VIII. On Crimson Tides

Strewn across the floor was death which manifested in the cadavers of Arnold and his wife. They were pale and absent of life. All I could gather at the moment was shock. Shock at the scene. Shock at the unexpected demise.

An investigator moved down the stairs, making the wood whine beneath the trudge of every footfall. There was a look of sadness holding his face, and when he saw me, that melted away into surprise. "My lady, it is not advisable to be here," he bat his eyes at the corpses, giving it a brief glance, "because you might trample vital evidence."

I opened my mouth to reply. "I am here to help. I have been investigating Queen Amice's death, and the disappearance of her sister."

His face was stricken with disbelief. Then, he sighed. "You have been investigating her Majesty's death without permission from our department?"

Those words made my heart hammer louder, more painfully. At this point, my chest was vulnerable to cracking from the battering pang of this leaping pulse. "I... I did. And I did that because I want to help. I want to know who did this to Queen Amice. I want to know who kidnapped the Crown Heiress."

He lifted his fingers to his temple to massage it, kneading away the pulsating throb. The man appeared exhausted. There were dark rims under his eyes, that grew even darker in the cascade of dimmer shadows. There were tired wrinkles smeared on his skin.

"I can show you out, and if I can, I will update you on the case," he insisted that I leave. But, I stood my ground, and remained fixated on the spot. "Please, don't make this harder than it should be."

As I had observed him from outside, I used the detailed fatigue hung on his face to my advantage. "I know you're tired doing your job which is why I offer a helping hand."

Mock laughter rumbled out of his throat. "Are you certain you can handle this, Lady?"

"Lady Arabelle. Yes. I can handle it," I trained my gaze on him.

He turned around, his head bowing down to aim his gaze at the corpses. "I will need you to tell me what you have observed." Before he sauntered away, he informed, "I am checking other parts of the house in case there are signs of struggle, or forced entry. Anything of the like."

I gave a nod, and without a word, I began examining the dead bodies. When I bent down, I furrowed my eyebrows, creasing my forehead, at the sight of these two. It was gruesome... truly gruesome. The fact that they both died, without ever experiencing their child coming to the world was a painful thought that haunted the back of my head eternally.

My eyes trod along the body of Arnold, surveying his position. His left hand clasped around the hilt of a knife buried to his chest. I noticed that there were initials, H.H. engraved on the hilt. Then, I slid my gaze to his other hand which had a wrinkled sheet of paper. The crumple on the paper was a possible sign that it was crushed in a pulpy fist. Eventually, that fist opened up throughout the hours after death.

There was a handwriting embedded on the paper, written in capital letters which sent a shiver down my spine.

I KILLED THE QUEEN, AND MY WIFE.

I rose up to my feet while my head swirled in a pensive pool of analysis. When the investigator came back, I was ready to share information. Perhaps I could even sneak in what I knew about Arnold, and what he was like during our interrogation with Lord Adrian.

"There are signs of forced entry from the back door," the investigator shared vital information.

I pursed my lips, looking out to the horrifying view of two dead bodies on the floor, crumpled and lifeless. I pushed, "I will go check upstairs."

"It's a bloody scene up there..." The investigator trailed off.

I ignored what he said, making my way up the stairs. There was an anxious thrum in me. It was like I could feel fear. Not my fear... but another person's fear. I made my way to the bedroom of the couple, and unleashed a gasp.

The chair was overturned, away from the vanity mirror. By the slender frame of the door, there were porcelain shards of what I believed was a flower vase. I was certain that vase belonged atop a table, which was empty.

I carried my scrutiny to the mattress. Their blanket was draping toward the floor, receding from the bed. On the side, there was a crack branching on the glass of the window. It was not open, but rather shut tightly.

On the floor, there was a dropped oil lamp.

I took in enough of the scene to note in my head. I went out of the bedroom, and made my way down the stairs.

"What do you make of it, Lady Arabelle?" The investigator asked, pulling out his notepad. He exposed his fountain pen, and neared its tip to the paper.

"I can definitely tell that this is homicide," I stated, tone tight in certainty.

"Do you think Arnold killed himself after he killed his wife?" He lifted an eyebrow in question.

I breathed in, and out. "No. I believe that someone broke in to stage a scene that made it look like Arnold murdered his wife, and then committed suicide." I pressed my knowledge. "Because if this was in fact Arnold's doing, I don't see how it adds up."

