Evoria, Lorenne
December 1- When a Dream Becomes a Nightmare
Delara Shirazi felt like she was in a dream. She glided across the tiled floor of the royal palace toward the King. Her deep red ball gown was simple silk without any adornments. It had a sweetheart neckline and no sleeves, so she paired it with white gloves. She wore a simple diamond necklace and matching bracelet. The kingdom of Lorenne hailed Delara Shirazi as a great beauty. She was a petite woman with tawny, warm toned brown skin. Her hair was long and thick with a loose curl pattern. Her doe-like eyes were dark with long, thick lashes.
The crown prince and crown princess sat on thrones behind him. She stopped a step below them and gracefully fell into a deep curtsey. The queen–a kind-hearted, gentle woman from the kingdom of Govia–had died many years ago, leaving the crown princess to take on the responsibilities left behind.
“Rise Delara Shirazi,” the king said. He reached over and offered her his hand. She gingerly took it, and he guided her to the place next to him. “We gather here to honor Delara Shirazi, Prima Ballerina of the Lorenne Royal Ballet Company.” The masters of the ballet companies of the four kingdoms have decided to bestow our own Royal Ballet Company Prima Ballerina with the highest honor a ballerina can achieve: Prima Ballerina Assoluta!”
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause.
Lorenne was one of four kingdoms on the continent of Uvrica: the northern kingdom of Govia, the southern kingdom of Rinao, the eastern kingdom of Vrusha, and the western kingdom of Lorenne. Each of the kingdoms had their own magic tower, which oversaw the governing of magic within their respective kingdoms.
“Magic,” as it was called, was a natural energy source derived from a thick liquid substance called yana. Sorcerers used the substance to tattoo themselves, so they always had the source of magic with them. Without yana, a sorcerer could not perform magic. Not everyone had the potential to be a sorcerer. Yana was strenuous on the body, so it took high stamina and good health to channel. A shared faith united the kingdoms. The capital city-state of the religion–Silverfall–was located at the meeting point of the four kingdoms. No kingdom owned Silverfall; the religious leader governed it. The current religious leader was Patriarch Christodoulos Salvian, an old man that resembled any wise old man from stories.
The king raised his arms, and the crowd went silent again. “Delara’s first show as the kingdom of Lorenne’s first Prima Ballerina Assoluta will be Christmas Eve in the annual Christmas performance of Farah where she will play Farah herself.”
The centuries-old ballet tells the story of Farah, a young woman transported to a magical land at the annual Christmas ball. She saves the life of the land’s prince. The two fall in love and save the land together from the evil wizard threatening it. The ballet ends when the prince and Farah marry and rule the land together as king and queen. Lorenne showed this ballet every year on Christmas Eve.
Delara breathed a sigh of relief when the ball was over. On stage, with all eyes on her, was easy. Interacting with a ballroom full of nobles, all flocking to speak to her, was what was hard. She ducked into a parlor to collect herself, closing her eyes and breathing a sigh of relief. She stayed like that for a few moments before going back out and signaling to her maid who had accompanied her.
“Can you tell them to get my carriage ready?” She asked. The maid nodded and ran off.
She had begun at the Lorenne Royal Ballet Academy at only three years old. At the age of 16, she auditioned for the Lorenne Royal Ballet Company and became the youngest member of the dance company. A mere four years later, the master of the Lorenne Royal Ballet Company chose her as their Prima Ballerina upon the retirement of the Prima Ballerina of the time, Ada Langley. She believed that was her career’s pinnacle, but six years after her appointment as a prima ballerina, the Uvrica ballet companies’ directors proved her wrong by choosing her as Lorenne’s first prima ballerina assoluta.
‘Prima ballerina assoluta’ was a rare title in ballet. A prima ballerina was the best ballerina in the company, their “prime” ballerina. A prima ballerina assoluta was a rare honor only bestowed on the best of the best. Very few Uvrican ballerinas had ever achieved this status. Delara was one of very few in Uvrica history.
As she waited, a woman she recognized came up to her. “Countess Langley, it is an honor to see you again!” she exclaimed. She bowed her head at her predecessor, and now the wife of a count. The former prima ballerina had met and married an older count soon after she retired. Delara wasn’t sure the count and countess loved each other, but they seemed quite friendly towards one another. Ada Langley had always been considered a great beauty, even as she got older. Her dark hair was long, and straight.
