Chapter 30
Thirty
The day Marguerite had picked to invite “Elena” over ended up bringing a thunderstorm with it, forcing the ladies inside.
They sat in the drawing room as rain lashed the windows and lightning split the sky.
Theo, as Elena’s driver, had been given the opportunity to come inside and take shelter from the storm.
He waited in a room off the staff entrance with his own refreshments, ready to jump into action if Jade needed him.
Jade brought the steaming cup of tea to her lips, relishing the comfort of the hot beverage on such a dreary day. The same cakes from their previous meeting were present, a highlight that Marguerite immediately pointed out. She truly loved the soft, round treats.
But the cakes weren’t the only thing that made Jade happy to be there. Surprisingly, she had been looking forward to meeting with Marguerite again, and not only to see what she could learn. Jade realized she enjoyed time spent in Marguerite’s presence, almost as if she was becoming a friend.
But Jade wasn’t there to make friends. She had a job to do.
“I was absolutely horrified when Lord Martin fell from his box,” Jade said before taking a sip, giving Marguerite an opportunity to respond.
Marguerite’s eyebrows crinkled. “Were you at the opera? I didn’t see you.”
“Oh yes, with my aunt in her box on level one.” The lie slipped quickly from Jade’s lips, a passing thought as she continued on. “I didn’t see it happening until he hit the ground.” She shuddered. “Oh, it was awful.”
Marguerite gripped her cup as her eyes dropped to it. “Yes, it was. Such a tragic thing. And we didn’t even get to see the rest of the opera!”
Jade would have rolled her eyes, but Elena frowned and nodded, reaching her hand out to pat Marguerite’s arm. “I’m sure you will have another opportunity.”
“And you as well.” Marguerite’s blue eyes lit up, erasing the despair from her features. “We should go together! I’ll invite you to our box!”
A smile split Jade’s face to please Marguerite, but she had no intention of tagging along with her to the opera or even of continuing this line of conversation.
Sitting still and watching a performance as Elena would most likely be a waste of Jade’s time.
Things were too pressing now for her to lose an evening like that.
“How lovely! I always enjoy a night at the opera.” Jade sighed, and her demeanor sobered with a shake of her head. “Such a pity to go out for the evening and it be your last.” She lifted her gaze and caught Marguerite’s eyes. “Did you know him? I heard he was one of the contenders for the throne.”
“Lord Martin? No, I didn’t know him personally. He’s not a member of the royal family. I’m honestly surprised he believed he had a claim. But he wasn’t willing to back down. He said he would continue to make his case with the king’s council until the moment someone else was crowned.”
“And look where it got him.” Jade mumbled the words under her breath, almost as though she let them slip and didn’t want Marguerite to hear. When Marguerite snapped her head toward Jade with her mouth agape, Jade gasped and brought her hand to her mouth.
“Whatever do you mean?” Marguerite asked, her eyes wide with worry. “Do you think he was killed?”
Jade made a show of searching the drawing room to ensure they were alone, and when she spoke again, her voice dropped.
“Think about it. They’re all meant to resemble accidents or natural causes, but it’s too coincidental.
Alanna said she thought so herself. It’s all people involved in this conflict.
And then there was Lord Arthur just prior . . . ”
Marguerite sighed, her shoulders drooping as she ran her thumb along the rim of her teacup.
“I hate it about Arthur. His poor children . . . ” She swallowed hard, then lifted the cup to her lips to take a sip.
“Sylvie and I wanted to call on Juliette, but they weren’t accepting visitors.
They were too grief-stricken. So we went to see the Remcourts instead.
Cecile was absolutely distraught over the loss of her dear uncle.
Harrison and Simon tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but I saw the sorrow in their eyes.
Arthur was a dear man and didn’t deserve this. ”
“A terrible, terrible thing,” Jade murmured before taking her own sip.
She needed the pause to think. Either Marguerite was deeply regretful over the actions her father had sanctioned, or she knew nothing about them.
Jade would have to dig deeper. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she leaned close to Marguerite to ask, “Has there been any indication at all of who is behind it? Could it be another contender trying to eliminate their competition?”
Marguerite studied her tea a little too long and gripped her cup a little too tightly. Her throat moved in a swallow, and she rolled her lips together as though warring with herself about something. After a moment, she found her voice, barely above a whisper.