"Were you able to visit this household prior the murder?"

"Days before the murder," I answered. "I was with Lord Adrian because he found a paper with Arnold's address within castle grounds."

"What was Arnold like? How about the wife?" He handed out these questions which I responded to with every ounce of honesty.

"Arnold is passionate about family, and he has been expecting the arrival of his child which he will father. He pleaded not guilty, and seemed to care for his wife," I handed out the words. "The wife, well, she didn't seem to be afraid of her husband."

As I expressed my statements, the investigator jotted down the information in his notepad, attuned to essential emphasis.

"So you have been investigating the assassination of Queen Amice, and you have come to interrogate Arnold to connect the dots. Am I right?"

"Yes. He was the lead at the time as he was in charge of preparing the wine, which ultimately led to the demise of her Majesty." I watched as he scribbled down more notes.

He revisited his notes, attempting to visualize the crime scene as it had unfolded. He frowned. "You may be right. There was an indication that someone forced their way in through the back door."

"Don't you think that the person who came in was the same person who killed the Queen, and possibly the same person who kidnapped the Crown Heiress?" I widened my eyes while uttering.

"Possibly. What did you find when examining the bodies?"

I described the knife in Arnold's chest, the motionless wife who laid next to him, and the crumpled confession note in his hand which was written in all capital letters.

"That note looks like a motive for the murder... like a frame-up since the major lead of the wine is with none other than Arnold," I said.

The investigator bobbed his head in consideration. Afterward, he kept his notepad and fountain pen away. "Thank you for your help, Lady Arabelle. The department will take care of things from here."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Days later, I found myself promenading around the port, locking arms with Aunt Genevieve. "Ivy, I apolgoize for not being able to attend the event of Lady Adelaide."

She had been apologizing ever since we left the manor. I smiled warmly at her, holding her close. "Aunt Genevieve, it's alright. I am still elated of winning which means I have most likely swayed Lady Adelaide."

There was a relieved look on her, although strained. "I'm... afraid."

"Why?" The close ends of my eyebrows drew together in perturbance. "Aunt, tell me what is bothering you."

Her eyes became shiny. "You're taking a dangerous leap, Ivy, and I am worried that you'll get caught in a crossfire." She took a shaky breath, trembling. "The world of politics is risky. If there is a chance that you do win, what happens when someone kills you?"

"Don't think like that. We have to stay positive," I tried to cheer her up, and then in an assuring tone, I continued. "I promise that I won't die."

"Good." It was all that she could muster at the moment.

We sauntered to the docks in a more relaxed manner, unlike a moment ago where Aunt Genevieve was stuck in an agitated state of discomfort.

"I am glad that you raised Rosalie right. She insisted on the charity event." I told her.

She grinned. "Ah, I raised you both the right away." There was a hint of guilt flashing across her face. I decided not to bother. "Although, I find it unfortunate that Rose can't join us right now. There can never be one person in two places at the same time."

We were headed for a ship which was not as colossal as I had imagined. From the view here, I could tell that the ship could fit a crew. I was first to board, and Aunt Genevieve followed suit.

The two of us reached the deck where four figures were present: Lord Erika, Lord Jake, Lord Adrian, and Sir Quint.

Lord Erika greeted, his voice rising over the waves of azure ocean buffeting the sides of the ship. "Welcome to the Blackbourne Legacy, Lady Arabelle, and Countess Genevieve." He lifted my hand up, and his lips brushed my knuckles. "It is an honor to have you here today."

"I must say, I am intrigued. This ship must be carrying illustrious history," I remarked.

He nodded, taking the words in delight. "Ah, yes, the Blackbourne Legacy was originally crafted as a battleship for the war in the Eastern Lands during 1871." He gestured around with a flourish. "This... is living evidence of a ship having lived through a year of horror, and tragedy, and a sign of glimmering hope for the future."

"Lord Alexander, and my brother... they made a sacrifice that hindered the Eastern lands from colonizing Helmburn," stated Aunt Genevieve in a slight grief. I could see it in her eyes. The pain. The loss.

"They are always remembered for their bravery," Lord Erika hung his head in a moment of silence, to pay tribute to Lord Alexander... and my father.

After long seconds, Lord Erika commenced the event. "Today we celebrate the Blackbourne Legacy by challenging our candidates to a game of knife throwing."

My blood went cold.