Ada Langley beamed at her. “Miss Shirazi, the honor is mine. Congratulations. I’ve always been impressed by you, but today you had me floored! I cannot wait to see you dance in Farah. You will be spectacular.”
Delara smiled. “Your performance as Farah is still my favorite iteration. Countess, you are the reason I became a ballerina in the first place.”
Ada Langley smiled back. “You are too kind, Miss Shirazi. You have far surpassed my wildest dreams. I hope we can speak again after your show in a few weeks.”
Delara watched as the countess left the palace. Countess Langley used to be the ballerina everyone fawned over. Now even the Countess was fawning over her. She couldn’t believe how much everything had changed. Even when Delara was the prima ballerina, the countess didn’t speak so highly of her. Of course, her predecessor had always been kind and complementary, but it had been more like a mentor-mentee relationship. “I guess it’s different now,” she muttered.
She strolled outside and stared up at the starry sky. Today marked the beginning of the Christmas season, the first Sunday of Advent. In a mere 24 days, she was dancing in Farah as Farah herself. It wasn’t her first time in the role, and it wouldn’t be her last, but this time was different. This time she was the first Prima Ballerina Assoluta of Lorenne. The Countess had reminded her of how different this performance would be, how different every performance would be now.
A sound woke from her reverie. She crept down the stairs and into a dark corner. If she hadn’t heard something, she wouldn’t have known this nook was here. “Hello?” she called. “The ball is over, you should really be–” she froze. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
On the ground was the king, bleeding out from a stab wound. Crouched over the king, one hand over his mouth, the other hand plunging the knife into the King’s chest again was none other than the crown prince.
Delara wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. The prince went ashen as he let go of the knife before he could pull it back out. He stood up from the dying king and slowly approached Delara. “You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. At that moment, the prince looked more beast than human.
Delara didn’t know what to do, so she turned and ran. The Prince was a skilled sorcerer. She didn’t want to know what a murder with magic would do to her, a witness to his crimes.
She ran until she crashed into the crown princess coming out of the palace to say farewell to guests leaving. The princess grabbed Delara by the shoulders. “What’s wrong, Miss Shirazi? Are you alright?”
“The–the–the crown–the crown prince,” she stuttered.
“Breathe Miss Shirazi,” the crown princess said calmly. “Just tell me what happened.”
The crown princess–Sarai Díez De Leon–was a quiet, kind woman, originally a princess from the kingdom of Rinao. She was described as cute, or pretty, but never beautiful. She had a soft, round face with big, blue doe eyes and bow shaped lips. Her hair was full, wavy, and cotton candy pink.
No one would blame her if she turned bitter about being married to the crown prince, but she never did. Her husband–Crown Prince Charlamagne De Leon–was a known cheater. He slept his way through the ladies-in-waiting for his wife and his mother. When there were no more ladies left, he went after the maids.
Charlamagne had a sharp, hard look to him. Everything about his facial features was the opposite of his wife. His hair was long and wavy, but not full like Sarai’s.
She knew her husband was a cheater, but would she believe he was a murderer?
“I–I can’t explain,” Delara said, fear creeping into her voice. “I can show you.” Delara led the crown princess to the alcove. When they came upon the sight, the crown princess gasped and stumbled back.
The king lay dead and bloodied on the ground, the knife still in his chest. The crown prince was nowhere in sight. “He was just here!” Delara cried. She turned to the crown princess. “I swear, he was just here!”
“Who was just here?” the crown princess asked, tearing her eyes from the king’s body.
“The crown prince!” Delara sobbed. “He was just here!”
The crown princess swallowed her tears. “I understand. He must have found the body, and you found them. I’m sure he’s just getting help.”
“No, no, no!” Delara cried.
The crown princess grabbed Delara’s hand and pulled her back to the steps of the palace. “Go home, Miss Shirazi. I’ll–” her voice cracked, but she kept talking, “I’ll take care of everything.”
Soon, her carriage pulled up and Delara was on her way home. “What was I thinking?” she muttered. “Why would the crown princess believe her husband–the now-king–committed regicide?”
