Author’s Note

Hello, dear readers!

I’m back with another story!

But before all that, I’d like to announce that my Patreon will launch on November 29, 9PM PST (November 30, 1PM GMT+8). I have been working on this one for months now, and while doing so, I also finally took the courage to put it up.

Starting November 29 PST, you can find me at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

My stories will remain here on Wattpad, of course, and I will still post this story here with weekly updates.

If you become a patron, you will get the following perks:

1. Early access to chapters

2. Special chapters (mostly POVs of side characters)

3. Exclusive Patreon Stories 

Being on Wattpad for over a decade, I’m very grateful for the immense support from you, my readers. I would not be here if not for all of you. Thus, as much as I want to just earn from my craft, I cannot just leave Wattpad. I still want to offer most of my works for free, which is what I’m doing with this story.

You are free to stay and wait for my weekly Wattpad updates, or you can join me on Patreon. Whichever way you choose to support me will still be very much appreciated.

Thank you for always being so graceful and kind and patient.

Best,

JD Ruiz (greenwriter)

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/12fe43bedc32d29c99a7967e1aeb53c47087803e/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f48303046644c4b575868735078773d3d2d313439383134303530372e313830616465643339323536386337623933353132373331353333392e706e67)

The Night Swan

Insubordinate nineteen-year-old Maeve St. Vincent joins fellow aristocrats in the extravagant Ivory Game after striking a deal with a prince to stop one contestant from winning, but when her target ends up dead at the start of the game, Maeve and other ladies who have secrets of their own must fight for their innocence and their lives before the killer strikes again.

---

After being kicked out of Queens University for the third time, aristocrat Maeve St. Vincent has no hope of going back. But when the surly and overbearing Prince Francis of Sutherland approaches her with a deal to enter the infamous Ivory Game where contestants outwit one another to become courtiers in the queen’s court, she jumps at the chance, especially when he tells her she can get back to Queens and that her mission is to stop Claire Braxton from winning.

Blythe Vandenberg is desperate to be a courtier to bring honor to her family. But when the game doesn’t start well for her, and Claire Braxton ends up dead, she and her cousin Maeve become the center of everyone’s suspicion. And when someone mysteriously sends her a message telling her that her dark secret is not so secret anymore, she fears for her reputation–and her life. Will she be able to maintain her composure under the pressure of the game and the watchful eye of her father’s assistant, Logan Earle?

Scarlett came to the Ivory Game with her mistress, but she also brought with her the woman’s secrets. She’s not allowed to talk to anyone above her station, but she unexpectedly gets the attention of William Cavendish, Marquess of Claymore, the last person she should associate with. But she cannot escape his charming personality and it might be too late when she finally learns his true reason for getting close to her.

As the three ladies navigate a series of murders and mystery inside the Ivory House, their trust and loyalty are tested, and their secrets and motives revealed. Who to trust? Who to avoid? And who to love?

Still set in the fictional world of Sutherland, this story dives into another time in the kingdom’s history.

Content warning:  Adult content such as use of drugs, sexual acts, and violence.

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon.

You can join us there or you can wait here where I update weekly.

Ch. 1

1905

MAEVE

“Miss,” the maid called, poking her head through the arched doorway of the garden. “A Francis wishes to talk to you.”

I frowned, not familiar with the name. It could only be one of two things: a cousin of mine was dead, or it was just another business call. It could be the latter, but the one thing I learned in the nineteen years I had been around is that it was hard to kill anyone in my family. My great-grandfather was a stubborn, bedridden, breathing proof of that.

I stepped out of the garden and crossed the hall toward the telephone. Leaning my cane against the table, I lifted the mouthpiece higher to my lips and the receiver against my ear. “Maeve St. Vincent.”

“Meet me at Milton’s in an hour.” The voice, the words, and the way they were spoken already told me a little about Francis—Impatient and seething with arrogance.

“I don’t drink coffee,” I said.

“You do not have to.”

“I’ll be at The Curb in thirty minutes,” I said, ending the call with a scoff.

With light, long strides of imperfect lanky legs and cane, I imagined the Francis in my head staring at his telephone with mouth hanging open. No one could tell Maeve St. Vincent where to go.

I reached my room with my usual loud flair: the door banging open against the wall, cane dropping and rolling to the floor after a hasty disposal on a chair, and a gasp of a surprised maid. “I’ll be out for an hour. I won’t need a companion.”

The maid was new, but the other servants must have given her the talk because she just nodded, watching as I laced my crusty leather boots. Her gaze followed me with interest and growing concern as I smelled my coat and put it on. “What’s wrong?” I asked, grabbing my leather bag from the closet.

She blinked, took a few seconds to find her voice, and when she did, she said, “Miss—your hair. Should we—”

“Throw me my cap, will you? There, by the chair.” I caught the brown flat cap, held the mass of black hair over my head, and put it on. “Cane?” She picked up the cane from the floor and threw it. Catching it with one hand, I twirled it twice before the tip hit the floor with a thud. I smiled at her. “You’re learning fast, Justine.”

Her eyes widened even more. “You remember my name.”

“I remember everything,” I replied, already moving toward the door.

“Then perhaps you remember you have an appeal to write, Miss?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’ve been talking to my mother.” She bit her lips, face flushing. “Tell Mother I’ll work on the letter once I’m free,” I added with a sigh before walking out.

“She said you’ll say that, and she said to tell you that now that you have no school to go to, you have a lot of time, Miss. And also, Miss Blythe wanted to ask if you’re joining the Ivory Game this year.”

“No on both regards,” I said, walking out the door. Before my mother could catch me herself, I slipped out of the house.

Moments later, I was cursing the crowd as I walked down the cobbled walkway in the middle of the summer heat. We lived in the affluent district of Coulway, along Bridge Street, that led to a famous bazaar.

I adjusted the strap of my bag across my chest as I slipped through the pack of tourists swarming the area with boxes from the city’s luxurious shops. Like ants around a large crumb of bread, they got denser the closer I got to the bazaar. A gentleman almost threw me off my feet and cane as he passed.

I glared and shouted, “You there!”

He slowed down and looked back like an ignorant fool.

“Watch where you’re going.”

He looked at me, my cane, and then around him, silently wondering if he got lost and ventured into the slums.

I moved along. The walk was far and my leg was starting to feel it, but my mind needed the distance to think of the list of things I had to do. And things I didn’t have to, the letter to Queens University being one of them.

Thirty-five minutes and six blocks later, with sweat dripping down my temples, I crossed the street toward Eden Row, the district of town someone from a place like Bridge Street should not be at. Thick soot plastered the walls of the buildings I passed. If the strong smog that cloaked the alleyways in gray could not ward off anyone who could breathe, perhaps the sundry smell of horse manure, raw meat, and baked bread would do the job. This was the playground of rodents—both humans and animals.

“Oi, Saint!”

I looked up and broke into a smile. “Gary,” I greeted with a nod as I passed him.

“A fancy thing’s waiting for you at the curb!” Gary said with a laugh.

I groaned, leaning on my cane.

Pushing the door into The Curb, my eyes instantly locked on the fancy thing Gary mentioned. The perfectly brushed brown hair and shaved face made me cringe. His clothing tried its best to be modest, but the blinding white cotton shirt was just too bloody obvious. And it was not just the way he looked; it was also the way he sat in that corner—unmoving, pale, and probably dead, his face looking like he was itching for a bath while murdering someone with his bare hands, which, to be fair, would not be surprising after a trip to the Row.

I walked toward him, then halted, noticing the two other men seated around him. There were two more standing outside.

Guards.

I took a second look at the fancy thing and cursed under my breath.

Bloody hell.

The last time I saw him was at a ball. We were not friends, nor were we acquaintances, even though he was just a year older. Yes, our families went way back, but we were generations away from that part of history. I was quite certain it would be considered a scandal if we were seen together. Not good for me and the business, certainly.

“Mary, I’ll take the back, please.”

“That would be ten,” the barmaid said.

I fished inside my bag and handed her a few bills. She had a small smile on her lips. “He looks like the—”

“Make sure no one walks in.”

He finally moved when he saw me, his already murderous look turning lethal.

“Follow me,” I said before he could speak.

“Stay and keep guard,” he ordered the two men. It was the first time I heard him talk. His voice was matter-of-fact; it was also light with just a hint of roughness, like the porous stones you throw away at the beach.

Throwing my bag on the round table in the shabby private room of the alehouse, I sat down with a sigh of relief, stretching my right leg as I watched him enter and close the door.

“I don’t know how ignorant palace folks are, but you should have at least made the effort to fit in. And next time, put on a cap. Your royal hair will thank you for—”

“You’re late.” It was an amalgamation of a growl and a hiss.

“I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness. My cane was taking its jolly time,” I replied.

Francis Terrence Davercher, Royal Prince of Sutherland, pursed his lips and looked around the room, allowing me a moment to study him closely. As most Daverchers, he was not strikingly handsome. His curly brown hair was probably his best feature because it softened his hard edges. His nose was tall and thin, his mouth a little too long for his narrow chin, and his blue eyes had too many lashes.

However, it was the way he stood with his hands in his pockets that gave him a distinct air; something I could not point out at that moment. My eyes wandered to the veins that ran down his arm. Something almost dangerous . His shirt had two buttons loose. Or rebellious , I thought, although none of the things I heard about him told the same.

His angry eyes, bluer than the smog-filled skies of Eden Row, studied me for a while. He briefly settled on my cane before looking back into my eyes. “I don’t appreciate being here.”

“I don’t aim to please you.” I opened my bag, jumping straight to business. “What do you need? I only have three bags of my strongest herb, two of something new I have been working on, but it might be a little sweet for your liking. My bestseller is out of stock, I’m afraid. There will be a good yield in a few months if you want that, but it will cost more—”

“I’m not here for that,” he interjected, eyeing my bag with distaste and disapproval curling the corners of his mouth.

I blinked at him. “Then I don’t see why you’re wasting my time.”

He clucked his tongue with an impatient flick of a hand. “I know you offer other services.”

He was not wrong, but I was not about to reveal my list of expertise in front of someone who could bring me more trouble than I already had.

Only when he stepped closer, hands still in his pockets, that I realized he was taller than I thought; probably a head taller than me. “The Ivory Game. You’ve joined twice before,” he said, looking down at me with a frown like I was someone he had to tolerate.

I closed my bag. “Yes, but contrary to what you might think, it’s not a hobby of mine.”

“Enter this year’s game.” When I just stared, his jaw clenched. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

“I’m quite busy,” I said, tapping my bag.

He scoffed. “I know.” He pulled a chair and stared at its filthy state for a second. Remaining on his feet, he veered his gaze back to me and added, “Queens realized how busy you were and thought it best to expel you—thrice.”

A slow smile curled the corners of my lips. “I think they’re wrong about you. You’re more charming than your brother.”

His face tightened at the mention of the crown prince. Ah, the spare didn’t want to be reminded of what he was not. “I can assure your readmission to Queens if you complete an assignment.”

I held his gaze. “Queens and five-thousand sutherends.”

Francis shook his head. “Getting you back to Queens is akin to moving a bloody mountain, what with your history and all.”

“Then I hope you can find someone else.” I grabbed my cane and stood, ready to leave. “I’d curtsy if my leg could allow it, but as you can see—”

“Three-thousand,” he sharply cut in. I felt his annoyance in every syllable, but it did not deter me from slinging my bag across my chest. “It’s worth more than what you earn selling whatever you call those,” he added with disdain, nodding at my bag.

“Herbs. Medicinal,” I said, but I knew we both knew it was a half a lie.

“I don’t care about your fatuous dealings. Three-thousand and a readmission to Queens to play a bloody game is enough. You don’t even have to win.”

“Do you know how agonizing it is to spend an entire week with dozens of ladies? To be both their friend and enemy? To dine with their gossips and two-faced—”

“Do you talk this much?” he interjected, gravely irritated.

“Do you dislike everything?” I countered. He glared at me. “Because if it’s just me, I don’t know why you’re still here tolerating my presence, which you clearly despise.”

His mouth formed a tight line.

“Five thousand and a readmission to Queens.”

He might have spit on me if he did not need me for something. His face had turned red; it was clear he was not used to being talked to the way I did. “Fine.”

I broke into a smile and sat back down. “I’d like an initial deposit into my account in a week. Half.”

His face twitched. “Fine.” I smiled. The fancy thing didn’t like being told what to do.

I placed my bag back on the table and held my cane beside my chair with one hand, looking up at him. “But first, I want to know the assignment.”

“But we just agreed.”

“I have to like both the payment and the job.” As he glowered in incredulity, I asked, “What is the job?”

“Who,” he corrected. “Claire Braxton.”

A shot of pain went through my leg at the name. “Your betrothed,” I coldly said.

“She is not.”

“That’s not what the papers say.”

His jaw tightened. “She is not.”

I held up my hand. “Very well,” I said, gritting my teeth as I stretched my tight leg. “Whatever you say.”

“You’ve assisted two other ladies to win the game during your last two games.”

My answer was a shrug. There were a few business transactions I could not take credit for. My eyes rolled and I let out a scoff as I realized what Francis wanted from me. “I’m afraid I have to refuse,” I said with great regret.

He glared. “Why? I was assured you’d take the job.”

He would be the last person I’d tell why I could not work with Claire Braxton. “I don’t care who told you that, but you should know that Claire Braxton doesn’t need my help in the Ivory Game. She is the most capable of winning.”

His eyes held mine in a firm gaze. “I’m well aware of that.”

I frowned as my brain, which was suddenly flooded with vile memories of Claire Braxton, slowly gathered the clues. Finally, the smile returned to my lips when I realized what he meant. “You want her to fail.”

“Yes.”

I stared at him for a while before my shoulders shook with laughter.

His eyes narrowed, his lashes casting a shadow on his cheeks. His brows, not too thick, nor too thin, dipped lower. “Does this mean you are you taking the job?”

There were butterflies in my stomach as I stared at him, fluttering with delicious vengeance. “I can get back to school five-thousand richer knowing I ruined Claire Braxton’s dream?” I grinned. “It’s a bloody yes, Your Highness.”

Ch. 2

-DAY 1-

BLYTHE

The only way to become a courtier in the queen’s court was to be a Swan. And to become one, a noblewoman had to win the Ivory Game. And each year, only seventeen would end up with the title.

Being a Swan meant you were better than the dozens who joined. It meant you outwitted them. It meant you were daring than the rest.

Each year, dozens joined, some for the first time like me; others a little more than once. Eligible girls received invites to the game. I received mine two years ago, but my father thought I was not ready. Since then I trained in almost everything because being a Swan meant everything .

I looked at the elegant facade of the Ivory House. Just a few miles away from Cloveshire Palace, this place had hosted all the Ivory Games since 1817.

This would be my playground for the next seven days, I thought as I watched a guard approach the carriage ahead of us.

“What’s happening?” I asked when the carriage drove away with no one climbing out.

Logan looked up from the paper he was reading and joined me in the window. I immediately leaned back when his face almost touched my mine and quietly waited as our carriage drew to a stop and the same guard greeted us, “Good afternoon!”

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.

“Everyone should head straight to the lake,” the guard said without explanation, shouting at the driver to move along as another carriage rolled in.

I stiffened. “The lake?”

Logan looked concerned. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied, looking away.

“You don’t look well. You need to relax.”

I arched a brow as I swallowed the lump in my throat. Who was he to tell me what I needed to do?

We were almost the same age, with him just three years older. It was not the age that irked me, really. It was the knowing look in his eyes—as if he was wiser and better. He must think he was privileged to feel that way because he was good enough to earn my father’s trust. That’s why he was here—because my father had more faith in him than me. “I said I’m fine, Logan,” I snapped.

SCARLETT

“Oh, for God’s sake,” my mistress Miss Avery Gadford growled, carefully picking strands of her perfectly curled blond tresses off her face.

We had been waiting inside the carriage for nearly an hour. She didn’t want to go out and ruin her shoes, so we were trapped there in the heat. I fanned at her faster, but she slapped my hand and said, “You’re ruining my hair, Scarlett.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, picking up a slower speed.

“We were too early.” She huffed, already getting restless. It wasn’t both our fault, of course. The villa we were renting did not allow us to stay longer than what we paid for, which was expensive.

Her eyes went to the carriage parked yards away from us. “That’s Blythe Vandenberg,” Miss Avery told me with a motion of her head. I could hardly make out the face of the woman inside. All I saw was red hair and ivory skin. “We were in the same class at Queens. She thinks she’s perfect, but she always falls short. We should not worry much about her. Well, except for that one.”

I followed her gaze. Unlike the others, this one exited her carriage to approach Blythe’s. She had on a long blue coat, her breeches peeking through as she walked. “She has a cane, Miss,” I blurted out before thinking.

“Maeve St. Vincent,” Miss Avery said. “The worst of the lot. And the most cunning.” We watched as Maeve opened Blythe’s carriage door. “They’re cousins.”

I blinked in disbelief.

“They own all three Sinclair hospitals in Sutherland.”

Maeve St. Vincent looked peculiar to me. Her black hair could have done a much better work. It was a mess, tied up haphazardly in a bun, something Miss Avery, who always wore her blond hair like a crown, could not forgive.

Miss Avery suddenly chuckled, her eyes on the last carriage. “Claire Braxton.”

I stared at the brown-haired woman poking her head out the window.

“Blythe Vandenberg’s greatest rival and the woman who ruined Maeve St. Vincent’s life,” she said. “Or leg, if I should be specific.” I wanted to ask what happened, but with Miss Avery, I learned to just wait for whatever she was willing to offer. Her full lips stretched as she smiled at me. “This should be quite interesting, Scarlett.”

For someone who had spent her whole life in the country, this new world was already beyond interesting to me.

“We have to be careful around them. All of them,” Miss Avery said, her eyes on the line of elegantly dressed gentlemen standing by the lake. There were around two dozen of them. I watched as they moved and approached the carriages. My eyes followed the dark-haired man walking toward Maeve St. Vincent and her cousin. He glowed under the sunlight, but his smile was brighter. I had never seen such a handsome face before. Miss Avery was right: Magnificent things are in Coulway.

“This is our only chance, Scarlett.” Her voice drew me back from my thoughts. She turned her head to look me straight in the eyes. “We cannot fail. Do you understand?”

I nodded, pressing my lips together. “Yes, Miss. I understand.”

BLYTHE

The Ivory Game would not be complete without the game deputies: aristocratic young men who signed up for the task for the fun of it, or were pushed and shoved by their Swan mothers who hoped that they’d meet marriage prospects.

“Ladies,” William, our cousin, greeted as he approached. “If you’ll follow this handsome deputy .” He smiled brightly, showing the dimples on both sides of his mouth.

“Why are we here?” I asked from inside the carriage.

“As game deputy, I cannot tell you anything, just that the game master has changed a few things,” he said, clearing his throat and looking at Maeve, almost eagerly dismissing my question. “I thought you’re not joining, cousin,” he said to Maeve.

“I’m here for—”

“No, I don’t need to know,” he quickly said. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm. His eyes jumped toward Logan. “Servants may now proceed to the Ivory House.”

Logan dutifully nodded and helped me out of the carriage. I hooked an arm around William’s while Maeve walked just a step ahead with her cane.

“Just tell me, William, please,” I begged as we finally reached the edge of the lake, joining the other ladies escorted by other deputies.

“I can’t tell you anything.”

I did not let go of his arm.

“Bly, I have to attend to other ladies.”

I tightened my grip. “Tell me—Are we going into the water?”

“Don’t worry. This is just the First Trial. You know you can always get an ivy some other way.”

I gasped, my breathing coming in short bursts. “Oh, God, we’re going into the water!”

“I did not say that,” William blurted. “As a game deputy—”

“Say game deputy one more time and I’ll kill you,” I hissed. “Maeve, I can’t breathe. Oh, God.”

Maeve took my hand. “Relax before you have a spasm, damn it,” Maeve wryly said. “Let William go.”

“I can’t—” I looked around, blinking a few times to stop the tears. “I can’t.”

“Good afternoon, ladies!” a voice shouted from the back. Standing on a makeshift podium, the head deputy, Damian Fairborne, son of the Prime Minister, continued, shouting, “Welcome to the 88th Ivory Game!”

He waited until the clapping and cheers stopped. “As you may have already realized, we’re starting the game differently. For one, I am not the game master.” The ladies laughed, their attention fully on Damian. “The game master will officially greet you tomorrow. For now, you’re left with me for the First Trial. Is everyone ready?”

Of course, they were. Including bloody perfect Claire Braxton.

“Good. I’m sure you all know how the game goes, but let me briefly explain the game for tradition’s sake. We have seventeen ivies ,” he said, and one servant came forward with a box.

We didn’t need a closer look to see what an ivy looked like. It was a swan brooch.

“For the First Trial, you are to retrieve the ivies from the bottom of the lake. The seventeen successful swimmers will be the first owners . After that, the game is on,” he continued with a smile that was almost wicked. “For the next seven days, you can steal ivies, bargain for them, or risk losing them in games and missions. The seventeen ladies who can present an ivy at the end of the game will be the final owners and will become this year’s Swans.”

Any hope I had melted away. I gripped Maeve’s hand. Mine were cold. I was practically shutting down. This could not be happening to me. Not at the First Trial!

“Everyone should abide by the one rule of the game.” Damian looked around. “No violence of any kind. Anyone who is caught causing harm to anyone will be sent home immediately. Remember—You can steal and deal, but never—?”

“Kill!” the ladies chorused with a laugh.

Damian smiled. “It’s a shame you all came in wearing your beautiful dresses, ladies,” he said, waving a hand toward the lake. Most of the ladies were getting ready, already forming groups with friends as he spoke.

“Form a line!” Damian shouted. “For everyone’s safety, we’ll divide willing participants into seventeen groups.”

“One ivy for each group,” Maeve murmured beside me. I could imagine the gears turning in her head as she spoke.

“An ivy will be dropped for each group!” Damian announced.

“This is not worth it,” Maeve said.

“I agree. Now, let go, Blythe,” William hissed.

“Blythe, what’s wrong?” I did not have to see the face to know who it belonged to. Claire Braxton’s soft, angelic voice still evoked the same response from deep in my gut. Immediately, I wanted to throw up.

I was stiff with unimaginable hatred as my eyes landed on her. She stood there with a look of mocked concern painted on her angelic face.

I wanted to claw at it; wanted to hurt her so badly she could not do the First Trial. But I knew that if I attacked her, it would be my fault, even if it was deserved. To everyone, she was nothing but nice while us St. Vincents were just vain, vile, and bitter.

“She’s fine, Braxton,” Maeve coldly said. “Move along.”

Claire ignored her, stepping closer. “I heard all games are scavenger hunts this year.” She said it so innocently it was almost evil; so sneakily as if we were friends sharing secrets.

“No one said anything about that,” William said, but no one paid him attention.

“Blythe, are you fine?” Claire asked, brow furrowed with concern. I still wonder to this day how I had tolerated this witch at Queens for two years now. Oh, how I had kept myself out of trouble by not resorting to baser instincts.

“It’s just the heat, Claire,” I said, cursing myself when my smile quivered.

“We’re not doing the Trial. It’s too tedious,” Maeve wryly said, pushing Claire out of my way without it looking intentional.

“Maeve! I didn’t see you there,” Claire said, dramatically stumbling back, hand on her chest as she pretended to look slightly scared. “I missed your violent tendencies at Queens. How is life without school?”

Maeve just stared at her coldly, long enough to erase the smile from her face. With an innocent blink, she focused on me again, the one person who always reacted to her taunts. “Why are you skipping the First Trial?”

“I enjoy a dry dress,” I said.

Sensing the tension, William held out his arm toward Claire. “I’ll escort you to the line, my lady.”

Claire sweetly smiled at him. “Thank you, my lord.”

“The best of luck, Claire,” I said as Maeve held me back. “Don’t drown—I still have to get your ivy!”

She sweetly laughed as William led her away.

“I hate her,” I hissed, dramatically fanning my face.

“Just don’t show it,” Maeve said, looking at me.

I instantly corrected my face with a smile. “Do I look alright? I painted my lips. Not too pale?”

“Not as pale if you dive in that lake and die.”

“I n-need an ivy,” I stuttered as Claire got in line with her friends.

Maeve tightened her hold around my hand. “You can’t bloody swim.”

“But—”

“Stupid is the last thing you can be in this game,” Maeve said, dragging me against the crowd. “Walk,” she said, slapping my leg with her cane.

Walking away from the First Trial was the worst thing I could think of, but Maeve was right. I couldn’t swim. Not even to save myself.

Maeve did not let go until we reached the tent where refreshments were offered to those who were skipping the trial.

In the two years I had been preparing, I never imagined myself standing among ladies who are far less capable than me. “How do I look?” I asked Claire.

“Like a loser,” she indifferently said.

The heat of summer had nothing to do with the flush on my face. I felt ashamed, even more so as I watched Claire Braxton dive into the cool lake in perfect form.

“I would do anything to see her fail. I would even give up being a Swan if it meant she could not be one, too,” I gritted out.

“Fret not, cousin,” Maeve nonchalantly said. “She’ll be taken care of,” she added before she took a sip from her drink.

Ch. 3

MAEVE

Of course, Claire Braxton got an ivy. Or so we heard. She did not flaunt it, nor did the others. They weren’t stupid enough to display the one thing everybody wanted.

Blythe, as expected, was overdramatic about it. She turned a little blue on our way to the Ivory House, and I had to force her to breathe into her skirt to keep her alive. We arrived at the Ivory House first, before the ladies from the lake trailed the elegant marbled halls with puddles of water.

The manor only had three floors: The first one for the ballroom and main rooms. The second was where the bedrooms were. Female servants occupied the third floor while the kitchen and male servants were located in the basement. It was also where the labyrinth could be found.

It used to be on the third floor during the first few years of the game, but as the game expanded, they found the need to move it belowground. The First Trials had always been held in the labyrinth. The ladies simply had to enter and the first seventeen to exit were the first owners of the ivies. But as game masters changed, so did the First Trials.

I let Blythe deal with her fury in her bedchamber and went straight to mine in the south wing, where I found Justine fixing my things in the closet.

“How did it go, Miss?” she asked, her smile as bright as her blond hair.

“Disappointing,” I replied. “You may retire. I won’t need assistance for the rest of the night.”

“What about supper, Miss?”

“I’ll take it here.”

After Justine delivered my meal and left, Blythe arrived with a glass of wine. She settled across the small round table from me. “There’s a party downstairs,” I told her, wanting to be alone.

“William’s still here with his deputy friends,” she said instead, speech slurred. Game Deputies, unlike the ladies, were allowed to go home every night, but most of them would stay until the wee hours to party or watch over games.

I could already tell Blythe had started drinking way before she came here. Her golden brown eyes were drooping, her freckled cheeks scarlet. “Everyone’s talking about Avery Gadford.”

I frowned. “Avery?”

“Yes—the one who disappeared two years ago.” She rubbed her face with her hands. “I already hate this game!” she cried out in frustration. “I can’t believe Damian Fairborne is head deputy . He’s Claire’s cousin! It’s not fair, is it?”

I just shrugged.

“Did you know Prince Francis is one of the deputies this year?”

“No,” I lied.

“They’re betrothed. Do you think he’ll help her survive? It’s against the rules.”

“I’m sure he’s aware of that. Our cousin is a deputy and he will never lift a finger to help us.” Veering the subject, I asked, “Why did you bring you father’s assistant?”

Her face tightened. “Father thinks I need a capable and mature adviser .”

“But you’ve been preparing for two years. You even sailed in a bloody fencing instructor from France,” I said, laughing. “And that Gavarian woman who taught you about the native poisonous plants—”

“Queen Florence had imported numerous plants to Ivory House from Gavaria when she became queen, and it is paramount that I know which one to use should the need arise,” Blythe drawled. “And which one to avoid so I do not end up killing anyone.”

I stared at her with pity. “You should learn how to relax, Blythe.”

“Relaxing is unacceptable.”

“You sound like your father.”

“I am his daughter,” she snapped.

The silence lingered until she shook her head and stood. “I shouldn’t be drinking. I need a fresh mind to plan with Logan tomorrow.” Pausing at the door, eyes drooping, Blythe looked at me. “And Maeve, I’m glad you stopped me in the lake.”

“No, you’re not.”

She just smiled and said good night.

Moments later, when I heard the laughter down the corridor, I realized Blythe had left the door slightly ajar. With a sigh, I got up and limped toward it.

“Wait!” An arm slipped through the gap. A second later, William’s grinning face poked through. “We need herbs.”

“They’re not free,” I said, surprised to find Francis standing behind him with his twin friends, Timothy and Tobias. “And certainly not cheap,” I added with a smirk.

“We have money.”

I swung the door wide open. William walked in, followed by the twins. I arched a brow at Francis and smiled when he followed the others, his face tight like a priest walking into a whorehouse.

Closing the door, I grabbed my cane along the way to my trunk. I unscrewed the bottom part and took out a key. After unlocking it, I faced them again holding a small pouch. William eagerly handed me a few bills.

“Are you partying alone?” he asked, seeing the wine while I locked my trunk again.

“We can’t let you,” Tobias said.

And without asking, they proceeded to dominate my table, taking liberty with the wine and pulling out their pipes. As they filled them with my herbs , I stared at Francis who had remained motionless by the door. He did not move until the others were engaged in a conversation, the herbs slowly clouding them in a smoke of bliss.

“Did you hear about me through my dear cousin?” I asked him.

His eyes flickered with annoyance, the question too trivial to waste a breath on. “He just told me about someone who gladly take up the job.” He stole me a look. “I only figured when I called you.” Digging his hands in his pockets, a different kind of annoyance crawled up his face. His brow furrowed as his eyes zoned in on me, sharp and naturally irked. It must be hard to be him, filled with constant dire energy. “Why didn’t you join the First Trial?”

“My right leg’s not a good swimmer.”

He did not like that answer. For the first time, I liked that about him. He did not care about my so-called special condition. “She has an ivy.”

“I’ve already guessed that, yes.”

“Do you even have a plan?”

“Of course.” I had a few plans, not all of them good, but one should work out if I could device a way for Claire to be careless.

He did not look like he believed me. While William and the twins threw my herbs the best compliments, Francis continued to glare. “Do you use them? Or do you just adore poisoning others?”

I looked at him like he was insane. “Why do you think I grow them?”

That was the last thing I remember saying. The next hour was a blur, filled with smoke and painless laughter. Francis joined in, I think, because I remember his chuckles, too. And I think at one point he compared my dimples with William’s. Maybe we also went for a walk, or we opened a window. I very vaguely remember some dancing, too, although that would be unlikely because I had not danced for two years.

Then, nothing after that.

I rarely smoked in excess with others. Yes, it was an amazing and ethereal escape, but it also meant I would be vulnerable. I’d wake up in a fog, most of everything gone, which was the case that night.

When I woke up, I was in bed. No pain, and no memory of the past hours. It took me a moment to remember where I was; to realize that it was still dark outside and that William and the others were gone.

I rolled to the side and froze. Francis was snoring lightly beside me. With a start, I pushed him out of the bed and to the floor where he landed with a thud. “What in tarnation—Where am—”

“Get out!” I hissed, scrambling out of bed to light the lamp.

And that’s when I saw her. She was just there, lying on her back in the middle of my room.

I froze, walked closer, holding the lamp higher.

“Claire?” I called, my voice barely a whisper.

“What’s going on?”

I ignored Francis, heart pounding in my chest.

“Braxton,” I called, nudging Claire with my toe. When no response came, I knelt on my good knee. The floor was wet. I dipped a finger into the pool of liquid, my eyes wide, my breath caught in my throat.

Francis walked closer. “What in the bloody hell?”

Her eyes were open and she was very, very still.

I stumbled back, falling on the floor as I stared at Claire Braxton’s lifeless body.

SCARLETT

It was dark and quiet now. The party was over. Earlier, Miss Avery stumbled into her bedchamber, completely fine, making fun of everyone else passed out foxed in the hall. As I dressed her clumsily—as I always had (although I tried my best)—she talked about how everyone was surprised and pleased to see her again. She was too elated she did not even notice that I buttoned her nightdress wrong.

“Oh, how those pretty stupid things love the new me, Scarlett,” she had said in between giggles. “They think I changed for the better.”

I let her speak, taking in everything she told me. And when she was ready to go to bed, I put out the candle and bid her good night.

I did not like Miss Avery. I would love to work elsewhere, but like everything in her life, she had a hold of me. My father had gambled away everything he borrowed from Miss Avery’s father, and then he died with a bottle of cheap brandy in his bed, leaving us with nothing but his debts.

Since then, my mother worked for the Gadfords to pay off what we owed them. And when I was fifteen, I started to help her, but even when my mother lay dying in her bed, she had not worked long enough to pay the interest. And even though they would have preferred a better worker, the Gadfords had no choice but keep me to continue paying for my father’s debts.

I was the worst at household chores because I always crashed, brushed, or even fall into things— I never got better with the chores, although I had learned how to hide my mistakes pretty well. There was never a day when I would retire and not have a speck or blotch or smear of something on my clothes. Miss Avery hated that the most about me, but she had no choice.

I was trapped with her, probably for the rest of my life. But not my two younger siblings. They had a chance. Our father’s debts would end with my service if I could help Miss Avery win this game. That’s what she promised me. And if I kept her happy and help her achieve her goals here, Frannie and Myra would be free to live the rest of their lives without fear of having to live it like our mother and I.

I did not realize I had wandered to another wing until I tripped on my own foot and almost pulled down a tapestry. Regaining my balance, I turned around, lost.

Stupid! I had let my mind wander off again!

That’s when I saw him .

He emerged from another corridor, and he looked as surprised when he saw me. Quickly recovering, he broke into a smile.

I panicked.

“You there,” he said, walking over to me. His dark hair was a mess, and his eyes looked like they were about ready to go to bed. But he still glowed the same way he did earlier at the lake. “Are you lost?”

I blinked a few times. Should I lie? What for? “Y-Yes…” I didn’t even know his name.

He smiled and my eyes were immediately drawn to the two dimples on both sides of his mouth. “I’m William,” he said.

William. But what should I address him?

“My lord will do,” he said, as if hearing my question.

“Yes, my lord,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m afraid I’m lost.”

He looked me up and down. There was no doubt what I was. Miss Avery made sure to order new maidservant dresses for me before we left Storm Grove.

“Are you going to your mistress’ chambers or are you looking for ivies?”

“W-What? N-No, of course not. My mistress did not get an ivy, but—” I stopped. I probably should not have said that.

“I’m jesting,” he said, laughing. “Good God, you have the most amazing eyes. Are they real?” My face flushed as he leaned closer. Realizing what he had done, he said, “Apologies. Of course, they’re real.” He turned and pointed toward the left corridor. “I suppose you want to go to your quarters. It’s that way. No, no. It’s that way.”

Good Lord. He was foxed and high on something. I frowned. “Which way?”

My question made him look increasingly confused. “That way. I’m quite sure. Yes, it’s that way.”

I was not entirely convinced, but it was better than no direction at all. I nodded and hurriedly curtsied. “Thank you, my lord.”

“My pleasure. As game deputy, I’m happy to help.” He said it as if the role was a source of secret mirth.

“Thank you again,” I said, walking away.

“I did not catch your name,” he called.

I turned and shyly curtsied. “Scarlett, my lord.” I didn’t have to worry about him recognizing me and Miss Avery finding out about it. He would not remember me, for certain.

“Tell me, Lost Scarlett—Who is your mistress?”

“Miss Avery, my lord. Avery Gadford.”

The smile on his face vanished. Something crossed his face, but before I could read what it was, he said, “Interesting,” his voice almost cold. His lips curled again, but this time without the glow of before. “Well, have a good night, Scarlett,” he said before leaving, turning one way, then the other way. I watched him walk away, glancing over his shoulder at me one more time before completely disappearing.

As I navigated my way back to my room, Miss Avery’s warnings came back to me. She had told me to be very careful and to never make a mistake. I might have just committed my first one. But then again, I had gotten good at hiding my mistakes from my mistress.

BLYTHE

There were too many things that ran through my mind as I slipped back into my room, heart pounding against my chest. Locking the door, I whirled around, lost, frantic, and feeling utterly stupid.

With shaking hands, I desperately slipped out of my night dress, muffling a cry when I saw the blood.

“No, no, no…” I whimpered, sniffling as I rolled the entire thing in my arms. In desperation, I rushed to the washstand.

Wash everything off.

Through tears of regret and fear and shame, Maeve’s words echoed in my head.

Stupid is the last thing you can be in this game…

“Stupid! Stupid!” I hissed, rubbing the wet fabric between my fists.

Then I could almost hear my father’s words whispering in the dark corner of my head.

Get over it and fix this.

I stared at the mess I made, wet in my hands. The blood was not coming off.

Get over it and fix this.

I could not fix this. I could only keep it a secret.

I wrung the water out and looked around with my new twisted secret.

I fled to my trunk and threw the dress inside.

I returned to the washbasin and washed my hands, tears streaming down my face.

No one could know.

No one should know.

Ch. 4

MAEVE

Francis paced the room, hands on his hips. He went to the door for the fourth time to check if it was locked.

“Will you stop that?” I asked, rubbing my temple. “I’m thinking.”

He made a sharp stop and faced me. “Thinking of what?” he asked, almost in a hiss.

“Of how we get rid of this,” I said, pointing at the body with my cane.

The scowl on his face made me wish he was lying dead beside Claire. “Are you bloody stupid?”

With a grunt of pain, I stood from the bed and leaned my weight on my third leg. “What do you suggest we do? Report this?”

His jaw tightened. “We did not do this,” he insisted.

“Unless you remember half of what happened last night, you can’t say that.”

“But I do remember everything.”

I scoffed. “No, you don’t.”

“I did not smoke your paltry herbs.”

I blinked in confusion, setting aside how he just insulted my herbs for later argument. “But you stayed.”

“Yes. And I drank. But not to oblivion.”

“Very well,” I said, arching a brow. “Tell me what happened.”

He glared at me. “You smoked and drank more than you could. I had to keep you away from the window. Then you dragged me out for a walk because you said your legs felt wonderful. When we got back, William and the twins were gone. You talked about your stupid plans against Claire as you finished another bottle of wine and forced me to drink with you. Then you fell asleep.” As I stared at him in disbelief, he added, “I had to stay to make sure you did not just induce your own death. And then I fell asleep. So, yes, I know we didn’t kill her.”

It took a moment to absorb everything he just told me. Shaking my head, I pointed at the body. “There’s still a dead girl in the middle of my bloody bedroom. That and the fact that I sell paltry herbs will land me straight to prison. And do you think I will go down alone?” I looked him straight in the eyes. “No, of course not. They’ll ask for the real reason I’m here and I’ll tell them the truth. I would not hesitate to reveal who paid me to be here.”

Limping toward the body, I stared down at it. Not a part of me felt anything. All I could think about were the days I suffered because of her; that humiliating day I let her hurt me. She was nothing but a pathetic sadist and she did not deserve this kind of death.

All I remember thinking was that I was not going down because of Claire Braxton. Once was enough.

