Chapter 32 Jayne
Since we weren’t out to impress, I went casual with jeans, a sweater, and boots. It was mild enough in July, for me anyway, that I didn’t need a coat.
“Morning, your highnesses.” Joshua was waiting for us at the south entrance and once again helped Sin maneuver his boot and crutches into the crawler.
I helped him from the inside as best I could. The crawler smelled delicious. So much so that my stomach rumbled. I hadn’t expected my breakfast of cereal to hold me long, but the scent of vanilla and sugar had gotten my appetite’s attention.
Joshua got behind the wheel. “Where to, folks?”
“Little Reykjavik, but first you have to tell me why the crawler smells so good.”
He laughed, reached across to the seat next to him, then handed a tin back to me. “My missus made these for you.”
I opened the tin and moved the waxed paper out of the way. “Oh, jam thumbprints. I love these. What kind of jam is that?”
“Brisk berry, your highness.”
I was immediately impressed. Brisk berries came from deep inside the polar forest. They were a delicacy for that reason. Few people wanted to brave the potential dangers of the forest, yetis being one of them. “Does she pick them herself?”
“Oh, no. Leif picks them for her whenever he runs across them. He just brought her a new batch the other day.”
“That’s right, you said he was a lumberjack. Wow, these are a real treat. Please tell her I said thank you very much.” I’d send her a thank-you card, too. A lot of people got really tickled by getting official mail from the palace, especially on royal stationery.
“I will,” Joshua said.
I took a cookie and held the tin out to Sin. “Try one.”
He helped himself as I ate mine. The moment the jam touched my tongue, I felt the familiar fizz of the brisk berries. It was almost like having berry-flavored champagne in jam form. There were subtle hints of pear and strawberry, but the brisk berry was really its own flavor.
The buttery cookie was the perfect accompaniment. I swallowed, instantly wanting to eat the entire tin. “Joshua, these are delicious. Your wife outdid herself with these.”
“They really are good,” Sin said. “I’ve never had anything like these in my life.”
Joshua was all smiles. “She’ll be very pleased to hear that.” He turned on the radio, keeping the volume down low, but it was enough to give us privacy if we wanted to talk, and it was his way of signaling that he didn’t expect to be part of the conversation going forward.
He was a really good driver. And not just because his wife had made us cookies.
I leaned closer to Sin, my shoulder touching his, and fished another cookie from the tin. “So are we going to do good cop, bad cop with Serja?”
“I don’t know. We can see how she responds. If she’s not willing to answer questions, or we think she’s lying to us, we may have to play hardball.”
I nodded. “I’m fine with that. We need answers.”
“Yes, we do.” He had a look in his eyes I didn’t like.
“Or what?” I was almost afraid of what he was going to say.
“Or I’m going to the morgue and doing what I have to do.”
I stuffed the last bite of cookie in my mouth to free up my hand so I could grab his arm. “You can’t,” I mumbled through crumbs.
“Sweetheart, I am not going to let our son be in danger. If you think this isn’t going to escalate beyond threatening notes, you’re wrong. Someone out there means to do him harm. I am not going to let that happen. Not when there’s something I can do to stop it.”
As much as I wanted to argue with him, I knew he was right. It made me sad and angry. Sad that he might have to do this and angry at whoever was behind this. All I could do was squeeze his arm and sigh.
He leaned his head against mine. “I know you don’t want me to, but you have to understand I won’t let either of you be hurt. What kind of a husband and father would I be if I didn’t do everything in my power to protect you both?”
“I know,” I whispered. I loved him for who he was, his sense of dedication to us, and his fearlessness, but I wanted him safe as much as he wanted the same for us.
We rode in silence until Joshua turned down Serja’s street. “Almost there,” he said quietly.
I’d expected Little Reykjavik to be more rural, because of the reindeer farms, but maybe those were farther out.
Still, it had a country feel. The houses were spaced apart more than houses in town, with big yards and bigger backyards bordered with trees.
The streets were lined with more trees, holly, cedar, and all kinds of pine.
A lot of the homes had split-rail fences that added a rustic touch. The fences went well with the cedar shingles and slate roofs. Smoke curled up from almost every chimney, and wreaths of greenery adorned the front doors.
It was a cute area with a definitely different vibe than town.
“This is it?” I asked.
Joshua nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned the engine off and got out to help Sin.
I opened the door on my side and stood, studying the house.
It was a big A-frame but not the kind where the roof came all the way down to the ground.
There was enough wall height for windows. I guessed it probably had a loft.
A modest house, not quite the size of the Tinselwicks’.
Sin came around on his crutches. “Ready?”
I nodded.
Joshua headed back to the driver’s seat. “I’ll be here.”
“Thanks,” I said over my shoulder. For some reason I couldn’t name, I didn’t want to go in. It was almost like I was scared of what she was going to say. Or maybe I was scared of what she wasn’t going to say. That her lack of information was going to drive Sin to the morgue.
