10
Jay
House Heroux hosted dinner at the High Court once a month. Lately, I’d been unable to make the regularly scheduled dinner due to my out-of-town travel, but tonight everyone on the High Council was in attendance. Everyone except High Lord Bellamy. His seat, as usual, remained empty. King Heroux sat at a table overlooking the large crowd in attendance, with me on his right and his consort, Gloria, on his left. Lady Tragon sat next to Gloria, and High Lord Rein sat on my right. With dinner finished, the evening transitioned to entertainment.
King Heroux was once one of the most powerful fae there ever was in Valencia. He still was, comparatively. His ability to weave magic allowed him to create almost anything he wanted out of nothing at his whim—a wall to keep our enemies out, a prison to keep our enemies in, a shield, a cup, anything. But in the days of the magic dying and less ostensible showings of magic, other forms of power—such as youth, beauty, and money—began to take a foothold at Court.
Lord Philip Belford and Cole Tragon were both evidence of this shift at the High Court. Lord Belford was a comely young lord visiting the High Court from the southwest coast of Valencia. He had reddish hair but not bright red like that signature of the lesser fae. The hue of his hair had more of a rusted-red look to it.
Cole challenged Lord Belford to a duel of first-touch, which Philip accepted. The young lords were cocksure, even in the presence of their King and the High Council, as they made their way to the center of the ballroom. The crowd cleared around them, sticking to the sides of the room and creating a circle in the center of the large room.
With all the people rearranging to make room for the duel, I lost track of Alarie. I scanned the room until I found her again. She looked amazing dressed in the blue of my House. We’d kept our distance lately. But the same could not be said for her and Luke, I noted, as she was pushed closer to his side by the crowd.
The two young lords faced each other in the center of the room as a hush fell over the crowd. Cole unsheathed the longsword at his belt and crossed the sword over his body, lightly touching his right shoulder with its hilt before holding it in front of his face between himself and Lord Belford. Lord Belford matched Cole’s efforts, their two swords crossing in the middle between them.
Lord Belford made to incline his head, as a show of sportsmanship. Unsurprisingly, Cole did not match this gesture, and before Lord Belford even lifted his head, Cole was striking out at him with his sword. Lord Belford met Cole’s parry, and the young lords went blow for blow with each other. Several minutes into the spar, the two lords appeared fairly evenly matched. Cole began to exhibit frustration at this fact, taking riskier moves and making harder blows in an effort to throw off Lord Belford. I’d seen amateur swordsmen make this mistake before. Cole would tire himself out or else open himself up to a blow from Philip if he kept it up.
Perhaps realizing that he would not be able to keep up his exaggerated movements much longer, Cole stamped down on Lord Belford’s foot, causing Lord Belford to stumble. As Lord Belford went to rise, Cole met Lord Belford’s chin with the tip of his sword. It was an ungentlemanly move on Cole’s part, not fit for a friendly duel with the purpose of evening entertainment. But Lord Belford was gracious about it, nonetheless, conceding the match. The applause that followed was a small, muted affair.
Cole stood by with a gloating smugness on his face, scanning the room and waiting for his next challenger.
“Jay,” the King barked. “Go show those young pups how to properly win a duel.” He beckoned toward the shuffling crowd.
I cast a sideways glance at my friend. Lady Tragon sat down the table close enough to hear the King’s words but remained silent, staring out into the crowd with a focused gaze.
“Grey…” I warned.
Grey knew damn well that I would easily beat Cole and that the prideful young lord was not likely to take it well. I’d been a sword master for longer than the snotty little lord had been alive.
“Go on,” Grey encouraged, a mischievous smile playing at his mouth.
I tilted my head to the side as if to say, “If you insist,” but already I was looking forward to it. I stood, not trying to avoid the scraping noise that my chair made as I pushed it back and away from the table. Several heads turned toward me until Cole noticed and also turned toward the head table that stood above the crowded room.
The room grew silent as it always did when I was near, all conversations fizzling out before I reached them. Cole’s eager eyes tracked my movement to the center of the room until I stood before him.
“Cole,” I greeted.
“Contra,” he spat.
We skipped any further pleasantries. Cole was feral to get at me. We crossed swords immediately. Similar to before, Cole made the first move, quickly breaking away from our crossed swords and lashing out at me. I parried Cole’s move with a quick, efficient strike of my own sword. Moving one hand behind my back, I batted down Cole’s sword. I stood still, waiting for his next attack.
Cole came at me again, and I met his blow once more with little effort. Frustrated by the embarrassingly low effort that I needed to put into the match, as I knew he would be, Cole predictably came at me with a flurry of strikes, bringing his sword down hard and fast.
