Chapter 14
Even though Darcy still held my hand and I stood only a step away, when he ordered everyone about with a natural ease and confidence, I could feel the gap growing between us. Him, the fae crown prince, and me, an outcast from a small town. Could our lives be any more different?
“You ready to go?” Darcy’s question jarred me from my thoughts.
“Oh, sure.” I slid into the backseat after him, letting someone else drive while we rode in silence.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said after a few minutes.
“Just thinking about you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“And how you must love chess.”
“Because…?”
“Everyone is in position and does what they're told.” My thoughts flashed to the men who jumped to do his bidding.
“People are far less predictable than chess pieces—you saw that today when the plan went awry. It’s their strength and their weakness.”
“And are you still the type who only plays when victory is certain?”
He met my gaze. “I’m learning that some battles are worth losing.”
I flushed and turned to stare out the window.
We passed a few fall decorations as we drove through town, a pumpkin on a doorstep here and a scarecrow in a yard there.
The sun was slipping over the horizon as we made it to Netherfield Park, outlining it in a fiery glow that set the russet-colored trees near the house ablaze.
Charles and his men unloaded the captured fae and carried him, struggling, into the house while Jane, Darcy, and I watched. Relief went through me as I stood there. Finally, we’d captured the killer and could wrap up this mystery.
“Is Caroline home?” I asked Charles as he came over.
He looked at his phone. “Looks like she and Louisa are out.”
So we were stuck with our glamours a little while longer.
The four of us walked into the house, and Darcy led the way across the polished oak foyer and down a narrow hall I hadn’t been in before. My nose tingled with the threat of a sneeze. It seemed to do that a lot in Netherfield.
“I’m sorry that you have to join me for the interrogation, Elizabeth, but don’t feel like you have to as well, Jane,” Darcy said.
Jane bit her lip, so I helped give her a nudge. She hated confrontation, and an interrogation was as close to that as we could get.
“I’m sure we could all use a good cup of tea when we’re done,” I said, ignoring the fact that the Bingleys probably had staff around Netherfield who usually took care of such things.
Her eyes lit up. “Great idea. I wanted to try the maple pumpkin spice tea I saw last night. I’ll get some ready, and maybe I’ll take a walk in the garden while it steeps.”
“That sounds great.” I smiled at her. She loved the outdoors.
“I’ll escort you to the kitchen and then join the others.” Charles held out his arm for Jane, and the pair walked off.
Darcy led me into a study bathed with soft lighting and dark earthen tones. Bookcases lined three walls, and a few leather armchairs huddled around a fireplace. With a snap of his fingers, Darcy started a fire, and the cheerful crackle filled the room.
“Now what?” I glanced at a plate that held the remains of a scone and the dregs of a mug of tea.
“Now, we remove ourselves from sight so Charles and the men can do their jobs.” Darcy pushed on a bookcase, and a portion of the wall swung inward.
My mouth fell open, but I followed him inside. The passage continued behind us, but Darcy turned to face the study we’d left.
“I found this passage when we came to the house, although it’s my first time finding a use for it.
” Darcy pressed a lever, and the opening swung shut again, encasing us in darkness except for a few slats of light that snuck through an opening on the bookshelf.
It was a peephole. I shifted to stand in front of it and peer into the room.
Darcy stepped closer, looking over my shoulder.
The darkness amplified my awareness of him, making the already miniscule distance between us feel nonexistent. I was intensely aware of each of his breaths, as soft as a whisper against my ear, and the warmth emanating from him.
The door to the study opened again, and a man wearing the dark clothes that seemed to be the uniforms for Darcy’s bodyguards walked in with the fae captive. The guard pushed the fae into an armchair near a reading table, then placed a file on it.
“Why isn’t he restrained?” I whispered.
“His magic is temporarily sealed, thanks to one of the guard’s specialties,” Darcy said.
“What do you want?” the fae growled, his usual scowl in place.
The guard pulled a photo of Easton from the file and put it on the reading table. “Do you recognize this man?”
The captive’s expression tightened, and his fists balled on the table. The fire snapped loudly in the background, as if giving the answer that the man refused to say.
Darcy leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “You were right.”