Francis looked flabbergasted when I said, “The sun won’t wait for us to finish a pleasant conversation about a dead body.”

“Don’t you see her state? We can’t take her through the door. She’s still bleeding.”

“You’re right,” I murmured, looking around.

“You cannot be bloody serious, you crazy, mindless fool,” he hissed when my eyes stayed on the window.

“The pool. It’s just below this wing. It will erase anything that may point toward us,” I said, opening the curtains. He went and stood beside me. I grimaced as we looked down.

“We can’t just throw her out.”

“She won’t feel a bloody fall, will she?”

“You’re insane.”

“I’ve heard worse insults from better people. Move her over to the window.” He followed me back to Claire’s body, crouched, then stopped, reluctant. I rolled my eyes. “You know, death is not contagious.”

He glared at me. “We’re dealing with a dead woman!”

“The same woman you did not want to win the game,” I shot back. He threw me a look of contempt before he dragged Claire toward the window. “Don’t throw up. We have enough blood to clean up.”

“Shut up.”

I restlessly tapped the floor with one foot.

“Shut up!”

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed back as I helped him hoist the body over the ledge. “Now, let’s pray no one hears a thing,” I said once we succeeded, half of the body hanging limp on both sides of the window. His jaw tightened as I started counting. “One, two—”

He made the push before I could say three. We flinched at the sound. Then we both leaned out the window. Claire landed on her back, her limbs spread out. It was not a high fall, truly.

I moved away, grabbing him by the arm. “We can’t waste time.”

I grabbed the key to my room and locked it behind us. My heartbeat raced to my ears as we navigated the corridor from the south wing. Francis grabbed my arm when the sound of loud laughter rang from the stairs. “Aw!” I cried as his finger dug down to my bone. I slapped his hand away as I pressed my back against the wall. “Let go!” I slapped his hand again. He did, wiping his hand against his trousers. “Do I disgust you?” I asked.

“Will you bloody shut up!” he hissed, poking his head out of the threshold.

The voices were getting closer, and I tugged at him, pulling him close in front of me. He glared as I wrapped an arm around his neck. “What are you doing? Unhand me,” he ordered, his voice filled with warning.

Hooking the handle of my cane around the back of his neck, I pulled his head down and whispered, “You have blood on your shirt, you insipid fool.”

Realizing this, he stepped closer, pressing his body against mine, one arm braced on the wall beside my head, the other above it. His entire form encapsulated me and I heard him say, “I should have gone home.” I held my breath, not really in the mood to smell his. I wiped my hand on his shoulder. “Do I disgust you?”

“You’re sweaty, but not in an arousing way.”

“And you smell just like smoke.”

The voices were definitely on their way toward us. I gritted my teeth, half of my mind wondering how I ended up here with a bloody prince pressed against me, while the other half was still in disbelief that this was real.

“Dammit.” His curse brushed against my cheek. “Don’t move.”

“I can’t,” I hissed back, tugging at his neck with my cane.

“Stop it!” he said, wincing in pain.

“Stop breathing your breath on my face.” I paused, listened. “They’re going to enter this corridor—”

His mouth captured the rest of my words and my eyes widened in surprise, which quickly escalated to a feeling of queasiness, edging close to revulsion. My first instinct was to push him away, but he glared at me with a warning. I only stopped when I realized it was as a shared torture.

We remained still, our lips awkwardly pressed together as we waited for the ladies to make the turn and see us. And when they finally did, Francis closed his eyes; I did the same with a grimace.

“I cannot believe they made us get into that lake. And that I actually made the jump! I had to stay in the bath for an hour when I got here—”

The speaker went completely silent. The rest of her words hung in midair. If you could hear a breath stop, that was probably it. I did not see if they were rendered mute out of surprise or repulsion because I had to participate in the performance Francis started. He had moved his lips, urging mine to answer the kiss—not that I’d call it a kiss, really. A real one did not require the amount of concentration I had to conjure to not push him away.

As I moved my mouth against his, I knew from that moment on that things would only get bad. For one, it was starting to feel like a real kiss. And a good one at that. Something warm and tingly coiled inside me—just like the feeling you get in your stomach when you fall from a high point. It traveled all the way to my fingertips. Suddenly, his lips weren’t so bad.

I snaked my fingers through his hair, my body meeting his as he stepped even closer. He was a pretty good kisser, which was quite a revelation after hearing words his mouth was capable of. The kiss, which started as bad and awkward as we were, became deep and insistent. Reckless one moment, frenzied the next.

But not great enough to blow me out of my wits to not realize that our spectators were not moving away. I tore my mouth off Francis and buried his face in my neck and glared at the three ladies. “Do you mind?” I growled. I swear I felt his smile against my skin.

Our spectators instantly snapped back to their senses and rushed away. When their footsteps finally disappeared, he lifted his face, and we rolled our heads toward the end of the corridor.

Immediately, we pulled away from each other. Gripping my cane, I cleared my throat and I limped ahead of him and down the stairs. He grabbed my wrist and led me through another corridor off the great hall and out into the south garden where the pool was located.

We found Claire the same way she landed—a twisted, lifeless doll. I did not have to order him. He hauled her body over his shoulder without a word and we made our way back to the garden, hiding behind tall shrubs. The pool area was open, but it was dark enough for cover.

“Make sure not to make a splash,” I told him as he adjusted Claire’s limp body in his arms. “Put her in feet first—”

“Shut up,” he sharply said with a grunt. “You give too many bloody orders.”

“I’m protecting us.”

“Don’t push me!”

“I’m not pushing.”

“You just did.”

“That was a shove.”

He let out an infuriated growl and ran to the edge of the pool where he laid Claire’s body and rolled her into the water.

I silently swore as it made a loud splash. He ran back toward me and I glared at him. “I told you not to make a splash!”

“Should I try again?” he bitingly asked. I made sure we were still alone before I stared at him from head to foot. His lips were still swollen from the kiss, his hair a curly mess. He looked like a ravished lover rather than a body-disposing prince.

“You’ll need to change,” I said, walking away. “There’s something in my trunk that will fit you.”

“I don’t think—”

“I know you don’t think, but you can’t leave looking like that,” I interjected. “Or are you spending the night here?” Unlike the contestants, deputies could leave the Ivory House whenever they pleased.

He gritted his teeth and followed me back inside.

The room was still the same when we returned. We cleaned the floor with water from the washstand. Once done, I pulled out one of my favorite white linen shirts from the closet and threw it at him. He stripped off his bloodied shirt and put it on. As he searched for his coat, I undressed behind the dressing screen.

He was putting on his coat when he stopped and stared.

“What?” I asked, head poking over the screen.

“Are you always this stupidly careless?” he asked, snapping back in motion, shrugging into his coat.

“Do you always pair your insults? They’re too wordy, don’t you think?”

He turned away and brushed his fingers through his hair. “They’re going to find her.”

I let my nightdress drop to my ankles. “Yes, and we’re going to find her killer before they frame it on us.”

With a frown, he said, “You can’t think we’re being framed.”

“If neither of us killed her, why was her body here?” I stepped out of the screen, tying the ribbon over my chest.

I caught him looking before his gaze flickered back to mine. “Maybe she tried to find help.”

A chuckle rolled up my throat. “I’m the last person she’d come to for help.”

“What are you doing?” he asked as I put on my coat. Grabbing my cane, I inspected the floor. Satisfied, I faced him again. “I’m going to Claire’s room.”

His look of surprise rapidly turned to another mad violet rage. “You impetuous fool. No!”

“She was in her nightdress, which means she was in her room before she ended up here. And stop looking at me like that. I’m not asking you to go with me.”

“And what do you expect to find there?”

“If she was attacked in her room, the weapon might still be there.” I looked him up and down. “You should go home, deputy .”

“I have to make sure you don’t do more asinine things that will implicate both of us,” he snapped, walking to the door.

I gritted my teeth and followed him outside. His movements were stiff, his hands balled into fists. As I followed him from behind, I wondered about the things I could not remember from last night. When did Claire get in? Why? Where did William and the twins go? Did they have anything to do with this?

As Francis led the way to the east wing, I caught up with him and said, “You know where she sleeps.” He made no comment. “Maybe you found her in bed, stabbed her, and then she fled to my room where she died.”

He glowered down at me. “And how do you know she was stabbed?” Before I could reply, he added, “Unless you did it.”

“As you said, you remember everything from last night.”

“But not the moments while I was asleep. You could have slipped out and killed her.”

I scoffed. “There are many reasons I wanted her dead, and there are many ways I could have done it. This is not among them.”

He snorted. “Because you’re too cunning?”

“No. Because she died too easily.”

He stopped and stared at me like I was crazy. “You’re appallingly insane.”

“You’re free to leave if you don’t like me, you know.”

Moving on, he stopped at the third door to the right. Placing his hands on the handle, he said, “I know where she sleeps because I’m a game deputy.”

“That’s quite an alarming information,” I mumbled as he opened the door.

I pushed my way in and limped toward the bed. It seemed untouched. “It’s too tidy,” I said, walking over to the dresser.

“She never liked clutter,” Francis said, hands back in his pockets.

“Of course, you’d know,” I said wryly as I opened a drawer. No possible weapon.

“I don’t think there’s anything here.” His gaze followed me to the other side of the bed.

“Which side does she sleep on?”

“Why would I know that?”

I shrugged. “You are a promising creep.” I opened the drawer. Nothing.

He ignored me and said, “We should question your cousin.”

“Which one?” I asked as I got down to my knees and looked under the bed.

“William. He disappeared with the twins.”

“I plan to know what happened to them, trust me,” I murmured, crawling into the bed, wincing at the pain in my leg.

His head poked under, a few curls dangling over his forehead. “No fool would hide a bloody weapon—What’s that?” He asked as I reached for something stuck in the underside of the bed.

I smiled. “Proof Claire wasn’t so smart.” I held out my arm. “Help me out.”

He dragged me out none-too-gently. “You came here for that?”

“Yes, because our deal is off.” I said as I stood. “Now that my mission is dead, I can’t fulfill my end of the bargain. I’ll find my way back to Queens some other way with this.”

His face filled with understanding. “The Silver Favor. You’re going to use the ivy you stole from a dead girl to get a Silver Favor?” he asked in disbelief.

“I’m opportunistic that way.” I stared at the brooch and sighed. “At least we know she wasn’t killed for her ivy.”

“Don’t be stupid. They’ll find her body soon and they’ll want to know where her ivy went. That,” he said, pointing at the ivy, “is a bloody motive.”

“Half of the ivies have already been stolen by this time. No one could say Claire lost hers after she died.”

He was about to say something when his eyes landed on the bed, specifically the pillow.

“What’s that?” I asked as he took out the note peeking underneath.

He opened it.

Just one word: Pride .

“A mortal sin,” I whispered, looking at Francis, excitement and fear brewing in the pit of my stomach. “Is someone killing sinners?”

Ch. 5

-DAY 2-

SCARLETT

The servants were the first to hear about the body found floating in the pool. I heard out about it during breakfast in the servant dining hall belowstairs.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I took a seat in the long table.

“It was the gardener,” the maid beside me said. “I mean he found her. Just this morning while he was out to clean the pool. I don’t know how he could clean the pool so early in the morning, with barely any light. But anyway, he found her.”

“Who?”

“Claire Braxton.” She motioned her head toward a sobbing maid. “That’s her maid, Lettie.” She smiled at me. “I’m Piper. We share the same room.”

I smiled. “You were asleep when I went in. I’m Scarlett.” I looked around, utterly confused by the entire thing. Everyone were talking in whispers, as if they didn’t want Lettie to hear. “Are you saying she’s dead? Claire Braxton?”

“Sure is,” Piper said, shaking her head.

“Oh God,” I gasped, the information finally sinking in.

“I heard she’s betrothed to Prince Francis. Poor girl. They say she has the best chance of becoming Swan this year. She was the smartest girl in her class at Queens, too.”

Miss Avery was just talking about Claire Braxton yesterday and now she’s dead?

“Scarlett, did you hear me?”

I blinked and looked at Piper. “I’m sorry?”

“Who’s your mistress?”

I moistened my lips and cleared my throat. “Avery Gadford.”

Piper’s freckle-sprinkled face lit up with interest. “The missing girl.”

“What?”

“She disappeared from Queens two years ago, did she not?”

“Where did you hear that? Your mistress?”

“Oh, no. I have no mistress. I work here in Ivory House. There’s thirty of us, see? We clean the rooms and help with the ladies who didn’t bring female servants. You know, those who brought in males like that one.” She leaned closer and whispered, eyes on a handsome young man with black hair sitting with other male servants. “Logan Earle, I believe his name is. He works for Blythe Vandenberg’s father. The others sitting with him are also here as servants for other ladies. But we all know they’re mentors, trying to help these ladies get the better chances. Oh, darling, you have dirt on your sleeves! Where did you get that, clumsy girl?”

I looked and groaned in frustration. “I must have brushed the edge of the oven when I went to get my soup.”

“You should finish eating and clean that. There are exciting things coming up. Do you think they’ll postpone the game?” Piper asked as we stared at Lettie, who was now surrounded by servants trying to comfort her.

“How did she die?” I asked.

“Drowned, they say,” Piper said. “But the question is—What was she doing in the pool so late at night? And why was there blood?”

“Blood?”

“Yes. I’m not sure, but I’ll know for certain by afternoon once the gardener returns. They took the body straight to Sinclair.” She shook her head. “Blood. Do you think she was murdered?”

Piper’s question lingered in my head even as I entered Miss Avery’s room an hour later.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Miss Avery said, smiling from her dresser. “Help me with my hair. I want something simple today.”

I picked up the brush, pausing at the brooch sitting beside it. I knew every ornament she owned, and this was not one of them.

“That’s an ivy, Scarlett. Go on, look at it.” I picked it up, wonder in my eyes. It was a swan, and I had seen nothing as beautiful. “The body is made of ivory from a dead elephant’s tusk,” Miss Avery said, smiling as she watched me. “It represents purity and elegance. The eye is made of sapphire stone, representing loyalty and wisdom. The beak is gold for triumph.” I ran my thumb over the wing, which was encrusted with diamonds. “The diamonds symbolize commitment.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“And very rare,” Miss Avery said, taking the brooch from my hand. “Only Swans own a piece. It’s handcrafted by the royal jeweler for the game. It could not be replicated.”

I brushed her hair as she talked more about her plans—and how we had to keep the ivy safe. I was only half-listening at this point because I could not help but wonder where Miss Avery got the ivy.

I was certain she did not go into that lake.

MAEVE

That morning, I filled my pipe with my herbs and smoked. It had been a year since the pain in my leg woke me, but this time it did. I barely managed to climb out of bed. As the herbs worked, and as my body relaxed, I tested my leg and walked around the room. I stopped at the spot where we found Claire. Bless the heavens for ceramic tiles, the greatest innovation of mankind.

I went to the window and sighed when I saw the dried blood on the windowsill. Quickly, I dampened a cloth and wiped it off. Poking half of my body out, I stared down at the grass. As expected, the part where she landed was darker.

When Justine entered the room, I ordered for a bath. “And leave the bucket there,” I said later when she was done filling the tub. “Thank you, Justine. You may leave. I’ll bathe alone,” I said.

She stared at me and the pipe in my hand before nodding. As she was leaving, she stopped, hesitated for a moment, and asked, “Miss, have you heard the news?”

“News of what?”

She blinked a few times and cleared her throat. “You said I should tell you everything I hear belowstairs.”

“Yes, I did—among other things. What about this news?”

“They found a body in the pool this morning, Miss.”

“Oh.” I turned and looked down the window. “To be clear, you’re talking about a human body?”

“Yes, Miss. One of the aspiring Swans, Miss.”

I faced her again with a frown. My father had always said I was a good actor when the need arose. “Who?”

“Lady Claire Braxton, Miss.”

But I was not that good of an actor, so I turned and faced the window again. “That’s horrible.”

“It is, Miss. Her poor maid went home alone looking like a mess.”

“And what are they saying about it? How did she die?”

“We don’t know yet, Miss. They say—”

“Did you hear?” Blythe’s breathless question erupted into the room. She stood in the doorway, her face white, her eyes wide with shock. “About Claire?”

“Just now,” I said. “We’ll have to talk about this later. I need to take my bath.”

“But—”

“My leg is killing me this morning, Blythe. Leave now, please.”

She quickly nodded. “I’ll come down for breakfast to find out more. Do you think they’ll postpone the game? But I’ve been through so much and—”

“Blythe,” I sternly said.

“Yes, of course. Your bath. I’ll have to find Logan, anyway.”

The moment she and Justine left the room, I locked the door and placed my pipe on the table. I filled the bucket with water, cursing at the pain. With my cane, I carried it over to the window and poured out the contents. I did it three more times. My efforts helped, but not completely.

I wet my hair and washed myself with a damp cloth, meanwhile doubting my actions last night. Maybe Francis was right and we should have just reported it. They might not think a prince could have done it. And maybe they would think that despite my history, I would not resort to murder?

Finishing my pipe, I prepared for breakfast, which was served in the east outside in the east garden. By this time, everyone had heard the news. Many were afraid and weary, but mostly curious. Would the game be postponed?

What really happened to Claire? They couldn’t believe it was her, that she was not around anymore, especially her friends who were mourning, sitting around the same table, their tea and food untouched as they sobbed.

I found Blythe and dragged her away from the wall that had a view of the entrance to the pool. No one sat with us, even though we still had three empty seats around our table. Maybe because those who didn’t want to talk about Claire were talking about me and Francis.

The deputies joined us when they arrived, roaming around to assure everyone that the game master would have news for us today. There was no cause for panic. And no, they could not say more about the fate of the game. Curiously, William was not around. So were the twins.

Blythe would not shut up about Claire’s death. She told me things I already knew. “This is too taxing for me,” I told her wryly. “I’m sorry Claire’s dead, but we both know we don’t care.”

She blinked in surprise, then looked around, afraid someone heard me. “Maeve!” she hissed. “She may not have been our friend, but—”

“She ruined my leg, that’s all I know.” I stood and smiled at the ladies seated around the table behind me. With my tea, I crossed the lawn toward the southern wing.

“You can’t go to the pool,” one woman told me.

“I’m not,” I grumbled under my breath.

I disappeared from view and continued the path toward the pool. Halfway there, I stopped at the spot right below my bedroom window and looked down at the discolored grass.

“What are you doing?” Francis asked behind me, his voice smooth yet scathing.

I poured the tea on the grass and faced him. “Good morning. Do you know what everyone’s talking about this morning? Just two things: Claire’s death and our sizzling tryst in the corridor.” I limped past him toward the side entrance. “That’s my way of saying stop following me , by the way,” I said as he fell in stride beside me, hands in his pockets. “We are already in a very awkward scandal, Your Highness,” I hissed with warning, stopping in front of a full marble statue. Its hand was held out, palm up, and I placed my teacup on top.

“That’s my great-uncle.”

“Then I’m sorry he had to wait all these years for his tea,” I wryly said.

He followed as I walked on. “They’re having a closed meeting about the game.”

“Good. It’s about time they end this thing,” I said.

“I don’t think they will. I know my sister-in-law. They’ll try to cover this up to save the game’s reputation. They’re still recovering from last year’s scandal.”

Ah, the girl who nearly drowned in the lake during a game. It was a risk to do the First Trial there, too, but they must think it was worth it. After all, no one drowned. They proved their point. But murder? How could they cover this up?

“That’s stupid, but I’m fine with it.” I stopped to look around. “I’m sure they’re taking her body to Sinclair. Find Leonard St. Vincent. He’ll know what to do. But do it later at night. He’s still in bed at this hour.”

He looked completely lost. “What are you talking about?”

“My cousin’s a doctor. He can confirm the cause of death.”

“What?” I already knew what he was about to say next, but I was short of one word. “Of all the stupid, demented, imprudent ideas, yours are the worst. If I go there, I’ll be found out.”

“Get to the back entrance, knock and say I sent you.” He shook his head in indignant objection. “We need to know how she died.” I moved again.

He quickly followed. “We?”

“You and I are a pair now, whether we like it or not. Just find Leonard and see the body.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets as his mouth fell open, horror in his eyes. He blocked my path. “You want me to look into a bloody corpse?”

“Keep your voice down. Goodness. It’s not a crime.” I smiled at a pair of ladies who walked past us, repulsion painted on their faces. I wryly stared Francis in the eyes. “Find Leo in Sinclair. I’ll ring at eight in the evening. And stop following me,” I hissed.

“I’m not going!” he hissed back.

“Then don’t!”

BLYTHE

They gathered us in the ballroom. When Maeve arrived looking unbothered in a dark blue dress, a few gazes followed her with disdain.

As much as I wanted to put some distance between us after her display in the garden, I was left with no choice because it was awkward to be standing alone amid women our age.

I groaned inwardly when Maeve stopped to get refreshments and stood beside me. But I had to remind myself that Maeve would always be Maeve, and I should be Blythe. And Blythe was good and perfect.

I smiled at a few ladies who stared in our direction and they smiled back, albeit halfheartedly, avoiding looking at Maeve altogether. Was I being judged by association here?

“I don’t think everyone likes us at the moment. You should have not said what you said during breakfast,” I whispered to her.

“You shouldn’t care too much about what they think.”

“And what about this rumor about you and the prince? Is it true?”

“Maybe.”

I gasped, hand over my mouth. “Maeve!”

“I barely remember how his lips felt.”

“What were you thinking? He is Claire’s betrothed!” I hissed.

“My leg wasn’t also hers when she broke it,” she countered.

I could imagine Claire’s fury if she found out about Maeve and Francis and I could not help but wish she weren’t dead. It would have been fun to see her out of her usual grace. I had always wanted people to see how evil she was—what she was truly capable of. I wanted everyone to know what she had done to Maeve and the other girls before her.

But her dying stripped me of that satisfaction. It was too late now for everyone to see her for what she was, because she was no longer here to witness her own fall.

“They say they’re not postponing the game, but some are already thinking of quitting. Less competition for us,” I whispered, not really expecting an answer from Maeve as I looked around. I knew most of these from Queens. I had studied them thoroughly in the past two years, and I knew they were eager to get an ivy. But how many were willing to stay here after what happened?

A footman opened the double doors that led to a private wing of the manor and the room went completely still. “Her Royal Highness, Princess Violet!”

Violet Davercher, Crown Princess of Sutherland, forty years of age. She had two sons with Crown Prince Emmanuel, and she was about to give birth to the third. They said it was a dangerous pregnancy, but here she was, assuming the role of game master. She liked hot dark chocolates from the mountains of Hartcaster; wore no color other than green and white. She washed her perfect black hair with aloe every three days.

Since the queen’s death four years ago, Princess Violet had taken over the task of game master for the Ivory Games. Although she may be older than my mother, she looked younger. Maybe because she did not have the same husband as mine had.

We all curtsied, save for Maeve, whom I knew could manage one, but chose not to because her condition excused her.

“I am sad to meet you all after the events this morning,” the princess said in a mournful voice. “I’m sure you all have questions. Lady Claire Braxton was a promising young woman taken from us too soon, but let us not tarnish her death with nasty rumors. Lady Claire’s death was nothing but a tragic accident. She is a known sleepwalker and must have ventured out to the pool where she fell and drowned.”

There was a buzz of disbelief, and in one corner where Claire’s friends stood, there was more sobbing.

“Lady Claire would have been an amazing Swan,” the princess continued. “And she would not have wanted to steal from you the opportunity to become one. Thus, in honor of Lady Claire Braxton, we have decided to resume the game.” Her smile turned brighter as she extended her arms in welcome, her very pregnant belly billowing even more. “So, ladies, I welcome you all to the 88th Ivory Game!”

Everyone softly clapped, me included, save for Maeve, of course, because she was holding her cane.

“Seventeen of you have ivies,” the princess said, “but we all know you may not have it for long. The Silver Room is now open to accept those with ivies. The games, as usual, shall follow. I wish you all the best, ladies!”

I frowned as the princess turned around and exited the ballroom. “Seventeen? But Claire had an ivy, didn’t she?” I said to Maeve.

She just shrugged. “Apparently, someone has her ivy.”

New Story Alert

I’m inviting you to join me on Patreon where I’m posting a Patreon Exclusive story for FREE there. Yes, even if you’re not a paying member, you can still enjoy it. This story is a gift for all my patrons.

You can find me on Patreon at:  patreon.com/jdruizstories

Scroll down for a preview of Elewyn!

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/c6f957b9297f8a5bdc2bec3ba8bf160adb818bbb/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4e302d58694f39446d486c5548513d3d2d313530333737373531372e313831323761313830383234623930373337373837303936353537322e706e67)               

Synopsis

When a young priestess with the most dangerous gift the realm had ever seen is whisked away by a powerful wizard to an alternate world where her alter self is the villain, she starts to see her power’s great potential for good and even more for evil.

---

The realm of Valendia has three other alternate realms they call mimics . They all share the same place, time, and people, but all of them lead very different lives.

Elewyn was born with a dangerous gift everyone around Valendia considers a curse, which led her to be left in the care of the Zion priests, whose sole purpose is to protect the people from the constant threat of the Dark One, the evil ruler of Azazel, Valendia’s worst mimic .

But when the Dark One’s most powerful wizard, Amon Akalis, accidentally steals Elewyn from her peaceful life in the temple and takes her to Azazel, she discovers more answers about herself than she ever imagined because in Azazel, her mimic is no other than the Dark One. Worse, Amon Akalis tells her that in order to survive, she has to play the part.

Chapter 1 | The Visit

He always came on the full moon.

When that time of the year came, everyone would drop everything by dusk. They would herd their cattle back to the barn and usher their children, especially the daughters, inside their homes. Windows and doors shut, they’d wait for the night to pass, never to blink a sleep or move from their hearths.

No one knew why he took young girls or what he did to them because none ever returned. No spears or swords or magic could stop him. Valendia was vulnerable.

One night, however, he just appeared in the temple and sat in the library for hours. And he just left, taking no one. This went on for years. In fact, it had been five years since he took the last girl.

But no one could truly ever feel safe. No, not really. Because it was not just the Dark Prince people feared. It was the master he worked for: the Dark Lord of Azazel. The destroyer of worlds.

There were horrifying stories about the Dark Lord. They say that the stolen young girls were taken by him; that he took them for his brides and he ate their children to gain more power.

But these were just stories I gathered. I never lived among the people; never had to share the kind of fear they had to endure. Because mine was far worse. It was not their homes the Dark Prince visited, not their girls he took, nor their grounds he walked on. It was mine: My home he came to every year on a full moon, my friends—my sisters—who shared my fear that maybe he would change his mind during one of his visits and take one of us.

The Temple of Zion stood on top of a mountain in Tridor, one of the five kingdoms of Valendia. It was the only home we knew, me and the other girls who were left outside its doors.

“Where have you been?” Kalixa hissed as I caught up with the other priestesses.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, fixing the cream veil over my head. “I lost track of time. Where are we going?”

“We’ve been called to the hall. You’re covered in grass,” Thena said behind me.

“You climbed over the walls again, didn’t you?” Kalixa asked.

“Of course, she did,” Thena replied.

The four of us had been friends since we arrived in Zion fourteen years ago—Kalixa, Thena, Mira, and me. I was four, and they were five, and they took me in as a sister they meant to protect and comfort. Their parents sent them here to be priestesses. I wasn’t. But I knew why.

“You know it’s the full moon, right?” Kalixa asked as our line of fifteen girls came to a gentle stop.

“Yes, of course, I know.”

“And even if it’s not the full moon, we’re not allowed to venture outside the temple.”

“That’s why I did not go far from the wall. Will anyone tell me why we’re here?” We stood in line in the center of the hall, feeling a little lost. “It’s not time for the afternoon prayer, is it?”

I shut my mouth when the head priestess, Lioba, rushed into the hall, her white robe and veil floating behind her. Her eyes jumped straight at me as if she knew what I had been up to. “Grand Wizard Ovia is arriving in a moment.” We turned to stare at one another. “She’s here for a visit,” Lioba answered our unspoken question.

I had spent enough quality time with Lioba during my disciplinary sessions to recognize the look of disapproval on her face. Not that she did not like Ovia. As the greatest wizard in the realm, Ovia was given the highest respect. Many villages considered her a goddess and even prayed to her. But this was the full moon, not the best time for temple hopping.

Unless something urgent came up that concerned the full moon.

A chill ran through me at the thought.

“Back straight, lips tight. Go to your places.” As we moved to stand before the fifteen statues of the Grand Wizards of the past that lined the hall, Lioba stood in front of me. “Stay after the welcome.”

“What? Why?”

“Priestesses don’t ask questions, Elewyn.” As she walked away, I raised my head and met Kalixa’s gaze from across the hall. “What did she say?” Kalixa mouthed.

I shrugged.

“Did you do something?”

I gulped and reluctantly shrugged.

She rolled her eyes in frustration.

We squared our shoulders and bowed our heads as High Priest Ivor appeared from a side door in a white robe, his head wrapped in a tall white hat he reserved for special guests. He stopped at the end of the line and waited without a word. The double doors to the temple, which had been closed for the full moon, slowly swung open, the hinges squeaking at their weight. In the doorway stood a small woman dressed in black robes and a veil: The Stormbringer, the greatest wizard Valendia had ever seen since Zion.

I gawked in wonder as she passed, my heart racing as it felt great magic. She stood a head shorter than me, and it was a wonder how such a small body held immense power. Like Ivor, she did not look like she was more than a century old. Her hair was as long and black as ours, her face flawless as the fifteen young girls in the hall. Magic played a significant part in making her stay young, for certain, but it was her eyes—the way they stared at us—that gave away her age and wisdom.

“I know you are all anxious because the full moon is drawing near,” she said as she stood beside Ivor. “But do not fear because the spirit and grace of Zion live within you. This is just one night and one evil passing through. We had been through it countless times. The sun will rise anew tomorrow and you will all celebrate another year of peace, magic, and harmony.”

We bowed as she turned and walked away without another word, her steps long and hasty with Ivor fast beside her as if they were in a hurry for something. I watched two priests close the doors with a resounding echo.

The girls finally moved, free to talk. Most of us were half-disappointed that Ovia did not say more, but quite glad to be free to leave, go to prayer, get our supper, and lock ourselves in our rooms until the full moon had passed.

Of course, I was frightened. It had only been five years since the Dark Lord took the last girl. But she was not just another priestess. Mira was our friend, our sister. She did not deserve to be taken away.

“Elewyn,” Lioba said when I fell in line with the other young priestesses. “Elewyn.”

I closed my eyes and pretended not to hear. A quick nudge threw me out of line. My eyes flew open, and I glared at Thena and Kalixa. I knew it was Thena because she was shaking her hand as if she was scorched.

“Elewyn.”

I groaned and turned. She was already waiting for me at the entrance of the corridor—the same one Ivor and Ovia rushed into.

“Faster,” Lioba said, her hands clasped together before her. She wanted to grab me and drag me with her if she could, but she didn’t because no one could touch me.

I took my precious time walking behind her. “Is this about this morning, Sister?” I cautiously asked as she led the way, her steps light and graceful on the stone floors, mine dragging and reluctant.

“What about this morning?”

I gulped. “Nothing?”

She stole me a look over her shoulder, her steps unwavering. It must be about this morning, I thought. I had already paid for the incident I caused two days ago. My knees were still sore from the hours of prayer.

“Is this about last night, Sister?” I asked when I belatedly remembered last night’s slight accident in the kitchen.

“What about last night?”

I gritted my teeth. Lioba always knew how to catch me. I had to be careful.

“Nothing?”

I did not realize we had come to a stop until I heard the voices from behind the door and my eyes widened. My mouth fell open, about to ask what I could have possibly done so wrong that required a talk with the Stormbringer, but no words came out.

“Khettish is rounding up armies in the north and it’s only a matter of time. The king wants to attack before they can and he demands that she be there. Under my guidance, she will be ready before—”

Ovia stopped talking when Lioba knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Ivor said.

They were sitting around a small table with three other priests. Ovia and Ivor remained seated as the others stood.

“You troublemaker,” one priest whispered to me, clucking his tongue with a teasing smile as he passed. I glared at him and he chuckled along with the other priests.

I gulped.

“Elewyn. Come in,” Ivor said with a wave of his hand. His face was gentle and his smile could warm even the coldest heart of a child who just realized her parents had abandoned her forever. His voice was just as comforting and kind as the songs he sang to help me sleep whenever I woke up crying those first few months.

I stumbled on my robe and almost fell on my face as I clumsily bowed. “Your Magnificence—ies?” I greeted. Was it supposed to be plural? I never had the chance to greet two Grand Wizards at the same time.

I never desired to be in the same room as Lioba, but when she stepped back and closed the door, leaving me alone with Ivor and Ovia, I almost begged her to stay.

“Have a seat, Elewyn.”

“We will not take long,” said Ovia. “I understand the Dark Prince is arriving soon.”

I stared at them, half-amazed and half-frightened. She said his name so easily. I was yet to meet someone who didn’t shiver at the sound of the name, much more say it.

The Dark Prince was not from this world. He was from the mimic realm Azazel, an alternate world of Valendia.

There are three mimics we knew of: Evathra, Azazel, and Iahalyn. Their worlds are exactly like ours. Everything we have in ours has a twin—a duplicate, a pair—in those worlds. Everything and everybody is the same, but also not the same.

Somewhere in those worlds, I had a mimic, but I didn’t know their fate. I didn’t know their lives because it was a rule not to know. And as priests and priestesses of Zion, it was our job to make sure that the mimics didn’t meet—or worse, collide.

Mimics coming in contact with each other was simply too disastrous. They say Iahalyn dared meddle with the natural order of the mimics and paid for it gravely. Their world, as we heard, had become a wasteland. There was nothing there but darkness and chaos, they say. Thus, in order to stop the same thing from happening to Valendia, the then Grand Wizard Zion built this temple and, with his powerful magic, built a barrier between our world and the other mimics.

I had never been to the portal. I was too young and too inexperienced to be permitted ingress, which was heavily guarded by the kingdom’s best wizards. But everyone knew the portal was somewhere in the caves where the Temple of Zion stood.

Ever since the temple was built, no one had crossed to and from any of the mimics without getting killed by the barrier or by the wizards.

Except for one: the Dark Prince.

For some dark magic no one in Valendia could explain, he could travel to our realm on a full moon. Each year, he came to the same place in Zion, and always at the exact same time.

We could do nothing but wait, praying he would leave without taking one of us.

“I came here for you, Elewyn,” Ovia said, pulling my wandering thoughts back to the room.

“For me?” I asked, blinking at her, and then at Ivor. “Is this about the fire in the shed? But I swear I did not mean to cause it. I was merely—”

“No, this is not about the shed,” he patiently replied.

“The altar? I fixed that one and I also spent three straight days praying for forgiveness—”

Ovia’s laughter rang around the room. “She is something, isn’t she?” she asked Ivor.

“She is,” he replied, amusement in his eyes.

“I’m not here because of your petty demeanors, Elewyn, although I do hope you avoid making them from now on,” Ovia said, smiling at me as she spoke. Her cheeks were naturally red, her face full as her smile widened. “I’m taking you with me to the palace.”

I froze. “Me?” My gaze darted toward Ivor, the feeling of betrayal rising up my throat. “W-Why?” Was I not good enough to be here? “I know I should have been paying more attention to my studies and prayers, but we all know I do not lack magic. I only need to know how to control it and—” I stopped, shaking my head.

Everyone in the temple believed there was no way to control whatever I had. Like my parents, they believed it was not magic I possessed, but a curse. Was it because of it, then? Was I being taken away because I was no use here?

“I don’t want to leave,” I stubbornly said as my friends’ faces flashed before me. I couldn’t leave them after what happened to Mira. How could I?

Ovia let out a long, patient sigh. “Elewyn, it’s not that you’re not good enough to be here,” she said, as if she heard my thoughts. “It’s just that no one here is good enough to teach you. I will train you—”

“But I don’t want you. Ivor is the greatest there is—”

“After me,” Ovia interjected, and for a split second, her smile vanished and a flash of something crossed her eyes. The hairs on my arms stood as a gust of cold wind blew past me, blowing my veil off my head. Thunder rumbled outside the windows. “You being here is dangerous, Elewyn, and I hope I have the time to explain to you why, but I don’t. We have to leave before the full moon.”

“I’m not leaving the temple,” I said. “You’ll have to make me.” It was quite bold of me, but I knew that if they had to take me by force, they would have to touch me. Which they could not. No one could without crumbling in excruciating pain, or worse.

A cold smile curled Ovia’s lips. “Do you really think we could not?”

I swallowed hard. Could they? They had done everything, but no one could make me do anything. No one could touch me apart from Thena, and she could only do so for a split second.

“Ovia,” Ivor said, his voice strained.

“What?” Ovia asked, her eyes hard and cold on me. When Ivor did not answer, she tore her eyes away from me to look at him. He was facing the window that overlooked the vast lands of Tridor. Ovia stood, alarm on her face. “That’s not me,” she said, staring at the window.

Outside, the sky was cloaked in darkness. But it was not the clouds. It was just… darkness. There was a sudden stillness, like the ringing in my ears after the priests hit the gong for prayer time.

I wrapped my arms around myself as the room suddenly went cold.

“Khetish?” Ivor asked Ovia.

“No. They don’t have this kind of magic.”

Ivor turned to me. “Is this you?”

I shook my head. He knew what I could do, and this was not it.

The realization hit them before it did me, and by then, it was too late. The darkness extended into the room in a blink, and both Ovia and Ivor were thrown against the wall.

Ovia’s eyes lit white as she summoned her magic. But it was not enough to free her from the wall. If anything, she just caused a terrible storm outside.

“Elewyn, run!” Ivor screamed.

But I couldn’t. Something was holding me in place and I didn’t know what. It was terrifying to be held down because for years, no one could hold me down and make me stay against my will.

My eyes jumped to the window. There was no full moon.

Could it be?

But that was impossible. We still had hours to spare. It was not yet time.

And then he was there, standing in the middle of the room, cloaked in black, his face hidden in the shadow of his cloak.

Paralyzed, I could only stare as the Dark Prince approached me.

Ch. 6

MAEVE

“Do you believe it?”

I turned to the lady standing in line behind me. Daphne Davercher, Claire’s best friend and Francis’ cousin thrice removed, although I have to reiterate that she was never a princess, even though she looked like one. She had the perfect small face, the perfect blond hair, and eyes that seemed like they were tugged upward by her hair. She also had the best temperament; spoiled rotten, she had a delusion that everyone liked her and everyone disliked what she disliked: for one, yours truly.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked.

She did not answer. She just continued to stare up at me—did I mention she’s also quite small?—her eyes puffy and red from all the crying. “I don’t believe it was an accident.”

“She killed herself?” I asked. “That’s even more preposterous.”

Her eyes glinted with anger. “Claire would never kill herself.” Her nostrils, also red from crying, flared. “Someone killed her.” The fury built behind her eyes as she glared at me with contempt. “You hated her, didn’t you, Maeve?”