I met each move, expending the same amount of effort as before. I’d always felt at ease with the violent, fluid movements of a sword in my hand and the ringing sounds of steel clashing against steel in my ears. Deciding to end the spectacle, I spun instead of meeting Cole’s next hard blow, causing him to run straight past me. He stumbled and lost his balance. When Cole went to right himself, he straightened his back into the point of my sword.
I immediately released the young lord from my sword tip and made to leave the floor. I’d moved so quickly that the spectators in the crowd were still trying to figure out what had happened and why the match was already over.
“Again, Lord Vitruvian,” Cole demanded, his breathing labored, his normally pale face flushed.
I could feel Cole’s cruel eyes drilling into my back. I kept walking. For years, I’d tried to give Cole a little room for growth since he was relatively young and had lost his father at an even younger age. I’d known his father to be a good man. But over the years, it became apparent that Cole had inherited his mother’s personality and none of the good that I had known in his father. I’d heard some truly vile stories involving Cole and his use of lesser fae women. If he came within an inch of Alarie, I would ensure that House Tragon would soon find itself without an heir. But I had better things to do than to teach Cole where he belonged in the hierarchy at the High Court. The fact that he had not figured it out at this point in his life meant that he was too stupid or too full of himself to do so.
“That mutt of yours was talking during our match. She distracted me,” Cole spat at my back.
I stopped walking mid-stride.
Mutt?
But then Cole diverted his hateful gaze to Alarie, still standing in the crowd next to Luke, leaving no doubt who he was talking about.
A fiery rage burned in me before settling into a sharp iciness. I smiled wickedly, then turned my head to the side, nodding once in agreement. I turned on my heel and walked back toward the foolish, prideful lordling. Standing before Cole again, I made a show out of switching my sword to my right hand, my nondominant hand, and tucking my left hand behind my back. Gasps and snickers emanated from the crowd. Men had been killed over such insults.
Red crept further onto Cole’s face, and his nostrils flared.
Cole had clearly not realized it, but I’d gone easy on him during our last match. My prowess with a sword was well known. That meant he really thought that much of himself to think he had a real chance against me.
We exchanged just two parries before the young lord found himself with the tip of my sword beneath his chin. I held the point to the soft skin under Cole’s neck with enough pressure that his slightest movement would draw blood. I saw unadulterated hate blazing in the young lord’s eyes.
“Again?” I taunted.
The point of my longsword still at his neck, Cole imperceptibly shook his head. I lowered my sword and made a cursory bow to my thoroughly defeated opponent. Silent stares followed me until I took my seat back at the head table next to the King. The high lady stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with me as the chatter around the room started back up. She remained silent, but she wore the same embarrassed flush on her cheeks that her son did.
“I hope that met your expectations, my King,” I said.
“Indeed, it did, my friend! Indeed, you did!” he exclaimed.
Grey chuckled, holding his wineglass in the air to cheers my victory. With a flourish of his hand, the King beckoned a servant to begin pouring more wine.
* * * *
“Luke,” I said, answering the door later that evening.
I heard Alarie pattering down the hall from her room before I saw her. She was halfway down the stairs before she looked up and saw me already at the door with Luke. Her silky brown hair swayed with each stair she took. She wore a dark blue satin nightgown.
Luke and I both turned and looked at her as she made her way down the rest of the stairs. It was only when the cool air from the open door rushed to meet her that she looked down, realizing she was wearing nothing more than a negligee.
“Let’s head to the parlor,” I offered, stepping aside to let Luke in.
“Al,” Luke said as he passed by her.
But Luke’s usual light-natured demeanor was missing, replaced by something much graver. He didn’t even bother to tease Alarie about her state of undress. But as Luke walked by her, Alarie noticed for the first time the blood on his rolled-up white sleeves. I had seen the blood, of course. She grabbed Luke by the arm, stopping him from walking any farther into the parlor.
“Luke, are you ok?” she asked, her concern for him showing in her narrowed eyes.
He nodded, pulling Alarie the rest of the way into the sitting room, where they plopped down on a sofa across from where I took my seat.
“It’s not mine. I’m ok, Al,” he said, firmly wrapping his hand around her knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
I homed in on Alarie’s silk nightgown. It had ridden up to expose her thighs. My eyes drifted farther down, where Luke’s hand still rested on her leg. A muscle in my jaw involuntarily tightened.
“Ok, what happened then, Luke?” I asked.
“It’s Lord Belford,” Luke began.
