“What is that supposed to mean?” His tone was biting, heavy with emotion.
She wasn’t entirely sure where her trail of thought was leading her, but she followed it tentatively. “What if it was a plea for forgiveness for ending your brother’s life?”
Perry’s expression showed his disagreement with such a gesture. “What are you talking about?”
George cleared his throat. “It’s a common practice amongst soldiers to lay one’s blade at the feet of the one they serve, to honor them, to honor a deed performed and completed in their name.”
“You’re saying someone killed Philippe in service of my mother? Ivan’s the only one of us who was trained as a soldier. Are you saying he did this?”
Jax’s hand went to her pocket, where two pieces of the puzzle lay nestled, forgotten about until now: the note left outside Sabine’s chambers, and Lady Astrid’s rose-colored handkerchief that had been stuffed in Philippe’s mouth. Perry had seen the note, but she hadn’t taken the time to show him the piece of linen.
Pulling it from her pocket, she held it out to him. “Do you recognize this?”
His shoulders went rigid. “Where did you find that?”
“Do you recognize this, Perry?” she repeated.
“Why, yes.” Color drained his face. “It’s one of Mother’s.”
George folded his arms. “Lenora told Jax this kerchief belonged to Lady Astrid.”
“It’s made from satin, yes?” Perry touched the fabric in Jax’s palm to confirm for himself. “I gave her a set for her thirty-fifth birthday. She always kept one on her person and one in her nightstand. As her lady-in-waiting, Astrid often admired them. Mother eventually presented her with a set of her own, but they were made of silk. The texture is a bit different.” He paused, giving Jax a wary glance. “I’m sorry, I would have told you sooner, but you didn’t tell me the one you found in Philippe’s mouth was satin. I didn’t even think to question how you knew for certain the kerchief belonged to Lady Astrid.”
Cursing internally at her oversight, Jax pressed onward, tasting the solution to the mystery on the tip of her tongue. “Did any of your brothers take your mother’s handkerchiefs as a keepsake after she died?”
He actually laughed. “Goodness, no. Father wouldn’t let any of us touch her things. He kept them locked away…” his voice faded as a disturbing realization hit him. “Father kept her things locked away in this room.”
Jax thought back to the pile of bloodied nightclothes, the note with the twisted words, Destroy these, my Duchess. I did this for you. Sabine had thought Philippe used his pet name for her, leaving Jax to assume one of his brothers wrote it to cover their tracks. But…could it be a plea from a hallucinating man to his dead wife?
George, Perry, and Jax turned their wary gazes to the older man, slouched in his chair by the fire, absently stroking his beard.
Holding a finger to her lips, Jax inched her way over to a small desk in the corner of the sitting room. No one had left the tower during the night, so the culprit must have done all their dirty work from the confines of the royal wing. As she neared the desk, she saw an inkwell and quill, perched atop a torn piece of parchment. Pulling Sabine’s note from the folds of her dress, Jax flattened the scrap, aligning it with the jagged edges of the scarred paper on the Duke’s desk.
A perfect fit.
Chapter Twenty
“Cornelius?” Jax did her best to keep her voice level and calm. “What do you remember from last night?”
Upon hearing his name, the Duke looked up from whatever murky haze he’d been lost in. “Well, I remember going to dinner. It’s odd, my memory is always clearest right before my evening meals.”
“Most likely due to the nightworm,” George guessed. “Your daily dose must be done running its course by the time you eat and ingest it again.”
Cornelius nodded in haphazard agreement. “Yes, well, I remember dinner. I remember I wanted to address the Code of Succession. I believe I did?” He looked to Perry, who bobbed his head. “And then after that, it gets a bit fuzzy. Galahad and Ivan both filled me in on Philippe’s outburst this morning, and I’m vaguely beginning to remember his temper flaring and asking Ivan to lock him away to cool off, but afterward, I think I just went to bed.” A flash of worry consumed his gaze. “Why, Jacqueline?”