December 2- When the Stars Align
It was the day after the murder, and Delara could barely focus at the first rehearsal for Farah. Fortunately, she knew this ballet well and could rely on muscle memory. She didn’t know what to do. She knew a murderer’s rule would ruin the kingdom, but what could a ballerina do? Delara was the only one outside the royal family who knew the king was dead. The crown prince had ordered absolute silence on the matter until he finished his investigation–of himself, but no one but her knew that. Then the king’s death would be announced. She wanted to tell everyone what happened and disobey the crown prince and princess, but that could be the death of her. She doubted anyone would believe her, anyway.
When rehearsal was over, she put on her dressing gown and left the studio. There was a cafe nearby that she ate at after every rehearsal. Christmas decorations adorned the cafe, but Delara barely noticed.
She ordered what she always ordered and went to sit at her usual table, but this time, a man was sitting there.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
The man turned. “What do you want?” he asked.
Delara’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, Duke Thorsen. I didn’t realize it was you. Nevermind.”
She turned to leave, but Duke Thorsen grabbed her arm. “If you have something to say to me, just say it, Miss Shirazi.”
“It’s nothing,” she stammered. “I just normally sit there. I come here every day after rehearsal. I apologize for bothering you.”
“Then, by all means, sit,” Duke Thorsen said. “I would be pleased if you joined me.”
The duke stood and pulled out the chair across from him. Delara sat down and tentatively started to sip her drink.
She had never met Duke Ahmund of Thorsen, but she knew that he was second in line for the throne after Crown Prince Charlamagne. He was elusive at social events, if he even attended in the first place. He was the illegitimate son of the former duke, raised apart from the duke’s family until he was ten. When he was ten, his half-brother–the legitimate heir to the dukedom–died in a hunting accident. The old duke had young Ahmund brought to his residence and taught to take his dead half-brother’s place. Six years later, Ahmund’s father went to war and never returned. The 16-year-old bastard became the youngest duke in Lorenne's history. According to rumors, Duke Ahmund of Thorsen was a beast in battle. The king sent Ahmund—at the suggestion of Prince Charlamagne—to finish the war his father died in. After a swift success, Charlamagne made sure the king sent the young duke to lead every battle for the kingdom. It had been ten years since then.
“I think this is our first time speaking,” Delara said hesitantly.
“It is,” the duke said. “The reason I wanted you to join me was because I heard what happened yesterday from the crown princess.”
Delara’s breath caught in her throat. What if the duke accused her of murdering the king?
“She said you were rambling about the crown prince,” the duke said. “Her Highness asked me to speak to you to find out what exactly you saw. I have been ordered to investigate this case on behalf of the royal family. The crown princess insisted someone outside the family investigate. Of course, we can’t speak of such a sensitive matter here. I would appreciate it if you came with me to my residence so we could speak in private.”
~ ~ ~
Delara could barely breathe as she mentally prepared herself to tell the duke what she saw. Would he believe her? Would the royal family accuse her of regicide? Would the duke?
Suddenly, Duke Thorsen took her hand. “I understand you went through a very traumatizing experience and that you can’t speak to anyone about what you saw. Take your time and collect yourself. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Delara swallowed. “You don’t think I murdered the king?” she asked.
The duke leaned back, looking confused. “Why would I think you murdered the king? He just gave you one of the highest honors in your field. You aren’t even a suspect. You’re a witness.”
Delara nodded. “Thank you, Duke Thorsen. I think I’m ready to tell you what happened to the king.”
The duke nodded. “Take your time. Please use as much detail as possible.”
“I had just finished talking to Countess Ada Langley. I was waiting for my carriage when I went outside. I heard a noise, so I went to find it. I thought maybe someone was wandering where they weren’t supposed to be. I found this isolated little nook. That’s when I saw it: the crown prince crouched over his majesty, stabbing him in the chest. The prince saw me and started to come towards me saying that I shouldn’t be there in this scary voice. I thought he was going to attack me, so I ran. That’s when I ran into the crown princess.” She leaned forward, her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this happened,” she sobbed. She looked up, panic in her eyes. “I swear to you I’m not lying!”
Duke Thorsen took her hands again. “I believe you. Breathe. I promise you I’m going to find a way to prove what happened.”