“Philip accused Cole of cheating in the duel earlier in the evening when he stomped on Philip’s foot. We were all thinking it, but Cole took offense anyway and challenged Lord Belford to a duel—first blood.”
“Lord Belford refused, claiming that Cole would only cheat again. Unable to provoke Philip into a duel, Cole stormed off.”
“How did you get blood on your shirt if they didn’t even duel, Luke?” Alarie interjected, fingering his rolled-up sleeve.
Luke looked at me.
“Lord Belford was found this evening, after his confrontation with Cole. Stabbed. Several times.”
Alarie gasped.
“Was a healer called?” I asked, ignoring Alarie’s shock.
Luke looked at Alarie as if deciding something.
“It’s ok, Jay. Al can know. Yes, I was called on to heal Philip.”
Alarie made another small intake of breath. It appeared that she hadn’t known that her friend was a prolific healer, which wasn’t much of a surprise. In the days of the dying magic, no one asked questions about another fae’s magic.
“So, what did Philip say happened? Did he say it was Cole?” I interrogated.
“Philip didn’t say anything, Jay. He’s dead.”
I saw Alarie’s grip tighten on Luke’s arm.
“Since when have stab wounds been beyond your ability to heal, Luke?” I questioned.
“I should have been able to heal him.” Luke looked down at his hands. “But I couldn’t,” he finished, like the admission physically hurt him.
“Iron?” I asked analytically, still looking for an explanation for the night’s events.
Luke licked his lips and shook his head.
“Grey should have known that that little spectacle he had me put on with Cole would result in some kind of backlash. That murderous little twat,” I seethed, referring to Cole.
But I knew it wasn’t just Grey who was to blame. I’d gone the extra mile to embarrass the little lordling and hurt his pride after what he’d said about Alarie. He’s lucky that was all I did.
“That’s just it, Jay,” Luke continued. “It wasn’t Cole.”
“How do you know?” Alarie asked before I could.
“Because several people said they were with him from the time he stormed off to the time Philip was found,” Luke replied.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “Who vouched for him?”
“There are several people, Jay. Not all of them are from House Tragon, either. Rhett told me himself that he saw Cole standing across the room at an after party at House Tragon. Rhett said he didn’t see him leave the entire time.”
“Convenient,” I said skeptically. “I’m getting to the bottom of this tonight,” I continued, rising from my large cognac leather chair.
“You coming, Luke?” I barked, already walking out of the room.
“See you tomorrow, Luke,” Alarie promised.
“Yeah, Al, ‘night,” he said, squeezing her hand before getting up and walking out of the room to follow me.
I came home late that night after investigating Lord Belford’s death to find Alarie at the bar having a glass of red wine and reading.
“So?” she questioned tentatively, as I made my way straight for the scotch.
I made a straight line with my mouth. “Too many reliable eyewitnesses have confirmed that Cole was accounted for when Lord Belford would have been attacked,” I replied.
“Do you know who else might have done it?” she asked.
“Not yet. Cole’s hand might not have been the one to do it, but I have no doubt it was done on his behalf. I just can’t prove it.” I sighed.
“Alarie,” I said, leaning against the arm of the large leather chair she sat in, her legs curled up underneath her.
I gently took the book out of her hand, setting it on the wooden end table next to her. Then I enveloped her small hand with my own. She looked up at me, her green-and-gold eyes curious.
“Alarie, I don’t want you walking around the Court by yourself, especially not at night anymore,” I said. I phrased it as a request, but my tone made it plain that I was telling and not asking.
“Jay, I’ve gone around alone just fine my entire life. I don’t need—”
“No, Alarie, you’re going to listen to me on this,” I demanded.
I appreciated her feistiness most of the time, but I would not entertain a discussion on this, not when it came to her safety. I gently stroked the top of her hand with my thumb to soften my stern tone.
“You can’t possibly know the things I know about these people at the High Court, dear. The things they’re capable of. This isn’t the first body to show up in its halls and is not half as dark as some of the things I’ve heard,” I said.
“Whenever I am out of town, you’re taken care of. You don’t have to worry about that,” I reassured her. “But promise me, Alarie. You will not go wandering around by yourself. Stick with me or Luke, or even Rhett.”
I knew she thought I was being overly protective. But she had no clue about the things, the people, I’d already lost because I wasn’t protective enough before. I would not make the same mistake with her.
“I…” she hesitated.
“Promise me, dear,” I demanded.
She squinted her eyes in consternation. “Yes, Jay,” she finally promised.
I liked the way her sweet little mouth looked wrapped around those two simple, perfect words.