“I still do,” I said, turning away as a few ladies giggled. They immediately fell silent as Claire flashed them a reprimanding look. Daphne never liked anyone who contradicted her, and for most, they found it better to simply just avoid irking her.

“You insolent bitch,” she hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. Everyone else in line gasped, a little too excitedly, perhaps hoping for a physical fight. “You killed her. I know you did.”

“Let go, Daphne,” I warned.

“Or what?” Daphne asked. “You’ll kill me next?”

“No, because it’s my turn in the box,” I said, tapping her hand lightly with my cane. “And I’ve told you once before to never lay a hand on me—or have you forgotten?”

She flinched at the memory of that one rainy night, but only for a fleeting second. “I’ll prove to everyone you killed her.” Her voice shook with rage and promise as she let me go. “They’ll all see the true monster that you are, St. Vincent.”

I opened the door of the phone box. Closing it, I smiled at Daphne through the glass. With the receiver against my ear, I dialed my cousin’s number. The other ladies in line came around Daphne in consolation, some of them glaring at me with bafflement and ire, as if they could not understand how someone who was supposed to be their equal could be so heartless. The rest were smiling at me in a shared, silent hatred for Daphne. Leaning my shoulder against the wall of the box, I twisted my cane and the outer tube slipped off, revealing the compartments inside. I took out my pipe and lit it, to the horror of Daphne and her friends.

“Did you send a bloody prince to my office?” the voice on the other end spoke—calm but obviously irritated.

“Leo,” I said, breaking into a genuine smile as I screwed my cane back in place. “I hope you did not break his skull. I know you’ve always wanted to study a royal’s brain. Although I have to warn you that there’s not much in it but fancy insults.”

I heard footsteps, and I pictured him walking somewhere more private, perhaps in the dark corner of his office where he kept the jars of brains he collected throughout the years. “What’s going on?” He asked in a whisper, more curious than concerned. “Why does a spare to the throne want me to open up a corpse?”

“She was murdered,” I said in a low voice, smiling at a scowling Daphne. “And I know you already opened her up. Did you find anything?”

“The papers say it was an accident.”

“I want to know what you say.”

Leonard sighed. “Cause of death is a stab wound in the chest. It drowned her heart.”

“Anything else?”

“There is evidence of blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”

“Before or after the stabbing?”

“I can’t say. There are other markings on her arms.”

“Defensive marks,” I murmured pensively. “So she fought back.”

“Yes.”

Daphne knocked on the door of the box and I blew smoke to cover the scowl on her face.

“Maeve, are you in trouble?”

“No,” I lied. “Maybe,” I added. “Is the insipid royal still there?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t. I don’t have much time. There’s a line of ogres in fancy dresses waiting outside the box. Let me talk to him.”

More footsteps. The next voice I heard was his. “Claire’s family has accepted the crown’s explanation that it’s an accident. But if what your cousin found here gets out, they’ll demand answers.”

“No one believes it’s an accident. In fact, they all believe I did it.”

Daphne banged her fist on the door, shouting from the other side that my time was up. “Stop banging the bloody door!” I shouted at her.

“Who is that?”

“Your cousin.” Tamping my pipe with a finger. “By the by, have you seen William?”

“No. Nor the twins.”

“That’s odd,” I said over the banging on the glass door. “Let’s talk more tomorrow.”

“But—”

I replaced the receiver and flung the door open, causing Daphne to stumble back with a gasp. Her friends dramatically coughed and fanned the air as smoke escaped the box.

“You are the worst, Maeve St. Vincent!” Daphne screamed behind me. I waved my cane as I walked away.

Blythe was in the library with Logan Earle, discussing something when I found them. Her hair was almost like flame with the yellow glow of the lamp, her ivory skin a stark contrast against her green dress. There were tables scattered around the room, small and round for private discussions. Very much the same as the one in Queens. Blythe looked up and asked, “How long is the line?”

“A mile, three if you count the amount of time those girls spend in that box.” I stared at the paper between them. “What’s that?”

“There will be a game in the labyrinth,” Logan replied. “We’re discussing strategies.”

I just stared at Logan, wondering why he agreed to be here. He was a great business adviser, the best Blythe’s father could have found, and the Ivory Game was too petty even for him. “The only trick you have to know is that in every game, someone has wagered their ivy for the Silver Favor.”

“But that’s the problem. We don’t know who it will be or where the games will be. By this time, the ivies had already changed hands since the lake. I saw Marina Bailey crying this morning. Someone has already stolen her ivy.”

Anyone with an ivy could come and meet the game master to wager their ivies for a chance to win the Silver Favor. And the Favor could be anything except the killing of another person—a villa, horses, or even a betrothal.

Many join solely for the Silver Favor because it would always be granted as long as you complete the mission attached to it.

But as you do your mission, your ivy would also be put up as a reward in a game, which happens simultaneously with your mission, and are designed to last as long as the missions. The only way you could win your ivy back is to finish your mission before someone wins the game. That way, you get your Favor and win your ivy back. If you fail, or if someone wins the game before you complete your mission, you lose your Favor and your ivy.

For others who want to get an ivy, this is another way to win it fair and square. But the problem is that no one knows where the games would be held. Some would get clues thrown out by deputies, but even those could be misleading.

I sighed, dragging a chair. “Cousin,” I said, sitting down. “The game master waits for the Silver Favor on the second to the fourth day, yes?” She nodded. I looked at her and Logan. “Then please tell me you have someone watching outside the Silver Room.”

They frowned at each other, then at me.

I rolled my eyes. “If you know who is coming into the Silver Room, you’ll know who came in for a Favor with an ivy.”

Blythe blanched. “I have not thought of that.”

Logan’s frown deepened. “The missions happen simultaneously with the game, but they don’t happen in the same place. There’s no point knowing who went in for a Favor.”

I groaned and massaged my leg. “It’s not all about finding the games and playing them,” I wryly said. “It’s about knowing who is more capable of completing their mission where they win their ivy back along with their Favor.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My last client got her ivy after we learned who went in for the Silver Favor. We made calculated guesses who could win their ivy back before anyone else could win them in a game. We went for Patricia Northcott. The game attached to her Favor, I believe, was a scavenger hunt in the woods. We waited until she completed her mission, won her Favor and got her ivy back.” I smiled at Blythe.

“And you stole her ivy,” Blythe finished with awe.

“She was happy nonetheless. She still got her Favor even though she failed to be a Swan.”

“But our strategy is to win a game. Stealing is going to be tricky,” Logan told Blythe.

“I cannot be deemed as a thief,” Blythe said.

I sighed. “Well, do whatever you want. I’m going upstairs for a nap.”

“Are you not attending the memorial mass for Claire? You have to attend, Maeve. People think you—”

I stood and twirled my cane twice in my hand. “I don’t care what people think.” I smiled at her and Logan. “If you want to play the labyrinth game, start to learn how to make a fire. And bring food.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone had to stay in the maze for two days last year.” On my way to the door, I added, “There’s always a game in the woods if you’re up for that.”

BLYTHE

The memorial mass was solemn and filled with quiet sobbing. I sat in the back, terribly alone and awkward. I knew I had at least a friend or two when I came here.

“Patricia’s crying because her ivy was stolen last night. The same thing happened to her last year, you know.” I turned and found Melanie Michaels smiling secretly. “It’s unfair what they say about you and your cousin.”

I blinked. “Me?”

“Everyone knows you both hated Claire,” Melanie whispered, leaning closer. “But so does half of these pathetic fools.”

I pursed my lips. “I didn’t hate her—” I stopped and stared at the giant cross hanging in front of the chapel. “Well, not enough to want her dead.”

Melanie scoffed, and I could not help but smile. I had always liked Melanie. We were not the best of friends, but she always had this innocence about her. She always had a smile on her face and it was always genuine. She was a big girl, but she was proud of it. Big girl with a big heart, she always said to anyone who told her she was getting fatter every season.

“Do you really think it was an accident?” she asked, worry in her eyes. “Could it be true that the Night Swan is real?”

“Night Swan?”

“That’s what the other girls are calling the killer.”

“I don’t know, Melanie,” I said, looking ahead. “Anyone could have done it. She had an ivy, but from what the princess told us this morning, all seventeen ivies are among us.”

Melanie gasped. “You think she was killed for her ivy?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “People do terrible things when they’re desperate.”

“But murder is against the rules.” When I did not respond, Melanie leaned closer. “It is my birthday tomorrow. The game has allowed for a little celebration. I’ve invited everyone and I’d like you to be there, too. I hope it will lighten the mood.”

“Of course. I’ll be there,” I promised.

I parted ways with Melanie after the service. The other girls were already planning to venture into the woods hoping to find a clue for a game, if any. Others went to the other common rooms in the manor in search of similar clues that would point them to a game.

A part of me wanted to join them because what if they found a game and I’d miss it? But I had to find Logan. He might have gathered something from the other servants.

“There you are.” I stopped, suddenly alert. His hand grabbed mine and pulled. “Did you miss me?” Thomas asked, grinning as he pulled me under the staircase and out of sight.

“Thomas, stop,” I whispered when he kissed down my throat, hand gripping my waist. I squirmed against him, but God, the way his mouth trailed down my skin, how his hand pulled me against him, rendered me weak. And maybe hundreds of other women, too, I belatedly thought. Pushing away, this time with more strength than I could muster, I said, “Stop.”

He looked even better than the last time I saw him. His short black hair brushed in perfection reminded me of my fingers cruising through them. His silver eyes, his tan skin and sexy smile… He was a god. And I was one of the stupid, gullible ladies caught in his web.

Once , I reminded myself. Just once.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his perfect brows dipping in a frown. “I’ve been trying to get you alone, but your stupid mentor is always around you.” His breath was hot in my ears as he bent and whispered, “They’ve ordered all deputies to stay in Ivory House. Which means I have a room here now. What do you say? Hm?”

A delicious shiver ran through me, but I shook my head. “No—”

His mouth captured my protest, his tongue rendered me mute and weak. For a moment, I was lost again. Rational thoughts could wait. Just one more taste of this man. I gasped in surprise, then moaned in pleasure. My last ounce of sanity could not explain how his hand found me beneath my skirts. With what he was doing, I would have said yes.

He nipped my earlobe. “You miss me,” he said without question as he slid his fingers along my center. “You’re wet.” I whimpered, my body betraying me. Had I been thinking of this? Yes. Had I woken up in the middle of the night after dreaming of him giving me pleasure? Yes.

His finger made another slide, and I gasped, eyes shut tight, my body growing restless with need. He chuckled as I muffled another gasp in his neck.

That same chuckle flashed a memory, and my eyes snapped open. I pushed away. My skirts fell, and I finally escaped, saying, “Don’t come near me again.”

“What in the bloody hell?” he said, catching my hand and whirling me around. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t… I’m not one of your whores, Thomas. Leave me alone.”

“My what? What do you mean—”

“Let us not pretend you’re not who you are,” I interjected, pulling my hand free. “What happened between us was a mistake,” I said, almost in a whisper.

“Blythe, you cannot be bloody serious.”

He looked hurt and offended. And he looked genuinely confused. But he should know his reputation. He was a rakehell through and through. He slept with probably half of Queens!

“Just stay away from me, Thomas.”

He caught my arm. “Wait. You can’t just walk away—”

“What’s going on?” Logan’s voice asked from behind. I looked over my shoulder and, for the first time since I met him, his face looked murderous. “Kindly let go of Miss Blythe, Mr. Erne.”

Thomas looked equally furious, but he did as Logan requested and let me go. I rushed to Logan and said, “Let’s take our meeting upstairs to my chamber.” When he refused to move, just standing there in the middle of the corridor staring at Thomas, I gritted my teeth. “Logan. Upstairs.”

He complied, finally tearing his gaze off Thomas. I did not look back, still shaken from my encounter, mostly at how I had let myself be vulnerable. With each step, I hated myself again. Logan was quiet behind me, thank God, but I could sense the question I knew he would never ask. And I hope he’d never ask.

When I reached my room, the door was ajar. I frowned. “Were you in my room?”

“No. I came looking for you in the library after the mass.”

I pushed the door open, then stopped. There, lying on the center of the table by the window, was a note. I picked it up as Logan followed inside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, walking closer.

I read the note and my entire world collapsed.

The walls have eyes in Ivory House and they saw what you did, dear Blythe.

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 15  with one Special Chapter on Patreon as to this posting. You can always wait for my weekly updates here. 

You can also read my Patreon Exclusive story, Elewyn , on Patreon for free!

Join us on Patreon at:

patreon.com/jdruizstories

Ch. 7

-DAY 3-

BLYTHE

“Don’t worry much about it. This is just another way others play this game. They try to rattle you. They play with your mind,” Logan assured me as we walked down the corridor the following day.

“I know. Stop talking about it,” I said.

“Good. You did not do anything wrong.” When I did not reply, he asked, “You didn’t, did you?”

His voice was laced with judgment and I instantly hated it. For a moment there, he sounded like my father. “I did nothing wrong,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “It was just a stupid note. They know I have it in me to get an ivy.”

Last night, I decided to forget everything that happened since I got here. Whatever mistakes I made could not be undone. The best I could do was hope no one else knew about it.

“Now, tell me—How do I look? Pretty or nice or just fine?”

His gaze bore into me, no sign that he was impressed. Logan, ever since he came into my father’s life three years ago, had been a constant presence in my life, too. He was only eighteen then, but he treated me like a child. He’d stare at me with a dubious look on his face whenever I made mistakes, as if he had never seen such imperfect creature.

He could be intimidating. And sometimes—and only sometimes—I’d find myself staring at him, wondering about his life or if he was capable of living it outside of work. He never talked about his family. I never saw him with anyone other than my father or the people he worked with. And rarely—and I say this quite indignantly—I wondered if he had a woman. A lover.

He was quite handsome, and this I say with complete honesty. Our servants fancied him. They’d giggle and turn scarlet whenever he walked into the room. Even women in my station would whisper about him; some would even try to engage him in a conversation during social events. But he never took interest in any of them.

Logan Earle was either too good at being private, or he was simply an utter bore.

“I’ll try to find out what I can after I escort you to the breakfast hall.”

I stopped and looked at him wryly. “I don’t need to be escorted to the breakfast hall, Logan.” I never called him by any other name. It was the only time I could assert a certain power over him, calling him by his name. Apart from that, he could control me because my father gave him that power.

He ignored me and continued walking. “You tend to attract distractions.” He said it so nonchalantly that my jaw dropped.

“Are you saying I easily get distracted?”

“Fair assumption,” he said, checking his watch. “You have thirty minutes to finish breakfast.”

“I wonder if I distract you.” I liked taunting him to see what he was capable of when he lost his patience. Thus far, I had not succeeded.

He pursed his lips and stared down at me. “I’ll sniff around the kitchen for game gossips. Meet me in the west garden half an hour from now.”

I let out a dramatic gasp. “Are you ordering me around?”

He looked at me square in the eyes when we arrived at the breakfast hall. There was a passing second where I saw the young man that he was before he completely covered it with his usual formal mien, as if he was in a business meeting with my father. “I’m putting you back on track. You’ve been derailed by unnecessary things since day one. We only have five more days to get an ivy.” He checked his watch again. “Twenty-five minutes left.”

I scoffed as he walked away.

Melanie met me with a plate of scones in one hand. “I would grab my food and eat somewhere if I were you.”

I looked around. Everyone was staring at me. Clucking my tongue, I said, “I knew it. I woke up more glowing than yesterday.”

Melanie laughed before she whispered, “Daphne Davercher just declared that whoever could unmask the Night Swan would get her ivy.” I groaned. Melanie joined me to the buffet table. As I placed food in my plate, she whispered, “They’re out to prove you and Maeve did it.”

I rolled my eyes as Melanie looked around. “They think everyone who had some sort of history with Claire did it, but you and your cousin are on top of the list.” Melanie cleared her throat. “You know, because of the accident.”

“That’s silly.”

“The deputies are also staying in Ivory House from now on—to provide comfort, they say. Suspicious, don’t you think? If what they’re saying is true and Claire’s death was nothing but an accident, why would they find the need to provide additional comfort? And these men are no comfort, really. They’re just distractions.”

I tried my best to ignore the stares and whispers, but I was only fooling myself. I’d always think about what peopled thought of me. The most I could do was pretend I was as undaunted as Maeve. But in a more graceful way, of course.

“By the by, you are coming to my party later, yes? I’ve reserved the east drawing room for it.”

“I will,” I said, hiding the fear of the trouble this unnecessary suspicion surrounding me and Maeve could bring me with a smile.

“You’ll be alright,” she said with a wink.

“Why are you being nice to me, Melanie?”

“I know you don’t have your friends from Queens here, but you have me.” Her smile softened as she added, “And because Maeve has always been nice to me, too.”

SCARLETT

Piper was walking with another maid when she saw me and smiled. “There you are,” she said. “You were up early.”

“Yes. Miss Avery wanted to explore the woods with her friends before sunup.” She had told me that she would be out helping her friends find a game in the woods, but it had been two hours now and she had not yet returned.

“This is Tina,” Piper introduced. “Met her earlier during breakfast.”

“You are Miss Avery’s maid?” the servant asked with excitement. Before I could respond, she said, “Please tell her to come by my mistress’ party later in the east drawing room. There will be games and drinks.”

“May I inquire your mistress’ name?”

“Melanie Michaels. I’m certain Miss Avery is familiar with her. They were in Queens together before Miss Avery disappeared and—” She stopped herself and let out an awkward chuckle. “Well, that’s the term they use. She left Queens two years ago, I should have said.”

I just smiled, although I was curious. It was not the first I heard someone say Miss Avery disappeared from Queens. From what she told everyone two years ago, when she suddenly showed up in Storm Grove with all her bags, she had lost interest in Queens and returned home to handle the estate. And all the while, she had led us to believe that she had a grand party before she left and that her friends were sad to see her go.

Of course, we later learned the real reason she returned. But it had always been a mystery why none of her so-called friends came to Storm Grove to visit.

“That’s Justine,” Tina said. “Oh, she’s with Miss St. Vincent. Perfect. I should come over and invite them to—”

“Perhaps a little later,” Piper said, stopping Tina. “Miss St. Vincent is on her way to the Silver Room.”

I frowned. “The Silver Room?”

Piper and Tina nodded. “The Silver Favor.”

I blinked. Of course, I knew what about the Silver Favor. It was all Miss Avery could talk about when she wasn’t talking about how she would use it and how it would change her life.

“She’s the fourth to enter the Silver Room since yesterday,” Piper said. “The girl who serves the tea inside gives me updates,” she added with a proud grin.

“I should probably wait until Miss St. Vincent comes out,” Tina said, already walking away.

Piper laughed. “Good luck with that.” To me, she added, “Miss St. Vincent, they say, is quite unpredictable. Well, all of them St. Vincents are.”

“I don’t know if it is a compliment or not.”

Piper and I jumped in surprise, and when we turned, I could not help but smile at the familiar smiling face of Lord William. Piper, on the other hand, looked ashen. “My lord!” she blurted out with a curtsy. I followed her gesture as William laughed.

“Fret not,” he said to Piper, leaning closer with his hands behind him. “As a St. Vincent, I have heard worse.”

“I-I’m sorry, my lord. I did not mean to insult your family’s name. I’m actually very fond of the St. Vincents.”

“It’s fine,” he said, although his eyes were on me.

“I should get going now,” Piper said. “I have—uh…dishes to do.”

As she rushed off, William chuckled. “She does not do the dishes, does she?”

I shook my head. “No, my lord. Although she likes to dish on anyone.”

How could he laugh so openly? So easily? He was a breath of fresh air; like spring breaking out after a harsh winter; or an endless summer.

“You’re a St. Vincent,” I heard myself say before I could stop myself. I didn’t know what it meant to be a St. Vincent, but gathering from Piper’s comments it sounded exciting.

“Yes. William St. Vincent Cavendish,” he said with a mocking bow. “I try to keep it a secret, but fate always finds a way to expose me.” He continued to smile at me as he stared, and the longer he did, the more uncomfortable I became.

“I’m sorry,” I said, stumbling on my own two feet, like always. “I should get going.”

“And where are you going, Lost Scarlett?”

He remembered my name. I flushed. “Uh…” I looked around, cleared my throat, and said, “I’m looking for Miss Avery, my lord.”

His brows rose with interest. “Is she missing again?” There was something in the way he said it that sounded like it meant more than what it actually meant.

“She went to the woods with her friends hours ago. She had not returned yet.”

“Then, as deputy, I should escort you in finding her.”

“W-What? No!”

He blinked in surprise. “No?”

“I mean, yes. No, I mean—” I should lie, but I was not a talented liar. I could keep dark secrets and hide mistakes, but I could not lie. Miss Avery had specifically told me to keep to myself and never talk to anyone above my station.

With a chuckle, he turned and walked away. “Well, come on. We should find them before luncheon.”

“But—”

“Catch up, but don’t trip,” he warned.

I gritted my teeth and yes, I almost tripped as I followed him. Miss Avery would be livid if she found out I brought a deputy to find her. But she didn’t have to find out, did she? I slowed my pace, eyes on the back of William’s head. And as we passed a corridor, I made a sharp turn, fled, and never looked back.

MAEVE

“Ashley Thimple came out, Miss,” Justine informed me before we reached the door to the Silver Room.

“Thank you, Justine,” I said. “I’ll take it from here. And oh, should a man look for me—the one with the curly brown hair and jaws and insults that could cut someone in half, don’t tell him where I am.” She looked confused, so I added, “He has lashes that run for miles. And blue eyes.”

“You mean Prince Francis, Miss?”

“You know him?”

“I’ve seen him in magazines,” she said, cheeks flushing.

I frowned. “I didn’t know he could make women blush.”

Justine smiled. “I’ll tell him you’re indisposed, Miss.”

I knocked on the door when Justine left. It opened right away, revealing the elegant room inside: marble floor, white panels, white and gold curtains, and the infamous silver chaise. The servant quietly closed the door as I stepped in.

“Her Highness will be with you in a moment, Miss,” the maid said before she disappeared into another door. I did not settle down. I took the time to look around, pushing at the walls to see if they were hiding a secret door.

“Miss St. Vincent. I hope you did not wait long,” Violet Davercher’s voice said as soon as she walked through another door.

I turned and bowed my head. It had been two years since I managed a proper curtsy, and I never missed it. “Good day, Your Highness,” I greeted, limping toward the silver chaise while she settled on the only purple furniture in the room.

She motioned for me to sit as she found a comfortable position. “Forgive me,” she said with a big smile. “This pregnancy seems to be the worst. I’m losing hope it is a girl.”

I smiled at her. “My mother said I was her worst pregnancy. All my brothers were quite calm.”

Violet Davercher was beautiful, especially when she smiled. She was like a warm creamy soup in the middle of winter. But she could not fool me. Pregnant or not, warm smile or not, she could still be a killer.

Everyone was the killer to me at that point. I just had to prove why they weren’t.

“You are the second of four, yes? The only daughter?”

“Yes,” I replied with a smile, studying every movement her face made.

“I’ve heard great things about your family, of course. Your mother is a Swan herself.”

“She is.” Before the awkward silence followed, I pulled out the ivy from my pocket. “I’m here for the Silver Favor.”

“I know you did not get an ivy at the lake. Did you steal it?”

I nodded, carefully placing the ivy on the table between us, right beside my teacup. “I stole it from Claire Braxton,” I said, eyes on her face.

The smile on her face froze as she stared at me with eyes growing wider with each passing second.

“She was not in her room when I walked in, luckily. I found it under her bed,” I continued. “I suppose it was around the same time as her accident .”

I reached for my tea and gracefully took a sip as I watched her recover from her shock.

Swallowing, I smiled at her. “I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She blinked a few times and looked around. “What? No, of course not. I—I’m just surprised, that’s all. We had guessed Claire’s ivy was stolen, since we couldn’t find it anywhere. Not even her maid knew where she hid it.”

I said nothing and smiled. She was probably thinking I was mad. Or scary—she looked eager to get rid of me.

Clearing her throat, the crown princess regained her composure. “Very well. You’re here for the Silver Favor.”

“Yes. I’d like to be readmitted to Queens.”

The small smile on her face told me she already knew about my expulsion. “Of course. You were caught selling illegal substances—”

“Herbs,” I corrected. “I grow them myself. They are only illegal because I had not yet submitted them for consumption approval because I cannot.”

“You cannot?”

“I’m a woman,” I said, shrugging.

“Oh. I see.”

“Hence the expulsion.”

“Your second, as I recall?”

“Third.”

Her eyes widened in surprise once again. “Oh, goodness. But I heard you’re one of the best students.”

“I was.”

“Medicine, yes?”

I nodded, staring at her hands as they caressed her bulging abdomen.

“Very well,” the princess said. “You can go back to Queens if you finish your mission. While you’re doing it, your ivy will be put up as a prize for a game. Should anyone win it before you finish your mission, you will lose your Favor and your ivy. Are you fine with that? Are you willing to take the risk?”

I nodded.

Violet Davercher smiled. “Well then, Miss St. Vincent—Are you ready to hear your mission?”

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 16  on Patreon as to this posting. Two special chapters are also available on Patreon: 

1. Special Chapter | Ch. 3 | Francis

2. Special Chapter | Ch. 6 | Francis

You can also read my Patreon Exclusive story, Elewyn , on Patreon for free!

You can always wait for my weekly updates here, of course!

Join us on Patreon at:

patreon.com/jdruizstories

Thank you so much for your support!

Ch. 8

MAEVE

I never thought life was difficult, mostly because I never truly had to struggle. We had always been rich. I would not be a hypocrite and try to deny that. The only thing I struggled with was my leg. I hated that I was in constant pain. But in other aspects, I was one of those who were blessed to be rich, smart, and beautiful.

“Stop smoking?” I repeated, already feeling the pain in my leg at the thought.

“Yes. For three days, you should cease smoking this thing you call your herbs ,” the crown princess said. “Unless you cannot do it, we can forget this meeting ever happened.”

I was not one to beg, nor would I ever tell anyone the reason for my herbs. Their pity was the last thing I needed. But at that point, I almost went down on my good knee to ask for another mission— anything but to stop smoking. The challenge in Violet Davercher’s green eyes made me pause. “The missions are designed to be difficult, Maeve,” she said, gentle like a mother talking to her crying child.

“Fine,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I accept the mission.”

She motioned her hand and the maid swiftly took my ivy away. I almost went with it out the side door.

“Your mission will start tomorrow. You complete it by Saturday midnight, you get your ivy back and you win your Favor.”

“I can start now,” I said, almost biting my own tongue. I had gone three days without smoking last year, but that was because I came down with a terrible flu and was almost out of it.

The princess shook her head. “We’ll need time to arrange the game for your ivy.”

I nodded. “I understand.” If I was going to do my mission for three days, then the game must be a scavenger hunt.

“At the strike of midnight, you’ll have to start. It ends on Saturday midnight,” she said. “I’ll assign a game deputy to keep watch.”

I pressed my lips and nodded. Standing, I gave her another bow. “Thank you for your time, Your Highness.”

“Miss St. Vincent,” she called as I turned. “I think it would be wise if you do not tell anyone where you got your ivy.”

“Why?”

“I know of the suspicions floating around the ladies, about this Night Swan. It is unfair that they think you and your cousin caused Claire’s unfortunate demise. Let us not give them more reasons to make your stay in Ivory House difficult.”

“I can handle myself, Your Highness,” I said. “But thank you for the concern, nonetheless.”

As soon as the door closed behind me, I unscrewed my cane and took out my pipe. Lighting it, I limped down the corridor and cursed under my breath. “Bloody tarnation.”

SCARLETT

After I escaped William, I went straight to my room to change into my boots and ventured into the woods. It would soon get dark, and after the recent death of Claire Braxton, I was worried that Miss Avery would fall into an accident, or worse.

I encountered a group of ladies coming out of the woods as I entered, and one of them laughingly told me to be careful because my mistress was not the only monster hiding in the trees. It was an odd thing to say about Miss Avery. She had always told us she was liked by everyone. I saw that, too, earlier this morning when three of her friends came into her room. They showered her with praises and talked endlessly of their time together in Queens.

Thunder rumbled above and almost in an instant, I was shrouded in darkness. It was like the light streaming through the trees were snatched away, as if someone had drawn a giant curtain in the sky.

Everyone was talking about the Night Swan earlier in the kitchen. If someone was truly out there killing people in the Ivory House, could they also venture here in the woods? The thought made the hairs on the back of my neck stand. The thunder that followed made me jump. And when the rain poured, lightly at first but growing stronger, I swore and ran down the path, hoping to stumble upon any form of shelter.

The trees grew denser as I ventured deeper. This was hopeless. Miss Avery must have already gone back inside. She would never risk ruining her hair in the rain. Deciding it would not do me any good to stay in the woods, I turned around. And that’s when I saw the silhouette coming toward me at the end of the path.

I swallowed and stumbled back, turning and running back deeper through the trees. It did not take long before my dress caught on a branch and scraped by arm; my feet tripping and I fell into mud and stone and dried leaves. The rain poured harder, and the terrain became more slippery, both of which were not conducive for an escape, especially for a clumsy maid.

But then I realized that whoever was following me was also running after me.

MAEVE

Melanie’s party was held in the east drawing room. A storm was raging outside, which made for a good weather in bed. I would have not come if it was up to me, what with my mission just a few hours away, but her maid, Tina, looked desperate when she invited me earlier that I had to say yes. Also, the east wing was where the private rooms for the game deputies were located.

The room was already full when I arrived. Melanie, dressed in vibrant pink and lavender, lit up when she saw me approach. She was probably one of the few I did not mind being around with in Queens. But for some reason, she did not have too many friends who stuck around, which I never quite understood. I would have if I liked constant company.

She was funny and smarter than half of Queens. Perhaps it was the way she looked. No, it was her size, really. Melanie was pretty, her full cheeks had a permanent blush, her lashes naturally thick and curly. Her blond hair looked like silk. She dressed in a way that flattered her size. I would not call her fat. She was voluptuous. But then, Queens was filled with women who lived and breathed in stupid magazines that featured impossible standards.

Most of them didn’t think Melanie could be in their circle, but they tolerated her because she came from a prominent family. She was significant . She had a name they could associate with.

“Happy birthday, Melanie,” I greeted, giving her the hastily wrapped present.

Her eyes glowed as she accepted it, and I wondered if I was the only one who even bothered to bring a gift. “Maeve, you did not have to. But thank you!”

I smiled as she threw her arms around me. “I hope you like it,” I said as she let go and unwrapped the present, revealing the big, yellow silk ribbon. My mother packed it, hoping I’d wear it, but ribbons were never my thing.

“I love yellow,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

“Now, don’t cry,” I said, patting her cheek. “I’m not foxed enough to wipe your tears.”

She laughed as she gave me another hug. “I know it’s your birthday tomorrow, too,” she whispered. “My gift is in the back of that shelf by the window.”

I grinned. “Don’t tell anyone I’m aging,” I playfully warned, walking away.

I went straight to the shelf and smiled when I saw the brandy. It was easy to disappear in a quiet corner as Melanie’s guests arrived, all dressed to impress or outdo one another. I leaned against the wall and placed my glass on the sill to light my pipe. Everyone was trying to ignore me, but a few were terrible at it, their eyes flickering in my direction now and then as they pretended to enjoy the party.

“Maeve, will you open the window, please?” Daphne called from the opposite side of the drawing room.

“Why?”

“Your smoke?”

“Ah, yes,” I said, grinning. “How inconsiderate of me.” Opening the window, I threw Daphne another mocking smile.

Everyone looked away as my eyes gave the room another sweep.

Melanie tried to gather everyone for a game, but Daphne whined, saying she and the others were tired after a long day. “Well, perhaps later,” Melanie said, disappointment wavering her vibrant smile as she walked around from one group to another, asking if they needed anything—and then getting them what they needed.

“Mel, dear, I’d like a glass of sherry,” Daphne said.

“I’m sorry, but I only have wine and—”

“I’m sure you can find some.”

Melanie looked like she wanted to say no, but she stopped, closing her mouth with another smile. “I’m sure I can!”

It was getting ridiculous. I tamped my pipe and downed my brandy. “Melanie,” I said, hooking my arm around her as she opened the door. “I’ll go with you.”

Once outside, I pulled Melanie to a stop and firmly said, “You don’t have to do everything they ask of you.”

She blinked a few times. “But I want to.”

“No, you don’t.”

She let out an awkward laugh. “I want to. It’s nothing, really.”

“They treat you like—”

“I exist,” Melanie said, face serious.

I stopped, stared at her for a long moment, before slowly nodding. With a sigh, I stepped aside with a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re sweet, Maeve. You’ve always looked out for me. I don’t know why few people see that,” Melanie said, her smile returning. “I’ll get Daphne’s wine.” As I rolled my eyes, she whispered, “If they’re foxed enough, I might have a chance to steal some ivies to give to those who need them most.”

I broke out into a laugh. “You’re a bloody genius. And charitable.”

“No one knows that but you,” Melanie said, putting her finger on her lips as she winked and walked away.

I was on my way back inside when I stopped, spotting Francis walking toward me from the other end of the corridor, looking more irritated the longer he had to stare at me. “Are you here for the party?” I asked. “It’s rather boring.”

“I talked with William and the twins,” he said, his eyes looking around, his hands in his pockets. He left his jacket somewhere and was wearing just his white shirt.

“So they’re back?” I asked. “Where are they?”

“William said he’s going out to guard a game. The twins are getting ready to attend the party.”

“Did you ask where they’ve been that night?”

“They went home right after we went out for a walk.”

“And why were they absent yesterday?”

“They were asleep the entire day, then spent the half of today packing after receiving the order that we should all stay here for the rest of the game.”

“They spent the entire day yesterday asleep?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe William when he said it?”

He frowned. “Don’t you?”

“He’s my cousin. Of course, I don’t.” With my hand on the door, I added, “Invite him and the twins back to my room later.”

He let out a sharp, exasperated sigh. “For what now?”

I stopped as the twins arrived with Damian.

“What are you two doing here?” Damian asked with a knowing grin on his face.

We ignored him as we let him pass. Tobias and Timothy winked at me and Francis as they pushed Damian, Francis, and me into the room and greeted the ladies inside loudly.

“And where’s Melanie?” Damian ask as the twins started singing a birthday song at the top of their lungs.

“Why is it so loud?” Blythe asked from behind me. She just arrived, and she didn’t look like she wanted to be there. Her eyes jumped to someone behind Francis. It was Thomas. I stared after my cousin with interest when she immediately fled to the opposite side of the room.

“Wine is here!” Melanie shouted as she walked through the door, a crate of wine in her arms. Behind her, Tina was carrying another full crate. “Wine, everyone!”

The singing got louder, almost indiscernible, as Melanie was freed of her load and the twins dragged her to the center of the room as they sang in chorus.

I pulled Francis to the side. “Find William, then bring him and the twins to my room by eleven.”

He winced at the booming sound the twins created with the empty crates. “Why?”

“I have just the right herbs to make them talk.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “We had nothing to do with it. We’ve erased all connections to the—” He did not finish. Someone bumped into me from behind, sending me to stumble forward. He caught me by the arm and dragged me to the side. “They will find nothing that will connect us to the murder.”

I slipped a note in his hand and he hastily opened it. I walked away to return to my brandy, and he quickly followed.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

“Found it on my table this morning,” I murmured. He crumpled the paper, and I snatched it out of his fist. “That’s evidence, you fool.”

“Have you read it?” he asked in disbelief. “It’s a bloody threat.”

“It could be empty.”

“Someone knows about your brief trip two nights ago.”

“It could mean anything. We went for a walk.”

“To the pool!” he hissed.

I shrugged. “That’s beside the point—”

“They know you went—”

“We,” I corrected. “Listen—”

“I don’t even know why I bother.”

“Listen,” I repeated, “Half of this room hates me.”

“Half is an understatement.”

“Anyone who wants to pin the murder on me could have left that note. But you may be right. It could also be a threat from the killer.”

He looked at me incredulously. “I want to scratch and dig into that thick head of yours and see just how bad it looks.”

“I always lock my door,” I murmured. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the killer or not. It matters that someone has found a way into my room.”

His jaw tightened. “Damnation,” he cursed under his breath. I offered him my glass, and he quickly downed it in one gulp, his eyes glaring.

I arched a brow. “What? No insults?”

“I’m running out,” he said through his teeth. “I need another glass.”

SCARLETT

“Stop!” he shouted.

I didn’t recognize his voice at first. I was deaf with fear. No one would care if a maid disappeared. Would they even bother to look for my body? No, of course not. I’d perish here until I rot and become one with the dirt. Miss Avery would simply assume I ran off. And what would happen to my sisters then? They would work their whole lives to pay our father’s debts. They would never have a life.

“Scarlett! For Christ’s sake, woman, stop!”

At that point, I stopped, recognizing the voice through the fear and rain. I was already drenched, the cold eating through my flesh. I slowly turned and stumbled back as William caught up with me. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” he demanded, almost angrily.

I was still stricken with fear. By then, it didn’t matter to me if he had been nice and charming.

“Why are you following me?”

“Why are you running away?”

“Because you were chasing me!” I screamed through the thunder.

“Because there’s a storm, you fool!” He was breathless, wet, and angry. Hands on his hips, he stepped closer, rain dripping down his face. “Now, tell me—What are you doing here?”

“No, you tell me what you are doing here?”

“I was looking for you.”

I stepped back. “Why?”

He moved one step forward. “Because you disappeared when we agreed to look for your mistress together.”

“I agreed to nothing!” I looked over his shoulder and calculated the distance I had to run. Whatever I had done to deserve this storm must have caused someone’s death, because it was more than horrifying.

He frowned at me. “Were you avoiding me?” Before I could open my mouth, he scoffed in disbelief. “You are avoiding me.”

“N-No,” I lied.

“Why?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” I lied again.

“Why did you disappear and why were you running away?”

“I thought you were the Night Swan,” I blurted out.

He looked at me blankly. “The what?”

“Lady Claire’s killer.” I gulped, my heart at my throat. “Are you?” When he just stared, I asked again. “Are you the Night Swan?”

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 19 on Patreon as to this posting, with three special chapters:

1. Special Chapter | Ch. 3 | Francis

2. Special Chapter | Ch. 6 | Francis

3.Special Chapter | Ch. 9 | Francis

You can also read my Patreon Exclusive story, Elewyn , on Patreon for free!

Of course, you can always wait for my weekly updates here!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories

Thank you so much for your support!

Ch. 9

SCARLETT

It was a very stupid question, but who could blame me for asking? Even if he was the killer, I would still be dead. I might as well know before he killed me. But he did not do that. The sky rumbled with his laughter. As lightning flashed across the sky, it broke the shadow that cast over us and I saw the familiar, charming face before me and that’s when I knew he could not be the killer—if the Night Swan truly existed.

“Why would you think I am the Night Swan?” Before I could answer his question, he added, “And what is the Night Swan again?”

“The killer. The one who killed Claire Braxton. That’s what everybody calls him—or her.”

