MAEVE

Francis paced the room, hands on his hips. He went to the door for the fourth time to check if it was locked.

"Will you stop that?" I asked, rubbing my temple. "I'm thinking."

He made a sharp stop and faced me. "Thinking of what?" he asked, almost in a hiss.

"Of how we get rid of this," I said, pointing at the body with my cane.

The scowl on his face made me wish he was lying dead beside Claire. "Are you bloody stupid?"

With a grunt of pain, I stood from the bed and leaned my weight on my third leg. "What do you suggest we do? Report this?"

His jaw tightened. "We did not do this," he insisted.

"Unless you remember half of what happened last night, you can't say that."

"But I do remember everything."

I scoffed. "No, you don't."

"I did not smoke your paltry herbs."

I blinked in confusion, setting aside how he just insulted my herbs for later argument. "But you stayed."

"Yes. And I drank. But not to oblivion."

"Very well," I said, arching a brow. "Tell me what happened."

He glared at me. "You smoked and drank more than you could. I had to keep you away from the window. Then you dragged me out for a walk because you said your legs felt wonderful. When we got back, William and the twins were gone. You talked about your stupid plans against Claire as you finished another bottle of wine and forced me to drink with you. Then you fell asleep." As I stared at him in disbelief, he added, "I had to stay to make sure you did not just induce your own death. And then I fell asleep. So, yes, I know we didn't kill her."

It took a moment to absorb everything he just told me. Shaking my head, I pointed at the body. "There's still a dead girl in the middle of my bloody bedroom. That and the fact that I sell paltry herbs will land me straight to prison. And do you think I will go down alone?" I looked him straight in the eyes. "No, of course not. They'll ask for the real reason I'm here and I'll tell them the truth. I would not hesitate to reveal who paid me to be here."

Limping toward the body, I stared down at it. Not a part of me felt anything. All I could think about were the days I suffered because of her; that humiliating day I let her hurt me. She was nothing but a pathetic sadist and she did not deserve this kind of death.

All I remember thinking was that I was not going down because of Claire Braxton. Once was enough.

Francis looked flabbergasted when I said, "The sun won't wait for us to finish a pleasant conversation about a dead body."

"Don't you see her state? We can't take her through the door. She's still bleeding."

"You're right," I murmured, looking around.

"You cannot be bloody serious, you crazy, mindless fool," he hissed when my eyes stayed on the window.

"The pool. It's just below this wing. It will erase anything that may point toward us," I said, opening the curtains. He went and stood beside me. I grimaced as we looked down.

"We can't just throw her out."

"She won't feel a bloody fall, will she?"

"You're insane."

"I've heard worse insults from better people. Move her over to the window." He followed me back to Claire's body, crouched, then stopped, reluctant. I rolled my eyes. "You know, death is not contagious."

He glared at me. "We're dealing with a dead woman!"

"The same woman you did not want to win the game," I shot back. He threw me a look of contempt before he dragged Claire toward the window. "Don't throw up. We have enough blood to clean up."

"Shut up."

I restlessly tapped the floor with one foot.

"Shut up!"

"Keep your voice down," I hissed back as I helped him hoist the body over the ledge. "Now, let's pray no one hears a thing," I said once we succeeded, half of the body hanging limp on both sides of the window. His jaw tightened as I started counting. "One, two—"

He made the push before I could say three. We flinched at the sound. Then we both leaned out the window. Claire landed on her back, her limbs spread out. It was not a high fall, truly.

I moved away, grabbing him by the arm. "We can't waste time."

I grabbed the key to my room and locked it behind us. My heartbeat raced to my ears as we navigated the corridor from the south wing. Francis grabbed my arm when the sound of loud laughter rang from the stairs. "Aw!" I cried as his finger dug down to my bone. I slapped his hand away as I pressed my back against the wall. "Let go!" I slapped his hand again. He did, wiping his hand against his trousers. "Do I disgust you?" I asked.

"Will you bloody shut up!" he hissed, poking his head out of the threshold.

The voices were getting closer, and I tugged at him, pulling him close in front of me. He glared as I wrapped an arm around his neck. "What are you doing? Unhand me," he ordered, his voice filled with warning.

Hooking the handle of my cane around the back of his neck, I pulled his head down and whispered, "You have blood on your shirt, you insipid fool."