Delara believed him. Duke Thorsen hadn’t fought in a war in a few years, ever since the last war ended. Duke Thorsen had advanced crime investigation in his time after the last war. He had theories on how to apply science to criminal investigations. Many in police-work doubted him, but his theories helped them solve numerous, high-profile cases. If anyone could prove her right, it was him.
The duke stood up. “I’m going to get you some tea. Stay as long as you want. I don’t want you going home until you’re ready.”
The duke came back a few minutes later with a tray. He prepared her a cup of tea and sat back down on the couch across from her.
~ ~ ~
Delara woke up with a start. She was still in the duke’s house, but she was lying on the couch with the duke’s jacket over her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I must have fallen asleep,” she muttered. She looked around and saw the duke asleep, still sitting on the couch across from her.
The duke’s eyes opened. “You’re awake,” he said with a smile. “You finished your tea and fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so I left you where you were.” He glanced out the window. “It’s really late. I can’t let you travel so late at night. I’ll prepare you a guest room.”
Delara didn’t know what to say and just watched the duke leave to prepare a room for her.
He came back a while later. “Your room is ready. One maid knew you were still here and gave you a nightgown to borrow.” He led her to a large bedroom. On the bed was a folded nightgown. A candle was lit on the nightstand. “I hope this is to your liking. In the morning, I’ll have a maid clean your clothes for you. After breakfast, I’ll have my carriage driver take you home.”
Delara nodded. “Thank you, Duke Thorsen. You’ve been so kind to me.”
The duke smiled. “Of course. It’s the least I could do. Sleep well, Miss Shirazi.”
December 3- When the Hunt Begins
Delara woke up the next morning. It took her a second to remember where she was. She got up and found her clothes folded on a chair. She got dressed and worked her way to the dining room, where Duke Thorsen was already dressed and seated. He stood and walked over to another chair, pulling it out. “Good morning Miss Shirazi. Please have a seat. Breakfast will be out soon.”
Delara sat down and Duke Thorsen returned to his chair. “Thank you for your generosity, Duke Thorsen. You’re nothing like the rumors say.”
“Ah,” the duke said, his smile dropping. “The rumors. A monster who revels at the sight of blood. A bastard who thinks he’s too good to associate with the other nobility.” Some servants brought out the breakfast, and he started to eat. “You don’t know me. How do you know they aren’t true?”
“Because you have a good heart,” she said simply. “I can tell.” After a few minutes, she asked, “how are you going to prove my story?”
“Oh,” he said. “Yes. The knife was still in the body. Most don’t realize how unique our bodies truly are. I have discovered that no two people have the same ridge patterns on their fingertips. I call them fingerprints. Our bodies produce oils that can transfer these patterns to other surfaces. I have developed a powder that can reveal these patterns on surfaces. After you went home, the crown princess contacted the prince. She insisted that he call me in to look at the crime scene. I need to process the fingerprints on the knife. Then all I have to do is collect fingerprints from the prince and compare them to the ones found on the knife. Of course–if they match–the prince can say he was trying to help the king. He’s claiming he found the body and then you found him. He says you panicked and ran before he could explain.”
“I saw him stab the king!” Delara shouted.
“I know, Miss Shirazi,” the duke said. “The fingerprints aren’t going to be enough. I drew the crime scene so I could study it later. The king’s body is awaiting my examination. The prince won’t let anyone else know about the murder, so I have to do everything myself.”
“I want to help,” Delara declared suddenly.
“What?” Duke Thorsen asked. “You’re already busy with Farah and I wouldn’t want to dredge up the trauma of witnessing a murder.”
“I want to help,” Delara said again. “I have rehearsal from 7 am to 1 pm. Every day but Sunday. Outside that window, I’m free. Please, let me help.”
“Alright,” the duke said reluctantly. “Can we meet at the same cafe as yesterday tomorrow after your rehearsal?”
December 4- When a Crime is Re-lived
Delara watched as Duke Thorsen kneeled on the ground, staring at the puddle of dried blood.
“That’s where the king bled out,” Delara said.
“I know, but you can learn a lot from bloodstains,” he commented. “Thankfully, this alcove has a stone floor, not grass. Interestingly, you can see where the perpetrator stepped in the blood. It made a footprint impression. Can you hand me my notebook and a pencil?”