He shook his head. “Claire’s death was an accident. Don’t believe all the rumors you hear.” He spread out his arms and grinned at me. “Do I truly look like a killer?”

I just shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

He let out a dramatic gasp. “You’re not sure?”

I hid a smile as I turned, looking around. “I think we’re lost.”

“No, you are, Lost Scarlett,” he said, grabbing me by the hand. “Let’s find shelter until the storm passes,” he said.

I refused to move at first, so he stopped, giving me a teasing smile as I fought against my indecision. “You’re not the Night Swan.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not.”

I let him lead me down a different path, past a couple of trees and across a clearing where a small shed stood, probably for workers or hunters to rest in. It was not much, but at least it had a roof and a bench.

“You seem to know this place,” I noted as he opened the box in the back of the shed and pulled out a blanket and a gas lamp.

“I’ve been to a few hunting trips,” he said, wrapping the blanket over my shoulders before pulling out another for himself. We sat on the bench and stared at the darkness before us. For a while, we just sat there in silence until I stopped shivering.

“Avery disappeared two years ago,” he said. “Do you know that?”

I nodded, looking at him. The light from the lamp gave him a warm glow. “I heard. You know of her?”

“She makes sure everyone knows her.”

My gaze flickered away from his face and back to the darkness. “I know little about her, I’m afraid. I’m new in Storm Grove.” I had to lie before he could fish for more information. This was not the first someone tried to talk to me about the time Miss Avery was away.

“Ah,” he said, stretching his legs before him. “Then you should run before Avery gets her claws around you.” I frowned, curious. He looked grim, as if he swallowed something bitter and vile. “When that happens, you won’t have much choice, but wait until she finds no use of you.”

BLYTHE

Avoiding Thomas was quite taxing, but I soon found security with a new group of ladies, a year younger than I, and were from the countryside. It was no surprise they knew about me. I was popular even outside Queens.

“We found a game in the library earlier,” said one of them.

“Stumbled upon it, more like it,” added her friend.

“It’s a scavenger hunt?”

They nodded.

I frowned. The three games I heard of thus far were scavenger hunts, which made me wonder what the owners of the ivies asked for their Silver Favor. They said that scavenger hunts were only done for big Favors.

“Everyone’s getting a little ambitious each year,” one lady said with a laugh.

I laughed with them. I was good at pretenses, although deep down my gut was gnawing at me. I felt it rise to my throat.

“Melanie found an ivy. Do you know?”

My eyes widened in surprise. “She did?”

“Oh, what a very thrilling day for her indeed!”

“She won’t say where she got it. Do you think she’s secured for the title?”

“I doubt it. We still have four days more. Anything can happen.”

My gaze crossed the room to where Melanie sat with a friend. She was glowing as always, laughing like she owned the world. She should be. Her party was doing great, she had an ivy tucked away somewhere, and if she could keep it, she would be Swan forever.

I went for another glass of sherry, evading Maeve, who was standing by the window talking to Prince Francis. I stopped and looked again. They were talking in whispers, their lips barely moving. They were not touching, nor were they looking at each other as if they had shared a kiss in a dark corridor. In fact, they looked like they were arguing.

“Do you have an ivy?” Thomas whispered in my ear from behind.

With a start, I wheeled away, but he expertly cornered me. Just as I was regaining control of my beautiful element, this man had to just ruin it.

“I know you don’t,” he said, smiling at me gently. “And I’d hate to see you without one four days from now.”

“Thomas, I’d like my space back,” I said with a graceful smile.

“Now, there’s my Blythe,” he said. “I was wondering where you went. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“The first day rattled me, I admit,” I said, flipping my hair back. “Excuse me. I need to get back to my friends. Thank you.”

He brushed the back of his finger along my arm. “Meet me later if you want to know who has an ivy.”

“I’m not planning on stealing any.”

“It’s the third day, darling.” The reminder tightened the knot in the pit of my stomach. “At this point, you get one anyway you can.” The finger surreptitiously and deliberately brushed over my breast. “You know where to find me.”

He returned to his friends without another glance in my direction. My face was hot as I sat back with my new friends. They were staring at Maeve and Francis. “I think it’s true. What they say about them.”

“She’s Blythe’s cousin, Minerva,” one girl hissed.

Minerva bit her lips. “Oh. I forgot! Forgive me, Blythe. I didn’t—”

“I don’t mind. I’ve heard far worse gossip about Maeve,” I said with a soft chuckle.

“Then it’s just gossip?” one girl asked, almost sounding hopeful.

I smiled. “Maeve doesn’t tell me everything, I’m afraid. Why?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I’ve always liked Prince Francis. And Thomas Erne, of course, but I’m told to stay away from him.”

I choked on my drink and coughed. At that moment, we were not the only ones talking about the prince and my cousin. Almost everyone had their eyes on the pair, who seemed ignorant of the attention, too focused on whatever they were whispering about.

In the haze of my distraction, I saw Daphne cross the room, her gait unsteady as she held a glass of wine, the contents spilling over the rim and down her fingers. “Francis, my cousin dearest,” she called, chuckling as she approached.

“Thrice removed,” I murmured.

Minerva and the others to chuckled.

Daphne finally reached Francis and Maeve. “Tell me how the pair of you do it,” she said.

“You’re foxed, Daphne,” Francis said, his voice soft but grating.

“Not to drunk to notice you flirting with the woman who killed Claire! How can you stand her presence? How can you act like nothing happened?” She was crying again, tears smearing her face.

Melanie walked up to Daphne and gently whispered for her to stop, but Daphne pushed her away with the hand holding her wine, spilling everything on Melanie’s dress. My group gasped, but no one moved, too frozen to even act.

“Shut up, Melanie. No one wants to hear you talk.” She waved her now-empty glass around, swaying on her feet. “In fact, they’re all here just for the wine.” She burped. “And the deputies,” she added with a laugh, pointing her glass at Francis, making a slow turn to count every deputy in the room.

Melanie had gone pale and remained unmoving even as Francis dragged Daphne away. Maeve pushed away from the window and approached Melanie.

“Don’t tell me to behave when you clearly don’t!” Daphne screamed at Francis halfway to the door. “You were dallying with a filthy, defective chit while your betrothed was dying!”

“Leave,” Francis gritted out.

She fought Francis and craned her neck to look at Maeve across the room. “You would rather be with that cripple?”

“Daphne!”

We all flinched at Francis’ booming voice.

“Good luck with that,” Daphne continued. She was too foxed and too angry to care. “Maeve St. Vincent will ruin you like she does everything in her life. Or if you’re fortunate, she’ll save you the trouble and kill you like she did Claire.”

Maeve moved away from Melanie and limped toward Daphne and Francis, her face unreadable. I swallowed, wanting to melt right there and disappear into the carpet like the wine Daphne spilled. “You’re right to say I wanted to kill Claire, Daphne, and I could have easily done it, too,” Maeve said. Everyone gasped at Maeve’s statement while I closed my eyes, silently praying for anything to stop this. Maeve stopped too close to Daphne. “But I would never do it in a place where everyone would suspect me. Unlike you, I’m no bloody idiot.”

Daphne tried to reach for Maeve, but my cousin easily blocked her attack with her cane. She stumbled back and would have fallen if Francis was not there to catch her.

“In fact, I will find the killer for you, Daphne,” Maeve announced, looking around the room to make sure everyone heard her.

I slumped in my chair and groaned inwardly. Daphne laughed at Maeve’s declaration. “And how will you find the Night Swan, Maeve? Look in the mirror?”

“Your humor is just slightly better than your biology grades, Daphne,” Maeve said, eliciting a few chuckles from the deputies. “I’ll start looking at the people closest to her, of course,” Maeve continued, answering Daphne’s question. “You were with her in her last moments. You partied together if I’m not mistaken.” The room went quiet again. Daphne blanched. “Did something happen that night, Daphne? Tell me. I was not there, you know. I was with your cousin.” Maeve threw Francis a smile. “We were, as you all call it, dallying .” She stepped back when Daphne tried to reach for her again. “Why are you so insistent that I killed her? Now, I wonder… Is it to point the suspicion away from you?”

“You defective witch—”

“That’s enough!” Francis bellowed, grabbing Daphne’s hand. With help from two other deputies, they dragged her away from Maeve and out of the room. I could still hear her cries of outrage echoing down the corridor.

“That was…”

“Intense,” one girl finished the other’s sentence.

“Your cousin is amazing,” another said to me, her eyes on Maeve as she walked out of the room. “She not only gets the prince, she also gets an ivy.”

I stilled. “She what?”

“My maid saw her enter the Silver Room earlier.”

Maeve had an ivy? And she didn’t tell me?

I blinked a few times, my breath coming in short bursts. “Excuse me. I have to see if she’s alright.” I was not the only one exiting the party. Others were already on their feet, quietly avoiding Melanie, who stood quietly in tears in the middle of the room.

“Go! Just leave, all of you!” she cried when one deputy tried to comfort her.

I rushed out of the room and ran after Maeve. “Are you alright?” I asked.

She just scoffed and I did not push. Maeve never liked to be asked if she was alright. Nor did she like it when we defended her. For so long, she was the defender.

“Did you get an ivy?” I asked.

“Yes.” Her reply came in a snap as she angrily limped, digging her cane into the floor with each step. “I stole Claire’s ivy.”

I gasped and my eyes widened. “You did what? When? Before or after—”

“How do I know? She was not in the room when I entered.”

“You were in the Silver Room.”

“I have a mission, yes. But I don’t know where the game is, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But—”

“I’m tired, Blythe.”

I stopped walking, stupefied. The desperate, tight knot in the pit of my stomach twisted even more. As people from the party walked past me, Maeve’s retreating form disappeared. I was in a panic. Who among these people had ivies too? I thought I was prepared. I had it all planned out. But I could not even find a bloody game!

Logan was in my room when I burst in restlessly, my face flushed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, clearing my throat as I composed myself with a smile. “Had too much wine.”

He accepted it, but he did not look convinced.

“Have you found anything?” Did I sound desperate? I hope not.

“There is an increase in servant activity in the basement. A game could be underway.”

“Good. Maeve has an ivy. She stole Claire’s.”

“The dead girl?”

“Yes, the dead girl,” I said. “I’m retiring early. If we find a game tomorrow, I have to be at my best.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

I beamed. “Yes, Logan, I’m alright. Goodnight.”

“You know this is just a game, yes?”

There was a short pause as I blinked at him, the smile froze on my lips. “This is not just a game, Logan,” I softly said, although my face had gone tight. “This is my future we’re talking about. My future in the queen’s court. My family’s legacy—” I stopped, my breath shaking, smile still pasted on my lips. “You don’t understand.”

“I do.”

“Unless you are a Vandenberg, you never will,” I snapped.

He nodded, his lips pressed tight as he turned and quietly left.

Hands on my hips, I paced the room, stomping my foot now and then to let out the frustration.

The walls have eyes in Ivory House and they saw what you did, dear Blythe.

I shuddered at the reminder of the note. But I could not just stay here and let Logan do all the work. He had little to lose if I came home without an ivy.

Thunder rumbled outside and rain rattled the windowpanes. Before sense could take root, I rushed to my vanity table and fixed my hair with my hands. I smiled at my reflection.

“Not pretty or nice or fine. You’re beautiful,” I told myself before turning away.

As I slipped out of my room and made my way down the corridor, determination pushing each step, I convinced myself that I didn’t care. Whoever sent that note knew nothing about me. They didn’t know what I was capable of.

When I reached my destination, I looked down around. Both sides of the corridor were empty. The storm still raged outside.

They have no proof. Nothing.

I knocked on the door and waited. My breath caught in my throat when Thomas appeared. Already, I could feel myself melting under his gaze, felt it smolder its way through my flesh and bones, every fiber that seethed with desire. And that smile, the way it curled, perfect and promising, reminded me of what my body was capable of in his hands.

I pushed my way into the room, which was dark. Half of me was frightened of this secret. But half wanted to be devoured, to be free and feel as much as it could give and take. As he closed the door and reached for me, my heart cantered inside my chest with excitement, my flesh hot as his hands traced the length of my arm. The anxious knot in my stomach turned into something that sent sharp waves through my limbs.

Why is it that forbidden things are the beautiful ones?

I pressed against the wall and he followed. “I don’t need to know who has an ivy,” I managed with a gasp as his hands gripped my hips—deliciously painful, deliriously promising. “But I want to know where the games are.”

He smiled in my ear, his breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine, feeding the throbbing heat in my core. “I’ll tell you where every bloody game is,” he promised, his voice thick and hot as his mouth captured mine in a tender kiss that promised more. “Your night is mine?” he asked, fingers tracing a collarbone, edging close to my breast.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His sexy smile flashed across his face. The soft light from his bed captured his irresistible shapes, every perfect angle and slope. He swept me off my feet and threw me in the center of his bed, where I bounced before he grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed, spreading my knees wide, hiking my skirts to my hips. “I won’t tell anyone you cheated,” he said as he bent and hitched my legs over his shoulders.

I fell on my back, eyes shut as he showered kisses along my thigh, his mouth dangerously close to where I throbbed. And finally, his tongue found me and I moaned, grasping his hair, whimpering with impatient need, but his hands held me down in torture.

I never cheated; never even considered it when I came here. But if I was going to do it, I might as well enjoy it.

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 21 on Patreon with 3 Special Chapters as to this posting.

You can also read my new Exclusive story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon for free!

But, of course, you can always wait for my weekly updates here!

Ch. 10

SCARLETT

I couldn’t tell him I was cold. Shivering, in fact, because I didn’t want our time together to end. He had so many stories, and he told them in various interesting ways. The storm continued to rage on; the trees blowing harsh, cold winds that ate at my bones, threw leaves and twigs on the ground, as if the forest was shedding.

I don’t remember talking a lot. He did most of it, which was quite fine with me. But he did eventually notice my silence. He went quiet with an almost embarrassed smile. “Tell me, Lost Scarlett,” he said, looking at me with keen interest. “Do you ever feel trapped?”

His question made me blink a few times. He was talking about his friends just seconds ago. Unsure how to answer, I asked, “Trapped where? Here?”

He laughed. “Silly. No. I mean…” He waved his hand at the dark forest around us. “Life.”

Suddenly I remembered my mother, how she worked her entire life to pay my father’s debts. I remembered myself entering Storm Grove for the first time to work with her. And I remembered the last day we cleaned a room together before she caught the fever and never recovered. I was still that girl. Nothing much had changed. “Yes.” My answer was a whisper, but it sounded harsher than the sharp gusts of wind.

William slowly nodded, leaning on his hands. “I feel the same.”

I remained silent, thinking of Frannie and Myra. I wondered if they ever thought of me, too. If they knew why I had to leave them, only visiting once every few months or when I could save enough coins to travel. Then I wondered if they would ever be thankful for the sacrifices. Sometimes I wished they would come to understand and realize I needed help, too. When it got lonely at night after an endless day of labor, I’d have a selfish wish that my sisters would join me in Storm Grove. Maybe then we could work together and finally escape.

William scoffed. I found him already staring at me. “It’s not fair, is it?” he asked. “For someone like me to complain about being trapped in my perfect life.”

“A prison is still a prison no matter what it’s made of,” I told him, my voice soft. “Rusty or silver or gold, a cell bar still stands between someone and freedom.”

“Wise words,” he said, a bitter smile on his lips. He took a lungful of air and let it out. “My title is my prison. And my father’s title feeds it.”

“Mine is my lack of dowry,” I said. “Even peasants demand them, you know.”

“You want to marry then?”

A family would be another trap, I thought, but I didn’t tell him that. “I wish to belong to someone who does not expect me to fix their dress or curl their hair.”

He laughed. “A husband may not expect those, but they will most definitely demand for something more than that.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said with a grin.

He looked to the left. I did the same. Not far away, light shone through the silhouettes of the trees. “I don’t think the storm is going away,” he said.

Our time was ending, I thought with dismay. But my body was eager for dry and warm clothes. “We might as well head back.”

So we did. We ran through the slippery mud and strong wind. I slipped twice, and each time he laughingly pulled me back on my feet. We followed the light of the manor until we emerged out of the wood. He ran with me to the servant door of the east wing and when we stumbled inside; we were dripping wet. The small hall was quiet, the servants probably finishing up in the kitchen by now. I squeezed out as much rainwater from my skirts as I could.

“I should see if Miss Avery is back,” I said, turning to him with a bow. “Thank you, my lord. Good night.”

But he insisted on walking me up to the first landing and down to Miss Avery’s room. I hesitated to knock, knowing I’d only get scolded for my long absence and horrible state. Instead, I listened, pressing my ear against the wood. When I heard laughter from inside, I let out a sigh of relief. “She’s back,” I whispered to William. “I’ll go change and return later.”

He walked with me to the end of the corridor. “Are you not afraid to come and go down here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Claire Braxton’s bedroom is just two doors down,” he said, smile teasing. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“No, of course not,” I snapped, although I had to admit his statement made the hairs at the back of my neck stand. “They’re not real. Ghosts can’t hurt us, but people can.”

“Then you’re lucky I’m not the Night Swan.”

“You have not proven it yet, my lord,” I retorted.

He laughed. “Are you sure you know your way back?”

My eyes flickered with annoyance. “Yes. I only got lost once—”

“Twice,” he corrected.

I rolled my eyes. “No matter, I know the way.”

He grinned, his eyes scanning my face with interest before he blinked away and said, “Well, I guess this is good night.” As I turned, however, he said, “Lost Scarlett, will you tell your mistress you were with me?”

“No.” The answer came out of me before I could think of a good one.

He nodded. “It’s better that you don’t.”

I continued to stare until he was out of sight, growing curious about him now. He knew Miss Avery deeper than he let on.

MAEVE

The three consecutive raps on the door made me jump out of bed and I almost insulted the poor thing. Three days around Francis and his stupid insults were becoming intrusive thoughts.

“Wait!” I shouted, grudgingly shrugging into a robe when three more knocks followed.

I flung the door open and William rushed in with the twins in tow, followed by Francis. He frowned at my sleeping robe. “You said to take them here at eleven,” he said. “Why are you sleeping?”

“I forgot,” I hissed, slamming the door behind him. “Money on the table, cousin,” I said to William, who pulled out bills from his pocket. I threw him a small bag of my herbs and asked for more bills from the twins when they demanded for more.

“Daphne was out of line earlier,” said Tobias.

Timothy nodded, giving me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, Maeve, we have your back.”

“Why? What happened?” William asked.

I frowned at him. “Why is your hair wet?”

“I just returned from the woods. Got caught in a storm.”

“He rescued a maid,” Tobias said with a suggestive wink.

“I wonder if she was any good?” Timothy asked.

William kicked Timothy’s chair. “It wasn’t like that.” He looked at Francis, brows arched. “You want some, Francis?”

“No,” Francis curtly replied.

“Then why did you invite us here?” my cousin asked, eyeing Francis with interest that bordered on suspicion as his gaze jumped to me.

“Because I asked him to,” I said, limping toward him. “You missed Melanie’s party, so let me fill you in. I’m officially investigating Claire Braxton’s murder.”

William, Tobias, and Timothy coughed out smoke. I waited until they recovered. “What?”

“You were serious?” Tobias and Timothy chorused.

“Of course I am,” I said with a smile. “I’ll catch the killer before the game ends.” I stared at the three of them.

“And why are we here?” William asked.

“You did not return when you left my room the night Claire died. Tobias and Timothy were not seen until earlier at Melanie’s party, and you were not seen until now.”

“Someone saw us—”

“I know, but the fact remains that you were not in Ivory House yesterday and for most of today.”

William looked outraged. “The two of you were not here when we returned with the wine so we left!” He scoffed in disbelief. “You think we had something to do with it?”

“I’d hate to think so, of course, because you’re my cousin, but I have to be objective.”

“We were doing what we said we were doing!” William exclaimed.

“We went home in William’s carriage. Slept most of the day off, thanks to your herbs.” Timothy was not looking so happy with me despite his earlier declaration of loyalty. “You can ask the bloody driver and our mother who, by the by, was not so happy when she had to drag us out of bed.”

I stared at Francis. It took him a second to realize I was expecting an answer, too. “You know where I was,” he snapped.

I shrugged as the four of them stared at me in various degree of contempt and disbelief. “Well, you can finish your herbs,” I said.

“I think we’ll finish it elsewhere,” said William, jumping to his feet with his pipe. The twins followed him to the door.

“Your herbs, William,” I said.

He stiffly turned and snatched the bag from the table. “Francis, out of my cousin’s room.”

“He’s staying,” I nonchalantly said, sitting down and unscrewing my cane to pull out my pipe.

“He’s not staying—”

“He’s staying,” I repeated firmly.

“Your father will hear of this,” William said.

“He’ll be happy I’m bedding a prince,” I countered, which made Francis scowl.

William stalked out of the room, swearing loudly. Timothy poked his head in before closing the door, saying, “I still have your back, Maeve, but I’m gravely disappointed.”

“Sod off,” I wryly said.

The door closed and Francis took the seat across from me. He watched me light my pipe, disapproval wrinkling his frown. “What are you looking at?” I asked as I screwed my cane back in place, blowing out smoke.

“A mistake,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, I’m not your bloody mirror, am I?” I shot back.

He scoffed, probably impressed by the insult. “William’s not happy with you.”

“He’ll get over it.” I stared at him. “Why are you still here?”

“You said I should stay. And I’m here as deputy.”

At first, I was confused, then it dawned on me: my mission. I groaned. “You can’t be bloody serious.”

“She said our new status will make it easier for me to watch over you and make sure you don’t cheat.”

“You mean the crown princess knows about us?”

“There is no us .”

“I know that, dimwit,” I snapped.

“I don’t know why you’re even bothering on a Favor with all these things going on.”

“I still have to go back to Queens once this is over.” My lips twisted as I looked at him. “I’m stuck with you for three days?”

“I’ll sleep in the bed, too,” he said. “You’ll also have to surrender your pipe by midnight.”

“You’re not sleeping in my bed.”

“You just told your cousin you’re bedding me.” Before I could say a word, he added, “And I never sleep on the floor. I don’t intend to change that.”

I huffed in frustration.

He shifted in his seat. “Did you make that?” he asked, nodding at my cane.

“My brother did. Why are you making small talks?”

“Which one?”

“Jason. You don’t have to make small talks.”

“The eldest. I’m surprised.”

“He tolerates me,” I said with a sigh.

“I admire him.”

I shot him a sarcastic smile. “Stop with the small talk.”

“The note could have been left in your room by someone who has access,” he said, changing the subject. One hand was still in his pocket, the other resting on the table. “It could be your maid.”

“Justine does not have the key. I took her copy.”

“The only one who has another copy is the housekeeper. Her family has been with us for generations. She’s loyal than the bloody guards. Are you certain you never left your room unlocked?”

“Yes.” With one pipe in hand, I stood on my good leg and limped to the nearest wall. I stared at it, chewing my cheek. “How well do you know Ivory House?”

“As well as you do,” he said. “Never went here unless I’m dragged.”

“Or out to murder someone who is to be your betrothed.”

“Don’t try to be too cunning, St. Vincent,” he warned as he stood beside me.

“The only way into my room is through the window or a secret passage.”

“I know where you get your stupid ideas. You read too much adventure books, do you?”

“My imagination apparently has more reach than yours,” I murmured as I tried to push at a panel.

“At least I don’t look stupid pushing at a bloody wall.”

“You can just leave.”

“I’d be happy to, but it’s not every night I get to see a fool’s show,” he said, hands in his pockets, a small curl in the corner of his mouth. “And I’m on deputy duty.”

I ignored him at that point, pushing at each panel, whichever I could reach. My confidence was spiraling down into prideful shame by the time I circled the entire room. Francis was clearly entertained, now leaning against a wall, his hands loose in his pockets. “Ah, I almost thought the wall was giving in,” he said with a snort. When I continued to ignore him, he added, “What are you going to do next? Interrogate every bloody person in the manor?”

I stared at the ceiling, about to snap a smart retort, when I noticed something. I frowned, peering at it. “What is that?”

“Your last thread of sanity, I suppose.”

“There’s a clutch.”

He finally looked up. It took him a moment to realize I was actually seeing something worthy of interest. His hands pulled out from his pockets and dragged a chair. He climbed on it and tried to reach.

“Just jump. You’ll reach it,” I ordered.

“No, thank you,” he snapped, stretching further to close the last inches.

“You’re proving to be a useless partner,” I said as I dragged the table. He jumped down and helped me climb. “Seriously?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’m a better catcher than you are. But don’t fall. Every bloody part of you probably stabs.”

The table wobbled as I reached for the clutch. “Stand on your toes.”

“In case you forgot, I have limited good supply of that,” I said. “Put the chair on the table.”

“That’s dangerous. No.”

“Then go away. I’ll do it myself.”

“Bloody fool. Don’t say I did not warn you,” he growled as he placed the chair on the table, holding it steady as I climbed. It was more than enough additional height. I had to bend as I worked on the clutch. “Don’t you dare fall, St. Vincent.”

“You’re the last thing I’d fall on, Davercher,” I murmured. The clutch was rusty, but it snapped open with one finger, releasing the square panel from its hold. I gave a push, and it opened upward.

I straightened into the opening, my heart racing in disbelief. The draft attacked my lungs almost instantly. I looked down at the crawl space and scoffed. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

SCARLETT

I was back in dry and clean clothes in a matter of minutes. And I was back outside Miss Avery’s room in less than ten. However, I found it empty again. Silently, I cursed her and her friends. It was late, and I was eager for bed. But I had to make sure she had everything she needed. I had to wait until she was ready for bed—she liked her hair brushed a hundred times before it hit the pillow.

Remembering Lady Melanie’s party, I navigated the way down to the east drawing room. She was probably still there. But as I walked down the corridor that led to the drawing room, I hesitated, William’s words echoing in my head.

I shook my head. Ghosts are not real , I chanted in my head.

The door was closed; it was quiet inside. I was ready to flee and return to my room and risk Miss Avery’s scolding tomorrow. But I had to check if she was alright. I had not seen her since this morning, after all, and I had never gone that long without seeing her. Not since she appointed me as her maid.

Slowly, I opened the door and poked my head inside. It was empty. There were empty bottles of wine on one table, a few empty glasses around the sitting area, and a few shattered ones on the floor.

I stopped with a frown. That’s odd.

I stepped inside. “Hello?” I called just to be sure.

No answer.

I turned. The first biggest mistake of my life, I should say.

Someone was sitting around the table, half her body sprawled on top of it. “Lady Melanie? Are you alright?” I cautiously asked. “Should I call Tina?”

There was no answer. I slowly approached her. Second biggest mistake of my life, I should add.

“My lady,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. I jumped with a gasp as her arm fell limp to her side. “My lady!” I grabbed her by the shoulders. She was a big woman, but in my panic, I easily pulled her back against the chair. I screamed into my hand when her head fell back and blood gurgled out of the slit across her neck. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, lifeless.

With shaking eyes, I saw the plate of half-eaten cake, soaked in red. On top was a note.

Gluttony .

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 23 on Patreon with 3 Special Chapters  (Francis’ POV) as to this posting.

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon for free!

But, of course, you can always wait for my weekly updates here!

Ch. 11

MAEVE

I may have the worst right leg, but my upper body made up for it. With ease, I pushed myself up into the crawl space. Francis was saying something—or calling me names—but I couldn’t care less. I was already crawling, although with pain, away from the opening.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, poking up into the hole.

“Shh!” I hissed back over my shoulder.

I heard him push himself up and before I knew it, he was crowding the space behind me. “Move faster.”

“If I do, I’ll have to shove my foot down your throat.”

“There’s a wider space ahead.”

“I’m crippled, not blind.”

He coughed as dust floated around us. Before we could reach the wider space, we had to squeeze through between two large beams.

“I don’t need your help!” I growled as I rolled to my side and sought purchase on the edge of the beam to pull myself out.

“I’m not helping.”

“Then stop touching me.”

“I’m not!”

I squirmed out of the tight path and lay on my side to catch my breath. Francis pushed my leg to the side as he struggled to get through. The space was wide enough for me to stand now, and I did, wincing at the shot of pain through my right leg.

“Now what?” he breathlessly asked as he straightened to full height.

“I don’t know,” I murmured. We found a way the killer possibly used to move around the manor, but that’s all there was to it. “If we’re lucky, we’ll bump into the killer.”

He growled something under his breath as we walked aimlessly in one direction.

“This is headed toward the east wing.”

“I know.”

“Careful,” he said when I tripped, catching me by the waist.

I brushed him off with one hand. “Stop touching me.”

“If you think I enjoy it, you’re utterly wrong.”

“It didn’t seem that way when you kissed me.”

“It wasn’t a kiss.”

I chuckled. “Oh, forgive me. Now that I think of it, it felt like you were eating dessert.”

“Listen, St. Vincent. You are too demented to be a dessert.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “That’s why they’re bad for you, Davercher.”

“Ah, finally some truth—You’re bad, mad, and dangerous”

“But no killer.” I looked him up and down. “Not yet, anyway.”

He sighed as I continued walking. From time to time, voices escaped from below. If we stopped long enough, we could listen into conversations. They were muffled, but clear enough to be understood.

“I don’t think we’ll find anything here.”

“We’ll need light next time,” I said.

“You’re not going back up here.”

I just frowned at him.

His eyes narrowed. “What? Don’t tell me you’re coming back up here and risk an encounter with a killer.”

“You’ll know where to find me if I go missing,” I said, kneeling on my good knee to listen below.

“I won’t even bother.” He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. Looking around, he looked thoughtful, his brows knitted in a frown. I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but I was too tired to do it. And I was getting restless. I needed to smoke.

“You’re not sleeping in my bed if you’re going to be with me for three days,” I said as I stood and looked for a latch that resembled the one from my bedroom.

“As I don’t enjoy touching you, I don’t see why that would be a problem,” he replied, following me.

I stole him a look before I knelt on a latch. As I reached for it, his hand caught mine. “You were saying?” I asked, brow arched.

“Let me do it,” he snapped, brushing my hand away. “This is the library.”

I sighed and waited as he carefully unlatched the panel and lifted it. We held our breaths, listening, as fresh air from below gust through. It was quiet. Dark.

Seeing the top of a bookshelf, I gathered my skirts, ready to get out. He did not stop me. We both knew the shelf was sturdier than the chair in my room.

“Do you know that you drool in your sleep? I can still smell it on my pillow,” I whispered.

“What does it have to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying I don’t want you to sleep in my bed.” I dangled my legs down and, while supporting my weight with both hands, I slowly lowered atop the top the shelf. “I don’t even know why you slept in my room that night.”

“Do you know you stop breathing in your sleep? Just a few seconds,” he said, poking his head down. “I thought you were dying.”

He easily lowered himself and replaced the panel. As he secured the latch, I climbed down through the shelves.

“You smoked those bloody herbs of yours like the chimneys in Eden Row. You’re as crazy in your sleep as you are awake, by the by.”

“I suppose you’re now wishing I died instead of Claire Braxton.” I pulled out a book from the shelf and threw it at him.

“You lunatic!” he hissed.

“Warning, Davercher,” I said, finally reaching the floor. “I won’t be smoking for three bloody days. I’ll get even crazier.”

As he jumped the last foot from the floor, I looked around, hands on my hips. I looked up at the panel in disbelief. What else was this place hiding?

The door to the library suddenly burst open and in walked two deputies. When they saw us, they broke into knowing smiles. “What are you two doing here?” one of them asked teasingly.

“About to strip naked, but the table is too hard,” I replied, walking toward the door. Pain shot through my leg and it buckled. Francis caught me before I fell.

“I don’t need your help,” I murmured under my breath, my jaw tight as I bit through the pain. It was then that I realized I left my cane up on the ceiling.

Bloody tarnation.

He frowned down at me, his eyes widening with silent fury as he realized the same thing. And without warning, he bent and scooped me over his back, pulling my hands around his shoulders.

The two deputies chuckled as Francis carried me out of the library like a sack on his back.

“Put me down,” I said once we emerged into the corridor.

“Stop moving or I’ll leave you crawling back to your room.”

I tightened my arms around his neck and he slapped them with a curse. “Stop it!” he growled, throwing me higher on his back, his hands gripping my thighs on both sides.

“When did you last wash your hair?” I asked, smelling the top of his head.

“Shut up.”

“You need a bath.”

“I said shut up, St. Vincent.”

“I need to get my cane back.”

“Not tonight.”

“But—”

“You can’t use your pipe, anyway.”

“But I need my cane.”

“Get it tomorrow.”

“But—”

“You’re not going anywhere tonight and that’s final. Now, shut the bloody hell up. You’re not easy to carry.”

I sighed and wrinkled my nose. “You still need a bath.”

“Good God, woman. Shut up!”

SCARLETT

Tears and nerves guided me as I searched for Miss Avery. I didn’t know how, but I finally stumbled into another drawing room and found her there, drinking with her friends.

“Scarlett?” she asked with a frown. “Where have you been? I had to dress alone, you silly girl. What’s wrong?”

I was shaking as I approached her. “Miss, I—” I stopped and swallowed. “May I have a word?”

She did not look so pleased to be interrupted, and so did her friends, who were staring at me up and down with judgment in their eyes.

“Why? What happened?” Miss Avery asked, standing from the chaise. She handed her glass of brandy to one of her friends and followed me to the door. Once outside, her tone completely changed. It was cold, her gaze biting. “Where have you been, you stupid girl? Why is your hair wet?”

“Miss,” I said, lips quivering. “I—We have to go. We have to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, grabbing my arm, squeezing it tight. “Speak!” she hissed.

I sniffled and wiped the tears off my face.

“I told you not to dally with men. Is this what it’s about? Did someone force himself on you, you fool?” I shook my head, and she looked even more frustrated. “You can’t do anything about it. I told you to be careful! You better hope you don’t get pregnant.”

“That’s not it!” I cried out. “Come with me. Please.”

“Why?”

I grabbed her hand and led her away from the door. “I thought you were at the party, so I came there, but…”

“But what?”

I swallowed. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

Moments later, we were both staring at Lady Melanie’s dead body. She was still the same as I left her: head hanging back, blood running down her slit throat.

“Lady Claire was killed, too, wasn’t she?” I asked. “The Night Swan is real.”

If she was as shaken as I was, I couldn’t tell. Miss Avery’s lips were pursed, her eyes intently studying Lady Melanie. “Did you find anything else?” she asked.

Her question was odd, I thought as my hand went to the side of my skirt pocket where the note was. “No,” I whispered.

“Did anyone see her?”

“I don’t know, but I was alone when I came here.”

She nodded before stiffly turning away. “Stay here. Lock the door. Don’t open it unless you hear me from the other side.”

I panicked, eyes wide. “But where are you going?”

She did not answer. “Lock the door, Scarlett,” she firmly said as she left me alone. I hurried and locked the door, hands shaking. For a while, I paced around the drawing room, my back on the body as I chewed on my nails. I could hardly breathe in fear.

I jumped with a start when the knock came moments later. “It’s me,” Miss Avery said from the other side.

I quickly opened the door. She was alone. “Go back to my room and stay there,” she said with a motion of her head.

“What about you—”

“Just do as I say!”

I gladly did as she said and rushed away. At the end of the corridor, I looked over my shoulder. She was closing the door with a key.

As soon as I entered Miss Avery’s room, I washed my face on her washstand. Then I tried to do some work—fixed her bed, rearranged her clothes. But I was too restless to finish them, my mind going from one direction to the next. I wanted to go back to Storm Grove. I didn’t want to be a part of this.

When an hour passed and she had not yet returned, I pulled the note out of my pocket and stared at it. It was smeared with blood, but the writing was clear.

Gluttony .

Whoever wrote this, whoever killed Lady Melanie with such brutality, was evil. Hot tears ran down my face again and I sniffled.

Then I began to wonder, the smoke in my head slowly clearing, and I frowned. Miss Avery locked the drawing room.

But where did she get the key?

I flinched when the door opened and Miss Avery walked in looking like nothing happened. My hand immediately went inside my pocket and I stood. “Miss—”

“You cannot let anyone know about what you saw,” she interjected, her voice cold.

What? But why?

“Do you understand?” she asked, a flicker of annoyance flashing across her eyes. “Scarlett, do you understand?”

“B-But—”

“It won’t do us any good if people find out,” she tightly said. “Keep it a secret. Someone’s dealing with it as we speak. Now, go to your room and I don’t want to hear about this ever again.”

I bit my lips, tears streaming down my face as I slowly nodded.

“Go, you fool.”

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 25  on Patreon with 3 Special Chapters (Francis’ POV) as to this posting.

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon for free!

But, of course, you can always wait for my weekly updates here!

Ch. 12

-Day 4-

BLYTHE

I slipped into my room and locked the door behind me. Rain was pouring hard outside, but the room was kept warm by the steady fire in the hearth. Thomas was wonderful—a generous lover. For hours, he made me forget. But after, when the sweat had cooled on our skin and he lay sleeping in his bed, I felt nothing. I was empty inside.

Was there nothing I could not do to get to my goals? Was there no other way?

I was a wench. But most of all, I was a prisoner of my ambition.

“Where have you been?”

I cried out in alarm, my heart leaping to my throat. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest, as if I could cover what I had done. I was still in my evening dress and I made sure my hair was near perfect when I left Thomas sleeping in his bed. But why, under Logan’s steely gaze, did I feel naked? As if he witnessed me cry in passion as Thomas took me to new heights; as if he was there while I gave another man pleasure with my mouth and hands like a common wanton?

My face flushed, and I turned away with a nervous smile. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.”

He did not move from where he was sitting around the small table, his hands holding a half-finished book. Logan was always reading, whether in a carriage or in between meetings with my father. But he also enjoyed reading people, especially me.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m tired, Logan,” I whined.

“You’ve been missing for hours.” I heard his book snap close. I turned and faced him. His spectacles, which he typically used during the night, glinted as he fixed his intense gaze on me, making me look away.

“I found a game,” I cheerfully said, assuming my usual charming mien.

His brow arched behind his spectacles. “How?”

“Does it matter? A scavenger hunt is on the way. It will start in the east library at eight in the morning.”

He stood as I walked over to my dressing screen. “I know what this game means to you. You came here to win, but you seem to be playing a different one,” he said, stopping me in my tracks.

Anger so strong flared up inside me, but I maintained the innocent smile on my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?” The alarming anger that flashed in his eyes was the same as the one I saw when he found me with Thomas. “If anyone finds out, you’re over.”

“You’re overstepping, Mr. Earle,” I said with a tight smile, my voice shaking.

“Thomas Erne will not offer you a ring even if you beg,” he coldly said. “You don’t like it when your father fixes things for you, don’t you?” He looked at me hard and long. “Then stop this right now before he’s forced to find you anyone who won’t mind taking you.”

I flew the distance between us at lightning speed. “I hate you!” I screamed as I raised my hand to slap his face, but he caught it before I could even come close. “You have no right to insult me like that.”

“You’ll hear far worse words if you don’t stop this.”

