Page 55 of I Destroyed the Elf Prince's Harem

“But you were implying…”

I ignored him for a second, running my thumbs across his palms and fingers, hoping to soothe away the damage he’d created while knowing deep down this was not helping in the slightest. But what the fuck was I supposed to do? I had no medicine or even clean water. It was bad enough I was psychologically poking about in what had to be the worst day of his life. There was no need to goad him into physically hurting himself.

“I was not implying,” I said when the redness seemed to fade. After I released his hands, I lifted my eyes to meet his. “The point I’m trying to make is that you and your brother dueling was public knowledge. Countless people had access to those swords. Anyone could have put poison on the blade. This person could have been trying to kill you, not realizing that you and Orian don’t always use the same blade. Or…” I paused, leaning in close to make sure he was paying attention, “they could have just wanted to kill one of you, not caring which prince died?”

Nylian stumbled away from me, shaking his head as he moved, but I still pressed on.

“What would your father have done if it had been you dead instead of your brother? Would he have exiled Orian? Would the same chaos have run through the Wolfrest court? Would your parents have suffered the same pain and devastation at your sudden death?”

“Stop,” Nylian choked out and walked away from me to stand on the other side of the cell with his back to me.

“If not for an odd quirk of fate, I could be sitting in this cell with Orian right now rather than you.”

“No!” He pressed his hand to his forehead, massaging it with his long fingers before repeating more softly, “No.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m not hearing any specific proof that says Orian was the intended target.”

Sure, I could cook up some convoluted theories that said Orian knew which blade held the poison and he’d sacrificed himself to save his brother. Or even that he’d plotted against Nylian, but made a mistake at the last second. I was a writer. My brain was twisted. Of course, I could think of demented shit.

But I also believed that sometimes the simplest explanation was the most plausible. In this instance, the point was to get both of the twins out of the way. Killing Orian and Xeran was dangerous. The king would have gone hunting for the killer. Yet, by killing one and framing the other, the real culprit escaped the limelight.

The thing that surprised me was that Nylian hadn’t thought of this. Of course, in his defense, he’d been blindsided from the start. His pain and grief had kept him from more analytically examining the events. He needed some outsiders on his side. Until this moment, he hadn’t had that.

I crossed the cell and took his elbow, leading him over to the pile of straw. “Rest. We’re stuck in here for now, and there’s nothing we can do about the past until we’re free.”

The elf dropped heavily to the ground, and I winced at the bones I could imagine being jarred. Far more gently, I sat next to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him in close so that his head was resting against mine.

“I always thought there had to be a deeper reason why someone targeted Orian,” Nylian whispered.

“Maybe there is, and we don’t know it yet. We’ll get out of here and find the truth.”

“Before Father exiled me, I heard they conducted a search for the servant who fetched our swords that day. They discovered his body dumped in an old well outside of West Vale with his throat slit. I’m sure there were people who jumped to argue that I paid the servant to place the poison on the sword and then ordered someone to kill the servant to cover my tracks.”

I bit back a sigh. Someone had covered their tracks. The servant had been a loose end and an easy way to identify the real culprit. Now we were stuck searching for clues outside of Wolfrest.

“Thank you, Lockhart. I haven’t been able to review the events of that day. Without you, I might have missed something important.”

“No problem. You can repay me by telling me whether I should worry about this king recognizing my face? Do I need to pretend to be a prince?” The City Watch might not have recognized this handsome face, but the members of the Galinaes royal family and nobility might keep up more on other royals from other kingdoms.

Nylian shook with quiet laughter but didn’t sit up. “No. The elves of Galinaes are isolationists and don’t associate with humans.”

“Hence me becoming a pet,” I interjected.

The elf reached up and pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “And I know you’re going to be the very best pet.” As he pulled his hand away, I made a show of trying to bite his hand, which earned me another, deeper chuckle. “But no, I don’t think they’ll recognize you as Victor, because all humans look alike.”

“Lovely,” I muttered.

“It is. I’m sure we’d have even more trouble if they thought you were Prince Victor Montcroix. Now, go to sleep. I’m sure tomorrow will be eventful.”

I waited, but Nylian didn’t move. The freaking elf just snuggled closer, leaning more of his weight against me, his head resting on my shoulder like his personal pillow. Whatever. I had a feeling he was going to be right about tomorrow.

He was.

I woke to a mad scramble of pounding footsteps and the abrasive jangle of keys. I scrubbed my hands over my gritty eyes and opened them to find Nylian kneeling next to me, poised to pounce.

Fuck that shit. Pounce, my ass.

Wait, that came out wrong.

---