My pulse quickened, and I fought the urge to lean into Darcy by focusing on the captured fae. He was connected to Easton, but why was there something like regret in his eyes?
The guard pulled out another photo, this time of Darcy. “And do you recognize him?”
The fae went still, eyes narrowed into furious slits. “Of course I do.”
Behind me, Darcy stiffened. His free hand brushed my waist as he raised it to put it on the wall in front of us, leaning over my shoulder to study the man.
This close, Darcy’s forest and cardamom scent overpowered the stale air.
“What do you want with him?” the guard asked.
Silence.
“Why were you following him today?”
More silence, although the man’s clenched jaw grew more pronounced with each question.
The guard paced the room, his gaze occasionally darting to our hidden spot. He clearly knew we were here.
After a few more fruitless questions, I whispered, “Let me try.” I turned around, forgetting how close Darcy and I stood, and my lips brushed against his scruffy cheek. I stumbled back.
Darcy’s hand dropped to my waist to steady me. “It’s too dangerous.”
Being in here with him was much more dangerous.
I sucked in an unsteady breath and met his gaze. “What’s dangerous about it? He’s restrained, you’ll be in there with me, and he can’t recognize us like this.”
Darcy sighed. “Are you always this stubborn?”
I smiled. “Kettle, meet cauldron.”
Not even the darkness could fully hide the glint of his exasperated smile. “Fine, but I’m—”
“Coming with me.” I held up our hands with a teasing smile. “I know. But before we go in, I need to get something from your room.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He led me a short way down the secret passage, then pulled another lever that released us into the hall.
Trying to get my bearings, I turned toward Darcy’s room.
He pulled on my hand. “Not that way.”
“Oh?” I glanced down the hall. Usually, I had a pretty good sense of direction.
“The house rearranges itself sometimes,” Darcy said. “There’s magic in the foundation.”
I should have guessed. That explained why my nose always itched here.
Darcy led me to his room, and I rifled through my messenger bag, pulling out clothes and toiletries. I rummaged through an outer pocket, discarding pieces of gum and bobby pins.
“Found it.” I smiled and wrapped my hand around a pen.
“Found what?” Darcy narrowed his eyes.
“You’ll see.” I snagged a few pieces of paper from Darcy’s desk and returned to the study. I stopped outside the door and took a deep breath before letting go of Darcy’s hand to enter the room. We couldn’t be far from each other, but walking in like some lovesick couple wouldn’t help.
A woman wearing the same dark clothing as the other bodyguards stood in the corner.
I laid a piece of paper and the pen on the table and casually rested my other hand on my hip to keep it near Darcy, unobtrusively studying the man.
His jaw was tight and covered by a faint scruff that didn’t entirely hide his cleft chin, and his forearms were flexed as if still subtly resisting whatever magic held him captive.
The first man had spent most of his questions trying to get the fae to open up about Easton, Darcy, and their group. Since that hadn’t worked, I’d take a different route.
“Some people here think you killed someone,” I said.
The man stiffened and met my eyes, then relaxed again. But it was clearly for show because despite the way he leaned back against his chair, it was impossible to miss the tension in his shoulders or the fury sparking in his gaze. “I haven’t.”
“If you want to prove them wrong, I need you to agree to answer a few questions.” I kept my expression even and worded everything carefully.
As long as the man agreed to an interview and picked up the pen, the potion would compel him to answer my next five questions truthfully—the pen’s version of a time limit.
“Why should I?” He folded his arms across his chest, revealing the hint of a tattoo peeking out from his left sleeve.
“Because maybe I can help.” I slid the paper across the table with a quiet rustle.
He scoffed, his eyes gleaming with frustration. “Help? You’re with the people who brought me here.”
“True, but I don’t see anyone else trying to help.” Not that I wanted to help a fae, especially one who might have killed someone, but I could help uncover the truth.
His nostrils flared, and he glanced over my shoulder at the still-glamoured Darcy before returning his attention to me.
In the distance, a clock ticked loudly, counting down each moment. I let the silence simmer. It often had more of an unsettling effect than talking. Surprisingly, Darcy stayed silent, letting me lead the interrogation.
“Fine.” The man blew out a breath. “What do you want?”