I dropped to a whisper, mumbling to Aunt Genevieve, "But I didn't prepare!"

Aunt Genevieve patted my hand softly. "I am certain someone could help you out, and teach you. Pray that we have enough time to do that."

"This sounds easy enough," said Lord Jake. He gave a smile. He was taunting me. I clenched my fists, and gritted my teeth.

"Surely you'll spare time for preparations?" Lord Adrian lifted an eyebrow.

"There will be free time before the game starts. I will hand pick the knives from the collection I brought in," Lord Erika folded his arms behind his back. "Each candidate gets three knives. The closer your knife is to bullseye, the higher the point."

Knives. I twitched at the mention.

I leaned against the railing, and sighed.

"Oh, I am eager to begin," Lord Jake rubbed his palms together. That over confident smile on him irritated every nerve I had. He knew what effect it had upon me, but I was not weak enough to display it.

"Knife throwing is to commence in twenty minutes. For now, you may seek yourselves shade from the unforgiving scorch of the sunlight in my cabin," said Lord Erika before walking off.

Aunt Genevieve hissed at my ear, "It is extremely obvious that Lord Jake is subtly taunting you." The irony of her sentence.

"I detest that man with every fibre of my being," I responded.

"Hmm, don't you think that Lord Adrian can help you?" She nudged with a knowing smirk. She was playing matchmaker. "Oh, look."

Her lips pointed at someone, which I trailed after. I witnessed Lord Adrian undressing his top, baring his taut muscles. His accentuated abdomen caught in the shower of sun. He ran a hand over his nipple, and at the sight of that, it was stimulating.

"Aunt, I know what you're doing..."

"So? Go out there, because you have my blessing." I looked at her. She winked.

I steeled myself, before marching toward Lord Adrian, who spun around and watched me approach with a smile on his face. "See something you like?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I..." Speechless, I was speechless. I was in a close distance to this man. Even without skin contact, the heat was intolerable. I had to choke back every inch of desire.

When I looked up, I remembered the feel of his lips. I remembered how his tongue duelled with mine, each pouring out the overwhelming want and need.

"Do you want to practice knife throwing? I can show you tips, and another kind if you're willing," he smiled.

I gulped back the growing lump in my throat, trying to calm down the thundering heart in my chest.

Then, I smirked. "I'll take up your offer, my Lord."

As if on cue, Lord Erika emerged with two knives in hand, giving one to Lord Jake, before giving out the other to me.

"Perfect. Now we can begin," said Lord Adrian in a voice that was deeper than usual, a tone full of temptation.

In front of us was an archery target, with the bright red bullseye catching the attention as the center.

I looked down at my knife, then to Lord Adrian who talked. "Since you are dealing with a single-edged blade, I recommend that you grip the knife with the handle facing away from you." I bobbed my head, taking in the information.

"How about the position?" I asked.

"Let's ease you up first. Your frame is tense." He positioned himself in the back. His toned front pressed to me. His fingers kneaded through the fabric. I released a small moan, which elicited a rumbling chuckle from Lord Adrian. "It is important that you are relaxed," he said as his warm breath hit the side of my neck, and tickled my ear.

"Suddenly, I want to you to mentor me more often," I chuckled.

"There are better places next time," he whispered in a deep voice, sending tingles racing through my body.

"Where do you suggest?"

"Away from prying eyes. Or if you want to be a little risky, we can do it in the fields." I could hear the smile in his voice.

He drove his knee up, angling it around the small of my back. He rekindled a fire in my abdomen. I bit back every desire threatening to make me pivot, and seal his breath with a passionate kiss.

"Sometimes, I'd take the risky path... oh!"

He giggled, and let out a hissing hush. Afterward, he continued with the teaching.

"Angling a knife is important, and that relies on the distance." He spoke.

"What else do I need to know?" I asked him.

"When you throw a knife, make sure that you are using a proper stance. Non-dominant foot on the front, and your weight on the dominant foot," he said.

Then, he kept on until it was time for me to try throwing the knife. I assumed the right stance, bent my wrist slightly, then allowed the knife to fly out of my hand. It streaked through the air, and missed the target by an inch.

I grunted in frustration.

"Don't worry. It's your first try," he assured.

"You're right. I'll keep practicing," I said as Lord Jake howled in laughter. I didn't bother giving him a glimpse of my glare as I focused all my energy on practicing.

