Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Cedric and Nin halted before a door concealed within the shadowy corridor. It opened behind the wall near a golden-framed portrait of the rose gardens below the balcony, and he surveyed the room for any occupants.
No one.
The door slid silently as he closed it behind them, then stepped gingerly over the damask rug into Princess Adelina’s guest quarters. An extinguished chandelier poised above them, the furnace unlit, throwing them into backlit darkness against the moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains.
Princess Adelina and other foreign dignitaries were likely at dinner and spending the evening being entertained by various performers. It would buy them time, but perhaps not enough.
There was never enough.
The ticking of the pocket watch painfully reminded him of that fact—of the consequences, of failure, and one misstep that could hurt the ones he loved if he couldn’t end this plot once and for all.
“You start on this side,” he said, gesturing right, “and I’ll start on that one,” he pointed to the left side of the room.
“What do you suppose we should look for?” Nin whispered, tiptoeing over the wooden parquet floor. “A note?”
“Yes, anything that will prove her correspondence with the assassin—even a pouch of Silent Breath. Whatever you can find.”
Nin nodded and began with a golden chest of drawers near the vanity. Faint notes of vanilla permeated the air, and Cedric spied a crystal bottle of amber liquid sitting innocently amongst the other vials of cosmetics.
It was just as Pierre said.
Cedric investigated a nightstand, opening a drawer and carefully removing items from their place. A few enclosed letters wrapped in black ribbon sat at the bottom, but none bore the raven wax seal.
“Perhaps hiding beyond sight,” he muttered as he checked behind portraits hanging above the mantle.
His fingers slid against the wall for any bumps or cracks that shouldn’t be there.
As he searched, a thought gnawed at the back of his mind, begging for attention from the moment Pierre had confessed his part in this terrible plot.
Why would Princess Adelina use her own seal to mark her messages?
Nin crouched onto her haunches, her fingers tracing the vanity’s base. “Wait,” she breathed. “There’s something here that’s loose.”
Cedric was at her side in three strides, kneeling beside her. She pried up a wooden floor panel with her fingernails, revealing a compartment filled with folded parchment. She plucked one out and presented a silver raven seal on the envelope, her eyes widening.
“Could this be?” she asked.
Before he could respond, the door flew open. Light from the hall spilled into the room and onto his back. He tugged on Nin’s arm too late.
“What is the meaning of all this?”
Princess Adelina stood at the threshold, her white and gold gown shimmering against the moonlight. Every plane on her face hardened into ice.
Cedric shot to his feet. “Your Highness—”
“How dare you rummage through my rooms like thieves?” she snapped, her eyes blazing in the darkness like twin green flames. “Is this how a captain conducts himself? The impudence!”
Cedric stepped in front of Nin, positioning himself between the two women.
Her cap sat slightly askew, revealing a flash of tarnished gold hair.
He fought down his rising panic, forcing himself to concentrate on the princess marching toward them and praying she wouldn’t notice the glimpse of blonde hair beneath Nin’s hat.
Adelina folded her arms across her chest, peering down her nose. “Explain yourself at once, Captain.”
Cedric straightened, refusing to cower before her condescending glare. “We have reason to believe, Princess, that you are in correspondence with a plot to murder Her Highness, Princess Marianne. A servant claimed your seal was on the orders.”
A brief flash of surprise crossed Adelina’s face, quickly followed by a dry, humorless chuckle. “You dare accuse me? Based on what—a claim? Gossip from servants?”
Nin stepped forward, “We found a letter in your room under the floorboards.” She held up the note. “With your seal.”
“You’re tearing up my floor?” Adelina seethed, snatching the letter and opening it. She briefly scanned the contents, her brow furrowing deeper into her skull.
Her eyes narrowed, extending the note out. “That’s not my hand. I would never order someone to do something so terrible to my cousin.”
The air grew heavy and still as he considered her. Her mouth’s slight pull showed disgust, not deceit, and she could not feign the slight tremor down her arm. Rain, slow and steady, pattered against the windows; thunder growled low in the distance.
“Your Highness?”
They all turned to the door where Ambassador Otto Dennhardt kept one pale hand on the golden handle. His eyes flicked across Cedric, the note in Adelina’s hand, and the loose floorboard behind them.
Otto swept in, his calm demeanor stretched over the room like ice sealing water—cold and austere.
“What is happening here?” he asked coolly.
“Explain this,” Adelina demanded, waving the note toward him. “Why is my seal being used to send orders I never gave?”
A muscle twitched in Otto’s jaw as he leveled his gaze at Cedric. “It seems the captain has overstepped.”
