Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3) (38 page)

A younger Yahaira stood behind a girl around Helene's age. Sian toothily grinned at the camera. A broad-shouldered, muscular male selkie with the same smile stood beside her.

All three shone with happiness.

Yahaira and Ancelin had once been betrothed to each other. They'd ultimately chosen a path outside of duty and mated with people they loved.

And yet they'd asked their children for the very thing they'd walked away from.

Catrin was right. Holding on to customs that no longer worked didn't make sense.

A sharp noise came from the corridor followed by a pounding at the door.

"I know you're in there!"

Yahaira hurried out of the kitchen, expression tight with concern. Frowning, I shook my head and gestured for her to stay back.

I opened the door.

Marquis Nicolas Rosamund loomed on the other side, chest heaving, torso restrained by Dylan. Patrice LeVeq stood beside him, her skin paler than usual.

Nicolas swayed, desperation glittering in his eyes. "You lying traitor!"

Dylan glanced at me, face panicked, arms straining to hold his father's considerable bulk.

I nodded slightly, muscles ready for any sudden moves. For once, we were on the same side.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yahaira said in a shocked tone.

"Dad." Dylan adopted a soothing tone. "She doesn't even —"

"Shut up!" The potent smell of alcohol, anger, and pain rose through his pores. "Do you think we're stupid? Think you can be Governor by targeting your opposition?"

Patrice's icy eyes narrowed. "I've said from the beginning our trust is misplaced in the Irisavies."

Cold realization slithered through me. They'd found another body.

"Who was it?"

"My sister."

I flinched at the agony in his voice.

"My sister is gone, you bitch! You killed her!"

"I'm sorr —"

He broke free of his son's hold and lunged. I easily dodged the sloppy punch. Stumbling, he pitched forward into the apartment.

Yahaira gasped.

"Dad!"

Dylan tried to help and Nicolas shoved him aside. Hard.

He slowly drew himself up, unsteady on his feet. Drunk, grieving, and untrained.

It wasn't a fair fight.

He staggered forward. I stepped aside and his shoulder banged against the doorframe.

Patrice's hand fluttered to her throat.

Oh, please. She knew exactly what would happen when she brought him here.

Nicolas charged again, thick hands aiming for my neck.

I grabbed his wrists and restrained them behind his back. He half-heartedly struggled, the attempt fueled more by pain than anger.

"You killed her!"

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I'm so sorry I failed to protect your sister, Marquis."

He froze. A shudder racked his body and his shoulders dropped.

"Léa."

He uttered the name on a grieving sigh.

The sound lanced through me and regret coiled in my gut.

I'd promised the Council and Haverleau to bring the traitor to justice. My inability to do so in time had resulted in another loss.

"Our new Governor-elect." A harsh voice boomed down the hallway. "Why am I not surprised?"

Just the person I wanted at the party.

I let go of Nicolas and he slumped forward, a mess of drunken pain. Dylan cautiously walked over to him.

"Ancelin." Yahaira's voice was calm. "A few Council members came over to visit. I believe they were just leaving."

The king leaned against the frame, massive body taking up the entryway. Unforgiving eyes took in the entire scene before focusing on me.

"And of course Kendra is the guest of honor."

Well, hello to you too.

Hands itched for another sparring match. This time, that
grevaol
maneuver wouldn't bring me down.

"We were just having a conversation," I said pleasantly.

Patrice's mouth tightened into a straight line.

Ancelin briefly shut his eyes. Maybe I could just give him an aneurysm.

"These types of conversations should be had inside the privacy of a room," he growled. "Not out in the hallway where anyone can listen in."

Fine. "Then I'm glad you're here, Your Majesty."

If he thought he could do better, let's see him handle it.

Instead of biting my head off and walking away, he gave a curt nod.

"Come on, Patrice. That's enough for today."

Dissatisfaction pinched her face. "Ancelin, really. We must —"

"And we will. Preferably with tea and some of those delicious cookies Yahaira sent over yesterday. And you, too." He gestured. "Dylan, right?"