How could she say this to her father-in-law, the man who had brought her beloved husband into this world? “Cornelius, did you visit Philippe last night?”
He scoffed. “Of course not!” His indignation dying down, he glanced at her cautiously. “Why would you ask that?”
Jax held out the handkerchief.
The Duke took it with trembling hands, stroking the buttery fabric. “How did you get ahold of this?” His lavender eyes darted to a chest of drawers tucked in the corner of the room, under a beautiful portrait of the adored Duchess Penelope.
“It was found in Philippe’s mouth, likely to muffle his cries,” Jax said, holding her breath.
Turmoil churned in the Duke’s gaze. “But only I have access to Penelope’s things.” Horrified fear forced his voice into a whisper.
“Your Excellency, there have been a few times during my stay here that you’ve addressed me as though you’re speaking to your wife.” Reflecting on the hastily scrawled note, Jax selected her words carefully. “Have you been having visions of her? Have you seen her wandering the halls?”
The Duke struggled to find something to say. “I-I could have sworn she was here,” he finally managed. “Every night, she came to speak with me. She was so ashamed I’d let our family fall into disrepair, ashamed of the man I was letting Philippe become. She berated me, saying neither of us deserved the throne. I p-prayed I was making it all up, because it would hurt too much if it were true. I kept telling everyone else nothing was wrong with me in hopes of convincing myself. But she was so real, Jacqueline.” Tears streamed from his eyes.
With a resigned sigh, George broke the silence. “The nightworm.”
“She wanted to be rid of Philippe.” The Duke was now shaking in his seat. “It was unlike her to be so cruel, but she kept begging me to rid our bloodline of his antics.”
Perry hurried to his father’s side, his eyes reflecting a mix of pity and dread.
Cornelius reached out and pulled his youngest son close. “I kept telling her I couldn’t possibly harm my own blood…but what if I caved to her demands? Perry, you know I could never say no to your mother.” He grasped his son’s arm tightly. “Oh, Virtues, did I kill my own son?” He dissolved into tortuous sobs, burying his face in his hands.
Jax couldn’t bear to watch and turned away from the agony radiating from the man’s broken spirit. While Perry remained at his father’s side, George placed a comforting arm around Jax’s quivering shoulders. “It’s a rather cruel trick of fate that in poisoning his father, Philippe orchestrated his own death,” he said.
Jax met his warm gaze. “But is that what happened? If the Duke can’t remember anything because of the nightworm, will we ever know the truth?”
George sighed. “This isn’t the crystal clear ending you’re used to finding, is it? You have to trust the evidence you’ve uncovered, Duchess.”
Her mind raced through everything their investigation had brought to light. The Duke had access to Ivan’s unlocked room from within the royal tower to get the master key. He had access to the satin handkerchief that had belonged to Perry’s mother. The torn note came from a piece of parchment on his desk. It would be easy to confirm the bloodied nightclothes belonged to him and not one of his sons. The Duke could have sneaked into Philippe’s room before everyone arrived to remove the dagger and later buried it in tribute to his wife. The clues all pointed in one direction.
“How do we handle this?” Jax whispered, her sense of right and wrong at war with one another. “The Duke killed a man who committed treason against him…but without proof and under duress of a hallucinogenic substance.”
George rubbed
at the stubble on his chin. “I’m actually not sure it is up to us to handle it, Jax. We are in a foreign duchy, dealing with a foreign power. I suggest we present what we’ve found and leave the rest up to the Virtues.”
Jax’s gaze rested upon Perry, who still consoled his grieving father. “But this is not just a foreign dignitary, George. This is my family.”
‡
It was the Duke who made the final decision, requesting an audience with his sons, Lenora, and High Courtier Shavon.
Jax, Perry, and George entered the throne room with Cornelius on Jax’s arm, leading him to his silver throne that glistened in the stray sunlight fighting to emerge from the lingering storm clouds. Standing by his side in a show of support, Jax and Perry listened in respectful silence as Cornelius revealed what the investigation into Philippe’s death had exposed. The Duke occasionally asked Jax to clarify her findings, while George allowed each member of the Pettraud brood to examine the evidence.