For a few seconds, we just stood there glaring at each other, both unwilling to back away. Then everything I felt about myself, about this entire game, came rushing and I stumbled back. He loosened his hold and let go.

“I’m sorry,” he started, but I held up my hand and turned away.

He was the last man I’d want to see me cry, so I forced myself to smile again, although it felt stupid to do so, and said, “You’re entitled to your opinion, but I suggest you keep it to yourself. We should focus only on the game and nothing else. Now, leave me alone.” I stood frozen in the middle of my room, and only when I heard the door close did I run to my bed and buried my face in the pillow. I screamed, gripping the sheets. Anger. So much anger. I didn’t know who I was angry at, but I was angry at myself for certain.

Incapable, feeble wench. A used doll.

I screamed again until I had no more breath.

SCARLETT

“I’m glad I got away,” Piper whispered to me as I sat beside her for breakfast. The manor was slowly waking up with servants rushing around the kitchen to get their meals. Others were already leaving to go to their mistresses, while the manor staff were preparing the ladies’ breakfast.

Anyone of these people, including the ladies, could have killed Lady Melanie yesterday. Shaking the thought from my head, I smiled halfheartedly at Piper. “Got away?” I asked.

“From Lord Claymore, of course,” she said. When I just stared, she rolled her eyes. “William Cavendish! Marquess of Claymore, heir to the Duke of Dafield!”

“Oh,” I said, and when her words sank, my eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I could have lost my job yesterday for saying those things about his family—his mother is a St. Vincent, if you have not yet figured out. I can’t believe you didn’t know him.”

“He never told me his title.”

Piper frowned at me. “Your mistress never told you?”

“No.”

“Well, I suppose the rumors are not true if they had not reached your ears.”

It was my turn to frown. “What rumors?”

“Did you find Tina?” Justine asked as she took the seat across from me and Piper, placing her plate of fresh food she got from the oven. She was looking around curiously. “I cannot find her.”

“Why? What happened?” Piper asked, her attention fully on Justine now.

Justine looked around, her shoulders sagging. “I spent the entire night trying to console her. Something happened during Lady Melanie’s party last night. Everything was perfect in the beginning, Tina said, but Lady Daphne had quite a few drinks and started making a scene. She said some harsh words to Lady Melanie.” Justine sighed. “Everyone left the party early and Lady Melanie was devastated. So was Tina, of course. She felt she failed Lady Melanie.”

“Why did Lady Daphne make a scene?”

Justine cleared her throat. She hesitated before saying, “They say she did not like that my mistress is in a relationship with Prince Francis.” I leaned back in surprise and Justine chuckled. “But it is not true, of course. Miss Maeve does not even like him.” Smiling at me, she added, “You’re Scarlett, yes? Miss Avery’s maid?”

I nodded. “We’ve met before.”

“Oh, yes. Forgive me. There are too many people here.”

“Then what happened? I mean…with Lady Melanie,” Piper prodded.

Justine broke her bread in half as she talked. “She asked Tina to leave her alone, and Tina did. I saw her crying in her room, so I stayed with her until she slept.” With a sigh, Justine resumed eating. “I hope Lady Melanie is fine. She is the kindest. No wonder Tina adores her.”

“Piper, stop with the gossiping and hurry! You’re needed at Lady Melanie’s room!” the housekeeper shouted from the doorway.

We all turned in our seats as Piper asked, “Why?”

The housekeeper, a lanky lady with the most perfect posture, stared at us, and I almost cowered when her gaze stayed on me as she said, “Lady Melanie decided to go home.”

MAEVE

My leg was killing me when I woke. The cold brought about by the storm did not help. In fact, it made it worse.

“Finally.”

I groaned and rolled onto my bed. “Oh, God, I’m still in my nightmare,” I croaked as I pushed myself out of bed. Then I stilled, seeing my cane leaning against the side table.

“You can thank me later. I have news.”

I turned to Francis. “You went back without me?” I accused.

“You’re very much welcome. How graceful of you,” he sarcastically said as he walked over to me.

“God, I need a smoke.”

A glass of water appeared before me. “Drink.”

I grabbed it and stared at him as I drank. His curly hair was rumpled, his shirt wrinkled in all places. I looked over my shoulder and glowered. “I told you not to sleep in my bed.”

He snatched the glass from my hand and pulled me out of bed. Throwing me my cane, he pointed to my table. “Your maid delivered your breakfast.” As I limped to the table, he frowned. “Will you put on a robe?”

“No,” I snapped as I unscrewed my cane.

“I took out your pipe.”

“You bastard,” I growled.

He shrugged. “Unless you wish to forfeit your mission, which I’d be happy with, you can have it back.”

“My head is aching. I need a smoke.”

“There are medicines for that.”

“My herbs are medicinal!”

“You don’t have to shout, woman.”

I grabbed a bread and took a bite. “What now?” I demanded when he kept staring.

“I want to see if the birds hatched in there,” he said, staring at my hair. I slapped him with my cane, but he quickly moved his leg. “You’re a bloody psychopath.”

“You said you have news.”

“Melanie Michaels left the game.”

I swallowed and frowned. “Why? Because of last night? That’s preposterous.”

“Why?”

“Melanie wouldn’t give up this easily.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“I know her better than you do,” I snapped, standing. Reaching for the bell pull. “Who told you about Melanie?”

“Your maid.”

Not long after, Justine walked in with two buckets of water. I stared at Francis. “I’m going to bathe.”

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he said, eating the rest of my food.

“Fine,” I said and ordered Justine to proceed. As she drew me a bath, she repeated everything she knew about Melanie’s sudden departure. “And what did her maid say?” I asked as I undressed.

Justine panicked and dragged the dressing screen between me and Francis, who had been quietly reading a fresh copy of the Sutherland Post. “Not much, Miss.” She looked over her shoulder as I let my nightdress drop to the floor. “Just that Lady Melanie was devastated. I didn’t even see her when they left.”

“You can call her,” I said, sliding into the bath. “And then ask her what happened.”

“Why are you so curious?” Francis asked.

“Because this might be connected to Claire’s murder,” I said, closing my eyes, blocking out everything, including the pain.

An hour later, I was inside Francis’ room, pacing as he, too, took a bath.

“Make sure you wash your hair.”

“Shut up.”

I stopped and poked my head over the screen and he scowled at me from inside his tub. “Melanie might know something about the murder. Maybe she received a threatening letter, too.”

“I don’t think so. She was simply devastated over last night’s events. Will you turn away?”

“There’s not much to see,” I said with a brush of my hand. “I should have Justine call the maid.”

“I don’t suggest it. Let this stupid investigation stay within Ivory House. If word spreads outside and an investigation ensues, we’re both doomed.”

“Then I should call Melanie myself,” I said, turning away.

“Which part of what I said did you not understand?”

I ignored him and went to the door.

“Where are you going?” he demanded. “St. Vincent!”

“I’ll be at the box,” I said before closing the door.

His muffled cry reverberated through the door. “St. Vincent, get your stupid arse back here!”

I rushed to the main hall of the Ivory House where the telephone box was located. I winced as a strong gust of wind blew through the open giant doors. I cursed the storm as I fell in line.

“Don’t you hate the weather?” the lady before me asked.

“I do, but not as much as the bloody long line.”

She chuckled, then leaned closer. “Did you hear? Melanie went home. I was there last night. What Daphne did was terrible.”

I shrugged. “She had done worse.”

“I’m Mariel, by the way,” the woman said with a smile. “And I support you and Prince Francis.”

“Thank you,” I said, but then I added, “Why?”

“Because not everyone likes Daphne at the moment. We know she lost a friend, but it doesn’t give her the right to be horrible. And I like you.” Her cheeks flushed as she added, “And Prince Francis. The pairing we never saw coming, I tell you.”

Mariel would not stop talking when I started asking about her whereabouts the night Claire died. She was eager to provide information. “I appreciate what you’re doing. And I agree that Daphne is being suspicious. I heard she and Claire had a little spat on the first day at the lake.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. They were hissing at each other, they said. It could be about the ivy. We know Claire got one and Daphne dove at the same time she did, which means she should not have gotten an ivy, right? But now, after Claire’s death, she goes around saying she’ll give her ivy to whoever can prove Claire’s killer. Now—Where did she get her ivy?”

“I saw Claire walking alone just as the party ended that first night,” the lady standing in front of Mariel said. “Daphne was with their other friends, which I found odd. They’re always together.”

“I noticed that, too,” the woman behind me butted in.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Francis storming toward us. But seeing that I was not alone, he slowed and stayed close by, hands deep in his pockets. His hair was damp, his shirt haphazardly tucked in.

“Oh, your boyfriend is here,” Mariel said with a smile.

I smiled brightly as I stared at Francis. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Whatever you did to him, I want to know.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “I had to offer Claire Braxton as sacrifice to the devil.” Mariel and the others looked horrified, but then they quickly recovered and laughed.

When it was my turn inside the box, Francis approached and slipped inside before I could close the door. “Get out,” I said through gritted teeth. Other ladies were staring at us, half of them with derision curling their mouths, the other half interested, while a few were grinning and amused.

“What are you up to?” he asked, ignoring my statement by closing the door. I turned and began to dial.

“Hush,” I said, turning his face away from me as I waited for the call to connect. “Brother!” I cheerfully greeted the person on the other end of the line.

“Happy birthday, sister,” Jason’s voice greeted. “It has been twenty years since our maid found you in the bin and brought you to our mother. I remember that day quite well.”

“Did you make me a gift?”

“Of course, I did.”

“And do you have news about Claire Braxton?” At my question, Francis’ eyes widened. I placed a finger against his mouth as I listened.

“Everyone believes the statement that it was an accident. The family, however, is silent about it.”

“And the maid?” This time, I covered Francis’ mouth when he tried to speak.

“Dismissed. Wasn’t able to get to her.”

“Dismissed?”

“Claire was apparently a sleepwalker and the family blamed the maid for not watching over her as she was supposed to.”

I sighed. “Very well. I have another favor.” I tightened my hand over Francis’ mouth before I continued. “Can you look into Melanie Michaels? She went home and I think she knows something.”

“No.”

My face fell, so did my hand. “What do you mean no?” I asked.

“Father forbids me to do anything for you. Mother, too. They say you either go home or you behave in the Ivory House. I know you’ll do neither, but I’m not going to help you get to trouble faster than you already are. And you can’t ask for Leo’s help either. He’s forbidden to talk to you until you’re out.”

“But—”

“Happy birthday, my dearest sister.”

“I hate you!” I hissed. Francis was smiling with satisfaction when I slammed the phone.

“That went well. Was that your brother Jason?”

I pushed my way out of the box and Francis quickly followed. “It must be someone deep within the game,” I murmured.

“Like who?” he asked.

“The Crown Princess.”

He was suddenly beside me, grabbing my hand and pulling me to a stop. “Is there one thread in you that doesn’t sew absurd ideas?”

I looked around. We had not gone far from the box and the ladies were quietly ogling. “You know, this ridiculous display is almost a mockery.”

“Display of what?”

“Us being us. “

Understanding what I meant, his lips pressed together. “It’s better to let them think you were doing something with me that night than doing something to Claire.”

I broke into a smile. “Very well, if that makes you a happy prince.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Now, smile for everyone. Don’t be too grumpy.” I leaned on my cane and leaned up to drop a quick kiss on his lips. “They’re watching.”

I laughed as he stormed after me. “You incomprehensible lunatic,” he said.

“I know,” I said, grinning.

“Violet cannot have anything to do with this.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know what this means to her. She’s been trying to save this game’s reputation after last year’s accident. Why would she cause another death?”

I stared at him and shrugged. “That’s what I intend to find out.”

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 27  on Patreon with 3 Special Chapters (Francis’ POV) as to this posting.

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon for free!

Ch. 13

SCARLETT

No secret was safe in the kitchen. Having spent most of my life in the world of service, it was one fact I learned so young. We talked about things, the mundane and the horrifying, the trivial and the dangerous, because we had nothing else to do while we exhausted ourselves with physical work.

But it was also a known fact that secrets, if kept in a well-organized manner, could be safe for a long time. As the maid of a participant, I was not invited into the meeting with the Ivory House staff. But as someone who knew exactly what happened to Lady Melanie Michaels, I soon learned what the meeting was all about.

Piper refused to talk, of course. As much of a gossipmonger as she was, she knew how to filter the right secrets. I found out about Tina through Miss Avery. I was silently brushing her hair that morning, the silence between us heavy and about to burst. But we kept on, as we did all the time in Storm Grove, where secrets played in the halls in the day and slept soundly at night.

It was she who broke the silence, as she always did. I said before that one should only be patient around Miss Avery because she would eventually spill. That morning, she did not disappoint.

“They captured the maid,” she said, her voice bare of emotions. My hand froze as I looked at her through the mirror.

“Tina?” I asked.

“I don’t know her name. They found poison among her things.”

“Who did?”

“The guards, of course. They were alerted the moment the game master learned of Melanie’s demise.” She nonchalantly reached for her tea and met my gaze in the mirror. “She’s being held in a safe place until authorities arrive.” As thunder broke through the sky outside, she sighed. “If they arrive.” She clucked her tongue. “This storm is ruining the bloody game for my friends.” A small smile curled her lips as she said that. “But not for me. My ivy is secured. As well as my Favor.”

I blinked at her in surprise. “You finished your mission, Miss?” I did not even know she had gone off to get a Favor.

“Of course,” she said, tucking her hair behind one ear.

She was lying. I knew her tells.

“Did they take Lady Melanie’s body away?” I could not help but ask.

“Not in this weather they can’t,” she said, irritation in her tone. “It’s in an outbuilding—the shed.”

“The shed!” I gasped.

“They cannot very well place it in the manor. It will rot and it will smell. Or at least that’s what they said.”

“Who?”

“Why do you ask too many questions?”

I bit my lips. “I’m sorry, Miss. I’m just—” I shook my head. “I just can’t believe what happened.”

“Just be glad someone was caught for the murder,” Miss Avery snapped.

“But Tina could not have done it,” I said. “The guards could be mistaken. Tina was with another maid when Lady Melanie was murdered. They were together the entire night.”

“Do not believe everything you hear in the kitchen, Scarlett. Who else could it be? What could that stupid girl be doing with a bottle of poison if not to kill someone? Melanie must have been horrible to her.” She took the brush from my hand and threw it on the vanity table as she stood. “I’m not loving this game, too, Scarlett, but we’re here for a reason and we’re so close.” She faced me and sighed. “I know you’re scared. So am I.” I could not believe her when she said that, but all I could do was nod and agree. “Two deaths in three days? A bloody storm? A body rotting in a shed, and a murderer locked in somewhere in the basement? This is too much, but we have to be strong. We’re almost there.”

I wanted to tell her she was almost there. I was only here because I had no choice.

Miss Avery pulled something out from inside her corset and gave it to me. “Keep it close. Never lose it.”

I opened the pouch and blinked down at the brooch.

“We’re still lucky despite all this,” she said, smiling at me. “We don’t even have to do any of the things we planned about.” With a chuckle, she whirled on her heels and fell onto the bed, her arms spread wide. “I’m a bloody genius, I tell you, Scarlett. We skipped the entire bloody game.”

“How did you do it, Miss?” I asked, raising my head from the jewelry piece in my hand. “What was your mission?”

“You don’t have to know, Scarlett. Just keep my ivy safe and we’ll be fine. Soon, we’ll be going home to Storm Grove.”

MAEVE

By midday, I was ready to claw on any face that stood a good three feet away. Francis was wise enough to keep his distance while I paced the room, muttering to myself.

Claire was seen arguing with Daphne. They parted ways before the party ended. No one had seen Claire since then, but many claimed Daphne and their friends stayed in the ballroom until the wee hours. I had not yet talked to anyone who saw her return to her room.

“There are too many gaps in between,” I said, clawing through my hair. When I turned, he was staring at me. “What?”

“There’s a hairbrush sitting on that vanity, just in front of the mirror, both of which are at your disposal.”

“You’re useless,” I groaned, turning away to resume my pacing. “I can’t think!”

“You can smoke.”

“I told you not to mention that word.”

He sighed, hands in his pockets. “The best you can do is let this go.”

I scoffed. “So your sister-in-law can keep this a secret?” I narrowed my eyes. “That’s what she wants.” Facing him, I added, “That’s what you want.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about this game.”

“I know. You’re only here to make sure Claire doesn’t win. You have the biggest motive in my book.”

“I already know that. But unfortunately, you cannot prove it. You cannot prove anything.”

I planted my hands on my hips and glared at the floor. “Someone knows what I did and sent me a note.”

“To stop you from doing whatever you’re doing.”

“Because they’re threatened,” I said, a slow smile on my lips. “It means I’m getting closer.”

He had no rebuttal because he knew I was right.

“We know how they navigate the manor. We just have to know where they stay when they’re up there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whoever is doing this must have a refuge up there,” I said, pointing with my finger.

“I searched. There’s nothing there.”

“As we’ve already established, you are not good at this.”

His face told me he was greatly offended, which was odd because he had taken far worse insults from me.

Justine knocked on my door and poked her head inside. “Miss,” she said, throwing Francis a quick look before she motioned for me to come closer.

“Miss Avery’s maid wishes to talk to you,” she whispered.

My brow twitched with interest. “Send her in.” To Francis, I added, “You need to give me a moment alone with the maids.”

“I cannot let you out of my sight.”

“I’ll guard her, Your Highness,” Justine quickly said, stepping into the room. “She will not touch anything on my watch.”

I threw her a look before I threw Francis a quick smile. “There you have it. You can wait outside if you want.” When he just stared at us, I rolled my eyes. “They’re going to do something on my body that you will not enjoy watching.”

“We brought the oils, Miss, as you requested,” Justine said, catching on my lie without a problem.

Francis looked dumbfounded. “Oils for what?” he asked.

Staring at Justine, feeling as dumbfounded as Francis, I answered, “Justine massages my leg regularly.”

My maid nodded. “And Miss Maeve prefers it done—”

“Naked,” I finished. When he did not move from his chair, I growled. “It’s my bloody birthday. Give me a break, will you?”

With a sigh, he stood, giving us a look of warning. “You have fifteen minutes,” he said.

“That’s not enough.”

“That’s all you’re getting.”

As he opened the door, he gave the maid standing outside a quick look before walking away.

“Send her in quickly,” I said to Justine.

“What’s your name?” I asked as the woman walked in.

“Scarlett, Miss,” she said, moistening her lips.

I sat around the small table. “Why do you want to see me?”

She threw Justine a wary look, and my maid gave her a reassuring shove. Tugging at her fingers, she moved closer and quietly said, “Lady Melanie’s maid, Tina, was captured this morning, Miss.”

“Captured? Why?”

Her face was pale as she tried to fight the tears. “Because Lady Melanie did not go home today, Miss. She was…” Her lips quivered, her nostrils flared. “I found her dead in the drawing room last night. Her throat was slit.” As she said the last word, a shiver ran through her.

I sat there, completely stunned. “Murdered?”

Scarlett nodded. Then she hastily told me what happened after: how she told Avery and what Avery ordered her to do. “And this morning, she said they captured Tina. They found poison among her things.”

“But Tina didn’t do it, Miss,” Justine said, breaking her silence. “I was with her the entire night. I swear I was.”

My gaze jumped between them for a while. “You’re saying the game knows about Melanie’s murder and they’re keeping it a secret?”

They nodded, eyes wide.

“Where’s the body?”

“In a shed,” Scarlett said, reaching inside her pocket. “I also found this.” She handed me the note, and I froze as my eyes landed on the word.

Gluttony.

“I did not tell anyone about it,” said Scarlett.

I slowly nodded. “Good. Keep it that way.” I folded the paper and slipped it inside my pocket.

“Will you help prove Tina’s innocence, Miss?” Justine asked, her eyes pleading.

“I’ll try.” I stared at her and Scarlett. “If you’ll help me.”

“Yes, of course,” they nodded.

I smiled. “I’ll reach out to you through Justine, Scarlett.” She nodded and awkwardly waited for my next words. “You may go for now.”

“Thank you, Miss,” she said, almost rushing to the door.

“Do you trust her?” I asked Justine once we were alone.

“I don’t know her well, but she looked shaken when she told me about Lady Melanie. Either she is telling the truth or she is a wonderful actress.”

“Considering who her mistress is, we cannot let our guards down. We’ll give her the benefit of the doubt for now. What she gave us is good information and we can use her help if we want to catch the killer. However, tell me the moment you sense something wrong. Do you understand?”

Justine nodded with a smile.

“If she does something that you’re not comfortable with, or anything that sparks a doubt, you tell me.”

“Yes, Miss, of course.”

“Good. Now, get me a bottle of wine.”

She blinked a few times. “Wine, Miss?”

“Yes. Inside my trunk.” While she searched for the bottle among my discarded clothes, I asked, “Where are you from again, Justine?”

She poured me a glass. “Dockerly, Miss.”

“Pour yourself a glass and drink with me,” I ordered.

“But—”

“Just do it.”

She gingerly did as I told and sat when I motioned my head toward the empty chair. We sat quietly for a moment, sipping our drinks.

“What do you want to do? Surely, you cannot stay a maid.”

Her face flushed. “I want to be a librarian.”

“A noble profession.”

“I love reading, Miss.”

I sighed, leaning back into my chair. “I can tell,” I said, throwing her skirt a look. Peeking out of her pocket was the corner of a book.

We smiled and sipped more wine. Halfway through our glass, Francis walked in, his eyes flying to the bottle. “Oils?”

I snorted. “It’s not part of the mission.” He smelled the room, and I rolled my eyes. “I did not smoke.”

“I can tell.”

Justine jumped to her feet as he approached. “I have to go, Miss,” she said to me as she offered Francis a quick curtsy.

He placed a bottle of brandy on the table when Justine closed the door behind her. It was the same bottle we shared during Melanie’s party. When I raised my brows at him, he took Justine’s seat and slid a box toward me. “Happy birthday.”

I did not let go of his gaze as I reached for it. “This is not from you.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s in terrible shape,” I said, opening the box. Then I smiled, taking the locket out with one hand. It was gold and rectangular. “It’s from Leo.”

He shifted in his seat as he opened the brandy. “I didn’t want to bring it, but he insisted.” Then he frowned as I snapped the top of the rectangle open. And he blinked in surprise when I flicked the stone and fire came out. “A lighter?”

I grinned. “By my brother.”

He just scoffed and shook his head. Standing, he found an empty glass and poured himself some brandy. “You’re not having a party?”

“No one else knows it’s my birthday. I intend to keep it that way.” Staring at him as he settled back in his chair, I sighed. “I’ve spent nineteen birthdays with two insufferable brothers. I wanted to enjoy this one without them, but fate remains cruel, I suppose.”

He tipped his glass at me and downed it. Then he asked, “What did your maid tell you that I couldn’t hear?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “She and the other maid heard a rumor.”

“About who?”

“Claire,” I lied again. Coming to my feet, I locked the door. “I’m going back up there.”

He groaned and murmured something under his breath.

“I need a way into the Crown Princess’ chambers.”

“You’re not crawling toward her chambers. She’s still in the manor because of the storm.” He cursed as I dragged the table toward the hidden door on the ceiling and rescued the bottles and glasses before they fell. “And what are you going to do once you get there? Say hello?”

“Why would I tell you?” I asked, placing the chair on top of the table. “You’re her family. In fact, I should not tell you anything from now on.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. You’re no use to me now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he wryly said. “Why would she put Claire in your room knowing I was there?”

“To frame you. Maybe you’re doing something that will hurt the crown.”

He let out a sarcastic laugh. “No. I do nothing—”

“Ah, yes. You’re the spare. You do nothing but wait.”

I realized too late that I had crossed a line. His face had gone tight, and he was silent for a while. But he moved to hold the chair steady as I climbed on it. “You know there’s nothing on Violet. She’s desperate to keep the game’s reputation. The only thing she’s guilty of is keeping Claire’s cause of death a secret. The Swans go way back and she will not let it perish because some lunatic is killing aristocrats.”

Throwing my cane into the crawl space, I looked down at him. “Well, believe whatever you want. Just know I’m not convinced.”

With a grunt, I lifted myself up. Not long after, he was behind me, replacing the panel, closing us in total darkness. Flicking my new lighter on, I continued down the now-familiar path. After we emerged into the wider part of the ceiling, we straightened to full height.

By some miracle, he did not question when I ventured toward the west wing, where the Silver Room was located. There was another narrow path. We did not have to crawl, but we had to squeeze through sideways, which was a lot of work. I gave my lighter a rest, putting us both in darkness.

“Why aren’t you moving?” he asked when he bumped against my left shoulder.

“Let me catch my breath.” It’s getting harder to breathe with the tight space. He did not complain, and we stood in silence for a while. “Do you know what I found out today? There are people who actually like you.”

“People like royalty, spare or not.”

Hearing the bitterness in his voice, I rolled my head toward him. I could not see him at all. All I could feel was the heat of his body and the light brush of his breath. I scoffed, rolling my head to face forward again. “Tell me—What do you do apart from being a spare?”

I did not expect him to answer, so I continued stepping to the side, checking our path now and then with the lighter.

“I learn languages.”

“It makes sense,” I said, finally reaching the end of the path. I lit the lighter again and looked around. Just another empty space. No latch on the floor either. “Do you master just the insults?”

“Not until I met you, no,” he murmured.

“You’re also studying law.”

“Yes, and I intend to put it to good use.”

“How? International relations?” I grinned.

“You can say that. Light that path over there.” I did as he said and we continued further, bending down a giant beam.

“Why did you not want Claire to win?” I asked.

“Are you interrogating again?”

“You can say so.”

He stopped and faced me. I raised the lighter up to his face. He looked unbothered as he shrugged. “I was ordered to by my father.”

I was stupefied. I blinked at him a few times.

“Is that answer enough?” He did not wait for me to say anything and turned around to continue walking.

“Why?” I asked, catching up to him, cursing the pain that shot through my leg.

“Her family’s gaining power faster than anyone. The queen’s court is powerful in its own way and her being a Swan is dangerous for the crown. Now stop asking questions—” He stopped, looking behind me.

“What?” I asked.

“There’s a box.” He walked back to where we came from.

I followed and stopped beside him, staring down. It was not a box. It was a crate. He knelt down and pulled the top open. With the lighter, we looked inside. There was nothing there but dark clothing.

“There has got to be a latch here somewhere,” I said, roaming the floor space nearby.

We both saw it at the same time, but as we were about to go for it and find out where it would take us, we heard footsteps. I immediately put out the lighter. Francis grabbed my arm in the darkness and pulled me behind him. “That’s not from below, is it?” I whispered.

We held our breaths, listening. The footsteps were on the same level as us.

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 29  on Patreon with 4 Special Chapters (Francis’ POV) as to this posting.

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon for free!

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 14

MAEVE

“Quiet.”

For the first time, I did as he ordered.

Francis hissed a curse under his breath before he blindly grabbed my hand and pulled me down a path opposite where the footsteps were coming from. Something pushed us—fear? Panic? I couldn’t truly tell—and we managed to find a hiding place: a small opening, like a fireplace or a kitchen oven. Francis pushed me inside and followed. It was probably the one time we perfectly worked together without words.

There was nothing but silence now. Nothing but the sound of my heart in my ears, and the controlled heavy breaths we shared.

And then we waited. Five minutes, ten. It could have been half an hour or maybe an entire one. We waited in silence, and my mind went to places. Maybe we should go back and finish this once and for all. Maybe we could take down the killer ourselves.

“It’s going to be two against one,” I whispered to Francis.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he hissed. “We’re getting out of here and you’re not going back.” He covered my mouth with his hand. “Shut up.”

Just as I was about to tear his hand off my mouth, he did, grabbing my hand.

“Don’t make a sound,” he warned before we crawled out of hiding.

We found a latch not far away. When we opened it, I quickly realized we were on top of the east wing and right below us was Claire’s bedroom, her bed to be precise.

“No—” Francis started, but I already threw my cane down and quickly followed with a cry when I landed painfully on the bed.

He followed, but unlike me, he was surprisingly graceful. Hanging on the edge of the opening, he fixed the panel halfway before jumping down. Snatching my cane from my hand with a murderous glare, he used it to fix the panel in place.

Then he threw my cane back at me. “Someday, you’ll end up dead and I wouldn’t be surprised,” he growled as he stormed to the door. “Hurry.”

“Wait,” I said with a wince. “We’ve been stuck in that small space for too long.”

The sound of the lock reverberated in the room. He turned toward me and asked, “Are you alright?”

“No,” I said, hissing at the pain.

“Can I help?”

“Give me back my bloody herbs,” I said.

He ignored me and waited as I massaged my leg. Looking around Claire’s room, he dug his hands into his pockets. “Why did you hate her?”

“Do,” I corrected. “I still hate her.” As I kneaded my thigh, I added, “Everyone knows why.”

“I don’t.”

My jaw tightened. “When Blythe arrived at Queens University, Claire took her in her circle.”

“Blythe didn’t go to Queens for secondary with you?”

“She was schooled at home.”

“You didn’t like that she became friends with Claire?”

I scoffed. “I know what Claire was capable of, having spent most of my life with her in secondary.”

“What happened?”

I rolled my eyes and stared at him wryly. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “You’re not the only one who gets to interrogate.”

Our gazes locked, both in equal derision. “Claire had a party in her dormitory and Blythe was there. It was getting late, so I went to get her out of there. When I got there, they had Blythe strapped around a chair, crying, begging them to let her go.”

His face registered surprise. “What?”

“She was not hurt. Not yet, anyway. Claire explained it was part of Blythe’s rite of passage into their group.”

“So you took Blythe away?”

I nodded. “I shoved Claire aside. She didn’t like it and went mad. She pushed me, I lost my balance, and when I woke up, I was in Sinclair.” I got to my feet and smiled at him. “They told me I fell down the stairs and broke my leg. The pain never got away since then.” I picked up my cane and limped away from the bed. “We should get going.”

He grabbed my arm as I approached, and I slapped it away. “I don’t need help.”

He gave me a hard look, grabbed my arm again, and opened the door. “Pride is also a disease, do you know that?”

I scowled, but I let him hold me. As we walked back to my wing, he was silent, his brow furrowed. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“Was Daphne there that night?”

“What do you think?” I smiled when he just stared at me, waiting for my reply. “Yes. But she was not involved. She knew better than to lay a hand on me or Blythe.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s another long story. Let’s save it until the next adventure.” I stole him a look. “What are you thinking now?”

“How to send you home and make sure you’re not going to crawl your way back here.”

My laughter echoed down the corridor. “Kill me.”

He scoffed back. “I just might, you impossibly incomprehensible—”

“Blythe,” I said, slapping his hand off my arm when I saw my cousin was standing outside my door.

Blythe smiled when she saw us. “Your door’s locked,” she said.

I took my key out of my pocket and opened the door. “Do you need anything?” I asked.

She stared at Francis, who went inside after her. “I heard you can’t smoke. It’s your mission?”

“Who told you?”

“Justine. I saw her earlier this morning.” Her eyes landed on the table and the chair sitting on top of it. “What happened here?”

“I was bored,” I said as Francis quickly grabbed the chair.

“It must be driving your crazy, not having your herbs,” she said, grinning as she walked closer, revealing a fancy cloth tied in a makeshift pouch. “So I found this in the garden for you.”

I untied the cloth and frowned at the blue flower. “What’s this?”

“Boil it, then steep it. It puts you in somewhat of a trance.” Stealing Francis a glance, she quickly added, “Not so much that you’ll lose your faculties, but enough to keep your mind off the pain.”

“Hm.” I sat down the chair. “So that woman from Gavaria taught you something useful, after all.”

She giggled and bent to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, cousin.”

I sighed. “Thank you, I suppose.”

As she straightened, Blythe smiled at me. “I’m playing a game, and I’m not sure if it’s yours.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind.” Then I frowned at her. “Have you been crying?”

She blinked her puffy eyes and chuckled. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve been up all night, that’s all.”

“What happened?” I demanded. “Is it Daphne?”

“What? No. It’s nothing. I was just worried I wouldn’t find a game, that’s all. But now I did and I intend to win.”

I slowly nodded, looking at her up and down. Blythe was easy to read, and I knew she was lying.

“I’ll go now,” she said, throwing me a smile and then Francis with a quick curtsy.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to drink that,” Francis asked.

“Later before sleep,” I said, pushing the flowers to the center of the table. When he remained frowning at me, I rolled my eyes. “Contrary to what everyone believes, my pain is real, Davercher.” I stood and leaned on my cane. “Now, let’s talk about who might have been up there.”

BLYTHE

“We’ve already tried this pattern,” Logan said, frowning down at his pad. I was given a wooden cube puzzle with moving parts, and thus far, no pattern had worked.

I shook the thing again, hearing something moving inside. I let out a frustrated breath. There was nothing there to guide me. No markings of any kind. It was just plain wood.

He grabbed the cube, but I grabbed it back, saying, “You shouldn’t. It’s not allowed.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds before I blinked away, flipping my hair over one shoulder.

“I know you’re smart enough to figure it out, cousin,” William said from where he stood guard. He was the one who gave me the puzzle.

I moved another part of the cube and shook it. Then another, then another shake. I frowned. “It sounds different,” I murmured. Logan leaned closer with keen interest.

The doors flung open and Maeve walked in, followed by Francis. “There you are,” she said to William.

William groaned and rolled his eyes. “Ah, not again, Maeve. I’m working.”

“When you left my room that night, where did you go?” she asked, leaning on her cane. Francis went straight to an empty chair, as if already used to such display.

“I already told you where we were!” William let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not a bloody killer. You don’t even have proof Claire was murdered. What is this obsession about?”

I wanted to ask the same thing, but I think I knew why Maeve was doing this. People were pointing at her—and me—as the killer. But it didn’t mean we had to prove that we weren’t. This stupid accusation would just go away. It was nothing but rumors.

Maeve made sure the room was empty apart from us, even looking up at the ceiling as if she expected someone lounging up there, before she limped to the door and locked it. “Melanie did not go home.”

Even Francis moved from where he sat. “What do you mean?” I asked, putting the wooden cube down.

“She was murdered.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” William groaned. “Maeve, will you stop this?” Francis was on his feet, crossing the room toward Maeve, his face grim.

“In fact, her body is still here,” Maeve said, looking at us.

“How in the hell do you know this?” Francis asked.

I stared at Logan, who looked utterly confused as I was.

William looked at Maeve incredulously. “This is crazy. You’re crazy. They packed her bags this morning.”

“Did any of you see them loaded in a carriage? Anyone saw Melanie and her maid leave?”

We said nothing because no one saw Melanie since last night’s party.

“Of course, it’s just hearsay at this point. I still need to prove if Avery Gadford’s maid is telling the truth.”

“Who? Scarlett?” William asked.

“You know her?”

“Yes. And you’re saying she told you Melanie is dead?”

“She found Melanie in the drawing room, throat slit.”

I gasped, then shook my head in disbelief. “B-But she was fine when we left. Why would anyone want to hurt her?” As Maeve opened her mouth to answer, I held up my hand. “No. I don’t want anything to do with this nonsense. Melanie went home. I’m sure the maid just made it all up. She’s Avery Gadford’s servant, for God’s sake. And we all know what that woman’s like.” I reached for the cube and grabbed the pad from Logan’s hand. “I’m going to focus on my game. Now, if you can’t lend me a hand, I’ll do it elsewhere without distractions.”

“Someone is out there killing us,” Maeve said as I stood. And then she placed a piece of paper on the table.

My legs gave out on me when I recognized the handwriting, and I fell back into my chair.

You went on a little trip, didn’t you, Maeve? I hope the pool wasn’t too cold for your leg.

Logan looked alarmed, but he stayed silent as William rushed over to read the note. “I found that yesterday in my room,” Maeve said.

“What does this mean? Why is it talking about the pool?” William asked her.

I stared at Maeve, the note I received ringing in my ear.

The walls have eyes in Ivory House and they saw what you did, dear Blythe.

“I don’t know,” Maeve said, but I knew she was keeping more from us. She was just doing this to see if we knew something. I swallowed, not sure what to say.

“Well, I don’t care about all this,” I said, clearing my throat. “Let’s go, Logan.”

In the corridor, Logan walked beside me. “The notes are by the same hand.”

“It could be from anyone. It’s nothing.”

“Maybe it’s not.”

“You’re the one who said it’s nothing—”

A group of ladies playing a game suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor, trying to outrun each other. And they were about to run into us. Logan’s arm wrapped around me and pulled me out of the way. “Aww!” I cried out as one woman stepped on my toe. “Aww!” I cried again as another brushed me aside.

I realized Logan still had his arm around me, and I quickly pushed away, righting my dress. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I cleared my throat. “It’s nothing but a note to rattle us. Maeve is smart and everyone knows that. They’re threatened by her as much as they are by me.”

“But if Melanie Michaels is—”

“Avery Gadford could have easily ordered her maid to distract Maeve. If it’s true, I’m sure they would have already stopped the game and sent us home.”

We continued down the corridor. I squared my shoulders as we walked and cleared my throat, which had suddenly gone dry. I could sense Logan watching my every move as we climbed the stairs.

“Your cousin seems more unfazed by all this than you are.”

I let out a breath. “Maeve is used to people suspecting her of things. She has saved me multiple times from so much trouble.”

He fell a step behind me, then caught up. “The accident in the park?”

I scoffed, biting my lips to suppress a laugh.

“I knew it,” he said. “You were the one driving the vehicle.”

I shrugged, unwilling to admit to anything.

“The theater incident.”

“Oh, that was me. And Colene, I believe.”

He scoffed. “Your dress at the Stapleton Ball—”

“Oh, that was Maeve. The accusation was not wrong on that one.”

“Pity,” he said, shaking his head. “You looked beautiful in that dress that night.”

“You mean I don’t in any other?”

He blinked a few times. “No, I mean you—You stood out amongst debutantes. Until your dress started to smoke,” he said before leading the way.

I stared at the back of his head. He had been there from the start of my journey into society, I realized. He had always been there like a shadow, watching, pulling me out of trouble and danger too many times; sometimes even saving me from my father’s wrath.

I scoffed. Maybe, like Maeve, he honestly cared for me. Maybe he just wanted me to succeed because he knew what it meant for my family if I became a Swan.

MAEVE

Francis strode all the way back to my room, each step closer to an impending explosion. I stayed a good distance behind and William did too, but then it also meant he had to wait for us outside the door so I could unlock it.

When it finally opened, he stormed inside, hands on his hips. “I’m going to talk to Violet,” he told us. “And I’m warning you— Do not climb up the bloody ceiling. Do you understand? This game is no longer safe.”

William, who heard him, looked up at the ceiling with a frown.

“You stay here,” Francis ordered him. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. And don’t let her smoke.”

Before I could say anything, he slammed the door behind him.

“You let him stop you from smoking? Why?” William asked.

“It’s my mission.”

He stared at me for a while. “Is it serious between you two? Maeve, he’s a prince.”

“And I’m a damsel in distress with three legs?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then stop asking me about Francis. That’s the least of my concern.”