He shifted and gave an uncomfortable nod. The gesture snapped his father back into polite Redavi mode.

Nicholas stiffened. "I'm s-sorry for the commotion, Your Majesty..."

"I understand. Come, let's get some fresh air."

I stared. Ancelin calmly led them away as if nothing had happened. What the hell?

Laughter echoed down the corridor. Sian, eyes bright with humor, strode toward us. Dax accompanied her, a wide grin spread across his face and something close to admiration gleaming in his eyes.

The open door and departing group caught their notice.

Worry flickered over her face. "Did something happen?"

Dax glared at me. I sighed. This palace was on the verge of an internal meltdown.

"Another body," Yahaira told her. "Rosamund."

Color drained from Sian's face. "How awful."

Baby Belicoux crossed his arms. "What are you doing here?"

Spare me the outrage.

"Same reason you're here. Enjoying Yahaira's amazing food."

"Well, it's wonderful to see you, Kendra," Sian said briskly. "Mother, you could've told me the
sondaleur
was coming to visit."

"I wanted to spend my own time with her,
Sianne
." Narrowed eyes appraised Dax. "Skimping on your meals, young man?"

He entered the apartment and took the seat I'd occupied at the table. "Myrddin's just running our training hard."

"Well, you're going to need more fuel if you want to finish in one piece." Yahaira clucked and headed back to the kitchen. "I'll get you something to eat."

"I already ate," Sian called out. Warm sable eyes turned to me. "How are things?"

"Hectic."

"I can imagine. It's such a beautiful day." She tugged my arm and the faint scent of orange blossoms drifted around me. "Have you seen the terrace on this side of the palace?"

I lurched forward. Damn, she was strong.

"No, but —"

"You must see it."

Spending time with Tristan's ex was the last thing I wanted to do. But with another murder on our hands, I couldn't ignore the opportunity to question her.

The traitor had access to gardinel security. As a member of the Advisory Council, Sian wasn't immune from suspicion.

Dax scowled as I followed her toward the back door.

Interesting. Maybe he came here for more than just the food.

The open-air terrace connected several west wing apartments. The other doors were closed, giving us privacy.

Sun made its way toward the horizon, light bending through clouds and splashing across the water's surface. A few miles up the coast, the lagoon glittered, a vivid blue ring carved into the stark terrain.

"I'd hoped to have more of an opportunity to speak with you at the welcome reception."

Her height and long-limbed figure made me feel significantly smaller. She wasn't classically beautiful, but her features radiated a polished nobility.

Twinkling eyes and the small lines around her mouth indicated she laughed easily. A striking air of confident ease surrounded her, as if you could throw the world's worst crap at her face and she'd smoothly take it in stride with a laugh and a wink.

"Sorry," I said stiffly. "A lot of things were going on that night."

Keeping my face blank, I walked over to the railing and faced the horizon so she couldn't see my eyes. Virtue gently brushed inside her.

"You're very important to Tristan," she said.

Magic sensed threads of genuine curiosity. Inside, she was stable. Solid. Not the type to fling her emotions around.

She also wasn't lying. What she said was true for her and she meant it.

"He spoke about me?" I asked casually.

"No."

Heart plummeted.

"But with Tristan it's more about what he doesn't say than what he does." She joined me at the railing. "He guards you. Carefully."

Sharp eyes inspected my face, the probing expression a marked difference from the sweet, good-humored look a few minutes earlier.

Smart. My respect involuntarily crept up a few notches.

"He was my gardinel before he left to focus on royal duties."

"Yes. Interesting how that happened right after you returned to the elemental world."

She thought I had something to do with that? I'd been just as surprised as everyone else with his decision.

I caught the look in her eyes. No. She was testing me, analyzing my reactions.

Two could play that game.

"You were betrothed."

Surprise flickered across her face, replaced by speculation. "He told you about it."

"I guessed," I lied.

Her mouth twitched. "Lucky guess. But yes, Tristan and I were briefly engaged at one point. A disastrous decision for both of us."