Perry’s brothers were all understandably shaken upon learning of Philippe’s attempt to unhinge their father’s mind with nightworm.
“He made a point of attending meals regularly with Father,” Kaul said in a daze. “I foolishly thought it was out of affection. He could have been lacing Father’s food right under our noses!”
Galahad’s lip curled. “All for that damned chair.” He glared at the ornate, silver throne on which his father sat.
Cornelius held up a hand and resumed control of the room. “Regardless of Philippe’s actions, someone has his blood on their hands.” Exhaustion gnawed at the poor man’s body, but he continued with his grim retelling of events, laying out the evidence pointing in his direction.
“Father, you can’t possibly believe this!” Ivan cried. “Someone must be framing you.” He glared accusingly at his brothers, as if daring them to come forward.
Duke Pettraud held up a quieting hand. “No, Ivan. While I don’t remember my movements last night, this morning’s events are becoming a bit clearer, as if a heavy veil has been lifted.”
Ivan looked as if he didn’t want to know the answer.
“I vaguely remember the smell of your mother’s favorite flower…” the Duke’s voice came out in a low murmur, “…petals dancing in the wind.”
“The begonias in the garden,” Perry said, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder.
“Where you buried the dagger,” Jax finished.
The Duke nodded. “Perhaps over time, once the effects of this damned nightworm are long gone, I’ll remember more.” He shuddered. “Although, I hope the Virtues take me before that time comes. Despite his treason, Philippe was still my son, and I will never be able to forgive myself for what I have done.”
“But Father,” Galahad growled with fervor, “you were drugged by his own hand. If anything, this is retribution for his crimes.”
Cornelius’s eyes pooled with tears. “Perhaps when you are a father, you will understand that justice is not the defined line you once thought it was when it comes to your own children.”
High Courtier Shavon finally spoke, his expression pious. “How would you like to address this matter, Your Excellency? Should we announce Philippe died by his own hand?”
Jax pursed her lips. While it wasn’t the truth, it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. Philippe’s actions had brought about his own undoing.
Cornelius, though, shook his head. “No, Shavon. I have a different message for you to send out.” He rubbed his temples with a great sigh. “My original intentions to appoint a new heir have not changed. Even before last night’s debacle, I had made up my mind to invoke the Code of Succession. It’s been something I’ve been toying with for many months now. It was unfair to place blame on Jacqueline that she put the idea in my head. I just didn’t know if you all were ready to hear it.”
The five Pettraud brothers present in the throne room stood tall, ready to accept their fate.
“The greatest strength of a leader is the ability to overcome adversity and be able to thrive.” A smile cracked through the Duke’s defeated shell. “One of my sons has done this over and over again in his lifetime, and I believe will continue to do so as he leads Pettraud toward a brighter, better future. By invoking the Code of Succession, I hereby relinquish my throne, effective immediately, and bestow the Duchy of Pettraud to you, Percival.”
The silence in the throne room was so deafening, Jax could hear water cresting against the sides of the Caisleán Cliffs.
“Sorry, what?” Perry’s voice cracked under the strain.
Rising from his throne, Cornelius grasped his son’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. “Perry, I want you to lead Pettraud into this new future your wife envisions. Give our people the freedoms and opportunities they deserve. Let that good, kind heart beating inside your chest guide the way.” He paused, collecting himself before continuing, “Show others the mercy you have shown your own family, who never treated you as fairly as you rightly deserved. Yet, you still came to their aid when it was needed most. These years you’ve been away in Saphire, it made me realize that your spirit, your goodness, your light, was what kept our family together. Without you, we dissolved into our own little worlds, allowing one of our own to be taken by the corruption of the enemy. I’m sorry for the part I played in making your life hard as a child. But it gives me hope that you became such a fine man despite the challenges you faced. It gives me hope you can restore the glory of Pettraud, regardless of the obstacles ahead.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The arrival of twilight tickled their cheeks as starlight shivered overhead. Jax leaned into her husband’s chest, the cool night air unable to break through the shield of warmth his body provided. For a few wordless moments, they stood at the edge of the Caisleán Cliffs, the palace looming up into the inky sky behind them. Six hundred feet below them, the waters of Loch Ionotch rejoiced in stillness, as the endless storm had finally relented and cleared. Stars sparkled in the fathomless reflection, the night sky magically surrounding Jax and Perry.