She nodded and watched him draw the footprint in great detail. “I wish there was another way to preserve a perfect image of something, but there isn’t.” He handed her the notebook when he was done. “We will have to compare this print to the prince’s shoes. It should be the same. I collected the knife from the police while you were at rehearsal. I also drew the scene so we can recreate it in model form.”
“I don’t see much at the crime scene,” Delara commented.
“You’re right,” the duke answered. “It’s pretty bare bones. Quite straight forward. Someone lured the king to this alcove, presumably because of how isolated it is. Note how there are no windows, pathways, and how it is hidden from view.” He stood up. “Come on. There’s nothing more to see here. We will take the next four days to make a miniature replica model of the crime scene. That way, I can see the entire scene and interact with it.”
December 5- When There’s a Spark
The sitting room they had been using was getting pretty cluttered. A paper bag with the knife sat on the table. Boxes were all over the floor. Each was labeled: crime scene, footprint, autopsy, witness statements, victim history, suspect history, knife, bloodstain.
Delara sat on one of the couches, waiting for the duke. She was still in her rehearsal clothes with a dressing gown over it. Duke Thorsen came in holding a large box. “You’re here,” he said, with a look of slight surprise on his face.
“I said I’d help you,” she commented. “What’s the box for?”
“It has my modeling supplies so we can recreate the crime scene,” he said. “I want to develop a way to create perfect images of the crime scenes, but that’s years away. I’m thinking something can be done with light.”
He set the box on the floor and sat next to it. He patted the floor next to him. “Oh! Yes,” she stammered as she sat down next to him.
“Let’s get started,” he said cheerfully.
They had been working on the model for hours. Delara stared at Duke Thorsen. This duke was nothing like she was told. He wasn’t cold, just a little aloof. He wasn’t heartless, but he wasn’t kind to just anyone. She quickly looked away when he saw her staring.
“What is it?” he asked.
Her face turned red for a moment. “Nothing!”
He smirked. “Like what you see or something?”
She turned redder, but didn’t say anything.
December 6- When the Monster Becomes a Protector
Delara could feel Duke Thorsen’s heartbeat pounding on her back. One arm held her against his chest. He gently pressed his other hand on her mouth. “Don’t say a word,” he breathed. After a few moments, he let her go. “I’m so sorry,” he said, face red and his hand over his face. “I just acted on instinct when I saw him because I thought he’d hurt you.”
Delara looked at her feet. “Thank you. I didn’t even notice Prince Charlamagne. If you hadn’t been here, I’m not sure what would have happened.”
The duke’s jaw tightened. “I have a pretty good idea what would have happened, and it’s nothing good.” He placed a hand on her back and guided her out of the alleyway. “I’m going to take you home. I can see how rattled you are.”
Delara shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”
The duke’s face softened. “I understand. I promise you nothing will happen to you because I’m going to make sure you stay safe.” He guided her into his carriage. She’s more scared than she’s letting on, he thought. She probably doesn’t want to be alone, but doesn’t know how to say it. “Why don’t you come back to the manor for some tea?”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
~ ~ ~
Ahmund looked down at Delara, who had fallen asleep on the couch again. He didn’t want to wake her, but it wasn’t a good idea for her to stay the night again. She had a reputation to protect. He gently shook her shoulder. “Miss Shirazi,” he called quietly. “Miss Shirazi.”
She woke up with a start. “Oh! I fell asleep again. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he said with a smile. “You wouldn’t have fallen asleep if you didn’t need the rest. Would you like me to have a carriage take you home?”
She nodded. “Thank you for your kindness, Duke Thorsen.”
December 7- When the Lion Hunts the Rose
Delara’s rehearsal had just ended. She was about to walk over to the cafe to meet the duke when a large hand grabbed her arm. “Delara Shirazi,” an icy voice said.
She turned to see Prince Charlamagne and her blood ran cold. “Your highness, what can I do for you?” She struggled to keep her voice calm and even.
“We need to talk,” he said as he pulled her towards an alleyway.
“Where are you going with my witness, Charlamagne?” the duke asked. She hadn’t even noticed him come over.
“Ahmund,” Charlamagne said, “I just wanted to speak to her. That’s all.”
“You don’t need to hold her arm like that to talk,” the duke retorted. “I’m the one investigating this case. Anything you need to say to the witness, you can say to me.”