Julian suddenly shoved his way into my head. What would've happened if I'd taken him up on his offer in New York?

It didn't matter. I'd refused hoping to preserve our friendship, but had ended up slamming my fist into his jaw anyway. At this point, he clearly preferred the company of demons over me.

"You still talk to each other," I blurted out.

"Well, yes."

"How did you stay friends?"

She considered. "Part of it was history. We've known each other our entire lives and not speaking would've been like throwing aside family. But part of it was also the time we spent apart."

"You mean when he returned to Haverleau?"

She nodded. "The end of our betrothal was a difficult time for our kingdom. Eric was gone. The new heir refused a mating arrangement securing the continuance of the throne. If Tristan hadn't left for Haverleau, we might not speak as easily as we do now. He and I changed. That allowed us to remain friends."

The depth of nuance in her voice went far beyond casual.

"You love him." I needed to know.

Her gaze stayed level. "Yes. As a friend. A brother in all but blood."

Virtue swept inside and sensed only sincerity. I got the distinct impression she rarely, if ever, lied.

Facing this part of Tristan's past had scared me because it implied what I could never have with him.

But no ache or envy reared up at her words. Only gratitude and relief.

At the worst moment of Tristan's life, someone who honestly and deeply cared had been there for him.

I was glad he had her.

"What was he like? As a kid?"

She smiled. "More rambunctious and carefree than he is now. A kind, middle child who kept the peace and took care of everyone. He always carried the weight for others."

Silence fell. I waited for her to continue.

"Eric was brilliant, heads and tails above everyone in almost every field." Elegant arms rested along the top of the railing. "Tristan shone differently. He always possessed such extraordinary patience. As if he held so much in reserve, waiting until the right moment to use it."

"You think he holds back?"

She shook her head. "It's not about what he can do, but rather how he does it. Quietly, without any fanfare. Eric was like a polar bear. His strength was awe-inspiring, as obvious as the brightest star in the sky. Subtlety wasn't his forte."

"Sounds like Ancelin."

She laughed, the rich sound warming the air. "Exactly. Eric was remarkably similar to his father."

I saw it in her eyes, heard it in the rich affection of her words. She'd loved Eric deeply.

The wound was still there. And like Tristan, the loss would never completely go away.

A sharp pang of sympathy resonated within me.

"Tristan was like a jaguar. Silent, deadly, merciless. Clever both on and off the battlefield. He could do things Eric couldn't."

I remembered Dax's story about the gardinel trials. "Like setting the underwater record?"

"As one small example, yes. But in other larger ways as well." A shadow crossed her face. "If positions had been reversed, Eric wouldn't have been able to take care of Tristan."

"Ancelin should've handled it himself."

He was their father. Being a leader meant handling hard decisions so others wouldn't have to.

"He couldn't," she said softly.

I exhaled past the knot in my chest. Because Tristan had been the strongest of all of them.

"Ancelin may be king, but in the end he's mortal like everyone else."

"So is his son."

She nodded. "But that son always had a greater capacity for bearing the unbearable. Including carrying the responsibility of sparing his father."

As a child, he'd been the younger brother caught in Eric's shadow, always coming in a distant second. Then, he'd become the Warrior Prince, a being more myth than real.

No one had seen him for who he was. As Tristan.

The gentle voice calling me back in an abandoned warehouse and the strong arms grounding me after Marcella's funeral. The heart that listened to Bach and the spirit that fought back-to-back with me in a darkened basement.

Fingers tightened around the railing.

No one had ever protected him.

"Tell me about the conference," I said flatly.

Sian wasn't the traitor. She was highly intelligent, but lacked the cold, manipulative fury needed to carry out the murders.

What I needed was a better grasp of our world's undercurrents. Becoming a stronger leader and better political partner would help Tristan achieve his objectives.

"Hours of useless arguments, led by Marquisa LeVeq's contingent." She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "Some of it is over ondine initiatives pushed by Tristan and the Governor. Others over the future of our kingdom. Tristan spent three hours debating with Ancelin this morning."