Realizing this, he stepped closer, pressing his body against mine, one arm braced on the wall beside my head, the other above it. His entire form encapsulated me and I heard him say, "I should have gone home." I held my breath, not really in the mood to smell his. I wiped my hand on his shoulder. "Do I disgust you?"

"You're sweaty, but not in an arousing way."

"And you smell just like smoke."

The voices were definitely on their way toward us. I gritted my teeth, half of my mind wondering how I ended up here with a bloody prince pressed against me, while the other half was still in disbelief that this was real.

"Dammit." His curse brushed against my cheek. "Don't move."

"I can't," I hissed back, tugging at his neck with my cane.

"Stop it!" he said, wincing in pain.

"Stop breathing your breath on my face." I paused, listened. "They're going to enter this corridor—"

His mouth captured the rest of my words and my eyes widened in surprise, which quickly escalated to a feeling of queasiness, edging close to revulsion. My first instinct was to push him away, but he glared at me with a warning. I only stopped when I realized it was as a shared torture.

We remained still, our lips awkwardly pressed together as we waited for the ladies to make the turn and see us. And when they finally did, Francis closed his eyes; I did the same with a grimace.

"I cannot believe they made us get into that lake. And that I actually made the jump! I had to stay in the bath for an hour when I got here—"

The speaker went completely silent. The rest of her words hung in midair. If you could hear a breath stop, that was probably it. I did not see if they were rendered mute out of surprise or repulsion because I had to participate in the performance Francis started. He had moved his lips, urging mine to answer the kiss—not that I'd call it a kiss, really. A real one did not require the amount of concentration I had to conjure to not push him away.

As I moved my mouth against his, I knew from that moment on that things would only get bad. For one, it was starting to feel like a real kiss. And a good one at that. Something warm and tingly coiled inside me—just like the feeling you get in your stomach when you fall from a high point. It traveled all the way to my fingertips. Suddenly, his lips weren't so bad.

I snaked my fingers through his hair, my body meeting his as he stepped even closer. He was a pretty good kisser, which was quite a revelation after hearing words his mouth was capable of. The kiss, which started as bad and awkward as we were, became deep and insistent. Reckless one moment, frenzied the next.

But not great enough to blow me out of my wits to not realize that our spectators were not moving away. I tore my mouth off Francis and buried his face in my neck and glared at the three ladies. "Do you mind?" I growled. I swear I felt his smile against my skin.

Our spectators instantly snapped back to their senses and rushed away. When their footsteps finally disappeared, he lifted his face, and we rolled our heads toward the end of the corridor.

Immediately, we pulled away from each other. Gripping my cane, I cleared my throat and I limped ahead of him and down the stairs. He grabbed my wrist and led me through another corridor off the great hall and out into the south garden where the pool was located.

We found Claire the same way she landed—a twisted, lifeless doll. I did not have to order him. He hauled her body over his shoulder without a word and we made our way back to the garden, hiding behind tall shrubs. The pool area was open, but it was dark enough for cover.

"Make sure not to make a splash," I told him as he adjusted Claire's limp body in his arms. "Put her in feet first—"

"Shut up," he sharply said with a grunt. "You give too many bloody orders."

"I'm protecting us."

"Don't push me!"

"I'm not pushing."

"You just did."

"That was a shove."

He let out an infuriated growl and ran to the edge of the pool where he laid Claire's body and rolled her into the water.

I silently swore as it made a loud splash. He ran back toward me and I glared at him. "I told you not to make a splash!"

"Should I try again?" he bitingly asked. I made sure we were still alone before I stared at him from head to foot. His lips were still swollen from the kiss, his hair a curly mess. He looked like a ravished lover rather than a body-disposing prince.

"You'll need to change," I said, walking away. "There's something in my trunk that will fit you."

"I don't think—"

"I know you don't think, but you can't leave looking like that," I interjected. "Or are you spending the night here?" Unlike the contestants, deputies could leave the Ivory House whenever they pleased.

He gritted his teeth and followed me back inside.

The room was still the same when we returned. We cleaned the floor with water from the washstand. Once done, I pulled out one of my favorite white linen shirts from the closet and threw it at him. He stripped off his bloodied shirt and put it on. As he searched for his coat, I undressed behind the dressing screen.

He was putting on his coat when he stopped and stared.