“Elena, if I tell you something in confidence, will you promise to keep it between us?”
Jade could promise no such thing, but Marguerite wasn’t asking Jade.
“Of course,” Jade replied in a tone heavy with both eagerness and sincerity. She placed her teacup on the table in front of the sofa on which they sat and scooted closer to Marguerite.
Marguerite also ridded herself of her tea and leaned toward Jade. “I believe Lord Marchand is behind the murders.”
Jade’s jaw dropped. Marchand? Her dark eyebrows met in a deep furrow with her genuine shock and confusion. Was Marguerite playing her? Had she caught on that Jade suspected her father?
“Lord Marchand?” Jade repeated. “He’s one of the contenders, yes?”
Marguerite nodded earnestly. “Yes. He married my cousin Elodie just to make his claim for the throne.”
“What makes you think he’s responsible?”
“He’s been so quiet compared to the others, but he’s fighting for it equally as hard. I know he’s been in contact with both Arabella and my father with offers to get them out of the running. And then there were the threats . . . ”
Jade’s heart jumped to her throat. She recalled the military investigating Marchand at the beginning of the conflict, but it had never led to anything. Was this something new? If Marguerite wasn’t lying, had the military somehow missed crucial intelligence?
“What threats?” Jade asked, her curiosity almost getting the better of her and taking down her persona. She schooled her features and cleared her throat, resetting the pitch of her voice and Ellyrisan accent.
“Well, it was months ago. Right at the start of all this,” Marguerite answered.
Her light blue eyes bored into Jade. “Lord Marchand sent letters, threatening them both that if they did not back down at once and help clear his path to the throne, that they would pay for it.
He said that he had ‘support’ for his claim and he would win in the end, and they could choose to be on his side or in his way.
“Of course, back then, they both brushed him off. But shortly after, people started dying. At first, you know, it was people of less consequence to the conflict—advisors and supporters and such. It took a few for any of us to even think they were connected. And I don’t believe either my father or Arabella made the link to Marchand and his threats.
But lately, the closer the deaths have gotten .
. . I remembered the letter, and I can’t help but believe he’s behind this.
I think Marchand hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want the fingers pointing at him. ”
A hollow expanded inside Jade’s chest. Thinking back, she vaguely remembered the news that Marchand had threatened the other contenders, but after the fruitless investigation, it was forgotten.
This whole time. Had she been looking in the wrong place this whole time?
But the letter. The one from Lord Grannam that she found in Arthur’s study. It clearly tied him to Arthur’s death. It mentioned Marguerite, his children. The earl had no children. It couldn’t have come from Marchand.
“And you don’t think it could be anyone else?” Jade skirted the real question she wanted to ask. She couldn’t come right out and accuse Marguerite’s father to her face, but she’d prod and pry until she was satisfied she’d gotten everything out of her.
“No, I don’t. Unless Prince Reynauld himself has been going around poisoning people against him, I have no reason to believe anyone else but the Earl of Southbury is behind this.”
Now that was a thought. Prince Reynauld himself. Jade hadn’t considered the prospect before, but the man had made it clear he wasn’t above killing people he deemed a threat to his rule—namely, his promise to carry on the practice of eliminating magic-wielders.
Marguerite picked up her cup again. Thunder boomed outside. “I doubt anyone else who’s still living has such a threat from Marchand, so it’s no surprise he’s not in anyone’s sights. I imagine many people think my father responsible.”
Jade’s heart pounded like the hooves of a galloping horse against hard-packed earth. Marguerite had all but provided her the opportunity to ask about it. As Marguerite took a sip of tea, Jade asked, “Why is that?”
“He’s rich, he’s powerful, he’s abrasive,” Marguerite answered with a shrug. “He’s used to getting what he wants, and what he’s tried to do so far in pursuit of the throne hasn’t worked. But he wouldn’t start going around killing people.”
The trick here was to tread lightly. Even if Marguerite had said she supported Arabella, she likely wouldn’t appreciate accusations about her father.
“But if what he’s tried hasn’t worked, what might he do differently?” Jade fixed her face into an expression of casual curiosity and asked with a lightness to her voice that implied she was only mildly invested. The question was a bit of a reach, but she had to try something.