He sighed and shook his head. And he looked up again. “What did he mean about the ceiling—Where are you going?” he asked as I stalked to the door.

“To find Melanie’s body. Are you coming?”

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 31  on Patreon with 4 Special Chapters (Francis’ POV) as to this posting.

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon.

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 15

MAEVE

“This is going to get us in trouble.”

I ignored William as we climbed down the stairs. He followed me all the way down to the great hall, past the line of ladies outside the telephone box, and further down to the back of the manor where the line of outbuildings was located. “Where’s the shed?”

“The shed?”

“That’s where they’re keeping the body.”

“What?”

“It can’t be the wash house. The moisture will make the body rot faster.”

“Moisture? Rot?”

He followed me down the path, then bumped into me when I suddenly stopped. “There,” I said. “It’s there.”

William looked over to the shed where two men stood guard. “Bloody hell,” he said. “You may be right.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back when I moved. “You can’t just march up there,” he hissed, dragging me away and back to the path inside the manor, his hand tight around my wrist.

“You’re going to tell me everything you know,” he ordered as soon as we reached my room. His face was tight and serious, devoid of his typical easygoing charm.

I knew deep down he didn’t kill Claire. He didn’t have it in him.

“You have to blink, you know,” I said with a sigh.

“Tell me everything.”

I sighed as he glared. Thunder struck outside the window, followed by a harsh whistle of wind.

With a grunt, I shifted in my seat. “Let’s start with the night we found Claire Braxton—”

At that moment, the lights went out.

In a blink, we were in utter darkness.

I straightened in my chair, alert. “William?” I called.

“I’m here. The power’s out.”

I grabbed my lighter from around my neck and flicked it on. Lighting a candle, I said, “Let’s find Blythe.”

He nodded, but he caught my hand, fixing me a hard look. “Once we do, you’ll answer my questions.”

“I will.”

SCARLETT

Everyone clamored in the kitchen. The servants were searching candles for their mistresses, me included. After I’ve secured a few for Miss Avery, I bumped into Piper (it was really dark even with the candles).

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Miss Avery,” I said.

“You can relax. The ladies are being gathered in the ballroom as we speak.”

I frowned as she dragged me to a corner where Justine was sitting, eating a meal. Piper pushed me into a chair and we gathered around the table. “This is scaring me,” she confessed in a low voice as we leaned close together.

This was scaring me, too.

“It’s just a storm,” said Justine, seemingly unbothered.

“I don’t think that’s what Piper is concerned about, Justine,” I said, looking at her meaningfully.

As Justine paled, Piper moaned and gripped my arm. “What if this is the work of the Night Swan?”

I couldn’t speak. I was just as frightened as she was. Justine, too.

“The telephone line is out!” someone shouted over the noise.

“And the ladies are growing crazy,” one maid gratingly said. “Lady Daphne’s demanding we fix it. Can you imagine? Does she think we perform bloody miracles?”

“Oh, God,” Piper whimpered. “What if we can’t get out of here and the killer kills us one by one?”

Justine choked on her food. As she pushed it down with a glass of water, I looked around. What if Piper was right? What if we’d all end up dead here in the middle of a storm?

“Let’s be calm. There’s no reason to fret,” Justine said, although her voice shook. “Let us talk about something else.”

“What about?” I didn’t think there was anything that could take my mind off the fear.

“I’m curious about your mistress,” she said to me. “They say she disappeared from Queens two years ago. What happened, really?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “I’m new in Storm Grove,” I lied again. To stop the third one from coming, I asked, “Why do you let Miss St. Vincent’s hair be so bad?”

Piper and Justine burst out laughing. “Oh,” Justine said, shaking her head. “She doesn’t let me do anything. Why do you suppose I just sit here and eat while you all panic to get candles? She bathes herself, dresses herself, and she fixes her own hair—” She made a face. “Or she doesn’t.”

We laughed, maybe a little too hard than necessary, because we wanted to prolong the pretense that everything was going to be alright.

Justine sighed. “She just lets me do other things.”

“Piper!” The housekeeper’s voice boomed over us and we flinched. “You silly girl. What are you doing here?” She glared at me and Justine next before she grabbed Piper by the arm and hissed, “Help in the dining hall!”

I smiled at Justine as Piper was dragged away. “We’ll be alright, Justine,” I assured her, although I had trouble believing my own words.

Her face turned serious and tight. She looked around. “If we do what Miss Maeve tells us, we’ll be alright. But we can’t tell anyone, even Piper.”

A shaky breath escaped my lips. “We have to help Tina,” I said. “We’re all she has left in this place. The Ivory Game cares very little about people like us.”

MAEVE

We walked past the line of whining ladies outside the telephone box while a footman tried to convince them to enter the ballroom. It was dark and candle hot when we walked through the arched doorway. “There she is,” William said over the wary buzz around us. He pulled me behind him, through a pack of dresses and frightened girls. “Bly,” he called.

Blythe’s red hair whipped around her as she whirled, her face filling with relief when she saw us. “Will! What is happening?” She grabbed my hand, gripping it hard as she whispered, “Is it the Night Swan?”

“It’s the storm,” I said with a frown, looking around.

“Everyone, please gather around! Gather around!” Damian Fairborne was shouting over the top of the panicked prattles. “Quiet! Please!”

“Don’t you dare leave,” Blythe hissed at William when he made a move to walk away. “Don’t leave us.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes, but he stayed. After what he learned about Claire and Melanie, he had every reason to be concerned for our safety.

“Do you think the game has gone too far?” Blythe asked. “Could it be that someone’s mission is to kill people?”

“That’s not a bad idea, but I don’t think it’s legal,” I absently murmured, my eyes on Francis, who had just entered the room. He towered over most of us, and I watched him search the room with that impatient, surly look on his face. When he spotted me, I looked away.

Not long after, he was behind me. He did not even say a word. He just grabbed my arm and pulled.

“Where are you going?” Blythe asked in alarm. But then she saw Francis, and she sighed, wrapping her arms around William, who tried to pull away.

“What happened?” I asked as Francis led me to the exit, stopping just beyond the threshold. The line outside the box was gone. Everyone was inside.

“Melanie’s dead,” he murmured over my head, his eyes looking around.

“I already know that.”

It was dark, but I saw his eyes flicker with annoyance. “Violet kept it a secret to avoid panic.”

“Did you see the body?”

“They would not let me,” he said, shaking his head.

“I knew it. There are men standing guard outside the shed.”

His eyes narrowed. “You went there? No, don’t even answer that,” he said, raising a hand when I opened my mouth.

I sighed as Damian shouted for everyone to be quiet again. Lighting flashed outside, followed by thunder. The girls drew closer to each other, whimpering in fright.

“This storm is not going to stop soon,” I told Francis. “Worse, we have a killer on the loose.”

“They have captured the maid—”

“Do you truly think the maid did it? And if she did, do you think she managed it alone?” I asked wryly. “If they have Tina in the basement since this morning, then who was up there in the ceiling with us earlier?”

His jaw tightened, and he dug his hands deeper inside his pockets.

“This bloody storm is going to turn this manor into the killer’s playground,” I said.

The front doors opened, letting in a powerful gust of wind and rain. It was enough to silence the people in the ballroom. Much to Damian’s frustration, the ladies ran toward the exit to see who had arrived, their faces hopeful.

Francis and I turned, and I frowned as two women walked in, their green cloaks dripping wet. They didn’t stop, nor turned in our direction. They went straight toward the stairs.

“Are those Belcourt Soldiers?” I asked.

The word Belcourt was swiftly passed around behind us.

“Yes,” Francis said under his breath.

“Are they here to—”

“Yes,” he cut in before I could finish.

“Who called them?”

“I did.”

Author’s note:

This story is currently on Chapter 33  on Patreon with 4 Special Chapters (Francis’ POV) as to this posting.

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon.

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 16

MAEVE

“Listen!” Damian shouted, this time louder than the thunder. “Let me talk for once!” The ladies reluctantly returned to the middle of the ballroom and before they started talking again, he continued, “The power is out. The typhoon has done some damage on the road and there is no way out for anyone.”

The collective gasps echoed in the hall. “Are you sure?” someone cried out.

I turned to Francis. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” he replied, echoing Damian’s answer.

“Then what do we do?” Daphne asked. “Is the game still on?”

“As far as we are concerned, yes, it is. However, all missions and games are limited indoors.”

“Are you bloody kidding me?” I asked Francis. “She’s not canceling the game?”

“No.”

“Then I would like to announce that my party is still happening tomorrow!” Daphne shouted.

“We’re going to honor Claire’s memory with fun games and drinks in the east wing library!” one of her friends added.

“I have to be at that party,” I said.

“You’re not invited,” Francis said.

“Whoever the killer is might be there,” I said, ignoring his statement.

“How do you know?”

I shrugged. “Sloth. It’s Good Friday tomorrow. No one should be partying. Envy might also be there, along with Wrath,” I said, staring at Daphne and her friends. “They’re checking all the boxes of our killer.”

BLYTHE

We were told to go back to our rooms. “Those were Soldiers of Belcourt, Will,” I whispered to him. “What are they doing here?”

He looked as perplexed as I was. “I don’t know,” he said with a frown on his face.

I let out a long breath. “Everybody’s talking about the Night Swan and I don’t think I can—”

“It’s going to be fine, Bly,” he said, squeezing my arm reassuringly. That only made me feel worse. There were only a number of times William would act both serious and caring at the same time, and they were moments when he was aware that we were in deep, sure trouble.

“I don’t think I can sleep alone in this room,” I said, gripping his arm. “I don’t think—”

“It’s fine,” he said, giving me a firm look. “I’ll stay with you if you want.”

I nodded, my eyes flickering left and right as we stopped outside my door. “Where’s Logan? I have not seen him. I still have a puzzle to solve on top of all this.”

“Do not worry too much about the games,” William said, pushing the door open. “Get some sleep. I’m sure the power will be back soon.”

He let me go to light the candle at the side of my bed. “You’re too quiet,” I said. “And you look fretful. Wary. Is something wrong? Is this about Melanie? What Maeve said—Is it true?” As he turned, panic rose in my throat. He didn’t have to say anything—it was all there in his face. “Oh God. It’s true.” My breath was coming in short bursts and he immediately jumped toward me.

“Good Lord, Bly. Breathe,” he said, rubbing my back as he guided me to the bed. “Did you bring your medicines?”

I nodded, bending over my lap to control my breathing. “Oh my God, oh my God. Are we going to die here?”

He cursed under his breath. “Where’s Logan when we need him?” he hissed as he held my hand. “Breathe.”

I pursed my lips and controlled my breathing as hard as I could.

“Are you breathing?” he asked.

I nodded, swallowing, following the movement of his hand as he guided me. And from the corner of my eye, I saw it: Right there in the center of my bed was a note.

William turned, following the direction of my gaze. He grabbed the piece of paper before I could.

Lust .

William snatched the note from me and guided me to a chair as I choked on my breath, my hand on my throat as I struggled to let my breath in and out. “Stay here and focus on your breathing,” he said, turning away to impatiently pull at the bell. “Where’s your medicine?” he asked.

I blindly pointed at my closet. Within a few steps, he reached it and flung the doors open, throwing anything that got in his way until he found the wooden box. As he crossed the room, a servant walked in with a candle. “Get Maeve St. Vincent here. And find Logan Earle!” William ordered. The maid took one look at my distressed face. “Right away, my lord,” she said and hurried out.

“I don’t know how to bloody do this,” William said as he opened the box.

I would have told him how, but I was having trouble breathing. His hands shook around the glass syringe.

“I’m here!” Logan announced, striding into the room. Without another word, he snatched the syringe from William. He was breathless, as if he ran all the way to my room, as he withdrew fluid from the vial. His movements were sure and steady as he helped me pull my sleeve down, exposing my upper arm.

I was wincing at the pain when Maeve walked in, followed by Francis. “What happened?” she asked, concern on her face as she came toward me. “Are you alright?”

“This happened,” William said, slapping the note on the table.

“Look at me,” Logan ordered, grabbing my attention by holding my chin. “Breathe.” I felt my airway expand; more air was coming in, but most importantly, more was coming out. He wiped the tears off my face. I looked into his eyes, and like it had always been each time I had an attack and everyone else was agitated, unsure of what to do, his gaze held mine in focus like a compass guiding me to the where I needed to be.

My father sent Logan to help me with the game, but he also sent him here because he was one of the two people who learned how to deliver my medication without panicking. My mother was useless because her nerves would come over her and my father never bothered. The housekeeper, my previous nanny, knew how, but she was getting old and would not be of much help in the game.

Slowly, the voices around us came back; first muffled, then clear. “There might be more than just one killer.”

I blinked away from Logan’s eyes and stared at Maeve.

“You know more than you’re telling us. I knew it. Francis is not just guarding you for your mission. The two of you have been stuck together even before that,” William ground out. “Bloody hell, Maeve, just tell us what happened. You recognized the note the moment you saw it. Why?”

Maeve pursed her lips and looked at everyone in the room: me, Logan, William, and Francis. Her cane hitting the floor echoed around the room as she limped to lock the door. “Francis and I were together the night we discovered Claire’s body.”

William and I turned to Francis, then back at Maeve as she stood beside him. I could not even think beyond what she just told us.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, facing Maeve, stealing Francis a glance.

Maeve sighed and leaned on her cane. “She was lying in the middle of my room, bleeding.” She stared at William. “And no, we didn’t kill her. She was already dead.”

“How did she end up in the pool?” William asked the question hanging over the room.

“Good question,” Francis said, giving Maeve a wry look. “Tell them whose idea it was.”

Maeve cleared her throat, averting our gaze.

“Bloody hell,” William groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “You threw her in the bloody pool?!” he exclaimed.

“Hush!” Maeve hissed.

“Do not hush me, you fool!”

“Now you just sound like him,” Maeve said with a motion of her head at Francis. “At that time, we thought—”

“ You thought,“ Francis corrected.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “I thought it would be best to rid ourselves of any connection to her death. Everyone knows how much I hate her. And he—” Again, she motioned at Francis, “paid me to make sure she doesn’t win the game.”

I gasped in disbelief, eyes wide at Francis.

“For a good reason I would not explain,” he told me before he faced William. “After disposing of the body in the pool, we found a note in Claire’s room.”

“Why were you in her room?”

“Again, her idea, not mine,” Francis said, pointing his chin at Maeve.

“We found this note,” Maeve said, ignoring William’s scowl. She placed the paper on the table.

“Gluttony?” I read.

“Oh, right. Wrong note,” she said, putting another piece of paper on top of the first one. “Gluttony is from Melanie’s.”

“What?!” William, Logan, and I cried out.

Unfazed, Maeve added another note. “And this one you already know about.”

“Oh, God,” I gasped.

“They’re by the same hand.” She looked at me and then at the note I found. “So is yours.”

A tear dropped from my eye as I finally realized that this was not a prank. Claire Braxton was murdered. Melanie was murdered. “Oh, God. I’m next. I am, am I not?”

“No,” Logan said. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“But they got to Claire and Melanie and—”

“We’ll find this killer,” Francis interjected. “Before they strike again. One of them is already in custody.”

“I don’t think they got the right killer, but whatever,” Maeve said.

“She was found with bottles of poison in her belongings,” Francis countered.

“But that’s not how Melanie or Claire died,” she argued.

“It could be for the next victim,” Francis insisted.

“Well, yes, but—”

A knock came at the door. I jumped from my seat. Logan moved in front of me while William went to answer the door. Justine walked in and warily scanned the room. Her eyes went to Francis. “Your Highness. They’re asking for you in the Silver Room.”

As Francis walked toward her, Justine spoke to Maeve. “They’re also asking for you, Miss.”

“Me? Why?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Francis said.

“Wait—You’re leaving us here?” I asked. “Maeve, please, don’t leave.”

Maeve gave me a reassuring smile. “Stay in your room and don’t leave.” To Logan, she said, “Don’t leave her side.”

“We’re not done here, Maeve,” William said.

“For now, we are.” With that, she left the room with Francis and Justine.

“Bloody tarnation,” William swore as he paced the room, fingers running through his hair.

“William, I’m scared. Seriously, I am,” I said, my voice shaking.

He blindly reached for me and held me in an embrace. “You’ll be alright. No one’s going to hurt you.”

MAEVE

Justine had already gone back to the servant quarters where I told her to stay and wait until I called for her.

“What did you tell them?” I demanded. “Why are they requesting for me?”

Francis cleared his throat before he answered. “I told them about Claire.”

Gritting my teeth, I asked, “Why?”

“I had no choice.”

“Of course, you had a choice. And now they’re going to waste their time questioning us instead of looking for a bloody killer!” I hissed.

“They already caught one. It’s only a matter of time before she talks and reveals who her accomplice is.”

“You truly think that? You think Melanie’s maid killed her?”

His jaw tightened.

Shaking my head, I stormed ahead. “You better make sure you prattled to the right people.” His hand caught mine as we neared the Silver Room. “Don’t touch me—”

“Shut up!” he hissed, pulling me back as he walked ahead, his gaze on the door.

I frowned. “It’s not supposed to be open, is it?”

“Shh.” Slowly and quietly, he moved forward, stopping to give me a look. “Stay here.”

I ignored him and moved ahead. He pulled me back by my arm and strode to the door, holding his arm out to keep me back. Then he cursed and ran into the room the moment he saw what was inside.

“Call for help!” he shouted as I stepped inside. I came to a halt, my eyes wide. Francis was kneeling over a woman in a green cloak. The other one was sprawled not far away, face down on a pool of blood.

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED  on Patreon with  Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon.

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 17

MAEVE

“St. Vincent!”

I snapped out of my initial shock.

“Call for help!” Francis ordered, bending down to check on the woman. He cursed under his breath and let her go before rushing over to the second one. “She’s still alive,” he said after checking her pulse. “Why are you just standing there? Call for help!”

I finally moved and limped toward the bellpull. It did not take long before a maid entered through the side door. She skidded to a stop at the sight, her face turning white, drained with blood.

“Get the guards,” I ordered. “Tell them the Belcourt Soldiers were attacked.”

At first, she just stood there, face stricken as Francis shrugged off his coat and pushed it against the wounded Soldier’s abdomen.

“Go!” I hissed at the maid, giving her a shake. She snapped, her eyes filled with fright, and rushed out of the room, shouting for the guards.

I limped toward Francis and the Soldier. Her face was pale, her eyes closed. I looked up at the ceiling, and sure enough, there was a latch there. “Dammit,” I swore.

Six Ivory House guards rushed into the Silver Room, all of them dressed in blue. They had the same initial surprise, but unlike me and the maid, alertness overtook them fast.

“St. Vincent,” Francis said, grabbing my wrist and guiding my hand over the coat. “Do you know how to do this?”

I nodded.

“Maintain pressure,” he said.

“I know how to do this!” I hissed.

He let go and walked over to the guards. “They called for us and we found them like this,” he informed the guards, rolling his sleeves up his arms. His hands were bloody as he placed them over his hips. “We have reasons to believe the attacker is still inside. Bar all doors and do not let anyone out.” One guard nodded and immediately left the room to execute the order.

I stared down at the Soldier and tried to shake her awake. She did not budge. Bending down, I listened and felt for her breathing. My lips pursed as her shallow breath brushed my cheek softly. I looked up and watched Francis again.

“Have guards in and out of the Crown Princess’ rooms. You cannot let her out of your sight. Protect her at all costs.” Another guard nodded and left the room, exiting through the side door. “We have a murderer on the loose. Check every blood corner of the place and look into the crawl spaces up in the ceiling.” He pointed at the latch above. “We found entryways the killer may be using.” He paused and stared at the remaining guards closely. “Do not let anyone know about this. The last thing we want is to let the killer be aware that we know more.”

“But they already caught the maid who killed Lady Michaels,” one guard said. Unlike the others, a golden plate was attached to the shoulders of his uniform. He was the head of the guards.

“If the maid is the killer, Belcourt would not have found the need to send in Soldiers to investigate,” Francis replied impatiently.

“But we cannot just get orders from you, Your Highness. The Crown Princess has authority in Ivory House and she can—”

“The Crown Princess knows that I can take over if things get out of hand,” he snapped. As he spoke, there was power there. But what kind? I was confused. Why would he say he could take over Princess Violet’s authority? He was just a spare to the throne—not even close, what with his nephews lined up before him. And that gap would increase as time passed.

Unless… Unless what? I couldn’t think straight while my leg was in pain and my hands were occupied with a dying woman beneath them. But I knew one thing: Francis Davercher was not telling me something.

“Do as I say, Sutton,” Francis told the guard.

Sutton’s lips pursed, but he nodded and left the room, ordering two guards to stay with us in the room.

“Get her to one of the rooms in the private wing,” Francis ordered the guards, pointing at the wounded Soldier beneath me. “And get her to the shed.”

Francis walked toward me and pulled me to the side as one man carried the Soldier through the side door while the other dealt with the dead one on the floor. He picked up my cane from the ground and gave it to me. “A doctor was supposed to be here for Violet, but he is delayed because of the storm,” he told me as he led me to follow the guard carrying the wounded Soldier.

We emerged inside a long corridor lined with doors to one side and windows on the other. “You’re telling me that we’re in a bloody game with a history of women getting into accidents and you have no bloody doctors?” I hissed.

“I said there is supposed to be one,” he gritted out.

“For the pregnant princess but not for the contestants!”

“You can write your complaints later. For now, yes, we do not have a doctor. You are the closest one we have.”

“Me? A banished student from Queens?”

“Yes, you ,” he wryly said, as if he, too, found it ridiculous. “Unless you cannot—”

“I didn’t say I can’t,” I said, pursing my lips. “I’m saying it might be too late.”

His face tightened. Saying nothing, he walked ahead, his stride purposeful.

I blinked after him. “Who are you?” I heard myself ask, my question echoing down the corridor.

He stopped and reluctantly faced me. I met him halfway, my cane clucking against the marble floor. Coming to a stop just a foot away, I looked up at him.

“I know who you are. I know your name. But what are you?” I asked. His jaw twitched. Raising a brow, I said, “Don’t you dare lie to me, Davercher.”

He looked at me long and hard before he finally sighed, unbuttoning the top of his shirt as if what he was about to say was a crime. “I’m a Black Clover agent.”

I didn’t know how to react to that. It was not what I expected to hear, to be honest, because he did not look like a bloody Black Clover agent. My eyes flickered to the end of the corridor behind him. “You have a lot of explaining to do, you bloody bastard,” I growled, pushing him aside. “I’ll deal with the Soldier first, and then you .”

SCARLETT

“I will be staying with friends,” Miss Avery said after I rekindled the fire in her room. “But I want you to stay in my room until I get here.”

She did not look distraught at all, nor was she bothered that the entire manor was shrouded in darkness. It would not be long before we ran out of candles and oils. Who knew how long this storm would last or when help would arrive?

“Why, Miss?”

She looked over her shoulders and threw me a sharp look. “What do you mean why ? Just do as I say!”

And without a word, she left with a candle, banging the door behind her. I sighed and looked around. What should I do while she was gone? Overthink and induce fear? I was frightened enough as it was.

A soft knock came to the door, and I jumped to my feet as it creaked open. “Scarlett?” Justine’s soft voice asked.

“Yes?” I asked, rushing toward her.

“Are you alone?” she asked, poking her head inside.

“Yes.”

“Lord Claymore is looking for you.”

“Who? William?”

“I didn’t know you two are on a first name basis.”

“Silly. Of course, I don’t call him by his name,” I said with a scoff.

“Well, he asked me to take you to Miss Blythe’s room.”

“But I can’t leave.”

Justine raised her brows at me.

I sighed. “Fine.”

I grabbed Miss Avery’s keys and locked her door. Then I followed Justine all the way to the south wing where William, Miss Blythe, and her servant Logan were already waiting.

“Please take a seat, Lost Scarlett,” William said, and my cheeks flushed even further. “She always gets lost,” William explained to the others even though no one asked. He gave me a secretive smile. “Now, Scarlett, please tell us what you know.”

“About what, my lord?” I asked as I took the chair across Miss Blythe.

“They know, Scarlett,” said Justine.

My eyes landed on the papers sitting on the table. Among them was the one I found with Lady Melanie.

“Is it true? Were you the one who found Melanie?”

I nodded. “Then walk us through that night. What happened after you found her?”

“I went to Miss Avery, of course. I didn’t know what to do. We both went back to the…” I swallowed, a shiver running up my spine. “The body. She left me there—”

“Who? Avery?”

“Yes. She went out and when she came back, she told me to stay in her room. I did. I stayed there until she came back.”

“And then what happened?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. She just said I cannot tell anyone. And then I found out this morning that they took Tina away.”

William pursed his lips. Hands resting on his hips, he sighed. “You don’t recognize the handwriting?”

I looked at the papers. “No. Are these…”

“Yes. One is from Claire Braxton’s room. The other one was left in Maeve’s room as a threat when she started digging into Claire’s murder.”

I let out a shaky breath. When I looked up to stare at William, my eyes were filled with tears. “I don’t recognize the handwriting, my lord.”

Miss Blythe moaned inwardly and pressed her fingers between her eyes. “This is driving me insane.”

“Perhaps if we can’t recognize the handwriting, we can look into the papers,” Logan said, breaking his silence. “Where they are from? Who among everyone in this place has the same kind?”

Miss Blythe’s head snapped up and her eyes lit up. “You’re right!” She looked at one note very closely, then the others. “They are made of the same paper.”

William grabbed another note and raised it up to his nostrils. “They’re scented.”

“Not everyone uses scented papers,” Miss Blythe said, sniffing at the note in her hand, her brow furrowed as she tried to recognize it.

Logan nodded. “It narrows down the search.”

I moistened my lips. “Miss Avery owns scented papers.”

Everyone turned to look at me with interest, and as they did, it also slowly dawned on me that I didn’t know what Miss Avery had been doing before I found Lady Melanie. And I didn’t know what she did after I took her to the body. And even now, I could not know what she was up to.

“Oh God,” Miss Blythe said. “Could it be?”

MAEVE

I stared at the woman’s wound and pursed my lips together.

“How bad is it?”

“She’s still bleeding. I’ll need instruments to fix her.”

Francis nodded. “Tell us what you need.”

I looked around the room. We were in one of the spare bedrooms in the private wing. The Soldier from Belcourt was in bed. Princess Violet was sitting in one corner looking pale, her hands white as they gripped the arms of the chair. There were at least six manor guards by the door and eight maids all lined along the opposite walls.

“I’ll need clean towels, warm water, anything you can find for stitching, and hot iron to cauterize.”

“Cauterize?”

“To burn the tissue—stop the bleeding.” I bent over the Soldier. “She’s losing more blood as you all stand there.”

At my words, the maids jumped in action. The room was suddenly busy with footsteps in and out, and guards questioning the maids what they were carrying with them and where they were going. They all tried their best with the cauterizing tool—a small, thin knife, which they placed over a fire.

“Don’t touch her,” I said as I tied a cloth around my head, covering my nose and mouth. I had to open the wound with the hot knife to look for the source of the bleeding. “Her liver’s been cut,” I murmured, clucking my tongue.

I found the severed artery and burnt it closed. “To answer the unspoken question in the room, I don’t know how to do this,” I said after almost an hour of silence. Pain shot through my right leg as I moved to stretch it before me. “I closed the bleeding artery, but her liver’s damaged and I honestly don’t know how to deal with that.” I paused in the act of stitching the wound close and stared at Francis, then at Princess Violet.

They said nothing, just nodded.

“She needs a hospital with a proper doctor.”

Francis shook his head. “The roads are blocked. There’s no way we can get her to the hospital on time in this weather.”

I did not speak until I was done stitching and wrapping the wound tightly. When I straightened, I winced at the pain. “I don’t think she’ll survive this.”

Francis’ jaw tightened. I stared at him, my gaze almost deadly. “I need to talk to you.”

He nodded stiffly. I followed him out the door, pulling at my makeshift mask. He entered another room and only when I walked in did I realize I should have grabbed a candle.

“I know the Black Clover only deals with matters that threaten the stability of the crown,” I started. “What are you doing in the Ivory Game?”

I heard his sigh, and could even picture the look on his face: the fused brows, the cutting gaze, and the sharp edges of his jaws. I would not be surprised if his hands were in his pockets as if he could dig for more lies there.

“There is more to my mission on Claire.”

“Clearly,” I hissed.

Another sigh. “I cannot tell you everything.” My dangerous silence was enough, and he growled in frustration. “Claire’s family is under investigation. Her brothers have a connection to Echo.”

“What is Echo?”

“An emerging group of young rebels. They’re growing by number and reach.”

“What is their goal?”

“To end the monarchy.”

“Elaborate, Davercher,” I said, my voice filled with warning.

I could imagine his eyes rolling before he spoke. “They want to transfer full power to the parliament.”

I slowly nodded. “Change the constitution. I heard a group in the Lord of Commons tried it before, but they failed to get the votes.”

“And now they’re trying a different approach. The Prime Minister is Claire Braxton’s uncle.”

“And his younger brother, Claire’s father, is expected to replace him.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “They’ll have greater power with a constitutional change.”

“Echo is threatening an insurgency. They’re targeting a younger crowd, infiltrating schools and clubs. They’re winning the hearts of the lower class. With powerful people behind them, it won’t be long before Sutherland faces chaos.”

“What does Claire being here have to do with anything?”

“They’re slowly infiltrating every facet of the monarchy. Being a Swan is the only way to get into the queen’s court. I’m just one of the dozens of agents assigned to gather information about their plans and stop them from happening.” I heard him move and pace in front of me. “Echo sent people here to help Claire win.”

“How incompetent. They failed to keep her alive.”

He let out another heavy sigh. “And now I’m left to solve a bloody murder I did not sign up for.”

My lips twitched in a small smile. I tilted my head to the side as if I could see him in the dark. “What’s your next move?”

He reached behind me, his face brushing against mine, and opened the door. “Stop this bloody game, of course.”

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon.

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 18

BLYTHE

A knock came at the door and Damian Fairborne poked his head inside, looking tired. The stubbles on his chin were longer, and his brown eyes looked like they needed a good amount of sleep. The man was obviously taking his task as head deputy too seriously.

“Everyone is called to dinner in the dining hall,” he announced, staring at me, and then at Logan. He had a curious frown on his face when his eyes landed on Scarlett, Justine, and William, but said nothing.

“I’ll take my dinner here—”

“I’m afraid that’s no longer an option,” he said, pointing at the candle burning in the room. “We have to save resources. Be at the dining hall in five minutes.”

I sighed when he left and turned to Scarlett. “While everyone is having dinner, look into the rooms of the other ladies.”

“I’ll search Miss Avery’s room for writing articles,” Scarlett said.

“I’ll go with you,” William volunteered.

“I’ll look into the servant quarters,” Logan said, snatching the notes from the table. “I’ll keep these.”

“I can go with you, Mr. Earle,” Justine said.

We all left the room together and went our separate ways at the bottom of the stairs. The dining hall was filled when I got there. Some were already seated with friends, talking and laughing, while others huddled together, engaged in whispered conversations. While most seemed fine, there were those who looked worried.

I joined my new friends, who were engaged in a conversation about the recent games. It was hard to pretend nothing was wrong, but I had to do it. Any of these ladies could be the killer. As I was served my food, the Crown Princess walked in, her face serious. She looked as tired as she stood in the middle of the hall, waiting for silence.

“Good evening. It is unfortunate that a typhoon has come to Sutherland just as the Ivory Game is at its peak. While we do our best to clear the roads, it is paramount that we keep you all safe. Thus, with great regret, I declare this year’s game postponed.”

There was an eruption of gasps and echoes of protests. There was relief from most, especially those who had no ivies.

“We shall announce what will become of those who are in possession of ivies. For now, everyone is advised to stay in their rooms as much as possible. No parties of any kind. Should you go anywhere, it should be in groups. And from now on, you are to eat together in this hall. Our supplies are limited, so please refrain from wasting anything, especially food.” A few ladies dared to stand and asked questions. The Crown Princess patiently listened, and when it seemed to have no end, she raised her hand. “I shall not answer questions about the game, because your safety is our priority at this point. Know that we are doing our best to get you home. This storm shall pass and the roads will be cleared soon. All you have to do is follow a few simple rules. The deputies are also here to help should you need one. Enjoy your meal, ladies.”

SCARLETT

“Do you think she’s capable of it?” William asked, breaking the silence. I tore my eyes off the end of the corridor and stared at him. His face was serious as he met mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should have I?” I asked back with a smile. “Miss St. Vincent was the one who announced her intention to find the killer. She never mentioned you’ll be helping her.”

He started to speak, probably to argue, but thought better of it. “Never mind,” he said, stopping outside Miss Avery’s room. “We should hurry.”

We slipped inside the room and I hurried to the desk where she kept her papers. Opening the drawer, I grabbed a stack of blank sheets and smelled them. “They don’t smell the same,” I said, turning around. Then I stopped with a frown. “What are you doing?”

He was bent over Miss Avery’s trunk, rummaging through her things.

“I’m searching.”

“She doesn’t keep her papers there.”

He stopped and looked at me, his face serious. His eyes jumped to the papers in my hand. “Well?”

“They’re not the papers we’re looking for.”

“Even more reason to search.”

“I know where she keeps all her things. There’s nothing there but clothes and—”

“Perfumes,” he said, pulling out a bottle. “No,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He grabbed another bottle as I approached. “Not this either,” he said. “How many perfumes do women keep?”

I smiled. “She has three.”

“Where’s the third one?”

I walked to the vanity table. “Here. It’s better than the other two, but it’s not the scent we’re searching for.”

He closed the trunk and looked around the room, hands on his hips. I watched him study every corner with curiosity.

“There’s nothing here, I’m afraid,” I said.

His jaw tightened, then he sighed. “We’ll have to look into the other rooms.”

I moistened my lips and nodded. Hastily, I returned the papers in the drawer and double-checked the trunk. Confident that the room looked just as Miss Avery left it, we walked out and proceeded to the next one.

But I did not miss the lingering look William gave Miss Avery’s door. Something told me he came into that room searching for more than just scented papers.

MAEVE

I went straight to my room and rang for Justine. Before she even arrived, I was asleep. I didn’t know for how long. Probably no longer than an hour.

I woke up with the most incredible pain in my leg. Cursing under my breath, I rolled to my side and stared at the wall, deep in thought. My mind tried to process everything Francis told me. I could hardly believe my bad luck. Why did I join this game again? I could be home smoking my herbs, happy and without pain. But there I was, exhausted and probably the next victim of a killer.

A knock came at the door. Blythe walked in. “What happened?” she asked.

I pushed myself up from the bed with a wince. “Someone attacked the two Belcourt agents.”

Blythe gasped. “Who—Were you hurt?” she asked, approaching me.

I held her back. “I’m fine. It’s just my leg. Did the Crown Princess make the announcement?”

She nodded. “Did they… Did they die?”

“One did. The other, I’m not sure,” I said, pushing off the bed. I limped toward the table where I dropped, massaging my leg.

“Is it why she postponed the game?”

I nodded. “Where’s William?”

Blythe filled me in with what they discovered and where everyone was. Moments later, Justine walked in with a tray of tea. “You were sleeping when I came in earlier, Miss. I figured you’d want something to drink when you wake. I boiled Miss Blythe’s gift,” she said, giving me the cup.

“Thank you.” They watched as I took a sip, their faces filled with concern.

“Maybe now that there’s no game, you can have your herbs back,” Blythe said, eyes on my hand massaging my leg.

“I’ll be fine,” I said just as Francis walked in, his face tight. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

He nodded, grabbing the chair beside mine.

“Oh, God,” Blythe said, tears streaming down her face. “Why is this happening? Why are they doing this to us?”

I stared at Francis. “We can’t just sit here and hope for the storm to pass while the killer roams around killing people.”

I knew he was struggling. If he took our help, he’d be responsible for our lives. For certain, he would prefer the company of people like him; ones who had the experience and expertise. But we were all he had.

Slowly, he nodded. “What is everyone doing as we speak?”

“William and Scarlett are looking into rooms searching for the same scented papers used in the notes,” I said.

“I was with Mr Earle searching the female servant quarters earlier. That’s when you rang for me, Miss.” She checked the time. “He went ahead to look into the male servant quarters.”

“You can resume looking into the female quarters later,” I said, turning to Francis. “Did you find anything in the Silver Room?”

He shook his head. “But we’re looking into the Belcourt agents.”

I walked toward the door. “We should look at Melanie’s body. Whoever killed her could have left some clues—”

I stopped, the rest of my words hanging in midair when I came face to face with Daphne. Her face was white, her eyes wide. “What were you talking about? What body?” she asked, stumbling backward. “Did I hear it correctly?”

“Daphne, if you will please enter the room,” I calmly started, but she shook her head.

“I knew it!” she cried out. “Y-You’re the Night Swan!”

“Davercher,” I gritted out as Daphne turned and ran down the corridor, shouting for help.

I didn’t have to call his name twice. Francis was already running out the door and after his cousin, catching her from behind. He clamped his hand over her mouth to muffle her cry for help. “Move aside,” I told everyone as they crowded in the doorway. We stepped back as Francis carried Daphne into the room. Locking the door, I turned and approached Francis, blocking Daphne’s flailing legs. “You have to calm down, Daphne,” I said with warning.

Her eyes were wide as she screamed incoherently behind Francis’ hand.

“Can I box her?” I asked Francis.

“No!” he hissed at the same time my fist landed on Daphne’s face.

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

You can also read my new Exclusive fantasy story,

Elewyn

, on Patreon.

Also, I’ve already posted the first chapter for

Once Upon a Princess

(a rewrite of The Prince and the Duke) on Patreon.

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 19

BLYTHE

“You boxed her?” Logan asked Maeve, his face incredulous. We were all tying Daphne in a chair and gagging her mouth with a cloth before she could regain full consciousness when Logan knocked on the door earlier.

“She was hysterical,” Maeve said.

“You’ll be fine,” Francis told his cousin when Daphne tried to speak.

“Do you have to tie her up?” Logan asked.

“She’ll be fine,” I said, turning away from Daphne to join Maeve around the table.

“Are you sure you found nothing?” Maeve asked Logan.

He nodded, giving Daphne one last look before walking.

Justine stayed by Daphne’s side, her face filled with concern, while Francis joined us around the table, his hands in his pockets. He looked at Logan and said, “Maeve and I will check on Melanie’s body. You and Blythe stay here and watch Daphne. She can’t go out and tell everyone. It will be total chaos.”

Hearing him, Daphne’s muffled cries reached us. She struggled with her bindings and failed. I hid a smile at the sight of her distress. Never had I thought I’d get the chance to witness Daphne bound to a chair.

“Don’t worry,” I told Francis, smiling at Daphne. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Maeve stood and joined Francis to the door. “Justine, please see if Scarlett and William had returned.”

“Yes, Miss,” Justine said, also walking out of the room.

Logan locked the door behind them and planted his hands on his hips.

“What are you doing?” I asked when he walked over to Daphne and pulled her gag away. “Logan, don’t—”

“I’m not going to scream,” Daphne growled, her blue eyes murderous. “I know it’s going to be useless.”

