“What do you mean?” the Duchess said, her brows knitting as Lieutenant Smyth crossed the yard to join them.
“Did you…?” Commander Jansen cleared his throat, appearing unwilling to ask what he needed to. What a consummate actor, he was. “Did you see the body, Your Grace? Or hear of her condition?”
“I saw her body briefly.” She tilted her head, sending curly raven hair spilling over one shoulder. “Long enough to know she is no longer of this realm.”
“There were puncture wounds on her throat,” Jansen shared. “Deep ones.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid as the Duchess feigned shock—and she was definitely faking that gasp if there were fucking bite marks on the woman’s throat. The broken neck now made sense. The woman’s blood had probably been drained, and her neck then broken to ensure she died before she turned Craven within the castle walls.
“I’m sorry to be the one to share this news with you,” Jansen said, knowing damn well there was no way she’d missed that, no matter how briefly she’d seen the body. “A Descenter would have no reason to drain a mortal of blood.”
“No, they string bodies from trees,” Lord Mazeen spoke. “Like one of them did to Lord Preston at some point last night.”
My lips curved up in a smile. So, he was found before the sun got him. That gave me savage satisfaction.
“But that doesn’t mean they can’t make it seem like someone else is culpable,” Lieutenant Smyth suggested, proving exactly what a fucking imbecile the man was.
“Unless someone was running around with an ice pick or another small, sharp object, I find that unlikely,” Jansen replied dryly.
Lieutenant Smyth huffed. “I’m just saying it’s not impossible.”
The Duchess stared at Jansen for long enough that wariness brewed in my chest, but her expression smoothed out. “No, it’s not, but it is unlikely. That leaves us with only one other suspect.”
Them?
“An Atlantian,” Smyth surmised—incorrect yet again.
Because outside of my ass, no other full-blooded Atlantians were roaming anywhere even close to the castle. Besides that, we could drink from mortals, and sometimes it happened during heated, passionate moments, but mortal blood provided no sustenance. It wasn’t something we sought out.
“The Dark One,” the Duchess whispered.
Oh, come the fuck on.
Jansen’s expression was devoid of emotion as he said, “We will check the grounds once more, Your Grace.” He turned to Smyth. “Alert the Rise and City Guards to be on the lookout for any signs or evidence of the Dark One having arrived in Masadonia.”
Lieutenant Smyth nodded, then bowed to the Duchess and Lord before hurrying off to do just that. The man walked as fast as his knobby legs would carry him, all too eager to do the Ascended’s bidding.
All too happy to ignore the obvious and spread falsities that would inevitably lead to innocent people being accused of crimes they had taken no part in nor had any knowledge of. Because he knew exactly what the Ascended were. They didn’t hide their true natures from the upper crust of the Royal Guard. I’d learned that from my time in captivity in the capital.
After all, those within the Royal Guard usually disposed of the bodies when the Ascended drained them, leaving them to turn Craven outside the city walls.
But this was how they operated, blaming their crimes on Descenters, the Dark One, and Atlantians. They gave the people something to fear so they didn’t look too closely at them. I eyed Smyth as he climbed the Rise. Mortals who aided in the Ascended’s deception were a unique breed of evil fuckery.
“We must make sure something like this doesn’t happen again,” the Duchess said to Jansen, putting on an act for the other guards who flanked the Commander. Ones who were unaware of the truth. Hopefully, she would have this same conversation with the other Ascended since one of them had ended the woman’s life. “It must be safe for the upcoming Rite. But most importantly, it must be safe for the Maiden.”
The Maiden.
I stiffened.
“Of course. She is far too important,” Jansen answered, this time speaking honestly. “Her safety is always paramount.”
Except that none of them, not even Jansen, realized how close she’d come to harm last night.
They parted ways then, Jansen turning his head slightly in my direction. He either sensed my presence or saw me. There was just a slight upward turn of his lips before he disappeared inside Castle Teerman.
Duchess Teerman and Lord Mazeen went in the opposite direction, heading toward the gates leading to Radiant Row. Neither they nor their guards were aware of me as they neared the spot where I remained hidden in the shadows.
I stiffened again.
My gaze fixed on the Lord and narrowed as he passed. Most Ascended had the same scent, but Lord Mazeen smelled different tonight. Beneath that stale-sweet scent they usually had was a hint of jasmine, iron, and…something else. It wasn’t the flowery smell or the faint trace of blood that I picked up from him that caused my hand to tighten around the hilt of my broadsword, and it should’ve, considering what they’d just been discussing. It was the sweeter, slightly earthy scent that caused my nostrils to flare and a low growl to rumble from my chest. He carried her scent on him.
The Maiden’s.
Soft, quick footsteps came from my left as I watched the Lord disappear into the night.
“Hawke?” came a soft voice. “Is that you?”
Dragging my focus from where I last saw the Lord, I turned to see Britta inching her way along the wall.
“I thought I was well hidden,” I answered.
“It is you,” she said, her arms folded tightly over her chest. “I saw you from up there.” She tipped her rounded chin to one of the windows on the second floor. “I thought I’d say hi.”
Tamping down my irritation, I smiled as her scent reached me. It was tart. Lemony. My gaze drifted over her willowy frame as she drew near. How I hadn’t immediately recognized it wasn’t her last night was beyond me. It was likely due to my needing to feed. Our senses weakened when we went too long, but damn. Britta was a beauty, but she wasn’t anything like the Maiden.
“Something happen tonight?” I asked, using the interruption to my benefit.
Several flaxen curls bounced from below the edges of her cap as she nodded. “There was a death.” One hand went to her slender throat. “A…a murder.”
“That’s what I heard.” I glanced at the gates. The Lord and Duchess were long gone. “Was it a servant?”
“No. It was Malessa Axton.” Britta lowered her voice and stepped in close enough that we nearly shared the same breaths. Considering how quietly she spoke, the latter had little to do with what she said. “She is the widow of one of the merchants and fairly close to Lady Isherwood.”
“Was she here with the Lady?”
Britta shook her head as she leaned in, her chest brushing my arm. “As far as I know, Lady Isherwood isn’t here tonight.” Her head tilted back as she looked up at me with cornflower-blue eyes. “Mrs. Axton was alone…”
The way she trailed off told me she knew more than what she was saying. But, then again, Britta always knew a lot about everything.