I tossed the knife again which went forward with momentum. For a second, it clung onto the target before falling to the deck floor with a ringing clatter.

"You should back away while it's not too late, Lady Arabelle," Lord Jake raised his voice, loud enough to make sure I heard. I didn't listen. "Are you deaf?"

Lord Adrian whirled his head at him, and shot a scowl.

I was furious, but I channelled that in hurling the knife. It flipped in the air... and bounced off the target.

"This is hopeless..." I heaved out a heavy sigh, slouching.

Lord Adrian pressed a hand on my shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "I know you don't give up easily." He took a deep breath, poring over what to say next. "Wouldn't it be satisfying to wipe that smug look off of Lord Jake's face when he admits to defeat?"

I imagined the scenario.

It would be satisfying. No. It would be rewarding.

"Let's do this," I said.

His smile returned, eyes lighting up. "Alright."

Lord Erik's voice hovered over the air. "Three minutes until we start!"

I had to use the time wisely. Taking in a deep breath, with a long exhale, I readied myself. I gripped, angled the knife, and assumed my stance before throwing it again. The knife soared... and hit the target!

I jumped victoriously. "I did it! It wasn't bullseye, but I did it!"

Without thought, I hugged Lord Adrian while unchaining my gratitude. Awareness trickled in slowly, when the feel of his abs against my front became more noticeable. I was about to pull away, but Lord Adrian kept me in the embrace.

Of course, for a sweet time like this, it became sour when a horrendous shriek clawed its way into earshot. "That was not even the game yet, and your knife barely hit bullseye. I am definitely winning."

Then, I knew what to say.

"Lord Adrian, did you hear that? I thought I just heard an animal," I let my eyes wandered everywhere but the man I despised.

"I thought I was the only one," he chuckled.

Like a child with a temper tantrum, Lord Jake pounded away with hands balled into fists.

"I know that you will do well out there," Lord Adrian told me.

"I will, but I am going to need something..." I slid my eyes downwards, suddenly shy.

"What is it?" He was perplexed, clearly.

"This..." I leaned in to collide my lips with his. I wrapped my arms around his neck, while his tightened around my waist. "Hmm..." It was tender, and delicate, slowly becoming a battle of desire crashing through.

Eventually, I tore myself away, gulping in a lungful of air. "You're welcome," he grinned.

Three minutes was over.

Lord Erika proceeded across the deck to the center with Lord Jake in tow. He stood between the two targets set up, and faced us with a stoic gaze. "Allow me to further elucidate how the game will go." He cleared his throat, signaling two ship servants, each holding a tray that had two knives on it. After the brief interlude, he continued.

"Each candidate receives three knives. Once I let the game begin, its duration depends on the pace of the candidates. The game ends once all three knives hit the target," he stated, eyeing us to ensure that we were listening. "The bright red bullseye is five points, the inner white is four points, the black magpie is three, and the outer white is two."

Sir Quint stepped forward, acting as the denouement. "After this game, the points shall be tallied. Whosoever has the highest will win Lord Erik's vote." He paused, downing in the serene atmosphere somehow loaded with tension. "Focus. Be persistent, and aim calmly."

"Best of luck to House Ausleya, and House Partridge. The fate of my vote rests upon your hands, and your blades," said Lord Erika. His gaze darted back and forth between Lord Jake and I. With a start, he cued.

"Let the game begin."

Almost instantly, I was in the process of doing the steps I had been practicing. I shoved my left foot forward, with my weight on my right foot. I held the blunt edge of the blade, with the end of the handle spying at the target.

"You can do this, Ivy!" Aunt Genevieve cheered from behind.

Bending my wrist slightly, I braced for the throw.

My heart stopped in my throat as the knife flipped while it flew.

It struck outer white meaning that I gained two points with the first throw. I snuck a glance at Lord Jake, who smirked, and observed that his knife hit inner white meaning he had four points.

I couldn't be defeated again. I persisted.

Doing the same steps, I lobbed the knife which streaked through in a straight, and furious path... It pierced black magpie!

I looked at Lord Jake who confidently gave his knife a launch. His smile stayed, until the knife was in the target... or rebounded from the circular edge. He raised his heel, and stomped it down, creating a loud thud. His nostrils flared the moment his eyes laid upon my target. I watched him mouth a curse under his breath.

For the last time, the ship servant handed over the final knife. This was it. The deciding throw.

My chest rose, and fell, as I took a deep breath. I had to be calm. I had to be focused.