“You know, if you can be a little nicer, people might start thinking you’re smarter than you look, Daphne,” I said, coming to my feet.

“You’re all going to pay for this,” she said, staring at me and then at Logan. “For what you did to Claire and—”

“And Melanie?” I asked. “I’m sorry, Daphne, but in case you missed it, we’re trying to find the real killer before all of us get killed.”

“Are you doing this because of that night?” Daphne demanded. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

“I know. You just stood there and watched.”

Logan turned to me with a frown on his face.

“I’ll make sure you’re ruined after this, Blythe. You and all Vandenbergs!”

I sighed and walked up to her. “Shut up,” I said, replacing the gag around her mouth.

Logan joined me around the table, staring at me with his unspoken question. When I could not take it anymore, I looked at him wryly and asked, “What?”

“What did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” I said, veering my gaze back to Daphne. “Nothing close to what she and Claire did a very long time ago.” My smile returned at the look of horror in Daphne’s eyes. “Am I right, Daphne? You and Claire had been quite naughty, weren’t you?”

I could tell that Logan was curious, but before he could ask, the door opened and Justine walked in with a tray of fresh tea. “Scarlett has not yet returned, Miss,” she said. When she reached the table, she leaned down and whispered, “She’s probably looking into the rooms with Lord Cavendish.”

Logan stood and stared down at me. “I’ll continue my search while the servants are still out,” he said. To Justine, he added, “Please don’t leave Miss Blythe alone.”

Justine dutifully nodded. “I’ll be here until you return.”

“You’ll be alright,” he told me when I looked at him with uncertainty. “Lock the door.”

Daphne continued to glare at me from where she sat and I just threw her a smile. Facing the table, I grabbed a cup of tea and asked Justine to join me. She reluctantly did after I insisted the second time.

“Ignore her,” I told Justine when she warily stared at Daphne. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Justine bit her lips and gingerly drank her tea. A quiet fell between us, interrupted by Daphne’s moans and groans. I stared blankly at the window and the dark, angry storm outside. Rain splattered and ran down the panes, as if the manor were in tears.

“Why is it that Miss Maeve never won the Ivory Game?” Justine asked, breaking the silence. “I know she entered twice before, and I know she’s capable of winning.”

I tore my eyes from the window, sipped my tea, and smiled at Justine. “She’s very capable,” I said in agreement. “She just doesn’t want to be a Swan.”

Justine frowned. “But—”

“Maeve joined the previous games because she was paid to help someone win. This time is no different.”

Justine blinked in surprise. And from the corner of my eye, Daphne also did the same. I chuckled, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. “One can never truly tell what Maeve is planning or what she’s up to. She does things differently. And she’s lucky to have a family who tolerates her.”

The maid slowly nodded, her smile showing a more understanding of her mistress. “When I first saw you, I was actually surprised you are related,” she told me.

My laughter was etched with bitterness. “Her father and my mother are siblings. We grew up together, but with a very different upbringing. You see, I’m a Vandenberg.” But when Justine frowned, I realized she had no idea at all. “Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

She shook her head.

I scoffed. I even turned to Daphne, who just rolled her eyes. Staring back at Justine, I chuckled. “My ancestors had done a lot of cruel things to Sutherland before and during the Belcourt Conflict.”

Justine’s eyes lit up. “I’ve heard of the Belcourt Conflict.”

“Well, there you have it,” I said with a brush of my hand. “It was all because of the Vandenbergs.” I let out a long sigh and flipped my red tresses over my shoulders. “My ancestors were stripped of their titles. The Vandenbergs became commoners.”

“But you’re also a St. Vincent.”

I slowly nodded. “Yes. And that’s why I can be in this game.” I threw Daphne a sheepish grin. “I’m not the first of the Vandenbergs to have noble blood, of course, nor the first to join the Ivory Game. But I was certainly supposed to be the first to win.” My smile disappeared, and I rolled my eyes. “Then this happened.”

Justine offered me a warm smile. “I’m sure Miss Maeve will find a way to solve this, Miss.”

I nodded. “I hope the same, Justine, but she cannot do it alone. She’ll need our help.”

“Yes. You’re right, Miss. And Tina needs our help.”

MAEVE

The guards outside the outbuilding moved aside when they saw Francis. One of them, however, took a good look at me before he turned and opened the door. I pushed my way in and stopped when I saw the bodies wrapped in burlap, all lined up on the floor in the center of the room. Everything else in the shed had been put to the side.

“Which one is Lady Melanie Michaels?” I asked.

The guard walked to the body on the far right. “This one, Miss.”

I nodded, limping closer as Francis ordered the guards to put the body on top of the table. “Stop,” I said, when one of them started to unwrap it. “I’ll do it. Leave us.”

They looked at Francis, who nodded his head. I walked over to Melanie’s body once the door closed and I pulled at the strings, clenching my jaw as I pulled the burlap off her. I ignored the smell of rotting flesh that instantly attacked the air. My eyes filled with tears when I saw her face. It was gray, the slit in her throat dark.

She had been so full of life last night. It was her birthday, for God’s sake. And now she was dead, rotting alone in an outbuidling.

“Are you alright?” Francis asked beside me, his voice soft.

I nodded, harshly wiping my tears with the back of my hand. Sniffling, I squared my shoulders and inspected Melanie’s arms. “Defensive marks,” I said, pointing at the shallow cuts. “She struggled. She tried to fight her killer off.”

Francis nodded. “She must have been positioned in the chair where Scarlett found her only after her death.”

I handed him my cane. “I’ll have to strip her naked,” I said. “Please, turn away.”

Francis obliged, facing away, hands in his pockets. Melanie’s body was stiff as a board. I had to roll her to her side as one unit to unbutton her dress. As I was doing so, something fell to the floor. I bent down and picked it up with a frown. “It’s a pocket watch,” I said.

Francis turned and looked at the gold pocket watch in my hand. As I turned it over to reveal the backside, he frowned. “Isabelle?”

I blinked, shaking my head. “It—” I stole Melanie’s body a look before staring back at the watch in disbelief. “It can’t be.”

“It can’t be what?” he asked.

Shaking my head, I said, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“What are you talking about, St. Vincent?”

“I gave this watch to Isabelle.”

“Who is Isabelle?”

Without taking my eyes off the watch, I murmured, “A friend.” Then I shook my head. “No, not really. We shared a room back at Queens during secondary. She was best friends with Melanie.”

“What happened to her?” he asked.

“She had to leave.” When I raised my gaze to his, the question was there. Why ? “Because Claire Braxton and your cousin tortured her.” Closing my fist around the watch, I turned and covered Melanie’s body.

“St. Vincent, are you alright?” he asked when I leaned my hands on the table and bent my head.

“Yes,” I said, although I was shaking. Before he could ask again, I straightened. “There’s more to these murders than just killing Swans.”

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

1. 

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

2. 

Once Upon a Princess

 - contemporary new adult romance (a The Prince and the Duke rewrite)

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 20

MAEVE

Tina, the maid, was locked in the basement, in a dark and drafty room with no windows. She had a cot to sleep on, and a pot to do her business. Her face, which had always been as cheerful as that of her mistress, was smeared with dirt. Her dark hair, which she tried to fix as I entered the room with Francis, stuck out in places.

“Tina, Justine and Scarlett asked me to help you. They believe you’re innocent.”

Tears streamed down her face as I spoke. She nodded her head vigorously. “I am. I would never hurt Lady Melanie. She’s the kindest—the sweetest. I wouldn’t hurt her for the world, Miss. I wouldn’t!”

I took a step closer. “Then you must help us find the killer.”

She sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her dress. “I don’t know how I can.”

“Answer some questions for me,” I said, taking the watch out of my pocket. “Does this look familiar to you?”

She peered at it closely, then shook her head. “No, Miss.”

“Look again. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’ve never seen Melanie with it?”

“Never, Miss. She doesn’t carry a watch. I know everything she owns.”

I stared at Francis, pocketing the watch. Guiding Tina to the cot, I let her sit down. “What happened that night, Tina?”

The maid sniffled, wiping snot off her nose. “After Lady Daphne’s outburst, she was devastated. She had never heard anyone speak to her so unkindly. I tried to console her, but she asked me to leave and she locked herself inside.”

“She locked herself inside?”

“Yes, Miss. I tried to persuade her to go back to her room, but she didn’t even answer when I knocked. Feeling devastated myself, I spent the evening with Justine. She was kind enough to console me.” Then she burst into tears, her entire body shaking as she buried her face in her hands. “I never saw her again. I never… I should have tried harder! I should have asked her to go back to her room, but I didn’t and now she’s—”

“No one is to blame but the person who killed her,” I said, squeezing her shoulder.

Tina sniffled, wiped her tears, and stared at me, eyes filling with fresh tears. “She had always liked you, Miss. She considered you her friend—” She paused, then frowned, staring at my pocket where I hid the watch. “Isabelle. She had a friend named Isabelle.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “We both did.”

“She told me about her. Does the watch belong to her?”

“I don’t know,” I lied, because even if I was certain, I couldn’t find the connection. At least not yet. Squaring my shoulders, I stared Tina in the eyes. “We’ll find the killer. And we’ll get you out of here.”

Tina sobbed, nodding.

Later, as the guard locked the door behind us, Francis followed me up the stairs. He said nothing until we reached the east drawing room. I stopped outside the door and stared at him. He sighed and took out the keys. “You’ll have to tell me about Isabelle.”

“Later,” I murmured as the door swung open. I looked around then stared at him wryly. “Are you bloody serious?”

His jaw was tight. “I didn’t know about her murder until you told us about it.”

“You’re telling me that the Crown Princess ordered for this room to be cleaned up without telling you?” I slapped his leg with my cane. “I told you she’s behind this.”

“She’s desperate to save the game’s reputation. She has more to lose with these murders.”

I walked over to a spot near the table where Scarlett said she found Melanie. “There are marks of struggle,” I said, tracing the white lines with my foot. “Fresh scratches. Could be a table or a chair. But we don’t know for certain because they’ve cleaned the bloody place up,” I said, glowering at him as I spoke the last words.

He ignored my last comment. Hands in his pockets, he looked around. “Melanie was a large woman. She would not have made the fight easy.”

“But she had also been drinking. She was impaired.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“You don’t look well,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

His hand went to my forehead. “You’re bloody burning, you bullheaded fool,” he said, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the door. “You’re staying in bed.”

“I just need my herbs,” I said. “The game is over and so is my Favor. Give me back my pipe.”

He didn’t answer. He just continued to drag me down the dark corridor. I pulled back with my entire weight until he stopped.

“Where’s my pipe?” I demanded.

His gaze averted mine.

“You have got to be bloody kidding me. Where is it?”

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His hands dug into his pockets and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

“What have you done?” I growled and he flinched.

“I destroyed it.”

My eyes widened. “You bloody bastard!” As I pounced on him, he ducked and caught me over his shoulder and started walking.

Flailing my legs, I punched at his back. “Put me down!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put you down in bed,” he said. “Stop hitting me!”

“You deserve to die!”

“Kill me once you can.”

SCARLETT

Justine was alone in Miss Maeve’s room when William and I arrived. “Where’s everyone?” I asked her.

“Miss Maeve went to check on Miss Melanie’s body with Prince Francis. Miss Blythe went to her room to sleep.”

“And Mr. Logan?”

“Searching the male servant quarters,” Justine said.

“And what is this?” William asked, staring at Lady Daphne tied to the chair. “What happened?”

“She walked in on us, my lord. She heard some things she shouldn’t. We had to tie her up before she could cause panic.”

William closed his eyes and sighed.

“Did you find anything?” Justine asked me.

I shook my head. “We searched every room we could. We had to stop because everyone returned to their rooms.”

“Nothing in Miss Avery’s room?”

“She uses a different paper,” I said. “Have you had supper?”

“I’ll get it later.”

“You should rest.” William walked over to the sleeping woman tied to the bed. “Are we supposed to watch her?”

Justine nodded.

“Bloody Maeve,” he growled under his breath. To Justine, he said, “Go get some rest. I’ll stay here until they return.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I offered.

Justine smiled at us gratefully. “I’ll look into the rooms Mr. Logan and I weren’t able to enter earlier while I’m downstairs.”

“Be careful,” I said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

I joined William in the middle of the room and for a while, we just stared at Lady Daphne. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. “I knew they wanted to do this to her for so long,” he said.

“Why?” I asked, joining him at the table.

He stretched his legs in front of him and clasped his hands behind his head. “They were never chummy. They never told me what happened, but I believe Daphne and Claire did something to Maeve while they were attending secondary in Queens.”

I slowly nodded, absently watching Lady Daphne. Her head had fallen forward as she slept, her blond tresses creating a curtain around her face. “The three of you seem close,” I said. “You and your cousins.”

“All of us, I guess,” he said, a small smile in the corner of his mouth. “We grew up around each other. There was even a time when I thought they were my siblings. My mother had to explain to me that I had two sisters, not twenty.”

I chuckled, imagining a young William looking confused.

“You said you have sisters.”

“I do. I also have two,” I said, my smile softening. “You only have sisters?”

“The worst you can find,” he said. “But my mother thought they were angels. Even while in her deathbed.”

My smile vanished. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost her.”

He sighed. “She still lives in our hearts,” he said, giving me a wink. “At least that’s what she told me.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was,” he said with a sigh. A quiet reigned in the room for a while. “She told me I can do whatever I want. She told me to pursue my dream even if it means everyone will laugh at me.”

I wanted to ask what his dream was, but I thought it was too much. “And did you?” I asked instead.

He nodded. “Much to my father’s chagrin.” He turned his head to look at me. “And you, Lost Scarlett? What’s your dream?”

I blinked at him, my head suddenly blank. “I don’t know. I never bothered to think of one.”

“Why?”

Because I’m stuck with Miss Avery , I internally answered. For life . “It just never occurred to me.”

He didn’t prod. With his charming smile, he said, “I hope you figure it out soon, Scarlett. Dreams matter.”

Without offering a reply, I smiled. I didn’t want to tell him that not everyone had the privilege to dream because, for them, their future were predetermined. As mine was.

We talked more about his sisters, who were taking their secondary at Queens. And we talked more about his cousins, all their quirks and strangeness. And for quite some time, we just sat there, silent, watching Lady Daphne sleep.

“I’ll have to check if everyone is in their rooms,” he said. “I should also find Maeve. She should be here by now.”

I nodded. “I’ll stay here until you return.”

“Lock the door.” As I followed him to the door, he added, “And if anything happens, Scarlett, you scream.” I chuckled, but stopped when I saw the serious look on his face. “Scream.”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine, my lord.”

The sound of the lock echoed around the room, my smile lingering on my lips.

“Do you enjoy being around him?”

I jumped with a start at the sound of Lady Daphne’s voice. Whirling around, I found her staring at me from where she was bound to the chair.

“I wonder how Avery will react once she finds out about you spending time with William Cavendish.” At my confused look, she scoffed and laughed. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what, my lady?” I asked.

“William Cavendish was Avery’s lover before she left Queens.”

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 21

BLYTHE

I couldn’t wait for Logan to come back. So much had happened in a day, and I was tired. I paced around my room, hands on my hips, planning what I’d do next once we survived this. The game was postponed, and I was not even sure if there would be another one next year after all that happened.

I could already imagine my father’s disappointment. He would not think this was my fault, would he? He couldn’t.

Checking the clock, I frowned. Where in the hell was Logan?

Half an hour later, I was worried. Did he get in trouble? Did he get caught snooping around the rooms? Or worse, did the killer—

I jumped with a start when the knock came at the door. I rushed toward it and pressed my ear against the wood. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

I frowned, opening the door a crack. “It’s late,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said with a grin, pushing the door.

I pushed back. “What are you doing? You can’t come in.”

“Then you shouldn’t have opened the door,” he said, his voice dark, his eyes filled with intent. He tried to reach for me, but I pushed at the door, trapping his hand. He let out a cry of pain and instant fury flared in his eyes. With one powerful push, the door flew open, sending me to stumble back.

“Help!” I screamed before he reached me.

“Quiet!” he hissed, catching me and covering my mouth with his hand. “What’s wrong with you? It’s just me, darling.”

Struggling in his arms, I kicked his groin and ran as he crumpled to the ground in pain, screaming, “You whore!”

I ran out of the room and down the corridor. “Blythe?” a voice asked from the other end.

With relief, I ran faster toward Damian Fairborne. “Help! Please—”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, catching me. He looked over my shoulder and his thick brows shadowed his eyes as he frowned. “Thomas?”

“Everything is fine, Damian,” Thomas was saying as he approached, catching his breath. “Blythe and I were just having fun, weren’t we Blythe?”

“You bastard—” I started, but Damian grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me behind him.

“What’s this all about?” Damian asked, facing Thomas.

“It’s nothing,” Thomas said. “Mind your bloody business, Fairborne.”

“My business is keeping the ladies safe, so this makes it my business,” Damian said.

“Just go away, Thomas,” I said, my voice shaking.

“You heard the lady,” Damian said. “Please go back to your room.”

“She’s not serious. Come on, Blythe. Don’t be too dramatic.”

“I’ll escort Miss Blythe back to her room.” At the sound of Logan’s voice, I whirled around and ran up to him.

He caught me by the arms, frowning. I read the questions in his eyes, but it seemed he didn’t care for the answers at that point because he pulled me to the side when Thomas pushed Damian away and walked toward us. And before he could even utter a word, Logan punched him in the face and followed it another blow, knocking him down.

“Logan, stop!” I screamed, but Damian pushed me to the side as he tried to grab Logan off Thomas.

“Stop!” Damian shouted, grabbing Logan and tearing him off Thomas. “You’ll bloody kill him!”

But Logan pushed him away and grabbed Thomas by the collar, pulling him off the ground. “You stay away from her, do you understand?” he hissed at Thomas’ face. “Do you understand?!”

“Let him go, Sir,” Damian ordered. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t go near her. Let him go.”

Face filled with fury I had never seen before, Logan pushed the half-conscious Thomas against the floor and straightened to full height. Breathing hard, his eyes glinting with angry fire, he stalked toward me and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling me toward my room.

Once back inside, he asked, “Did he hurt you?”

Still shaken, I shook my head, then I sobbed, bursting into tears, probably in relief or anger or fright. Or everything. Logan’s face softened, and he pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

I didn’t know I needed comfort until he gave it. All I could do at that moment was cry in his arms, clutching his shirt as I did so.

“You should rest,” he murmured, guiding me toward the bed.

I didn’t know how my feet took me there, but I remembered how gentle he was as I slipped under the covers. “Don’t leave, please,” I begged, grabbing his hand as he pulled away.

“I’m not. I’ll be here.” He stared down at where I held on to his hand, then sighed. “Can I at least get a chair?”

Reluctantly, I let go and watched him drag a chair to the side of the bed. He had a small smile on his face when his gaze met mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I wanted to tell him I needed to hold on to him, but I didn’t want to impose. It was more than enough that he was staying in my room. We both knew it wasn’t part of the job.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I did, a tear trickling down my face. I knew sleep would not come soon, but I wanted to pretend I was feeling well enough to welcome it.

“Do not be heartbroken over a bastard like Thomas Erne.”

“I’m not,” I immediately replied. “He’s nothing to me.”

“You look disappointed, among other things.”

I let out a shaky breath. He was right. I had a lot of disappointments. “It’s just sad that there are men like him.” More tears, hot and angry, escaped my eyes. I wiped them against the pillow. Opening my eyes, I found him staring at me. “You must think I’m a whore, too.”

His jaw tightened, and a glint of anger crossed his eyes. “Did he call you that?”

I scoffed and took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why men think they can whore around, but when women do the same, they make us feel like some witless, used doll.” A bitter smile curled the corner of my mouth. “Is desire just reserved for the male species?”

“That’s how society is,” he said, his voice soft. “It likes to deprive and control. It classifies people and needs and privilege from the moment we are born. We are all but prisoners of what our birthright bestows us.”

“That’s cruel and unfair,” I murmured. We stared at each other for a while. I watched his face soften, the anger toward Thomas Erne brushed aside for now. “Do you have a lover, Logan?”

My question must have surprised him because he blinked a few times. “I do not lay with a woman just for pure lust if that’s what you’re asking.”

I smiled. “Then you are a rare breed. We’ll all burn in hell while you drink wine in heaven.”

Something flashed in his eyes that I couldn’t recognize. “I’m not a saint.”

“You’re too righteous even for a saint.”

“Why do you say so?”

“You’re in a room with me and you keep to your side. You have an amazing self control.” I stopped, thinking I had gone too far. “Unless you don’t think of me that way. Which is good, yes?” I managed a fake yawn to hide my embarrassment. Then I closed my eyes, not wishing for a reply, although he did not offer one.

Instead, he just said, “Go to sleep.”

-Day 5-

MAEVE

The fever got worse. I was half-aware that I was not in my room, and even with the chills and the pain, I could somehow remember who came in and out of Francis’ room. Yes, I stayed in his room because he took me there.

“Stop struggling, damn it,” he growled when I pushed the cold cloth off my forehead. He caught my hand the second time and squeezed it tightly in warning.

“Sod off,” I murmured, turning my head away from the cloth.

“You’re hopeless,” he said, forcing the cloth back over my forehead and holding it in place with his hand. “You’re burning up.”

The door opened and Justine rushed in with a tray of tea. “How is she?”

“Dying because she’s being bloody stubborn,” Francis said, stepping aside as my maid bent over me.

“Here, Miss,” she said, offering me a cup of tea. “This will help with the pain.”

I stared at Francis before I took a sip. Swallowing, I said, “I’d like a cold bath.”

“What?” he and Justine chorused.

“A cold bath. Better than the bloody cloth,” I said, dropping back into the pillow.

They hesitated, of course, but Justine followed my order and drew me a bath. It was not my first time. My father had submerged me and my brothers in cold baths multiple times in the past whenever we caught a fever. I was shivering by the time I stepped out of the tub and Justine caught me with a warm towel. But after I got dressed and stepped out of the dressing screen, I was feeling much better. With Francis fussing over me being out of bed, I finished a tray of food and another cup of tea.

“I’m going to take you with me to Queens, Justine,” I told her as I finished my meal. “Once we get out of this hell.” Stealing Francis a glance, I added, “After what we went through here, I’ll demand for a reward. Not only did they throw us in this mess, they also destroyed property. “ I glowered at Francis. “Thus, I’ll demand my return to Queens.”

Justine just smiled at me with amusement, although she still looked concerned.

“Did you find anything from the rooms?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I cannot get into all the servants’ rooms, Miss. They lock their doors, but I’ll find a way.”

“Where are you going?” Francis asked when I stood with my cane. “You’re sick. You should stay in bed—”

“I’m not sick. This is just my body screaming for herbs, which can easily be addressed if someone didn’t destroy my pipe,” I drawled, throwing him a sharp look. “I need distraction. And I want to go back to my room.”

Of course, he followed us back to my room, silently bristling as he walked beside me while Justine chose the safer strategy by walking a few paces behind with my soiled clothes. When we arrived, Daphne was awake, glaring at William from across the room.

“Where’s Blythe?” I asked.

“In her room,” my cousin replied, frowning at me. “You look like hell.”

Ignoring his last remark, I walked to my chair. Justine excused herself, saying she had to take care of my soiled clothes.

“Where’s the other maid?” I asked William.

“Scarlett is with her mistress,” he replied.

“You may rest,” I said, motioning my head at Daphne. “We’ll deal with her.” At my words, Daphne scoffed, glaring at me.

William did not hesitate. “I’ll get my much-needed sleep.” He stared at me, his eyes filled with warning. “If anything happens, you call for me. Do you understand?” He shot Francis a look, as if to tell him not to let me out of his sight.

“I will,” I said, eyes on Daphne.

“And I need to know everything you find out.”

“Fine,” I murmured.

I locked the door after he left. Francis approached his cousin and asked, “Have you had breakfast?”

“I want to go back to my room,” Daphne said.

“You can’t.”

“My maid will look for me. She’ll raise hell if I don’t come back.”

“We’ll deal with that later,” I said, rising to my feet.

She glared at us, her sharp gaze jumping between me and Francis. I wasn’t feeling well, but I had to push myself to do something, otherwise I’d go insane thinking of herbs and killing the bloody man who broke my pipe. It was better to direct my frustrations on the one person who may give me answers about Isabelle.

“The two of you are the most unlikely pairing,” Daphne said, still managing a haughty smile even while tied in a chair. “Or is it just all pretense? To draw attention away from the fact that you both killed Claire?”

“I don’t think we have to prove anything to you,” I said. “We’re all on the same boat here, Daphne. And someone is about to poke a hole into that boat and drown us all.”

“Well, if you’re innocent, you’ll let me go,” she hissed. Veering her gaze to Francis, she begged, “Please, Francis. Let me go. I will not go around telling anyone.”

“I don’t trust you, Daphne,” I said, digging into my pocket. “However, I’ll consider letting you go if you answer a question for me.” Showing her the pocket watch, I asked, “Tell me why we found this in Melanie’s body.”

She frowned. “I don’t know why you think I know the answer to that.”

Flipping the watch, I said, “This belonged to Isabelle. You remember Isabelle, don’t you, Daphne?”

Her gaze snapped toward me, her face pale. “Are you saying—”

I shrugged. “Claire’s dead, Melanie is dead…” I shrugged. “I got a note from the killer, too, and maybe I’m next.”

“B-But Melanie was her friend. You were her friend, too, and—”

“Well, we all played a part in what happened to her, didn’t we?” I interjected. Fear quivered in Daphne’s eyes. “No one knows what happened to her after she left Queens, Daphne. But I know you do.”

She was already shaking her head before I finished. “No, I don’t—”

“Liar. You do. So tell me.”

“But it doesn’t make sense! Maybe she left that watch to Melanie who kept it all these years.”

“Her maid said she never saw Melanie with this watch. Tell me what happened after Isabelle left Queens, Daphne.”

“Nothing happened—”

“You tortured the girl, and she was sent to the infirmary. The following day, Claire’s father came to Queens. The two of your were pulled from class that day. When I returned to the room I shared with Isabelle, her things were gone.” I bent and leaned closer, leveling my gaze with hers. “No one knew what happened to her. They didn’t even let me visit her in the infirmary. Tell me what happened, Daphne.”

Daphne tore her gaze away from me and sent Francis a pleading look. “I don’t know. I swear—”

“Then you’ll die,” I said, walking around her to untie her from the chair. “You can leave the room. Find a weapon because I’m certain you’re next.”

“She’s dead!” she screamed, jumping away from the chair once she was unbound. Tears were streaming down her face as she turned and faced me. “Isabelle died that night!”

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 22

MAEVE

“Talk,” I ordered Daphne, placing another cup of the herbal tea on the table between us. She flinched when I slammed the tip of my cane on the floor. “What happened?”

Tears streamed down her face, which she wiped off briskly with the back of her hand. Behind me, Francis was leaning against the wall, silent, his hands in his pockets as he waited.

“The morning after…”

“The torture,” I finished for her when she couldn’t. “What happened the morning after?”

“Just before sunrise, they woke us up. They took us to the headmistress’ office and told us that she—”

“She had a name, Daphne.”

“They told us that Isabelle succumbed to her injuries.” Her shoulders shook as she bent her head to wipe her tears. “I was in shock. I didn’t even know why I was called there.”

“Because you were with them,” I growled. “That night you dragged Isabelle from our room and tortured her.”

“I wasn’t there! I swear I wasn’t… I…” She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. “I went back to my room because I didn’t want to see any of it. Claire came back hours later, saying nothing. I swear I wasn’t there.”

“It doesn’t matter. You were aware of it. You were still part of the crime.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up my hand to stop her. “I don’t care if you think you’re innocent. I just want to know what happened after you were called by the headmistress.”

“They told us to keep it quiet. Told us to go back to bed and attend class as usual.”

“And you did. Until you were called.”

She nodded. “Claire’s father arrived, we were pulled out of class, and he told us that he had taken care of everything and we had nothing to worry about. No one had to know what happened. Everybody at school would be told that Isabelle went home because she was sick.”

“Do you know what he did?”

She shook her head. “I suppose he paid the family. I don’t know. Claire wouldn’t tell me when I asked her. She just said I should be thankful for what her father did.” Daphne turned to Francis, sobbing. “My father… Father knows nothing. Please, don’t tell them.”

Francis pushed away from the wall, and for the first time, he spoke. “What you did was awful, Daphne—”

“I was twelve! I didn’t—”

“You were old enough to know what’s right,” he interjected, glaring at her. “You could have done something.”

Daphne’s beautiful face crumpled, fresh tears pouring down her face.

I sighed. “I’m not certain if this is all just a bloody joke being played on us by someone who knew Isabelle, but I believe Claire and Melanie were killed because of what happened at Queens and they’re using it as an excuse to kill.” I stood as fear registered in Daphne’s face. “You can leave this room, but never speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?”

“But what if they come for me?”

“Lock your doors,” I said, unwilling to reassure her. No one was safe in this manor. “Maybe you’re safe.”

She swallowed. “Maybe?”

“You have not received a note. Not yet, anyway.” Her eyes quivered with fear. “Nothing is for certain.”

As Daphne slowly stood, Francis stared her in the eyes, his gaze filled with warning. “Don’t talk to anyone about this. Do you understand? This is no longer just a game.”

She nodded. “Y-Yes,” she sobbed, nodding. “I understand.”

BLYTHE

“I found nothing,” Logan told me when I met him after breakfast in the hall.

I looked around us and led the way to the stairs. “The other girls are still having their meals. Not all of them are eager to return to their rooms just yet. We might as well continue where William and Scarlett left off.”

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Scarlett told me they’re going to look into the deputies’ rooms.”

We reached the south wing, and I poked my head into the first door on the right. “No papers,” Logan announced after a while. I sighed, and we continued on to the next room, then the next.

Bypassing Maeve’s door, we checked the last one in the corridor. We were going through the drawers on one side of the room when we heard footsteps outside. Logan grabbed my hand and pushed me inside the closet before he, too, followed. I held my breath, looking through the blinds of the closet door. A maid sashayed into the room and fed more firewood into the hearth. Once done, she looked around and clucked her tongue, picking up discarded pieces of clothing on the floor, murmuring about spoiled women. She smelled a few dresses, shrugged, and folded them carefully. The rest she put on a pile.

Logan grabbed my hand and pulled me close when the maid picked up the folded clothes and carried them toward the closet. In panic, I turned and buried my face in his chest as he moved the skirts hanging above us to cover our legs and feet. I stepped even closer, clutching the collar of his coat, when the door opened. The maid placed the clothes at the very bottom of the closet, and with a moan of pain, closed the door again.

“Is she—” His hand muffled the rest of my words. Eyes wide, I blinked at him, listening to the maid’s footsteps move around. Logan stared down at me, his spectacles catching the light sifting through the closet. Realizing I was still pressed against him, I took a step back.

He reluctantly tore his hand off my mouth, and we both stared through the gaps of the closet. The maid was tidying up the bed, and once she was done, she lay on it, closing her eyes.

“Is she sleeping?” I whispered.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, leaning against the back of the closet with a sigh.

“How long do we have to stay here?” I asked. “What if her mistress comes back and—”

“Shh,” he shushed, taking my hand and pulling me behind the hanging dresses to stand beside him. “She’s just resting.”

We stood there for a few breathless second staring at the dresses before us. I stole him a glance. His eyes looked bored behind his spectacles. I flinched when the maid let out a heavy sigh and pushed from the bed. Smoothing the sheets one last time, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

I quickly pushed the closet door open. Logan followed me across the room and to the door.

“Go, go, go,” he murmured, pushing me out into the corridor.

“I’ll go to Maeve’s room,” I said.

“I’ll try to find Justine. Will you be fine?”

“Yes,” I replied, stopping when I saw Damian Fairborne approaching us from the other end. “Go on ahead.” Logan hesitated, but I flipped my hair over my shoulder and said, “Go.”

Damian stared at Logan with an amused smile when they passed each other. He stopped a good distance away from me, the knowing smile still on his lips. “You spend too much time with your mentor, Blythe.”

“What do you want? If you’re here to talk about last night, I’m sorry to disappoint.”

He frowned at me. “Are you sure?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “You should do what everyone else does. Stay away from me.”

“Why?”

“Surely you also believe what everyone here thinks about me.” When he just frowned, I added, “That I killed your cousin.”

“Claire?” he scoffed.

“You don’t look like you’re grieving.”

“We were never close,” he said with a shrug. “And I don’t think you’re even capable of doing it.”

“Did you just insult me?”

He blinked a few times. “How is saying you’re not capable of murder an insult? Are you crazy?”

“Oh, crazy like all St. Vincents are crazy.”

He chuckled. “St. Vincent crazy is a different kind of crazy in my book, Blythe.”

“Just stay away from me, Damian.” I walked ahead, and he followed. “Stop following me.”

“Does your father know about you and his assistant?”

I gritted my teeth. “Why? Are you going to tell him?”

He shook his head. “No. He’ll eventually find out if you continue to be careless. Just saying.”

I paused and stared at him. He didn’t look affected by Claire’s death at all. Even if he said they were never close, he should at least show he was grieving. Instead, here he was, prodding me about Logan. At that moment, I wondered if he had anything to do with all this, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood. As Head Deputy, he had access to almost everything. “Are you stalking me?” I asked, frowning up at him. “Why? Are you interested in me?”

He let out a laugh that echoed down the hall. “You’re bloody insane.” And then he walked off, still laughing and shaking his head.

SCARLETT

I watched as William looked through one drawer, murmuring about Damian Fairborne being too neat. When he straightened and turned to me, he raised his brows. “Is something wrong, Lost Scarlett?”

I blinked away and shook my head. “No, nothing, my lord.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet since this morning,” he said, walking closer.

“I’m fine,” I said, managing a small smile. “But I just remembered Miss Avery asked me to fix a few of her dresses. Can you manage on your own?”

He nodded, although he looked at me suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re alright? Has something happened?”

“No, nothing happened,” I said, clearing my throat. “I should get going or I’ll be in trouble.”

“I’ll escort you back to the east wing—”

“I’ll be fine—”

“Scarlett,” he said, firmly grabbing my arm. “I insist. It’s dark out there. Anything can happen.”

To get it over with, I nodded and allowed him to guide me back to Miss Avery’s room. Once outside my mistress’ door, I faced him and said, “Thank you, my lord.”

He did not answer right away. He just stared at me, concern shadowing his face. “You’ll find me if something happens, yes?”

I nodded, and he walked away with a candle in hand. I gritted my teeth, thinking I was stupid. There was no reason for me to feel betrayed, but I did. Questions flooded my head since last night when Lady Daphne told me the truth. Why didn’t he tell me about him and Miss Avery? Was it deliberate?

Suddenly, all of his actions were suspicious. Why did he follow me into the woods? Why did he keep insisting we did things together? Why—

“You stupid, girl,” Miss Avery’s furious voice growled from the doorway.

I jumped in surprise as she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside the room, pushing me to stumble across the floor. The door slammed, and she whirled around to face me, her eyes lit with ire.

“What were you doing with William Cavendish?” she demanded, her voice shaking with rage. “I told you last night to stay in my room and you locked me out! Now I wonder if you were really inside.”

I swallowed, blinking a few times, struggling for a lie. “I got hungry—”

“Liar!” Miss Avery hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and dragging me toward the fire so she could look straight into my eyes. “How long have you been messing around with William?” she demanded.

“I wasn’t! He found me in the hall and insisted on escorting me back here—”

She pushed me against the hearth, my skirt dangerously close to the fire. “Our deal is over,” she hissed, letting go of my hair. Stepping back, she took a lungful of air and slowly let it out, lifting her chin, her gaze never leaving mine. “You and your sisters will work for the rest of your lives in Storm Grove.”

“N-No,” I choked out, shaking my head. “You promised me—”

“I’ve been the one doing all the work, you wench,” she said. “The game is over. What else do you think you can do to make me a Swan?”

My lips quivered. “Anything. Anything you ask.”

Her face tightened as she stared at me up and down. “There’s one thing you can do.”

“Anything,” I said. “I’ll do anything. I told you I’ll help you be a Swan, Miss. And I will.”

Miss Avery smiled. “Good. Fix this dress,” she said, throwing me a yellow one from the floor. She watched as I folded the dress in my arms. “If I ever see you with William Cavendish again, you’ll never lay your eyes on your sisters ever again.” My face tightened at her threat. “Do you understand, Scarlett?”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

“Do you know about William?” When I said nothing, she stepped closer. “How long have you known?”

“I didn’t,” I said.

“But now you know. Who told you?”

I shook my head. “I just heard it being whispered around.”

She stared at me and scoffed. “Has be asked you anything about me?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I swear it, Miss. He never asked anything about you.”

“You better be telling the truth.”

“I am. I swear.”

She stood there just staring at me for a long time, as if trying to decide what to do with me or if she should believe me.

“If he ever finds out, I’ll kill you.” A chill ran up my spine. The words flowed out of her lips crisp and cold.

And I knew she meant it.

Author’s note:

*Sorry for the late update! I was away last weekend for an examination and had been sick since then.

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 23

SCARLETT

I knew I had to be careful from now on. Miss Avery was not going to make things easy for me now that she found out I had been spending time with her former lover. I decided to lie low and let her anger simmer down by staying away and staying where she expected me to be, which was downstairs in the kitchen with the other servants.

“What are you doing?” Piper asked, placing her plate on the table as I peered down at the yellow dress. “Sewing in this condition now, are you?”

I shrugged. I could barely see the thread in the scant light offered by the candle.

“You’re terrible at it,” Piper noted, leaning across the table to see closely.

“I know,” I murmured, pursing my lips in concentration.

She chuckled and started eating.

“Ow!” I cried out when she kicked me under the table. I glared at her and she made a motion of her head. Following her gaze, I frowned. Miss Blythe, candle in hand, just walked into the room. There were not a lot of servants around, but the few who were there did not seem too interested. Since the power had gone out, there was a frequent traffic of mistresses walking in and out looking for their servants or getting more candles.

Piper and I watched her look around the room, stop when she found her target, and then rushed toward him. Mr. Logan was eating alone in a corner and he looked up from his plate when Miss Blythe slid on the chair across from him.

Piper craned her neck to listen to their murmured conversation. I just scoffed and shook my head, intent on finishing my task before bedtime. But the longer their conversation went on, the louder their voices became.

“And I specifically told you not to leave your room,” Mr. Logan said, his tone calm yet biting.

Piper’s eye rounded, and so did mine. I had never heard a servant talk the same way he did with anyone above them.

“You’re just like my father.” Miss Blythe said, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. “Controlling every minute of my life.”

Piper bit her lips as she bent on her food. I did the same, my eyes on my messy task, my ears on their conversation.

“I’m nothing like your father.” This time, Mr. Logan’s anger was showing. He dropped his fork, sending it to clatter onto his plate. “But I know what you’re capable of—the great things you can do, and the stupid things you do.”

Piper stared at me wide-eyed, and I kicked her under the table.

