Chapter 10 #2
“No, she’s not,” Gris snipped. “Did you see her hand or the wounds in Freville’s body? She couldn’t have had the strength to do that much damage. We also didn’t find a single weapon.”
Theo eyed Gris but still refused to step in. Her logic seemed reasonable.
“What makes you say this, Sergeant Salter?” Theo’s father asked, giving her the floor.
“She has a broken hand, and there were squirms in the body. I assessed it when we returned, and parts of it were covered in them. He had to have been dead at least a day for them to gather.”
“But the body hadn’t been touched by a scourge or other ravenous creatures,” Bennet cut in. “It was a fresh killing.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Gris said through gritted teeth.
“Quiet,” Theo’s father shouted. “A heinous crime has been committed on Fastrada land, and the one responsible will pay the consequences.”
“Randolf, I request to interrogate her for information. We need to learn what she knows regarding these disappearances,” Bennet said.
Theo’s attention snapped to Bennet. To keep the laws of morality, the law didn’t allow for torture unless the accused was, without a doubt, conspiring against the kingdom or in extreme cases.
If his father granted an interrogation, Bennet would drag Theo along with him. Gris’s wife, Sephardi, was their usual interrogator, having performed many during the war with Theo at her side, but he hadn’t checked if she’d returned yet.
Theo’s hand grasped the hilt of his dagger.
During the war, he’d been taught to break someone to pieces but never how to pick up his humanity afterwards.
Sephardi had told him to remind himself why they interrogated, for their safety, the people they loved, but Theo didn’t think he’d be able to do it, to hear Amaris’s screams as he pried information from her.
His father inhaled deeply, taking in both Gris’s and Bennet’s outbursts. Theo pulled himself from his daunting thoughts and watched Gris as she sent her eyes flaring at Bennet.
“We can’t interrogate her nor keep her locked in a cell without sufficient evidence,” Theo blurted out, ignoring Bennet’s heated glare as he faced his father. There was a subtle raise of his brow, and Theo knew his father wasn’t pleased.
“I have every right to protect my people,” his father began. “What other evidence do we have against the woman?”
Theo gripped the small strands of his hair tickling the nape of his neck. They had nothing. It was hard, either way, to pin the murder on her or absolve her completely from any wrongdoing. She’d taken his dagger and aimed it at him.
“What we’ve presented is enough—”
“Bennet, we’ll hold off any interrogations for now. I wish to have an audience with her before I make a decision.”
“But, Randolf—” Bennet began.
“You’re dismissed,” his father said, waving his hand toward the door.
Never once had Theo seen his father dismiss Bennet in such a manner. Bennet stormed from the room with Gerard in tow, and it slammed with a thunderous jolt.
His father reclined back, resting his hands upon his abdomen. A simple position one would believe to be of respect or informal, but with him, nothing was without power.
“Sergeant Salter, is there anything else you wish to tell me regarding the situation?”
Gris opened her lips but paused. Her finger coiled the end of her hair, but she shook her head.
“Then you’re dismissed as well.”
Gris retreated from the study, but not before Theo spotted the tightening of her jaw and clenching of her fists. It seemed neither of them could feel a moment of resolve in his presence.
His father relinquished the safety of his desk to take a casual stance by the window.
Almost every room had expansive windows lining the walls to allow the natural light to bathe the room in brightness, but not here.
A single window centered in the wall was all the study held.
All the dukes before his father shared the office, and Theo always wondered why such a small view of the bay was taken for the prize office of the leader of Luana.
His father slid off his pristine frock coat, the golden buttons reflecting the sunlight.
Underneath he wore a matching brown waistcoat.
He was always a man to dress well—being the duke brought that out in him.
His shoes were always shined, not by him of course, and his hair was never tousled like Theo’s but slicked back with a leather tie.
“How are you?”
Theo’s shoulders released their tension, having prepared for the snapping of his tongue, but that might have been far worse. “I’m well.” Theo shifted in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. A simple lie, but he saw no reason to be spilling what haunted his thoughts or had his head pounding.
His father’s gaze remained fixed out the window, but it was beyond Theo’s comprehension what he was even staring at. The charged atmosphere between them was more enticing than anything outside that window.
“We have yet to discuss your time overseas, but I was kept updated throughout the war. It devastated all of us to hear you went missing after your first several seasons of service.”
Theo forced his mind shut to the vivid images attempting to leak through.
Maybe it devastated Adelaide, Jeremiah, or even Genevieve, but Theo doubted his father would’ve shed a tear for anyone.
Theo had been avoiding him since he’d returned home, and then the issues in Duncaster further pushed their discussion of the war.
“I don’t see that as a pressing matter,” Theo said. “More important things are worth discussing.”
“Lord Freville’s murder.”
“I presume Bennet explained our situation?” Theo asked.
His father relinquished his attention from the bay beyond the window and offered a single nod.
“When the sailors in Duncaster discovered I was a soldier, they despised the idea of our presence. Then the fight broke out, and some of them got away on their ship. They spoke Tendasy. It can’t be a coincidence that the city is struggling, and we discover an enemy ship within our docks.”
“It’s not uncommon to find Tendasy speakers outside of a tutoring session.” His father returned to his desk.
“If their language isn’t incriminating, the pistol aimed at my head was surely enough.”