"I believe in you, Arabelle!" Lord Adrian cried out from behind. "Whatever happens... you're still a winner."

That made me smile.

"Ivy, it doesn't matter whether you lose, or not. I want you to know that," said Aunt Genevieve.

Exhaling, I projected the blade in my hand for one final launch. Time seemed to slow. The knife turned over so quickly, yet it felt like the opposite.

It was done.

I carried my gaze onward, to the target, to descry the third knife... landing inner white.

A gasp left my lips.

But a menacing cackle floated overhead, breaking me out of the surprise I was momentarily suspended in. I transferred my gaze to the target of Lord Jake, solely to discover that his final throw was bullseye.

"I won!" He glorified himself, more soaked in his own pride, than being soaked in ocean water. "I warned you, Lady Arabelle–"

Sir Quint raised a palm, dismissing Lord Jake. "We have not counted yet so I suggest you do not jump to conclusions, my Lord."

"How dare you interv–"

"I may intervene as I see fit," Sir Quint shot a glare. He silenced the man once and for all.

"Sir Quint, let us tally the points of the candidates," Lord Erika nudged, yanking Sir Quint out of the attention.

We waited, and when they were finished, they announced.

"It is a tie," Lord Erika declared, rather thrilled. "Since it ended with a tie, there must be a tiebreaker." He nodded at the two ship servants, who left the deck, only to come back with one more knife on their tray.

"This throw must break it, I believe," Sir Quint's gaze was on me, instead of anyone else.

Lord Jake, and I plucked the blade, then assumed our stance.

"The tiebreaker is... now!" Lord Erika barked at us, and we swiftly plunged ourselves back in the game.

I closed my eyes, then opened them again, then I cast the knife toward the target with a bellow roaring out of my mouth.

The knives were hit.

"Inner white for Lady Arabelle, and black magpie for Lord Jake, meaning that," Lord Erika revealed the winner, "our game champion is... Lady Arabelle of House Ausleya!"

The reaction I had to that was on instinct, placing my hand over my mouth in shock. Meanwhile, Aunt Genevieve rushed over to encompass me in her embrace. "You did it! I knew you'd win!" She was gleeful, her voice a pitch higher.

When we were done, I gazed at Lord Jake, expecting another tantrum. Instead, he came over, and extended a hand out. "Congratulations, Lady Arabelle for winning." The smile spread across his face was genuine, but I sensed a hint of something sinister lingering beneath it, hiding, waiting to spring out. But, I accepted for now, not wanting to indulge in anything much serious.

With Lady Adelaide, and Lord Erika's vote certainly under my belt, I was sure that I would win the competition. Perhaps I had already swayed Lord Adrian's. I chuckled.

* * *

While the event winded down, I approached Lord Erika, knowing what I had in mind. "My Lord, I would like to say that... I am honored to win your event today."

He replied with a chuckle, then he leaned closer. "I know that our votes shall not be disclosed until the conclave, but I would want you to know since you deserve it." He smiled wider. "You have my support, and my vote."

"Thank you so much! I will make sure that your vote counts," I promised. But that was not the reason I approached him. "Lord Erika, I daresay that these knives of yours are finely crafted."

"Oh, these knives are artistic creations by a bladesmith. Sir Henry Hiles. Thanks to him, I have a whole collection of melee weapons, from pocket knives, to katanas." He dropped an important piece of information I had needed.

Henry Hiles was the bladesmith who created the weapon that was deep in the chest of Arnold. The handle even had his initials.

"Do you have his address?" I inquired.

Lord Erika apprised to me the address of the bladesmith which I memorized well in my head. It was stuck there, repeating in a voice that no one could hear.

"I think that I want to have custom knives, well for the kitchen. My cousin loves to cook," I told him, concealing any trace of coming to him merely to obtain information.

His eyes lit up. "I'll have to learn a few recipes from your cousin then. I wish to impress a certain someone, but she isn't aboard this boat unfortunately."

I grinned. "All that you need to do is to be your authentic self to her. You do not have to force something dramatic like actors from the Opera House, or be like one of the star-crossed lovers confessing their love."

He gripped his chin, rubbing it in thought. Then, he perked his head up. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, almost. "I will think about it later. Once again, I am honored to have you here on the ship."

"Of course," I said, before bidding farewell, and leaving the Blackbourne Legacy to stay afloat.