“I just need to ask a few questions,” I said. “Let’s start with something easy: who are you?” I gestured vaguely to the pen. “I’m not recording anything, so we’ll need a written record of this.”
He pressed his lips together, then wrote Steven.
I fought to keep the smile off my face. I’d bought myself four more lie-free answers, but I didn’t want to waste one by asking for a last name, at least not yet.
“Why are you in Austen Heights?” I drummed my fingers on the metal table.
“For revenge.” He breathed heavily, but his hand moved steadily across the page, confirming his words.
Behind me, Darcy grew rigid. We were getting close to uncovering his motivation. It was time for a more pointed question.
“How did you know Easton?”
He gripped the pen so hard I worried he might snap it, which would break the spell. “What are you implying?”
“I think we both know.”
The man slammed a hand against the table, and I tried not to jump. “Yes, I knew him, all right?” Almost as if he didn’t realize it, he scratched the words across the page. Steven’s hard expression cracked to reveal the pain underneath. “Easton was my little brother.”
A shocked silence swept over the room like a cold front, shattering all my theories and assertions.
His brother? I stared at the words desperately, wishing for them to be false. But even without the pen confirming it, I could sense the truth in his words. It explained the similarities in their faces—that same cleft chin which I was a fool not to have put together before—as well as the regret.
“Did you kill your brother?” I asked softly, using my second-to-last question.
“Of course not.” Fury filled Steven’s gaze, and he paused writing, his hand trembling.
“I would have never hurt Easton. I didn’t even want him to become a bodyguard.
I told him it was too dangerous, but he said it was the perfect job for someone like him, especially since no one would hire him back home and the pay was good enough to cover the medicine for him and our sister.
” His voice cracked, and the veins stood out in his arms as he squeezed his hands together.
That lined up with what Sable had mentioned in her call.
I pulled my notebook out of my pocket and flipped to a page where I’d taken notes from our brief conversation.
She’d mentioned both her brothers, Easton and Steven, but I’d been so distracted by news of Easton that I’d hardly paid attention to the rest of what she’d said.
Steven continued. “I can see how much the prince didn’t care. He cared so little that Easton didn’t even make it a year in his service. He died protecting that selfish jerk, and no amount of money will bring him back.”
My legs trembled as more pieces fell into place. Steven regretted not being there to protect his brother, and I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t know what I’d do if anything happened to one of my siblings.
The truth whirled around me.
We’d captured the wrong person.
No, we’d captured the right person, but I was wrong about him. I’d been all too eager to assume another fae had done the job, making me as prejudiced as the fae I held in such low regard.
Darcy bowed his head. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice thick.
Steven looked at him sharply. “I don’t need sympathy. I need to talk to the prince. It’s his fault my brother is gone.”
“Did you have anything to do with the lightning storm in town yesterday?” I asked abruptly, pulling pieces of composure around me like a cloak even though everything was falling apart. Everything told me I was wrong, but I had to be certain.
“What?” Steven blinked at me.
“Just answer the question.” I tapped the paper again, trying to keep my hand from trembling. Darcy had said that it would take someone with a nature specialty to have attacked me yesterday. Maybe there was still a chance he could be behind the attack on my life—maybe I wasn’t so completely wrong.
“No.” The man shook his head, but I couldn’t look away from the two letters he scratched out on the paper.
Darcy turned to me, one eyebrow cocked.
“I think…” I drew in a breath. “I think we should talk alone.”
He nodded once and followed me into the hall. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I leaned against it, covering my face with my hands. A tree branch scratched at the window, flailing in the wind.
“I had us catch the wrong man.” I’d been right that he was connected to the murder and carried a grudge against Darcy, but I’d been so wrong about everything else.
Embarrassingly wrong. He was there to help his family, much like I’d gotten involved to help mine.
In the end, that fae and I weren’t so different after all.
And now we had no leads.
My nose itched like it always did when powerful magic happened, and the wind groaned against the wall.
A thunderous crash sounded outside, followed by an anguished shout from Charles.
Darcy and I exchanged worried looks, then ran to the nearest window to find Charles frantically digging through a pile of rubble.
“What is he doing?” Darcy muttered.
My breath caught as Charles shifted a large piece of rubble, unearthing a glimpse of a dark head.
Jane.