“I’ve been in a closet my whole life, trapped with the suffocating pretty dresses and high expectations. You have no right to judge what I do in the rare moments I get to escape it. You don’t know what it feels like because you can do anything you want.”

“That’s not true. There are things I want—”

“And what are they?” Miss Blythe demanded, her voice shaking with unshed tears and probably anger. “Bend to my father’s rules? Follow his orders blindly?”

“No.”

Piper and I held our breaths as the silence reigned between them. The tension was too strong it even made a few servants stop to stare.

Sensing it, too, Mr. Logan looked around and sighed. “I’m just saying you can’t leave your room without a companion.” He stood and grabbed the candle. “I’ll escort you back.”

“There’s nothing for me to do there—”

“I’ll escort you back to your room,” Mr. Logan sternly interrupted.

Miss Blythe stiffly stood and followed him out of the kitchen. When they were gone, Piper let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “That was intense. Do they talk like that often?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s curious.” She hurriedly finished her food, and with her mouth still stuffed, she said, “Now I want to know more about Mr. Logan—who he is, where he came from, and why can he talk like that to Miss Vandenberg.”

Before I could warn her to not stuff her nose in places she shouldn’t, she was already on her feet, walking away.

I sighed, my shoulders sagging. With the electricity out, and with the storm, it was hard to say when it was time for bed. One by one, the servants exited the kitchen, carrying firewood and candles. Perhaps it was almost night time.

Bending my head back down at the dress, I hastened with my task. Miss Avery should be expecting me in her room soon.

“What are you doing here alone?”

I let out a yelp at the sound of his voice. “You scared me!” I said, hand clasped on my chest.

William slid into the seat Piper vacated and like her, he leaned over the table and peered at my work. “That’s horrible.”

“I know,” I gritted out. Sewing was never a talent of mine, like many other things.

“You’re doing a terrible job.”

“I know that.” I scowled at him before I focused on my task again.

“Give it to me.” His hand appeared before my eyes and snatched the dress.

“But—”

“You’re ruining it,” he said, finding the needle and fixing the thread. Assessing my work, he clucked his tongue.

I could only stare in wonder as he undid my work and started all over again, his fingers precise. “Where did you learn that?”

“My aunt,” he replied, his arm moving up and down as he worked. Stealing me a look, he smiled. “And if she were alive today, she would bluntly say that your mistress has a terrible fashion sense.”

I could not help but scoff.

We sat in silence for a while, half of me afraid that Miss Avery would walk in on us, but half was confident she would never dare step into the kitchen.

Again, William stole me a look. “Where have you been all day?”

I bit my lips. “Miss Avery found out about what I’ve been doing and forbade me to see you.”

He stilled and stared at me. “She knows we’re trying to find the killer?”

I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that. I mean she knows I’ve been…” Shifting in my seat, I cleared my throat. “I’ve been spending time with you.”

“And I suppose she got angry?”

“Of course. I told you she forbade me to see you.” Before he could offer a reply, I quickly added, “But I’ll do the right thing and help. I cannot let them falsely accuse Tina.”

William smiled and continued the sewing. With his head bent, he murmured, “You are a good friend, Scarlett.”

I said nothing and quietly watched him work. When he was done, he grinned and passed me the dress. I inspected his work with amazement. There was no way I could follow the same perfect stitch. He clucked his tongue. “What?” I asked, looking at him.

His hand reached out and took mine, gripping it tightly when I tried to pull it back. Frowning, he inspected my bandaged finger.

“It’s nothing. I pricked myself with the needle.”

“I know,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You are not a good lady’s maid.” Giving my hand a squeeze, he added, “It is not meant for you.”

Pulling free from his hand, I pretended to focus on folding the dress. I knew he was teasing, but what he said irked me. What did he mean by that? I was useless? But I also knew him enough to know he would not think of me that way. But still, I could not help the feeling.

I forced a smile on my face and said, “I should bring this to Miss Avery.”

“Are you okay, Scarlett?” he asked with concern.

“Yes, of course. I’ll come by Miss Maeve’s room later to see if they need help with anything.”

He slowly nodded and watched me leave.

---

Miss Avery was already in her room when I arrived with the dress. A bath was set up behind a screen in the middle of the room. Curious, I stared at it, then at her. She was having tea around the table.

“It’s for you,” she said, answering my unspoken question.

“For me? But—”

“You stink, that’s why,” she nonchalantly interjected with a smile. “Go on. Put the dress aside and take a bath.”

“I can do it downstairs.”

She did not answer. She just stared at me, her gaze demanding. Pressing my lips tight, I placed the yellow dress on the bed and went behind the curtain where I hastily undressed. The bath was cold, the soap scented with rose.

“Scrub hard, Scarlett. Who knows where you’ve been crawling into in this dratted place.”

My jaw tightened as I directed my anger on the washcloth.

“Don’t forget your hair.”

I poured water over my head and washed my hair with the soap. Once done, my entire body was shivering. The storm outside and the little fire in the hearth only made it worse. As I stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel, Miss Avery appeared before me with the yellow dress.

“Get dressed,” she ordered.

“What?” I asked, frown on my face. “Why are you doing this?”

A small smiled curled at the corner of her lips. “You said you’ll do anything. Get dressed.”

I did as she asked and wore the yellow dress. William was right. Miss Avery had poor fashion sense. On her, this dress was tolerable. On me, it was unthinkable.

“You’ll do,” she commented when I walked out of the dressing screen. “Brush your hair.” As I turned to the vanity table, she added, “Do it fast. Our guest is on the way.”

I froze and faced her again. “Guest?”

The smile she gave me was laced with distaste and ire I knew too well.

“A friend of mine wanted to meet with you.”

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 24

MAEVE

I pinched the bridge of my nose and opened my eyes. “Nothing is making sense,” I hissed, cursing under my breath. I couldn’t focus. My head was in the clouds, my leg felt like they were being crushed and twisted at the same time, and the rest of me just needed to get a hold of my herbs. “I want to look at Melanie’s body again—”

Francis placed the back of his hand over my forehead. “You’re not leaving this bloody room.”

I jumped to my feet and instantly regretted it. The room spun, and pain shot through my leg and up my spine, buckling my knee. Francis caught me and carried me to the bed. “You’re not leaving,” he repeated, this time more firmly.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, groaning as I rolled to my side. I intended to push out of bed, but failed.

“You’re not.” Hands on his hips, he stared down at me. “I sent a guard out to get help.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, blinking weakly.

“We can’t stay stuck in this place. I can only do so much. You can only do so much.”

I swallowed. “If help comes and we all get out, so does the killer.”

“You’re not a bloody hero, St. Vincent. Look at you. You can barely stay on your feet.”

My eyes closed because I could not open them. “I feel cold.” Within seconds, a thick blanket fell over me. “I’ll rest for an hour, then we’ll look at Melanie’s body.”

I heard his drawn-out sigh and the creak of the chair by the bed. “You’re too bloody weak without your herbs.”

Despite the blanket, a shiver ran through me and I curled in bed, clutching at the sheets. Now that I was in there, I didn’t want to be elsewhere.

“Are you asleep?” he asked.

I opened my eyes and glared at him. “No.”

Francis scoffed and shook his head slowly. He sat slouched in the chair, his knees far apart, his arms resting with full weight on the armchair. It didn’t occur to me that he might be tired, too, until now.

“You can rest if you want,” I said, my voice a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “As you said, I’m weak without my herbs.”

“You have to endure it.” When I glared at him, he added, “Like you did the kiss.”

I grimaced. “It was sloppy.”

Lifting a shoulder, he said, “It was better than half of what I can remember.” When I said nothing, just stared at him, he grinned.

I shifted in bed. “I have to admit, I quite liked it near the end.”

He looked at me wryly, and I stared back.

We both snorted at the same time. “You need to rest, too,” I whispered.

“I’m fine.”

With no energy to argue, I just pulled the sheets tighter around me. The rain splattering against the windows were the only sound for a while. Sleep was not coming to me, but I could feel my body relax.

“Have you ever wondered if things might have been different if you did not stay in that room with me?”

“I don’t think so.”

Letting out a long sigh, I said, “I don’t even know why you stayed that night.”

Francis stared blankly into the air for a long while before his gaze shifted and met mine. “I stayed because I oddly enjoyed my time,” he said, breaking the silence with a soft, calm voice.

I groaned in pain, waited until it subsided, then murmured, “I knew it.”

He smiled. “You draw me in and I cannot explain it.”

“How so?”

“You’re an enigma. I don’t know what you’re about to do next.”

A smile curled the corner of my mouth. “You’re strange.”

As I closed my eyes, he asked, “Why do you sell your herbs?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you don’t need the money.”

I let out a snort. “Of course, I do. I need money to finance my hobbies.”

When I opened my eyes again, he was staring at me like I was a puzzle he could not solve. “What hobbies?”

“Too many to mention,” I dismissively said. “I honestly do not know what to do with my life.”

“There must be something you want to do.”

“There is,” I said. “Sleep.” He chuckled while I closed my eyes again. “So, please, let me.”

“Francis! Francis!” a cry erupted from outside, followed by a frantic rapping on the door.

I pushed myself to sit on the bed as Francis jumped to his feet. As soon as he opened the door, Daphne flew into his arms, shaking, her words frantic and indiscernible.

“What happened?” he asked. But Daphne was hysterical, screaming and shaking in his arms. Francis caught her arms and pushed her away, giving her a shake. “What happened?”

“I was attacked!” she cried, her eyes wide with fright.

I noticed the piece of paper she clutched in her hand and I reached for it. As if realizing she still held it, she threw it at me with another cry.

Spreading the crumbled paper, I read the note.

Wrath.

SCARLETT

“Have a good time,” Miss Avery said to the man who entered the room. “I do not want stains on my bed.”

The man just laughed. I didn’t know him, but I was certain he was one of the deputies.

As the door closed and the lock clicked, my heart hammered against my chest. The man smiled, his eyes roaming all over me with growing interest.

Taking a step toward me, he unhooked the band of his trousers, saying, “I will not take long.”

I shook my head, stepping to the side, running toward the door. He caught me before I could reach for the knob and, with little effort, carried and threw me to the bed.

“Help!” I cried, kicking him.

“This was not what I was promised,” he said, grinning down at me as he pinned me to the mattress, his hands tight around my wrists. “Your mistress said you’ll be very accommodating.”

“N-Never,” I growled, butting my head against his.

He cried out in pain as I rolled away and fell to the side of the bed. Scrambling to my feet, I ran to the drawer and grabbed the letter opener.

“Stay away or I swear to God I’ll kill you!” I screamed, my voice shaking as I held the opener in front of me.

He scoffed, wiping the blood off the side of his face where my forehead hit him. I knew then that there was no chance I could overpower him if he caught me. I walked back, one hand behind me as he moved forward, his shoulders hunched like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey.

My free hand grabbed the candlestick, and before he could take another step, I swung it toward him and hot wax splattered on his face. I ducked and slid under the bed as he jumped away, hands on his face, screaming in pain. Without the candle, the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the faint fire in the hearth.

“Where are you, you wench?” he growled, his feet marching around the room.

I held my breath, my hands shaking over my mouth as he blindly paced the room.

“Where are you, pet? Come out now. I swear you’ll enjoy it,” the man said, stopping at the foot of the bed. And then they were gone as he climbed on top, the bed creaking with his weight.

My gaze jumped to all sides of the bed, breath held in anticipation. Gripping the letter opener tightly, I waited for an attack. And I was ready when his head popped upside down to the right. With one motion of my hand, I slashed his face. He let out another scream, but this time, rage fueled him. His scream was ferocious, sending waves of alarm through me.

He jumped from the bed and reached for me under the bed. I kicked, I slashed, but his eyes were alight with wrath that whatever I inflicted seemed insignificant. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me out of the bed in one pull, yelling for me to shut up.

But I could not let this man win, I thought. I could sacrifice anything—give Miss Avery anything—but not this. Never this.

He threw me onto the bed and slapped my face. He pinned me down with his weight, blood dripping at the side of his, and his hand went around my neck, trapping my scream for help. No words could escape me, not even a breath. I didn’t realize I was still holding the letter opener until it almost slipped out of hold. He didn’t, too, overwhelmed by his desire to punish me.

He was not letting go, choking me with his firm hands. I could feel the light slowly escape my eyes. Summoning what was left of my strength, I raised the opener. It was so close—so close to his neck. If only he did not see it, but he did. He grabbed my hand and twisted until my only weapon dropped from my hand and onto my chest.

And that’s when the door burst open.

William and Damian Fairborne, with two other deputies, rushed into the room. My attacker was momentarily taken by surprise, his hold loosening around my hands, and I took it to my advantage. I pulled at my hand, grabbed the opener from my chest, and with a scream, I stabbed his thigh.

With another cry of pain, he rolled off me. Or maybe he was pulled off me. Three pairs of hands, in fact, dragged him out of the bed and to the center of the room.

“Scarlett,” William said, suddenly beside me. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Let go now,” he whispered, wrapping a hand around my hand, gently prying the opener from my hold. Then he gently gathered me in his arms.

There were no tears. I didn’t want to cry. I was filled with too much loathing that I just wanted to take the weapon back and bury it deep into Avery Gadford’s neck.

“Stand up, Jacobson.” I flinched at the sound of Damian Fairborne’s cold voice.

“He will not touch you again,” William promised. “Take him out of here, damn it,” he said to the others. He looked at me and cupped my face, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?” When I just stared, still in shock, he cursed under his breath. “Stupid question,” he said. “We’ll deal with Jacobson. He will not be able to leave his room until the storm is over. And once we get out of here, we’ll report them.”

“T-Them?” I asked.

His jaw tightened. “We know he made a deal with Avery. He told a friend about it. She will have to face the consequences, too. I will personally report them—”

“No,” I stonily said, pushing away from his hold. “No.”

“What do you mean no? Scarlett, do you realize what she had done?”

I shook my head. “She had done nothing. She had nothing to do with this.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “How could you protect her after all of this?” He stared at me with anger in his eyes. “Has she done this before?”

“What? No. I told you… She had nothing to do with this.”

“But—”

“She had nothing to do with this!” I hissed, pulling away from him when he tried to reach for me. “Please, don’t,” I choked out as I turned away and left the room with shaking legs.

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 25

MAEVE

“You’re saying you were in bed—”

“About to get to bed,” Daphne corrected, stepping closer to me as I moved around her bed. “Where did Francis go to?”

After Daphne had told us what happened, he rushed out of the room. He had not returned since then.

“Probably out there hoping to catch the killer,” I murmured, raising the candle over the mattress. “Where did you see the note?”

“There, above the pillow,” Daphne answered, pointing with a finger, stepping even closer.

“And then you were attacked?”

She nodded, her lips quivering. Her eyes were dry, and she had somehow calmed down, but her fear was still palpable. “Yes! How many times do I have to repeat everything?!”

“Until you remember what he looked like.”

“I told you—he was wearing a mask!” She looked around her room, grabbing my arm. “Can’t we go back to your room?”

“You said you hid a knife under your pillow.”

“I’m not stupid. With everything going on, I felt the need to protect myself.”

“And you did,” I murmured, frowning at a dark spot on the sheet. “Did you injure him?”

“I bloody hope I did, that bastard. I grabbed the knife, swung it around, and ran out the door.” Her hand tightened around my arm. “Can’t we go back to your room?”

“Did he try to follow you?”

“I-I don’t know. Maybe. I just ran.” She pressed herself closer. “Maeve, please, let’s go back to your room. I don’t feel safe here.”

“Nowhere is safe in this dratted place,” I said with a sigh. “Fine. Let’s go to my room.”

She jumped and grabbed a pillow. “I’m sleeping there.”

I did not comment. I was still burning with fever, and the only thing that kept me upright was the excitement of Daphne’s encounter with the killer.

As we made our way back to my wing, with nothing but the candle to light the way, Daphne broke the quiet with a whisper. “Do you think this has something to do with…” She swallowed. “With Isabelle?”

“I don’t know. Please let go of my arm.”

She only stepped closer, her hands fisting the fabric of my dress. “She must have had other friends at Queens who harbored so much hatred for what happened.”

“I don’t remember her being around other friends.” I winced, wiping cold sweat off my forehead. “Let go, Daphne,” I whispered, pulling my arm back.

She stiffened and stopped walking, staring at me. “Please be honest with me. Did you do it?”

I blinked slowly, the corridor spinning around us. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe it was you.”

I let out a sigh. “You’re saying I attacked you and ran all the way back to my room before you can reach it?” She shrugged. “If I am your attacker, you wouldn’t even know about it because you wouldn’t be alive now, because I would have made sure you didn’t survive.” She ran after me when I continued down the corridor.

“I was just asking,” she murmured as we entered the room. “What are you doing?”

I threw my cane to the side on my way to the bed. “Rest. I’m not feeling well.”

“But what if—”

Falling on my side, my eyes closed, I murmured. “Lock the door. And don’t let anyone in unless it’s Francis.”

I heard the door lock and her footsteps running toward the bed. “How can you sleep after what happened?”

“I would love nothing more than to catch the killer, but I’m sick right now, Daphne, so please shut up. Give me an hour.”

Her hand rested on my forehead. “You’re burning!”

I did not hear more of what she said. I was not even sure if Daphne fussing over me, laying a damp cloth on my forehead, was a dream or not. To be honest, anyone could have entered the room and killed me and I wouldn’t even have felt a thing.

It was probably the longest I had slept. Or it felt like it, because when Daphne shook me awake, I immediately opened my eyes. “What is it?” I asked, pushing out of bed. “What time is it?”

“You’ve been asleep for an hour,” she said, picking the damp cloth from the floor. “Someone’s at the door. It’s not Francis, so I don’t know what to do.”

Daphne jumped when the knocks came again. “Miss? Please, we need help.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Is His Highness inside, Miss?”

“Why do you ask?”

“He’s needed in the Silver Room, Miss,” the voice said, growing frantic with each word.

“What for?”

“It’s the Crown Princess, Miss! Please, we need help!”

SCARLETT

In my room, I stepped out of Miss Avery’s dress and dressed in a set of fresh uniform. Piper came in and skidded to a stop, surprised to see me. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d be here this early.”

“I changed into fresh clothes, but I’m heading out,” I said, brushing my hair.

Piper’s brow furrowed when she saw the yellow dress. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” She walked closer. “Have you been crying?”

“It’s nothing,” I said, laughing her concern off. “I’ve been thinking of my sisters, that’s all.”

“Oh.” A small smile curled her lips. “You must love them dearly.”

“Of course, I do.” Tying my hair up, I stared at Piper. “And you? Do you have siblings?”

Piper’s smile wavered. “I did. One.”

“What happened?”

“She passed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I was too young to remember all of it, really. She was away when it happened.”

“Still, it must have been terrible.”

Piper let out a long sigh. “All I remember is my mother crying for days and my father picking up the bottle. He never learned to let go to this day.” Silence reigned between us. “You should go. I’m going to sleep early. It has been a long day, I tell you.”

“I can imagine,” I said with a warm smile. “Good night, Piper. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. And go back early.”

“I will.”

I returned to the main floor of the manor and retraced my steps back to Miss Avery’s room. She was there when I arrived, sitting in front of her vanity, brushing her hair. I saw the surprise in her eyes when she saw me. “What happened?” she demanded. “Why did you not clean up before you left?”

I gently closed the door and slowly faced her. Swallowing back the tears, I refused to cry. “Three deputies caught him forcing himself on me.”

Her face drained of color. “You fought him?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. “They found out about your deal.”

She rose, her hand gripping her brush tightly.

“But fret not, I told them you had nothing to do with it.” I let her savor the relief for a few breaths, meanwhile composing myself. I had so many questions for her: Why? How much did that bastard pay her? How could she have done it? But having the answers would not do me any good. And they were not what I came here for. “But my stories may change depending on what you can offer me,” I added.

She froze. “Stories?”

I shrugged. “Your deal with the deputy is not the only story I know, Miss. I also happen to know more. I know why you left Queens two years ago—”

“You ungrateful wench,” she gritted out. “You would not dare—”

“No, I would not. I gave you my word that I will stay with you for as long as you want me, and I’ve done everything according to your plan ever since we arrived in the Ivory House. I expect you to honor your promise.”

Her scoffed, her mouth twisting. “This is all about your sisters?” When I remained silent, she pursed her lips. “Fine!” she hissed. “Your sisters can continue to rot wherever they are. They will never have to muddy Storm Grove. Are you satisfied?”

I lifted my chin and smiled. “Thank you.” I stared at her for a long time before blinking away. “I’ll take care of the fire and the bath. There’s blood on the sheets. I’ll take care of them, too.” I paused, found her gaze, and held it for a while. “One more thing, Miss. If you ever do it again, I will guarantee your ruin.”

Her mouth fell open, but as she saw the rage in my eyes, she closed it again.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, my shoes against the floorboards, and the sheets being pulled. She stood there in utter silence, unmoving while I worked. As much as I wanted to hurt her, I realized living every moment of her life in fear of her secrets was more than enough.

MAEVE

“Francis is not here,” I told the maid, who appeared more restless with each passing moment. “And if you insist not to tell us, we can’t help you.”

The woman had been standing in the same spot for too long. She pulled at her dress, reluctant to say more.

“Fine,” I said. “If you don’t tell us, we’re not going with you.”

“But I promise, Miss, the housekeeper will explain everything—”

Daphne joined me at the door. “What is it, woman? Just tell us!”

The maid gulped and closed her eyes. “Do you know anyone who knows anything about childbirth?”

“Oh, God,” I groaned, leaning against the door frame.

“Why?” Daphne asked, slow and clueless.

“P-Princess Violet has started labor this morning and we believe the babe is about to come soon,” the maid said. “Please, if you know anyone—”

“Maeve can help,” Daphne said, pushing me out of the room.

I pushed back. “No, I don’t know—”

“You know more than anyone in this manor,” Daphne said, turning around to grab my cane and coat. “I’ll come with you.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m too sick to deliver a baby—a royal and a possible future king, Daphne.”

“Then tell us what to do,” she said, nodding repeatedly, as if it would convince me. “We’ll do everything.” When I remained motionless against the door frame, she gave me a shake. “Maeve, we can’t let—”

“Oh, shut up,” I hissed, pushing her away. I snatched my cane from her hand and limped out of the room. “I won’t lift a finger.”

Daphne nodded and turned to the maid. “Lead the way.”

I growled under my breath. Of all the luck in the world, I got this.

And where in the bloody hell was Francis?

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 26

MAEVE

I sat in a winged chair, holding a cold cloth over my forehead.

“Stay in the chair if you must,” I told the princess, who was gritting her teeth, slouched in a chair. Maids surrounded her, holding her hands, rubbing her back, and wiping sweat off her face.

It was stupid of her to have not brought a midwife or a doctor. Simply stupid .

“Are you sure you know how to do this?” the princess asked.

“Please save your energy for later,” I said.

“The blankets are here,” Daphne announced.

I nodded. “Make the bed. Keep it warm.” I took a long breath and massaged my leg. “Put a bucket between her legs.”

“What for?”

“To catch the fluids.” I stared at Daphne. Just earlier, she volunteered to deliver the baby under my guidance. “Or catch the infant if it slips out of your hands.”

She paled. “I-I will not let that happen.”

Although I highly doubted it, I said nothing. “Boil the scissors, keep the water warm.”

“Everything is ready.” Daphne looked at the princess and winced. “What do we do now?”

“Wait,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

The princess let out another growl as her contraction started. “Time it,” I told Daphne.

She dutifully did as I told. With so much going on, I could hardly think straight. My body felt heavy, my leg a constant pain in the arse, and the fever a debilitating inconvenience.

The door burst open and Francis walked in. His eyes landed on the princess, then on me. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, walking over to feel my forehead. “You need rest.”

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing off his hand.

“You’re dying finely, that’s what you are.”

I ignored him as he placed his hands on his hips and studied the room. “How long has she been in labor?”

“Since this morning, Your Highness,” said the maid.

“She’s given birth before. This one won’t be long,” I said, looking at Daphne.

“Did you give everyone instructions?”

“She did,” Daphne said.

“Then she’s not needed here.” Looking down at me, he added, “Say what you need to say before I take you out of here.”

I groaned and stared at Daphne. “Remember what I told you. Once the head’s out, don’t pull.”

She nodded. “Cradle the head, support the neck, and let it slide out.”

“And what do you do with the cord?”

“Cut it with the scissors.”

“And?”

“Wait for the planta to come out.”

“Placenta.”

“Y-Yes, of course.”

Without a word, Francis lifted me from the chair and carried me to the door as I was saying, “Keep the infant warm. Watch out for excessive bleeding after.” I groaned when he shut the door behind him.

“Where have you been? We waited for you,” I asked.

He did not immediately reply. He took me to an adjacent room and lay me in bed. Feeling my forehead again, he said, “I’ll call for your maid.”

As he pulled the sheet over my shoulders and tucked it under my chin, I asked, “Did you catch him?”

“No. I chased him up on the ceiling.”

“And?”

“He disappeared. Obviously, he knows it better than I do.”

“He…” I murmured. “Are we sure it’s a he?”

I felt the mattress sink as he sat beside me on the bed. “No,” he said. “We’re not sure of anything.”

I let out a sigh, feeling myself drowning in sleep. I did not catch his next words. All I remembered was the feeling of being held. Then I remembered soft voices soothing me as they fed me warm porridge and tea. I thought I also dreamed about a baby’s cry and a chorus of cheers, but they were carried away by slumber.

Somehow, I slept through it all.

-Day 6-

MAEVE

I opened my eyes to the sound of gentle rain. I was back in my room, and it was empty. Rolling my head, I let out a startled gasp. Francis was sleeping soundly, head in my pillow.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I groaned, pushing to sit on the bed, grunting as I did so. Reaching out, I gave him a shake. “Wake up, Davercher.”

He rolled away to face the other side, murmuring in his sleep.

With a sigh, I slipped out of bed. I reached for my cane and limped across the room to pull the bell. Then I looked around, taking in the silence.

Francis stirred awake and gave a start when he realized I was not in bed. When he saw me in front of the fire, he rubbed his face and moaned. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

He crossed the room, pushing his shirt into his trousers.

“Where’s everyone?”

“Blythe is out with Justine to find something for your tea,” he said. “Daphne is with Violet.”

“And the babe?”

“My brother has another spare.”

“How is the princess doing?”

“Resting.”

“William?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “There has been an incident with one of the deputies. He and Damian took care of it. They’re also in the kitchen, I believe, doing inventory.” Hands on his hips, he let out a sigh. “We’re running out of supplies.”

“You said you sent one man out to get help. Has he returned yet?”

“No.”

Walking over to the chair, I sat down and shook my head. “I’m not sure if this is all real, to be honest. It seems like an endless nightmare.” When he just stayed silent, I smiled. “I wager you’re used to these things.”

“I am used to living on the edge, but nothing like this. This is more of a Belcourt thing.”

“And yet two of them are dead in a shed now.” He dragged his feet to the chair across from mine. “How many have you killed as an agent?”

His face grew tight. “Just one.” His gaze held mine intently. “And no, I’m not telling you.”

The door opened, and a maid walked in with a tray of food. “Good day, Miss,” the woman said. “My name’s Piper. Justine asked me to send this up here. She said you are sick and cannot join the others in the dining hall.”

“Thank you,” I said as she placed the tray on the table.

“She also said she’ll be here shortly as soon as she and Miss Blythe are done in the garden.” Grinning at me, and then at Francis, she asked, “Is there anything else you need, Miss?”

“No, Piper. Thank you.”

She curtsied to Francis before walking out of the room.

“Are you not eating?” I asked him.

“I already had my meal before I slept,” he said.

“You’ve grown fond of my bed, I see.”

He leaned back, legs stretched, hands in his pockets. “No one was eager to watch over you.”

I shrugged. “I see.”

“When you’re done eating and William returns, I’m going to explore the ceiling. And I know you want to look into Melanie’s body again. I’m not going to stop you because no one truly can, but take William with you.”

Before I could answer, a knock came to the door and Daphne walked in, accompanied by two maids. She looked terrible. Her blond hair unkempt, dark circles under her eyes, and her dress was the same as yesterday. “Are you feeling well?” she asked me.

“Why?”

“Can you look at the princess?” She walked closer. “The babe is fine, but Princess Violet has developed a fever. It is not coming down. We tried everything.”

I stood, but Francis caught my hand. With a stern look, he said, “Finish your food.”

“But—”

“You’re not getting out of this room unless you empty that tray.”

As I finished my meal, Daphne paced the room, but with one look of warning from Francis, she stopped. When I was done, she picked up my cane and handed it to me.

He walked with us to the Silver Room, the two maids walking ahead with their candles to lead the way. It was the sixth day, and the halls had gone even more eerie, mostly because nearly everyone was not aware of what had been happening, and those of us who did kept it a secret. They could be dead soon and they did not even know it.

“I’ll join the search later,” I told Francis. “We have to catch whoever is doing this once and for all.”

“We cannot solely focus on catching the killer,” Francis whispered back. “We also need to make sure the princess and the baby are safe.”

“I beg to differ,” I said. “I suggest we make everyone safe.”

“I agree with Maeve,” Daphne said. “I also think we should tell everyone. They have to be prepared. I wouldn’t be alive now if I did not keep a knife under my bed.”

“Panic and confusion will do nothing,” I told her.

“But what if—”

“And we already know who the killer’s next target is,” I said.

She gulped. “You mean me.”

I did not answer because we had reached the Silver Room. Walking into the princess’ bedchamber, I felt her forehead. She stirred but did not open her eyes. “Is she still bleeding?” I asked.

“No,” said Daphne.

“Is it infection?” Francis asked.

“It could be. She needs medication.” I stared at the six maids surrounding the bed. “And of course, you do not have it.” Chewing my cheek, I slowly nodded. “I’ll see if I can find something in Blythe’s room.” I held up my hand to stop Francis. “You stay. Or you find the bloody killer.” When he did not budge, I scowled. “I’m fine.”

I returned to our wing and proceeded to Blythe’s room. Finding the door unlocked, I walked inside and searched her trunk. If there was anyone who came here with concoctions of medications and tricks, it would be her.

I paused, letting out a sigh. Then I remembered Logan taking the box of Blythe’s medicines to the closet the last time she had an attack. I was about to close the trunk when my eye caught something.

My brows fused into a frown. Reaching down, I pulled the dress out. My jaw tightened as I stared at the stain.

Blood.

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .

Ch. 27

SCARLETT

While Miss Avery was in the dining hall for breakfast, I hastily fixed her bed and rekindled the fire in her room. We had not spoken to each other since last night, and I had no intention of doing so until we got out of this place. Placing a dress on her bed, unsure if she wanted to change later in the afternoon because since yesterday, the ladies started spending more time in the ballroom. They were given permission to transfer furniture there so they could have a larger venue for their games and socializing.

After taking one last look at her room, I slipped out to return to the kitchen. I intended to find Justine and ask her about Lady Daphne. This morning, she told me about the attack on the woman and the Crown Princess’ childbirth.

Apparently, so much had happened, yet everyone else seemed oblivious.

“Scarlett.”

I paused at the sound of William’s voice. “My lord,” I said, resuming my pace.

“How are you?” he asked, following me down the stairs.

“I’m fine,” I said, turning a corner in the grand hall and entered a discrete servant’s door that led to the kitchen. And of course, he followed.

“Are you avoiding me?”

“If I were, you would not be following me.”

He grabbed my arm and gently pulled me to a stop. He stared down at me, face filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am.”

“What happened was unimaginable, Scarlett. You know you can tell me—”

“I know.”

His hold loosened and his hand fell to his side. “Then it’s me, isn’t it? I’m the problem? Tell me.”

I looked over my shoulder, hoping a servant would appear and end the conversation. There was no one there. They were all upstairs, busy with their mistresses. “I know you were Miss Avery’s lover.”

He looked stunned. And he should be.

“Were you using me to get to her?”

He blinked a few times. “You think I want to get back with her?”

“I do not know. You never said anything, really,” I said, lacing the last sentence with enough sarcasm.

“I would never dream of it. Avery is not who you think she is. Have you forgotten what she did last night? She’s vile and manipulative.”

“I know very well how she is. No one knows it better than I do.” He took a step forward, and I took an equal step back. “And you are no different, my lord. You wanted something from her, didn’t you?” When he did not answer, I scoffed. “And you manipulated your way to her through me.” He tried to reach for me, but I slapped his hand away. “So much for friendship.”

I turned, but he caught my hand, pulling me back. “We’re not friends,” he said.

I never realized those words would come out of his mouth, but then, again, he may be just like all the men in his station.

“Not really, no,” he continued, shaking his head, trapping my gaze in his. “I mean I do like you, Scarlett. Surely you’ve felt that.” I tried to pull my hand back, but he held it tightly. “There are far easier ways to get to Avery. I didn’t have to use you.” He paused, took a deep breath, and then let it go with a small smile. “I just found myself drawn to you.” When I looked away, he moved and bent his head to catch my gaze. “You’re interesting and kind and charming in many ways and I like that. A lot, actually. And I want to know you more.”

I stepped back and pulled at my hand, harder this time, and he let go. “I’m a servant.”

He looked at me as if I spoke something incomprehensible. “And? So was my great-great-aunt. And I’m a bloody St. Vincent, Scarlett. Status is the least of our concern.”

Shaking my head, I scoffed and stared at him incredulously. “This is absurd.”

He blinked a few times. “Are you saying I’m absurd?”

“I’m saying what you said came out of nowhere and I don’t know what to think about it,” I hissed, turning on my heels and walking away. “And stop following me!”

BLYTHE

Logan was waiting for me in the kitchen when Justine and I walked in with a basket of herbs and flowers.

“Boil these,” I said to Justine, picking some herbs from the basket. “And take them to Maeve.”

“Right away, Miss,” Justine said, walking away.

“You’re dripping wet,” Logan commented as I approached. He was already holding out a towel.

“We didn’t expect the rain to get harder,” I said, drying my hair. “All the while, I thought the storm was letting up.”

He took the towel from me and turned me around without a word. Heat flushed my face as he dried my hair from the back. “I can do it—”

“Your cousin is in the Silver Room.”

I blinked, then frowned. “Why?”

“Words say the princess gave birth last night.”

I whirled around, eyes wide.

“You should change into dry clothes,” he said, wrapping the towel around my shoulders.

“Why didn’t they call for me?”

“Maybe they didn’t want to bother you.”

“I would have helped—”

“Everything’s fine now. Lady Blythe was apparently a big help, I heard.”

I stiffened. “Blythe? Maeve called for Blythe but not for me?”

He looked around. “She didn’t call for her.”

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed and gently turned me toward the door. “I’ll explain on the way.”

By the time we emerged into the great hall, I was stiff with fright. “Oh, God,” I said, swallowing hard. “He’ll come for me next. I know it. I just know it—”

“That’s not going to happen,” Logan stonily said. “I won’t let it happen.” Although his smile was gentle, his eyes were resolute. Determined. “This is why you can’t go out and about on your own. Do you understand?”

I nodded, biting my lip. He cupped my face and added, “You’ll go home.”

“Alive?”

“Of course. I promise you that.” His thumb wiped the single tear that escaped. “Don’t cry.”

Taking my hand, he led me up the stairs.

When we reached my room, Logan stopped and frowned.

“What is it?”

He placed one finger over his mouth. Only then as he approached the door did I realize it was already open. My heart went to my throat as I held my breath.

I saw the look of relief on his face when he pushed the door wider and looked inside. I joined him on the threshold and found Maeve sitting in a chair.

“Close the door, Blythe.” Her gaze was as cold as her voice.

“Why? What happened?” I asked as Logan closed the door.

Maeve threw the dress to the center of the room. Blood drained down my face. “You have five minutes, and you better not utter one bloody lie.”

Logan walked toward the dress and I stopped him, my hands shaking as I clutched on his sleeves. “No, don’t.” I turned and grabbed the dress from the floor. She watched as I rolled it in my arms and threw it back inside the trunk. “It’s not what you think,” I said, facing her.

“What I think, Blythe, is that we had two recent murders still unsolved and you have a bloody dress hidden in your trunk all this time.”

My eyes flew to Logan, who looked both confused and shocked. I bit my lips white as I tapped my foot nervously, utterly desperate to get out of the situation. But I knew I couldn’t. Maeve would not leave this room until she heard the truth.

“I spent the first night of the game with someone,” I burst out, closing my eyes. “I lost my virginity.” With eyes closed, the truth came out easily. “I was ashamed. I was afraid someone would find out and ruin my reputation. That’s all there is to it.” My eyes flew open and met Logan’s and tears filled my eyes. He did not look disgusted. The judgmental gaze he often threw at me was missing. No sympathy either. Just plain understanding. I swallowed and faced Maeve. “That’s my blood on that dress.”

“Was it Thomas?” Of course, she would ask the most blunt question.

“Yes.”

She stared at me for a long time, studying my face, searching for hints of a lie. Finally, she sighed and stood, leaning on her cane. “I need concoctions for infection, if you have any. For the Crown Princess.”

It was Logan who moved, taking the box out of the closet. He handed Maeve a bottle. My cousin took it and offered me a silent smile of apology. “Lock your door tonight. The killer is still out there.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, I let out a breath. I intended to reach the chair, but I found I couldn’t. Logan was immediately beside me, assessing my breath. “Do you need a shot?” he asked.

I swallowed, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

He guided me to the chair and stood before me as I sat. Resting my hands on the chair, I bent my head and started to laugh.

“What is it?”

“She thought I’m the killer,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes.

“That’s not funny.”

“Well, it’s funny because for a second, I considered admitting to it.”

“What?” he asked incredulously.

I looked up and shook my head. “For a second I thought being a murderer would have been more acceptable than not being a virgin.”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

I sniffled, wiping my face dry with the back of my hand. Another round of silent laughter shook my shoulders. “I don’t care anymore. They can think whatever they want about me. I’m no less of a woman than I was before I gave my virginity to Thomas Erne, am I?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice surprisingly cold. I blinked up at him. “You’re more than half the women in this game. You’re more than the woman your father thinks of you.”

My lips quivered as fresh tears blurred my vision. With a sigh, Logan knelt on the floor in front of me and cupped my face. Wiping tears off my cheeks, he said, “You’re more than any man in this bloody game deserves, Blythe Vandenberg.”

I must admit I never saw it coming. I never even would have guessed it was possible. But it did happen. Logan Earle leaned over and planted his lips against mine.

It was a kiss. Sweet and short, but it was undeniably a kiss.

When he ended it and he leaned back, I expected him to apologize and swear it would never happen again. And to stop that, I said, “Was that out of pity?”

He blinked and scoffed incredulously. “You’re a blind fool,” he said, almost irritably, before he pulled me back toward him for a bloody good, thorough kiss.

Author’s note:

This story is now COMPLETED on Patreon with Special Chapters (Francis’ POV).

I also have ongoing stories on Patreon:

Elewyn

fantasy and romance

Once Upon a Princess

• new adult romance; rewrite of The Prince and the Duke

Join us there at patreon.com/jdruizstories .