Strike at Midnight(38)

“You were kidnapped, Your Highness?”

Prince Andrew stood up and started to explain what had happened to the knight. Yep. I had a prince and a knight in the back of a bar in Lower City. I could strike that one off my bucket list, at least.

“Rell?” Marcel asked, moving to sit next to me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I said, unable to look at him. “I’m not okay. I’m freaking out.”

“You really didn’t know he was the prince?”

“Do you know what the prince looked like before now?” I asked, rounding on him. “Do you play dress-up and go and dance at the castle when I’m not looking?”

Marcel could sense I was about to freak out, so he stood up and got the one thing that he knew would ground me: alcohol.

“Here you go,” he said, placing a glass of what smelled like whiskey into my hands. “Drink it slowly.”

“Is she well?” Prince Andrew asked, and he sounded concerned. I didn’t look up. I was beyond humiliation at that point.

“She’s fine,” Marcel said, and he ushered them both to sit down. “She is on a case at the moment to hunt down the missing duke. The imposter is in custody, but Sir Raymond has hired her to find the original.”

“She told me some of it. How awful,” Prince Andrew said, and the thought of him being hurt by those hoodlums made the sip of whiskey I had taken swill around in my stomach. I had nearly—inadvertently and potentially—killed the Prince of Carena, and then berated him to the hilt for his trouble.

A pity party was due to take place at the thought of it, but then my head kicked into gear. Why did they try and kidnap the prince? It couldn’t have been just another coincidence.

“Wait,” I said, interrupting their chatter. I sought out Prince Andrew, who was looking at me like I was a damn princess. “Did your kidnappers say anything when they took you? Or while you were in the back of the wagon?”

He was quiet while he thought about it, then said, “I heard them say something about a big payout. One of them said he had recognized me from when his brother worked at the castle and he had helped on the larger events when more staff was hired. He said something about I wasn’t on the list, but the other said it didn’t matter and that they had to take advantage of such an opportunity.” His brow furrowed. “None of it made sense, especially when they said that say someone would pay big to become me. That was it, really.”

“Holy shit,” I said, and it was Marcel this time who said my name in a warning tone. “Holy cow,” I rectified, and I looked at Sir Raymond.

“Someone to pay to become him?” I asked, and Sir Raymond jumped on my train of thought.

“Just like the duke,” he said, and I nodded.

“We thought it was the luck of the imposter that he looked just like the duke. That it was an isolated case…”

“But it’s too much of a coincidence that there would be a lookalike of the prince,” Sir Raymond finished for me. “Someone they said who wasn’t on the list…”

“So he wasn’t targeted specifically.” I edged forward in my seat. “There is only one way they would have been able to make someone look like the prince.”

“A spell?”

“Or some form of magic,” I said. “In other words, we’re definitely dealing with a magic angle here. I can’t deny it any longer. There is either a witch behind this, or someone is working with one.”

“Maybe they’re targeting specific people who wouldn’t dig too deeply, but the chance of being an imposter to the prince would have been too much of a great thing to pass up on?”

“Assess their behavior, their ways, then pay for their face,” I said, thinking of those who they could target. Damn it. I should have pushed the magical angle harder. But it had seemed almost as far-fetched to me as to Sir Raymond. It just didn’t make sense. “So who is the imposter duke?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Marcel said, jumping on the train of thought. “You said he wouldn’t speak.”

“But why not?” I asked. “What’s he got to lose now that he’s been caught?”

“His face?” Prince Andrew guessed, and his eyes were wild with excitement at the conversation he was engaging in. That wasn’t a good thing. He couldn’t get involved, not in this, and I needed to get away from him as soon as possible. I didn’t even realize a freaking heart could ache before now. How stupid was I to have even gone there?

“We would know who he really was without the spell,” Sir Raymond said, and I took another drink so I could have a moment’s silence. What did this all mean?

“We have a lot of information we need to put together,” I said, and the prince didn’t need to be here for it. “The prince needs to be taken home first.”

“Oh, I can’t leave now,” he said. “We have to figure out what to do next.”

My voice said, “No way.” at the same time Sir Raymond’s said, “Not a good idea.” Marcel just laughed.

“You promised me an hour,” the prince said, looking at me in appeal, and my heart almost turned over on itself. He could have ordered that he stay—he was well within his rights—but he hadn’t. Crap and crap.