“It’s not about the case,” Charlamagne huffed. “Just leave us alone.”
Ahmund sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve been like this since we were children, Charlamagne. You try to intimidate people into doing what you want and then deny it when you’re caught. Look at her, Charlamagne! She’s terrified of you! Any reasonable person would when you act like this. If you were more observant, you wouldn’t depend on me so much.”
Charlamagne scowled, but dropped her arm. “You’re worse than your brother. He never would have spoken to me like that.”
The duke gently grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. “My brother was a spineless, weak boy. My father learned from those mistakes when raising me. I’m acting exactly how the old duke wanted me to.”
Charlamagne turned on his heel and stormed away. The duke turned and looked at Delara. “Miss Shirazi, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
She was shaking like a leaf and couldn’t even look at him. She didn’t say a word.
I didn’t think he hurt her, but he triggered something, he thought. Maybe Charlamagne reminded her of someone in her past. He took off his jacket and put it on her shoulders. He guided her to his carriage.
He got her to a quiet room in his manor. He sat across from her. “Are you alright?”
Delara nodded, but she was still shaking a little.
“Did he hurt you?”
She nodded. “My arm hurts, but that’s it.”
He kneeled in front of her. “May I see?”
She nodded and gave him her arm. The spot the prince grabbed was starting to bruise. “I have a poultice I used to use on the battlefield. It will help fade the bruise. I’ll go get it.” He stood, but she grabbed his arm before he could go. He placed a hand on hers. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
He hurried into his office and grabbed a jar and bandages. He ran back to the sitting room where Delara was waiting. Ahmund kneeled in front of her and applied the poultice. He carefully wrapped it in the bandages. He started to stand, but she grabbed his hands. “Can you…we stay like this for a bit?”
He nodded. “Whatever you need.” Something definitely happened to her, he thought. Maybe an ex?
“I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” she whispered. “He didn’t even do anything.”
“That doesn’t invalidate your feelings,” he said. “You can’t help how you feel.”
“Can you just talk to me?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said with a smile. “What would you like me to talk about?”
“Anything”
“Alright.” he thought for a moment, before starting his story. “Before the old duke took me in, I lived with my mother. She never told me who my father was. She ran a laundry business. When I was a child, I helped support her by running errands for people. She got sick when I was nine and couldn’t work anymore. My job as an errand boy wasn’t enough to support the both of us, so I dropped out of school to get another job. I worked at a textile factory for a year before she died. She died within a week of my half-brother. My father found me soon after she died and took me to his manor–this manor. I was homeschooled for a little while before he sent me to the royal academy. I didn’t fit in with the other kids. They were all born noble, but I wasn’t.”
“Did you like your dad?” she asked.
“He wasn’t bad,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t love him and he didn’t love me, but we got along well enough. He loved my half-brother, and I was a cheap replacement from a mistake he made. My mother wasn’t a mistress. They met before he was engaged to my step-mom. They dated quietly, but he broke it off when the king set him up with my step-mom. He didn’t want to cheat on his soon-to-be-wife. I was born 9 months later. My step-brother was born months after me. My step-mom wasn’t too bad. She mostly left me alone, which is better than if she tormented me. She died two years after I moved into the manor.” He looked into Delara’s eyes. “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “Your voice is calming.” She looked away. “I’m sorry. That sounded really strange. I’m sorry for making you kneel for so long. You can sit on the couch if you like.”
He sat on the couch next to her. “It’s alright. You were clearly rattled by what happened.”
She smiled at him. “You saved me from Charlamagne yet again. I must seem pathetic.”
“Why would I think you’re pathetic?” he asked. “Being scared of someone who threatened you doesn’t make you pathetic.”
December 8- When the Lions Fights the Monster
Duke Thorsen slammed Charlamagne into the wall. They were alone at the duke’s manor. “If I catch you with Miss Shirazi ever again, you’re going to regret it.”
Charlamagne tried to push him away, but he wasn’t strong enough. “Let go of me!”
The duke tightened his grip. “Leave Miss Shirazi alone. Do I make myself clear?”
Charlamagne nodded. “Yes, fine. I’ll leave her alone. Now let me go!”
