Prim sat at the table in Kallia’s entertaining suite, shuffling through the records of employee gifts again as the princess and Bristol entertained the three younger Lanhami royals on the chaises across the room. The princess’s two escorts lined the wall along with Tuck and Sarasha, but Dante and Blukke were in the Cavs checking to make sure everything was in order. Then they were going to the Royal Bench, Blukke not having been successful yesterday in finding Kallia’s original hit paperwork; apparently there was still a bit of paperwork left to check. As the trio of women were all staying in Kallia’s chambers that morning--it was drizzling unpleasantly outside--no replacement escorts were deemed needed. There were still the two guards outside the doors as there always were, plus another two Lanhami guards anyway.
Prim dropped her forehead onto the table, pressing her palms over her neck--exposed thanks to Dante doing her hair this morning. Soft footsteps approached and Prim raised her head to find Sarasha on the other side of the table. She looked to the five on the chaises, but no one was paying them any mind. Neros hadn’t said anything about his visit or the news he shared when he arrived.
“I’m not sure it’s worth looking through those a third time,” the fae guard said softly.
It would have actually been the fifth time if Prim had done it again. And of course, she wouldn’t find anything new. Overcome with frustration, Prim swiped her hand over the stack of papers on the polished stone table, sending them flying through the air in a wave of parchment and fluttering delicately over the other end of the table and floor.
The Lanhami and Prim’s friends looked over at the display, but Bristol quickly called their attention back to the game they were playing, giving Prim some privacy.
“I’m going to find out who killed him,” Prim said just as quietly and with far more confidence than she felt.
Sarasha licked her lips, her face looking pained. “I meant perhaps it’s not worth looking into because…perhaps nobody killed him.”
“Excuse me?”
Sarasha pulled out a chair opposite Prim and took a seat, her wings fluttering slightly as she settled in. “I was thinking about what you said about him not acting like himself lately. And I know I saw you and him fighting twice--about Dante. I figured maybe…maybe he had feelings for you that you didn’t return? And then he went and had Dante arrested the day he died.”
Prim’s chest tightened, and even though she knew, she asked icily, “What are you suggesting?”
Sarasha’s expression turned even more painful, sorrowful. “Maybe he felt guilty. Maybe he felt lost and hopeless. Maybe the door was locked and the dagger was his own because--”
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
“There were two wounds.” No. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have.
Sarasha licked her frowning lips again. “If he did it fast enough he could have…”
Prim braced her hands on the table, standing up. “No.”
She started straightening the papers that were still on the table. She’d look through them a hundred times if that’s what it took. She paused her hurried movements, staring blankly at one of the papers.
Dante didn’t have paperwork. Nor did Blukke. Come to think of it, she didn’t recall seeing Sarasha’s paperwork. Maybe none of the new guards had been filed yet.
Prim twisted her head to Sarasha. “What’s your gift?”
Sarasha furrowed her brows in pity. “Surely you saw it during your research?”
Prim narrowed her eyes at the fae. “What is it?”
Sarasha stood up and walked around the table, crouching to help pick up the scattered papers that had fallen on the floor. She laid a small stack on the table then looked at Prim. “Destruction. When I call on it, anything I punch will be destroyed. Shatter into a million pieces. Even living things.” Then she crouched again to pick up some more.
“Show me.” Prim remained standing in front of the table, a small stack of papers in her hands that she hadn’t yet added to the growing pile.
Sarasha offered her a sad smile. “I don’t think the princess would appreciate me breaking her things. Plus it makes an awful mess.”
The fae continued picking up papers, but she started flipping through them as she went. Eventually, she pulled one out and held it toward Prim.
There was the fae’s name, birth date, date of hire, and a description of her gift just as she had relayed.
“I didn’t realize you were so young,” Prim said as Sarasha tucked the paper back in her stack and added it to the pile. The fae was only twenty; not too much younger than Prim and her friends, but perhaps that’s why she seemed a bit off when it came to offering appropriate social interactions.
The papers now cleaned up, the fae stood awkwardly in front of Prim. “It doesn’t mean he was a bad person or weak or anything like that. It doesn’t mean you or Dante were in any way to blame. It just meant he was hurting too much to make a logical choice at that moment and couldn’t see that it was a mistake. That it would hurt you and the other people who cared about him. That it was a far too permanent and drastic measure.”
Prim just shook her head. How dare Sarasha speak about Roan as if she knew him? She knew nothing.
Prim looked at the stack of papers and her eyes burned just thinking about reading again. Instead she padded to the chaises and pushed Kallia’s outstretched legs aside so she could join her on the one the princess had claimed. Prim didn’t look at the Lanhami or Bristol as she laid her head on the princess’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
Kallia wrapped a comforting arm around Prim and continued her lively conversation and game, warming up even more to Torra and now a bit toward Neros, though Egan remained quiet and introspective.
As if the princess didn’t have a care in the world. As if they weren’t still at a complete loss over who ordered her kidnapping, or what Sol’s vial was about, or who killed Roan, or what Helena was hiding, or what the fuck Neros was playing at.
And Prim was so, so tired.