Alex Bledsoe - Dark Jenny

Halfway down the stairs to the main hall, Kay stopped, leaned against the stone wall, and sighed. He put away the dagger, then unlocked the disk to release the big loop of slack. “At least our heads are still attached. Thank you for not mentioning Elliot.”

“No promises the next time.” I raised my hands and extended the cuffs.

He shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

The manacles had me both angry and a touch claustrophobic. “Come on, you saw the other apples. I couldn’t have poisoned them, too.”

“‘Too’? Are you admitting you poisoned the first one?” he teased.

“Stop that. You know I didn’t do it. Now get these things off me.”

“It’s for your own good, Eddie, seriously. If you’re seen without those before we find the real killer, the folks who think you’re guilty may decide to dispense their own justice.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, adding in my head, and I won’t let the drawbridge hit me on my way out.

“Not with that, you won’t.” He nodded at my injured hand. I could neither straighten nor curl my fingers now, and my knuckles were hidden under puffy, darkening skin. “Guess Iris was right. That’ll sure hurt by tonight.”

I couldn’t argue; it sure hurt right now. “All right, so I’m still your prisoner. So tell me: how much can we trust what Queen Jennifer told us?”

“I’ve never known her to lie.”

“You’ve never known her to murder anyone before, either.”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “If you’re going to suspect everyone even after you’ve questioned them, how are we going to make any progress? I’d like to solve this before we’re both too old to enjoy it.”

Yet again I wanted to smack him, but under the circumstances it still seemed like a bad move. So I took a deep breath, calmed down, and said, “Okay, you’re right, I don’t really think she had anything to do with it, but I do think she knows more than she’s telling. But keeping secrets isn’t a crime.”

When we hit the banquet room again, it was worse than before. As soon as they saw me, the guests’ murmuring escalated to shouts and catcalls. One of the courtiers, a white-haired fellow with eyebrows like caterpillars, bellowed, “Sir Robert, I demand you speak with us!”

“Great,” Kay muttered. “You stay here,” he told me, and strode over to the man. “Yes, Lord Shortridge, what can I do for you?”

“You can let us out of here for one thing. It’s past sunset, and I for one did not come prepared for an overnight stay. Why, I don’t even have the proper toiletries for my skin.” Then he pointed a long finger at me. “And we all know he’s the murderer, yet you keep him leashed at your side as if he were your favorite foxhound!”

The nobles chimed in with their agreement. Across the room, Gillian still watched me with his cold, implacable eyes. Agravaine was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m glad you’re all so sure of things,” Kay said. “But as long as Marcus Drake rules Grand Bruan, we’ll approach this based on the law of the land. That law says a man must be assumed innocent until proven guilty.” He looked disdainfully at the glass in Shortridge’s hand. “And I don’t think that proof will be found in the bottom of a wine bottle.”

“You’re using the king’s law to protect a killer!” someone cried.

“Queen Jennifer can render justice in this case,” Shortridge said. “She has the royal rank, and the full support of the nobles.” The crowd chimed in its agreement. “We demand you convene a trial, followed by that man’s execution.”

“Demand all you want,” Kay said. “But you’re guests here, not rulers. Another treasonous outburst like this, where you openly advocate bypassing the king’s law, and you can easily become prisoners.” He turned and walked back toward me.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of treason!” Shortridge yelled. “I am a lord of Grand Bruan!”

Kay dismissed him with a wave, but his face was grim as he approached me. “Listen, we’ve got to get you out of sight.” He nodded toward yet another door. “Follow me and try to look nonchalant.”

This wasn’t another kitchen antechamber, but one of Nodlon Castle’s private lounging areas. It was empty, and through the windows I saw the moon full and bright over the ocean.

Kay lit some lamps, and light from the tiny wicks reflected from myriad polished surfaces. Used as a refuge for the idle rich during tedious ceremonies, the decor was lush and sumptuous, redolent of fat bottoms and wheezing bosoms. The lingering smell of expensive cologne masked a subtler odor of sweaty desperation and decay, the common scents of any castle.

Kay opened the liquor cabinet, selected a really top-class vintage, and fished a corkscrew from a cluttered drawer. “This situation is way too close to getting out of hand,” he said as he poured our drinks. He downed his in a single swallow. “I’m going to go get Marc.”

“You’re leaving?” I said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll assign someone to protect you. As long as you stay out of sight, you’ll be fine. And once Marc gets here, you should be able to leave with no difficulties.”

“So where is Marc?”

“At his main castle in Motlace. If I leave now and ride all night, I can be there well before dawn. Once he hears what’s going on, he’ll want to come sort it out himself.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

Kay grinned wearily. “I am.” He nodded at one of the tapestries. “Do you know anything about him?”

The woven picture showed a man in hugely complicated regalia riding an equally decked-out horse across a flowered field. He carried a sword nearly as long as he was tall. At the far right of the image, apparently his goal, stood a woman with downcast eyes and a multipointed crown. Despite the artistic license, I recognized her as Jennifer Drake.

I looked more closely at the king’s face, visible beneath his open visor. It was square-jawed and handsome, with long hair flowing from beneath his helmet. His beard was short and neat, and his eyes half-closed in either communion with the spirit world, or boredom. His lips were unnaturally red, a stylistic element I’d seen on a lot of Grand Bruan tapestries. “Just what I’ve heard back home.”

Kay poured himself another drink. “He’s the reason I have this job. He lived with me and my family in secret until he was fifteen and claimed the crown. We were raised as brothers. I used to make sure no one picked on him when he was little, and then after he put on six inches and fifty pounds the summer he turned fourteen, he made sure no one picked on me.”

“Is he as honest as they say?”

“He’s the best man I know. And I’m completely serious. Marc always tries to do the right thing, and he’s smart enough to know what that is.”

One tapestry showed Marcus on one knee, presenting a ring to Jennifer. Her dress had a train long enough to cross the channel separating Grand Bruan from the mainland. “How attached is he to his queen?”

“Watch the two of them together and you’ll be lucky to get away without a toothache.”

“So you want me to just sit around and wait for King Marcus to ride in and save the day?”

“It won’t be all bad, I promise. I’ll make sure you get a room stocked with liquor for three.”

“Who are the other two?”

He grinned. “There are no other two. And once Marc is on the scene, everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

I sipped my drink and nodded, wishing I had his confidence. King Marcus Drake might be as spotless as Kay described, and I sure hoped he was. But as anyone who’s ever polished armor knows, nothing attracts bird shit like a clean, shiny surface. And the buzzards were already gathered around us.