A sigh escaped her husband, fracturing the serene tranquility. “None of it seems real.”
A smirk tugged at her lips. “What does? The scene before us or the fact you are now Duke Pettraud?” She knew it was wrong to tease him, but after all that had happened in just a few short hours, she needed the release.
He ran a hand through his mess of curls, a silver crown of molded leaves and glinting emeralds now nestled against them. “How am I supposed to govern a duchy? I know next to nothing.”
She turned, encircling her arms around his muscular frame. “I know how overwhelming it all is, especially when you don’t feel prepared or ready—”
“Prepared? Of course I’m not prepared!” Perry’s exasperation got the better of him. “I was never meant to be in this position to begin with. Me? The youngest of seven sons crowned Duke?”
She cupped his chin in her palm, pulling his focus to her amethyst eyes. “Your father chose you because you have always overcome the challenges life has thrown at you and emerged better for it. Being Duke isn’t just about political savviness and economic sense. Those can be taught and mastered over time. There’s something more important a true leader must have. A heart. A good, kind heart. You have that, Perry. I saw the goodness within you the moment we met. Your loyalty and devotion are the only foundation you need right now. The rest will come with time.” She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering. “I will be there to guide you. You don’t have to do this alone. Together, you and I will shepherd our people. We will keep Saphire and Pettraud safe. Together, you and I will change the world.”
His searching lips found hers and everything around them faded away for a time. They were breathless when they parted, the radiant moonlight revealing the flush of desire simmering under their skin.
“I don’t want you to return to Saphire without me,” he murmured into the thick tresses of her hair.
“Your family needs you here, right now, my love. Your people need
you here.” Her lips flitted across his temples. “We will be together soon enough. When all is said and done with the War Council, we will figure out where to make our home.”
Perry pulled his head back. “You mean, you would be willing to leave Saphire and live in Pettraud?”
“Well, I’m not sure I could suffer the gloomy days of clouds and storms, but if each ended like this,” she motioned out over the cliffside, down to the pool of stars below them, “I could possibly find a way to survive.”
He kissed her again, fierce and deep. “I could never ask you to part with your home, Jax. Even though I’m fated to be Pettraud’s Duke, that doesn’t erase everything I told you earlier about feeling a sense of place. Of purpose, yes. I meant it when I took the oath before my family today. I will guide and protect this duchy with all I have within me.” His gaze hardened with resolute commitment before softening once more. “But my home will always be with you, my love, and I know your devotion to Saphire far outweighs any loyalty I’ve ever had in my entire life, save to you and my mother. I couldn’t ask you to give up your home, simply because of this unexpected development. If anything, I will rule Pettraud from the halls of Saphire, with you by my side.”
Jax choked back her emotions, touched by his confession, but also wishing desperately that Cornelius had not pulled her aside after Perry had been sworn in, sharing weighty concerns that could never be repeated.
“Jacqueline, I’m sure my actions don’t come as a surprise to you,” Cornelius had said as he closed the door to his study.
She laughed. “I wish I could. But I was just as stunned as everyone else when Perry’s name came out of your mouth.” She hastily corrected herself. “Don’t get me wrong, I think Perry will become a fine leader in time.”
Cornelius raised a bushy brow. “And why do you think that is?”
Jax paused, her face growing red. Perry was a wonderful, kindhearted soul. The definition of a good and just person. But he didn’t have the stomach for making hard decisions, the patience for weighing all outcomes, or the knowhow of the political arena. At least Darian Fangard had had some experience leading a nation when he took the Cetachi crown…
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