“I just need to ask a few questions,” I said. “Let’s start with something easy: who are you?” I gestured vaguely to the pen. “I’m not recording anything, so we’ll need a written record of this.”
He pressed his lips together, then wroteSteven.
I fought to keep the smile off my face. I’d bought myself four more lie-free answers, but I didn’t want to waste one by asking for a last name, at least not yet.
“Why are you in Austen Heights?” I drummed my fingers on the metal table.
“For revenge.” He breathed heavily, but his hand moved steadily across the page, confirming his words.
Behind me, Darcy grew rigid. We were getting close to uncovering his motivation. It was time for a more pointed question.
“How did you know Easton?”
He gripped the pen so hard I worried he might snap it, which would break the spell. “What are you implying?”
“I think we both know.”
The man slammed a hand against the table, and I tried not to jump. “Yes, I knew him, all right?” Almost as if he didn’t realize it, he scratched the words across the page. Steven’s hard expression cracked to reveal the pain underneath. “Easton was my little brother.”
A shocked silence swept over the room like a cold front, shattering all my theories and assertions.
His brother? I stared at the words desperately, wishing for them to be false. But even without the pen confirming it, I could sense the truth in his words. It explained the similarities in their faces—that same cleft chin which I was a fool not to have put together before—as well as the regret.
“Did you kill your brother?” I asked softly, using my second-to-last question.
“Of course not.” Fury filled Steven’s gaze, and he paused writing, his hand trembling. “I would have never hurt Easton. I didn’t even want him to become a bodyguard. I told him it was too dangerous, but he said it was the perfect job for someone like him, especially since no one would hire him back home and the pay was good enough to cover the medicine for him and our sister.” Hisvoice cracked, and the veins stood out in his arms as he squeezed his hands together.
That lined up with what Sable had mentioned in her call. I pulled my notebook out of my pocket and flipped to a page where I’d taken notes from our brief conversation. She’d mentioned both her brothers, Easton and Steven, but I’d been so distracted by news of Easton that I’d hardly paid attention to the rest of what she’d said.
Steven continued. “I can see how much the prince didn’t care. He cared so little that Easton didn’t even make it a year in his service. He died protecting that selfish jerk, and no amount of money will bring him back.”
My legs trembled as more pieces fell into place. Steven regretted not being there to protect his brother, and I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t know what I’d do if anything happened to one of my siblings.
The truth whirled around me.
We’d captured the wrong person.
No, we’d captured the right person, but I was wrong about him. I’d been all too eager to assume another fae had done the job, making me as prejudiced as the fae I held in such low regard.
Darcy bowed his head. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice thick.
Steven looked at him sharply. “I don’t need sympathy. I need to talk to the prince. It’s his fault my brother is gone.”
“Did you have anything to do with the lightning storm in town yesterday?” I asked abruptly, pulling pieces of composure around me like a cloak even though everything was falling apart. Everything told me I was wrong, but I had to be certain.
“What?” Steven blinked at me.
“Just answer the question.” I tapped the paper again, trying to keep my hand from trembling. Darcy had said that it would take someone with a nature specialty to have attacked me yesterday. Maybe there was still a chance he could be behind the attack on my life—maybe I wasn’t so completely wrong.
“No.” The man shook his head, but I couldn’t look away from the two letters he scratched out on the paper.
Darcy turned to me, one eyebrow cocked.
“I think…” I drew in a breath. “I think we should talk alone.”
He nodded once and followed me into the hall. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I leaned against it, covering my face with my hands. A tree branch scratched at the window, flailing in the wind.
“I had us catch the wrong man.” I’d been right that he was connected to the murder and carried a grudge against Darcy, but I’d been so wrong about everything else. Embarrassingly wrong. He was there to help his family, much like I’d gotten involved to help mine. In the end, that fae and I weren’t so different after all.