His father’s even breaths faltered, but he resumed the steady cadence of an old man’s breath.
“They can’t be the only ship coming to Duncaster’s port. If it were, that would be some luck we had,” Theo began. “No, I believe these disappearances are due to slavers.”
“Theodoric—”
“Think about it, Father. First, it’s beggars and poor boys, who might not be missed—”
“What about Philip Veduco and Lord Freville? I doubt slavers would kill their cargo.”
Theo still felt the unease at the lack of respect given to the common people, but he wanted his father on his side and would play his game.
“Phillip Veduco is still missing, but what if Lord Freville’s death was completely unrelated?
He was known for his gambling debts. We must also focus our efforts on the other missing tenants, not only Lord Freville.
I fear, with the vulnerabilities from the war, slavers have begun infiltrating our cities. ”
“What about these traders who spoke Tendasy? What was their cargo?”
“We checked their manifest they left with the clerk but didn’t have the opportunity to search their ship.
They were spice traders, and their papers said they were from the Vukubua Islands, but they could easily forge their documentation.
” Theo dragged his hand down his face, feeling exhaustion settling in his bones and the steady beating against his skull.
“What of this woman you found in the woods? Does she reside in Godwin?”
Theo forced himself to sit taller in his chair.
He would get one chance to speak his thoughts on the matter, even though they still jumbled around and switched sides with each passing heartbeat.
“The woman we found speaks Akaric well, but I don’t recognize her accent.
Her allegiances are unknown, but she said she was from Gainesville. ”
His father tested the word, playing with the way it slipped off his tongue. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Neither have I. She could be deranged for all we know or traumatized.”
“Traumatized?”
“As Gris had said, Freville had been killed long before we found her, but with the state of her injuries, she was in an attack.”
“If she’s injured, is it possible she obtained these from the assault? What are the state of her injuries?”
“An injured hand and scrapes across her body, but what has me questioning is how she injured it. She punched a mirror, and I found shards of it still embedded in her skin.”
A silence settled over them as they both thought over what Theo set before his father. The tick of the clock behind Theo grew louder, and his heart beat to each strike of its hand.
“Do you believe her to be dangerous?”
After what Theo experienced during the war, he believed anyone had the capability to be dangerous, but something still didn’t sit well with him regarding Amaris or their entire situation. Isabel again passed through his head and her words. Aslorn per de eclahard.
“I don’t know what I believe of her.” Theo leaned back and slid his hand through his hair.
“Where did you get that?”
Theo hesitated before re-covering the gash on his forehead. “It’s nothing.” He wanted to ignore his father’s momentary attempt to be a decent father for once in his miserable life.
His father leaned back and smoothed down his beard as he sighed. “I want to keep this woman close. Regardless of whether she is to be incriminated as Lord Freville’s murderer or not, she might have insight into these nefarious deeds plaguing Duncaster.”
“Do you intend to keep her in the dungeons until her identity is irrefutable?”
“I’m not sure what her fate will be. I will assess after I’ve spoken with her myself.”
Theo released a breath, but it was immediately sucked back in as the door was thrown open. Theo stood and spun on his heels, his hand ready on his sword.
“You may drop the theatrics. It’s only me,” Luther said, waving his hand toward Theo’s weapon.
His older brother had a knack for intruding in others’ conversations. He was the closest resemblance to their father out of the Fastrada children, showing the predominant features of light-brown hair and dark eyes. His hair was even pulled back like their father’s.
“What are you doing here?” Theo asked, dropping his tense stance. He’d shifted himself in front of his father, but even as he settled on the corner of his father’s desk, his heart still pounded.
Luther was finely dressed, straightening his brown shirt, pressed free of wrinkles, and fussing with his golden waistcoat, embroidered with vines. He always preferred attire to make a statement rather than for function.
“I hear you’ve returned from your extended journey with a murderer,” Luther answered, his lips drawing into a grin. “I would much like to meet him.”
“Her,” Theo corrected, refraining from snapping as he dug his fingers into the fabric of his trousers, attempting to calm his quick pulse.
“Excuse me?” Luther responded in his pompous voice.
“The alleged murderer is a woman.”
“Alleged?” Luther tapped his long, pale finger against his chin. “Interesting, that isn’t what I heard Gerard and Bennet grumbling about.”
“Enough,” their father barked. “We’ve already been over this. Theodoric, see to your duties. Luther, we have business to discuss.”
Luther flashed his smirk at Theo, his dark-brown eyes matching their father’s in every way possible. It was only fitting Luther was to assume their father’s title. It suited his arrogant ass.
Theo nodded his head to both before making a hasty exit into the hall. The door closed behind him, but his feet were like Ms. Borstad’s evening stew, threatening to puddle beneath him as his heart continued to speed. He settled into a small alcove, hiding behind one of those ugly curtains.
His hand brushed the pommel of his sword. He was in his own home. He was safe. He slammed a hand over the talons threatening to claw at the edge of his mind. Kedes waited for him. He evaded him not once, but twice.
Theo opened his eyes and trained them across the wall.
He stared at the grout between the stones, tracing it along the wall.
His breaths came in short pants as he pushed the memory away.
In all the books he’d read, the hymns his mother had sung, all of them had one conclusion.
No one had ever lived after crossing a god.