The duke let him go and dusted himself off. “Good. Remember, I’m not my brother. He would have been a duke you could have pushed around and controlled. I’m not. Noblemen are spineless creatures. I’m not a nobleman, not a real one, at least. You controlled me through your father for years. I’m not letting you do that anymore.”
Charlamagne straightened his clothes. “I’m going to be the king in a few days. Once that happens, I can have you executed for what you just did, Fitzroy.”
The duke laughed. “Oh, will you now? You don’t have the guts. You’re just as spineless as my brother. That’s why you make me do everything for you. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re something you’re not.” He started to leave, but paused. “You seriously didn’t think I’d be bothered with you calling me Fitzroy, did you?” He chuckled. “You really are inept.” With that, he left the prince fuming alone.
He could never tell Delara what he just did. She believed he was a good person, and he didn’t want to ruin her perception of him with his stupid impulses. Charlamagne brought out the worst in him. She was going to be finished with her rehearsal in less than an hour and he wanted to meet her outside the studio in case the prince was dumb enough to show up again, even after he threatened him.
December 9- When Traces are Revealed
Delara pulled on the fabric gloves the duke had given her. “What exactly are we doing?”
“Examining the evidence. The footprint and the knife.”
“What all is there to see on the knife?” she asked.
“Fingerprints,” he said. He took her hand and flipped it over to the palm side. “Look at your fingertips. Do you see the lines?” She nodded. “Those lines are ridges, raised parts on your skin. I have never seen two people with the same fingerprints. Our skin produces oils and moisture. These substances come from tiny holes on our ridges called pores. When we touch a surface, we leave an image of our fingerprints behind.” He let go of her hand and picked up a canister of white powder. “This powder clings to the oils of the fingerprint and allows us to see the prints and lift them from the surface using tape.” He picked up a large, soft makeup brush. He carefully dipped the brush in the powder and tapped off the excess. Ahmund gently brushed the powder over the smooth wooden handle of the knife. The impression of a hand appeared. He pulled a magnifier over the knife. “Not all latent prints are good enough to use for analysis. But, there is one good, clear print on this knife. Can you hand me the tape?”
Delara obliged. “This tape?”
He glanced at it and nodded. “I need a one and a half inch piece.” He took the piece and carefully placed it over the powdered print. Once it was stuck on, he carefully lifted it off the knife. “Quickly, the black charcoal paper.” He gently stuck the tape to the paper. He leaned back. “Perfect.”
“Is that it?” she asked.
“For now. I still have to do a more detailed examination of it. For now, we’re going to move on to the footprint. I want to identify what type of shoe it’s from.”
Delara grabbed the drawing of the shoe print. “So what are we looking for, exactly?”
Duke Thorsen offered Delara his arm. “We’re off to the premier cobbler in the capital. We’re going to compare this shoe print to the shoes in the store until we find a match.” he leaned closer to her. “Are you prepared to be publicly seen with the Duke Thorsen, Miss Shirazi?”
Delara turned red. “It’s late,” she stammered. “Not many people will be out.”
Duke Thorsen only chuckled.
December 10- When a Monster’s Heart Turns Light
Ahmund sighed. He wasn’t able to see Delara today. She was helping at the ballet academy this afternoon after her own rehearsal. He thought she’d be like any other witness he’d talked to, but then she decided to help him investigate.
She was an attractive woman. He was thankful to have the help. Working alone got old and tiresome after a while. He found himself working better with her than he did with anyone else he’d ever worked with before.
He thought what he was feeling when he was with her was platonic friendship and nothing more until he saw Charlamagne when they were leaving the cafe on December 6. He had remembered she said Charlamagne had threatened her the day she witnessed the murder. Before he realized what he was doing, he had pulled her into the alley. He was sure she could feel his heart pounding as they hid. He didn’t mean to grab her like that, but his body acted on its own. That was the moment he knew he suspected his feelings weren’t platonic. His suspicions were confirmed the next day. When he saw Charlamagne grabbing Delara and pulling her towards an alley, he felt fear and rage, feelings he had never felt together before because of a woman.
He was falling in love with Delara Shirazi, a woman he knew he would never be worthy of. There was no way the prima ballerina assoluta of Lorenne would love the cold-hearted bastard duke of common descent. She deserved someone so much better than him.
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