“We followed the trail here,” Cedric replied, his tone controlled. “It is within my jurisdiction.”
“In doing so, you risk a scandal. This should be handled discreetly with the king’s seal, should it not?” Otto replied.
Cedric noticed a hint of unease beneath his carefully constructed veneer.
He turned and grabbed another note from the shallow compartment and opened it.
The note instructed Pierre to steal one of Princess Marianne’s bottles of perfume.
The handwriting was rigid and bureaucratic, the flourishes forced rather than natural.
Cedric’s brow furrowed, focusing on the parchment rather than its contents next. It was thinner than paper from the courts and possessed a smoother texture under his thumb. The moonlight glinted off a faint raven watermark.
He had seen that document in embassy correspondence from Ehrenmark’s ambassadors…
Nin leaned in to read over his shoulder. Then she straightened and fixed Otto with a look of pure disdain.
“Maybe start by explaining why this letter with your princess’s seal was hidden beneath the floorboards.”
Cedric stiffened beside her, casting her a warning glance.
Otto smiled, thin and pointed. “How am I to know why Her Highness has sealed notes in her private quarters?”
Cedric turned the note in his direction, pointing at the elegant script. “The writing is too stiff, too practiced. It reads like a directive, not a princess’s hand. This is also embassy paper—the kind used for diplomatic messages.”
Adelina’s head snapped between them. “What!”
“Someone was trying to forge your writing, Your Highness,” Cedric continued. “And only an ambassador would use such paper.”
Otto’s hand flexed by his side as Adelina’s mouth parted.
“The servant who carried the poison said he was instructed to watch Princess Marianne carefully.” Nin added. “That means someone is also watching her guard’s every step.”
“What does that prove?” Otto asked calmly. The diaphanous curtains fluttered, casting shadows over the man’s stony face.
“It’s confirmation,” Cedric said, his fingers tightening over the letter, “that you anticipated where we would search.”
Adelina turned to Otto. “Why would there be notes under my floors, and how would they know to look there?” she demanded. “You told me you’d take care of things, that you would help me.”
“I am helping you,” Otto said, “I told you it would all come together in due time.”
“Help you with what?” Cedric asked.
The ambassador and the princess snapped their attention to him. Adelina’s eyes turned into slits.
“Unlike your sloppy investigation,” she said, sweeping a hand toward her open floorboard. “I sensed my cousin was not herself. Something had changed. I wanted to know the truth. She never deserved Rodrigue—and she certainly didn’t if she was going to act like a fraud.”
Cedric stiffened.
He knew they were watching his every move and every hint of emotion that could give him away. Fortunately, the princess shifted her focus to her ambassador.
“But you also insisted I watch her closely,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“And you did,” Otto agreed mildly. “You listened and pushed exactly when I advised you to.”
“Then why are the allegations pointed at me?” Adelina screeched.
Silence fell.
The pieces fell into place. Adelina’s suspicion. The planted notes. The trail that led only to her—
Never to the man pulling the strings.
“You needed a scapegoat,” he said, fixing Otto with a glare.
The ambassador sighed as though the conversation had grown tedious. “What an indelicate word. Whatever you are accusing me of is too ambiguous for someone of your status, Captain.”
“Then let me speak more plainly,” Cedric said, taking a step forward. Otto didn’t move as Cedric closed the distance between them.
“This paper is proof enough,” he said, dangling the letter between them. “You used Princess Adelina as a pawn to cover your attempt to assassinate Princess Marianne.”
An uneasy hush settled over the room. No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Thunder boomed, rattling the windows.
Otto regarded the letter with little interest before he peered up at Cedric with a faint smirk.
“A pawn?” Otto echoed. “That would imply she wasn’t already in motion.”
Adelina’s breath hitched, and Nin brushed the back of Cedric’s coat as if to steady herself.
“Jealousy is easily malleable. A little lie here… a little lie there…” Otto’s eyes flicked to Adelina.
“You already suspected your cousin. I merely gave it shape.”
Adelina’s hands clenched at her side. “How dare you! You told me I was protecting her!”
Otto's expression turned cold.
“You were protecting your interests,” he said. “Do not pretend otherwise.”
Cedric’s pulse pounded in his ears as he clenched the letter.
“Are you confessing, Ambassador?” Cedric asked, taking a step closer and unsheathing his sword.
The blade gleamed in the silvery moonlight. Its point sharpened toward the ambassador.
“Only to setting up the board,” Otto said, glancing at the sword with an unimpressed frown. “What followed was inevitable.”
Otto reached into his pocket, and Cedric moved too late. The ambassador hurled a small glass vial onto the floor. It shattered, releasing a cloud of acrid gray smoke.