jax asked.

  To her surprise, Ashcroft elicited a soft chuckle. “Indeed. It’s Ezarath’s letter opener.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and extracted the weapon from the headmaster’s neck. “I’m surprised it doesn’t look familiar to you, Duchess.”

  Jax raised a hand to cover her mouth at seeing the full length of the instrument.

  “It was one of his prized possessions,” Ashcroft continued.

  “A gift from my father.” Jax realized she was whispering, probably out of reverence. “He gave it to the headmaster as a thank-you for taking such good care of me while I attended school here.” A wave of sadness washed over her as the reality of Ezarath’s death finally began to sink in. He had been a good man, good to her. He had encouraged her curious mind while she lived under his roof, never treating her with gloved hands because of her bloodline. He rewarded her for her quick thinking and clever mind, building her self-confidence and worth. She was more than a pretty face, a figurehead to be revered. She was a person with good ideas and the strength to see them come to fruition. A tear escaped her stony façade. The realm had lost a decent and righte
ous man.

  “Based on our brief assessment,” George said, breaking the veil of sorrow that had settled over the room, “we think he has been dead for at least an hour. Quite possibly more.”

  Ashcroft touched Ezarath’s wrist, searching for confirmation. “I’m inclined to agree.” He sighed. “I thought he went up to his chambers after checking on Master Gautherd down in the archives. I must question the Praesidio, to see if any of my men caught sight of the headmaster moving about the fortress during the night.”

  Jax cleared her throat. “I think we also need to alert the other professors and question them.”

  Ashcroft’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “You believe one of them killed the headmaster?”

  “Who else could it be?” Jax frowned at the Lord Praesidio’s disbelief. Perhaps he was still too shocked by the death of his friend to be thinking clearly. “Unless you really believe there could be an intruder still lurking somewhere in the fortress.”

  Ashcroft bristled at the condescension in her voice. “No, of course not, Duchess. You think this is the work of Master Gautherd’s assailant?” His gaze darkened. “It’s quite the leap to go from thief to murderer.”

  “Indeed.” Jax clasped her hands in front of her. She recalled a statement Master Yokudran had made after examining Gautherd’s wound. The healer had deduced that Gautherd’s attacker had not intended for the blow to kill the old man. Was Yokudran wrong? Was the archivist simply lucky to be alive? “Whoever is behind this, we’re dealing with a devious criminal. Sneaking past the Praesidio guarding the professors’ wing is no easy feat.”

  Ashcroft’s face paled with humiliation. “I’ll go wake the professors and escort them to the grand study. Once I’ve conferred with the Praesidio, I’ll begin questioning the professors.”

  Jax nodded in satisfaction.

  “What about the headmaster?” Carriena dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “What should we do with his body?”