Only one way to find out.
We walked to the front door. There was no porch over the small landing, just an outcropping of roof the same width. Sin knocked.
The wreath on the door was made of long needled pine, bluish-green and redolent with scent. The door opened.
“Hello. Can I help …” The woman’s words vanished as she looked at me. She curtseyed. “Your highness. What brings you here?”
“Are you Serja Vintorf?”
“I am.”
“Could we talk to you? I’m Princess Jayne Frost, and this is Prince Consort Sinclair Crowe.”
“I know who you are. Of course. Come in.” Her long, faded blue hair was mixed with silvery grays and pulled back with a silk scarf.
There was something in her eyes that seemed kind, for lack of a better word, but also sad.
She was in a denim smock, speckled with paint, and two thin artist’s brushes were stuck through her ponytail just above where it was tied with the scarf.
She wiped her hands on the smock. “I was just painting.”
We stepped inside, the scent of woodsmoke and linseed oil vying for first place. The home’s interior was a mishmash of styles and looked secondhand. Or maybe third. Still, it was homey and neat, if a bit cluttered.
“You’re an artist?” I asked.
She smiled and shook her head. “I paint. It occupies my time. I don’t know that I’d claim to be an artist.” She gestured toward the couch, a bulky thing in nubby blue plaid. It faced the fireplace on the far wall. “Please, have a seat.”
We walked around to sit. A shaggy brown hound with a snowy muzzle was curled near the hearth, soaking up the warmth coming off the embers. If it saw us, it gave no indication. We took our seats.
Among the knickknacks on the mantel that looked like children’s craft projects were several family photographs.
Serja wasn’t in any of them, just two young children.
A boy and a girl. It was hard to say if they were her children or grandchildren or what the relationship was.
They had the hair and ears of winter elves, though.
Serja sat in a rocker near the fireplace. “What can I help you with?”
I glanced at Sin. He gave me a subtle nod. I looked at Serja again. “You’re associated with True North?”
Slight movement in the lines of her forehead but not a big reaction. “I attend their meetings, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I believe that the Winter Throne should be held by a winter elf. I am a proud royalist in that regard.”
Sin tipped his head at the hound. “Beautiful animal. Must be a good companion.”
“He is. Getting up there now but he’s still got some puppy left in him. He goes by Nutty. Short for Nutmeg.”
At the sound of his name, the dog’s ears twitched. That was the most he could be bothered.
Serja smiled at him, the wistful gaze of a person who knew their beloved pet’s time was growing short.
I felt for her, but I had a son to protect. “Do you know Percy Tinselwick?” I asked.
That took the smile off her face and returned her attention to us. “I do. Troubled young man.”
“Why’s that?” Sin asked.
“He’s more than a royalist. He’s a … purist. Doesn’t think the crown should be worn by any but a pureblooded winter elf. It’s not necessary. In fact, it’s shortsighted.”
“You don’t share his views then?” I asked.
She frowned. “No. And if you’re trying to link what happened to Percy’s father to True North, you won’t accomplish it. Percy has been told numerous times that his extreme views won’t be tolerated.”
“He still attends meetings?” I wondered why they’d allow him to if he was making trouble.
“He does, and since he’s been reprimanded, he’s been … upset is a good enough word, I suppose, but he’s quieted down. If he’s gotten wound up again, I can only attribute that to his grief. You have to expect some kind of reaction. The boy’s just lost his father.”
I nodded. “According to his mother, Percy and Delton weren’t getting along very well lately.”
She shrugged like that was no big deal. “I know your first child has only just been born, but you’ll understand in time that parents and children always clash.
It’s a rite of passage for them. A way of finding out who they are and what they stand for.
And, in some cases, where they’ll end up.
Percy and his dad were just going through a stage. ”
I wasn’t sure how she could be so sure about that, but her eyes held a certainty that seemed to speak of experience. I faked a cough. “Could I bother you for a glass of water?”
“Yes, of course.” She got up. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, I got up, pulled my phone out, and snapped a few pictures of the photographs on the mantel, then sat back down. She returned a second later. I ignored Sin’s curious look.
She handed me the glass. I took a long drink. “Thank you. I needed that. Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Delton?”
She took her seat in the rocker, frowning. “Not a clue. I’m not sure why you think I would.”
I sipped the water and let Sin take over.
He sat back. “Your initials were in his planner for the day before he was murdered. Constable Larsen is having his phone records pulled.”
She blinked. “I …” Her words trailed off in a sigh. “It was nothing. I put a call in to him to ask a question about Naming Day. Something one of our members brought up but no one had an answer to. He called me back. That was that.”
Sin looked unconvinced. “What was the question?”
Her eyes narrowed as if trying to remember. “Which was the most-attended Naming Day. Delton said he’d research it.” She glanced down at the dog. “He never answered it.”
And now that Delton was dead, we couldn’t confirm that that was the truth, either.