Page 39 of Pretense

“Why all the secrecy?” Jalissa hugged her arms over her stomach, grimacing at the feel of the stiff, Escarlish fabric against her skin. “Why not simply tell the truth?”

After all, he was a prince. It was not like the landlady would be less cooperative if a prince showed up to investigate her tenant. If anything, she would have bent over backwards. Perhaps even left them alone in the room where they could have done a more thorough search.

“I want to keep this as quiet as possible.” The twinkle to Edmund’s eyes faded as his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know where the assassin is getting his information, but based on how well he planned and executed this attack, he is well informed. I don’t want him knowing every step of our investigation, as he surely would if I marched in there as a prince and started investigating. What landlady wouldn’t noise it about that a prince toured her establishment?”

“Her very respectable establishment.” Jalissa could not believe that she was making a light-hearted comment right now. But Edmund made it very easy to forget, if only for a moment, the weight in her chest.

Edmund grinned back at her. “Exactly. But normal, prospective tenants are nothing to gossip about. Sure, we showed up a little too soon after her last tenant left, but she is currently too glad that she already has that floor rented to care that the timing was suspicious. Now, what did you notice?”

Jalissa worried her lower lip, thinking. “The assassin used fireworks to mask the sound of the gunshots. It was subtle, but the gunpowder from the fireworks smelled different than the whiffs of gunpowder by the window.”

Edmund nodded, then patted his pocket where he had placed the handkerchief. “That was my thought as well. There was more residue on the windows than I was expecting. I think he used a muzzle-loading rifle. I’ve heard a few of the army sharpshooters swear by the older model rifles for accuracy. Better for controlling the amount of powder and the load instead of the newer, cartridge models.”

“So…” Jalissa was not sure what to make of that. The Escarlish guns were all the same to her.

“It means we’re dealing with a professional.” Edmund’s jaw worked. He halted alongside one of the brick buildings. “He planned meticulously. Based on the trash left in the kitchen, he was there for over a week, waiting for his chance. And he is a professional sharpshooter. All in all, this points to a coldly planned assassination, not a crime of opportunity.”

“One to two weeks?” Jalissa bit her lip. “You received word that the story about Farrendel would be released in your press a week ago. Is that a coincidence?”

Edmund heaved a sigh. “I doubt it. The assassin had to know Essie and Farrendel would be coming back to Escarland. He guessed they would make numerous public appearances in order to salvage public opinion. He would simply have to bide his time for the right moment.”

“How much do you trust your friend, Trent Bourdon?” Jalissa glanced around at the peaceful street.

“Two weeks ago, I would have said he was trustworthy.” Edmund frowned. “But he was the one to give me the information about the story breaking soon. It was his story that leaked even earlier than expected. Though, when I trusted him with the story of our courtship, he released it exactly as we had agreed upon.”

“That does not prove his innocence.” Jalissa felt steadier as she glared up at Edmund. “For the assassin, that story did nothing one way or another. If anything, more scandal would have made us retreat to Tarenhiel faster.”

“I’ll investigate him.” Edmund sounded weary, as he had during the war. “Did you notice anything else?”

“Just a faint floral scent.” Jalissa shrugged, peeking up at him. “It was so faint that I am not sure I could identify it if I smelled it again. Perhaps it was a perfume or a shampoo?”

“Probably from one of his visitors.” Edmund grimaced, glancing away from her as if uncomfortable bringing up this topic with a proper elf princess.

“But other than that, no, I did not find anything.” She shook her head. “The assassin took all of his personal items when he left.”

“He was careful. He left a mess, but nothing that could point to his identity.” Edmund started walking back toward the palace. “I saw paper wrapping from the local restaurants. It looks like he frequented many of them, spreading out his appearances so that he would not show up at one place more than once or twice. I’ll send someone from the Intelligence Office to ask about a customer with his description, but I doubt they will remember him. I’ll also send someone to inquire about fireworks.”

Jalissa fell into step with him, shoulders hunching under the weight of her worries once again. “I am sorry I was not more help.”

Edmund halted, turned toward her. “You helped more than you realize. Do you think the landlady would have been so accommodating if I had shown up there alone, dressed as a grubby castle servant? No, your presence caused her to relax. You helped her believe my story about having family coming to the city. After all, people tend to trust a pretty, innocent face. In this game, beauty is not merely decorative. It can be an asset.”

A weapon, he did not say. But Jalissa heard and understood. Had not she, after all, used her beauty and innocent look to navigate the elven court?

As they started walking again, nearing the castle gate, Jalissa peeked up at Edmund. “So what now?”

“Now, I’m going to set a watch over the Times building and see what turns up.” Edmund plastered on a smile for the gate guards.

Jalissa did not want to return to the palace and the mind-numbing waiting for word. But what could she do to help him on his stakeout of the Times? She was simply a useless, beautiful princess.

Chapter Thirteen

Farrendel struggled to draw in another breath, pain tearing through his chest. In his arms, Essie remained still, her face gray and pale.

She was fading. He could feel it in every breath, every heartbeat.

Essie’s mother strode from the other car, closing the door quietly against the rushing noise of the train from the passage between cars.

Farrendel spoke quickly before she could ask about Essie. “How is Iyrinder?”

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