"What?" I asked, head poking over the screen.

"Are you always this stupidly careless?" he asked, snapping back in motion, shrugging into his coat.

"Do you always pair your insults? They're too wordy, don't you think?"

He turned away and brushed his fingers through his hair. "They're going to find her."

I let my nightdress drop to my ankles. "Yes, and we're going to find her killer before they frame it on us."

With a frown, he said, "You can't think we're being framed."

"If neither of us killed her, why was her body here?" I stepped out of the screen, tying the ribbon over my chest.

I caught him looking before his gaze flickered back to mine. "Maybe she tried to find help."

A chuckle rolled up my throat. "I'm the last person she'd come to for help."

"What are you doing?" he asked as I put on my coat. Grabbing my cane, I inspected the floor. Satisfied, I faced him again. "I'm going to Claire's room."

His look of surprise rapidly turned to another mad violet rage. "You impetuous fool. No!"

"She was in her nightdress, which means she was in her room before she ended up here. And stop looking at me like that. I'm not asking you to go with me."

"And what do you expect to find there?"

"If she was attacked in her room, the weapon might still be there." I looked him up and down. "You should go home, deputy."

"I have to make sure you don't do more asinine things that will implicate both of us," he snapped, walking to the door.

I gritted my teeth and followed him outside. His movements were stiff, his hands balled into fists. As I followed him from behind, I wondered about the things I could not remember from last night. When did Claire get in? Why? Where did William and the twins go? Did they have anything to do with this?

As Francis led the way to the east wing, I caught up with him and said, "You know where she sleeps." He made no comment. "Maybe you found her in bed, stabbed her, and then she fled to my room where she died."

He glowered down at me. "And how do you know she was stabbed?" Before I could reply, he added, "Unless you did it."

"As you said, you remember everything from last night."

"But not the moments while I was asleep. You could have slipped out and killed her."

I scoffed. "There are many reasons I wanted her dead, and there are many ways I could have done it. This is not among them."

He snorted. "Because you're too cunning?"

"No. Because she died too easily."

He stopped and stared at me like I was crazy. "You're appallingly insane."

"You're free to leave if you don't like me, you know."

Moving on, he stopped at the third door to the right. Placing his hands on the handle, he said, "I know where she sleeps because I'm a game deputy."

"That's quite an alarming information," I mumbled as he opened the door.

I pushed my way in and limped toward the bed. It seemed untouched. "It's too tidy," I said, walking over to the dresser.

"She never liked clutter," Francis said, hands back in his pockets.

"Of course, you'd know," I said wryly as I opened a drawer. No possible weapon.

"I don't think there's anything here." His gaze followed me to the other side of the bed.

"Which side does she sleep on?"

"Why would I know that?"

I shrugged. "You are a promising creep." I opened the drawer. Nothing.

He ignored me and said, "We should question your cousin."

"Which one?" I asked as I got down to my knees and looked under the bed.

"William. He disappeared with the twins."

"I plan to know what happened to them, trust me," I murmured, crawling into the bed, wincing at the pain in my leg.

His head poked under, a few curls dangling over his forehead. "No fool would hide a bloody weapon—What's that?" He asked as I reached for something stuck in the underside of the bed.

I smiled. "Proof Claire wasn't so smart." I held out my arm. "Help me out."

He dragged me out none-too-gently. "You came here for that?"

"Yes, because our deal is off." I said as I stood. "Now that my mission is dead, I can't fulfill my end of the bargain. I'll find my way back to Queens some other way with this."

His face filled with understanding. "The Silver Favor. You're going to use the ivy you stole from a dead girl to get a Silver Favor?" he asked in disbelief.

"I'm opportunistic that way." I stared at the brooch and sighed. "At least we know she wasn't killed for her ivy."

"Don't be stupid. They'll find her body soon and they'll want to know where her ivy went. That," he said, pointing at the ivy, "is a bloody motive."

"Half of the ivies have already been stolen by this time. No one could say Claire lost hers after she died."

He was about to say something when his eyes landed on the bed, specifically the pillow.

"What's that?" I asked as he took out the note peeking underneath.

He opened it.

Just one word: Pride.

"A mortal sin," I whispered, looking at Francis, excitement and fear brewing in the pit of my stomach. "Is someone killing sinners?"