Shadowguard

The moment he disappeared into the hall that led to the guest rooms, Everna deflated. She slumped against the counter, a hand pressed to her temple. A dull ache blossomed beneath her fingers, the beginnings of a nasty headache forming.

"I'll bet every coin in the coffers he'll try to pin this on me," she muttered.

"He can't do that," Melenda chided. "Nasty and pompous as that old windbag is, even he wouldn't do something so shameful. Not under these circumstances."

Everna threw her a sideways look. It wouldn't be the first time. He once accused her of poisoning his drink after she'd filled it with dirty dish water rather than ale after he'd made an inappropriate comment about her mother. Her father laughed so hard he'd nearly passed out when he learned of what she'd done.

The ones he'd flung at her brother were far worse.

"I hope, for my sake, you're right."

The guards continued making their rounds, collecting alibis and testimonies from the guests. From what Everna could hear, they hadn't much to say; none of them witnessed the crime, nor did they know who the culprit might be. It was only after Lyra stumbled into the taproom, her hands and dress covered with blood, that they realized something was amiss.

Not one of them stopped to question the man in the corner.

A younger guard who spoke with the meandering drawl common in the farmlands east of the town took her statement. He listened without interruption as she explained what had happened. By the time she finished, the entire taproom had fallen silent to listen.

"Do you know of any alternative means of entering the room?" the guard asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," Everna said. "There isn't any way into that room except the door. The window's stuck and won't open more than a few inches."

"Is it possible someone used a key to enter the room?"

She shook her head. "The keys to each room are unique, and without the master key, I don't have access to them." After a moment of thought, she added, "Though Mayor Ashburn could have opened the door himself. Or perhaps someone swiped his key?"

"And the master key?"

"Not a clue. My parents neglected to tell me where it was. If I had to guess, it'd be somewhere in my father's office, if he didn't forget to leave it. His memory's not the best. Never has been."

The guard's gaze drifted downward. "While I know that it's common practice for innkeepers to keep a weapon within reach, I have to ask why the sword is at your hip and not beneath the bar where it should be."

"A precaution," she said, then pointed to the far corner. "That man has been staring at me since he arrived. More concerning, I haven't seen anyone acknowledge his presence yet."

The guard frowned, his brows drawn low over his eyes. He turned to look where she pointed and paused. "Ah. I can see why that would put you off. Certainly seems like the type who's up to no good."

"He arrived at the same time as Mayor Ashburn," Everna said. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the cloaked man sit up straighter, the corners of his lips turned downward. "As far as I can tell, he hasn't moved from that spot since. I've been watching him."

"I think I'll leave that one for Captain Windmore," he muttered.

As if called forth by the mention of his name, Captain Windmore emerged from the hall and cleared his throat. All at once, the chatter died. Every eye turned to him and, for the third time that evening, the sickening pit in Everna's stomach widened.

"I found this buried in the good mayor's chest.” He held up a small, ornate short sword for the crowd to see. "Do any of you recognize this weapon?"

A horrible cold washed over her. It was not the chill of winter, nor the numbing bite of the frigid gust that blew through the open window. Suddenly, she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

"I do," Banor said, his rough dwarvish accent a knife plunging into her chest. "I forged it. Four years ago. It's Everna's."

Everna opened her mouth, only to snap it shut. The weapon in Captain Windmore's hand was indeed hers. She recognized the crossguard, which began at the small emerald set in the center and tread away from the hilt at a sharp angle. The blade followed a similar trend; though slightly narrowed at the base, it widened where the cross-guards stopped. Where most swords were silver, composed of iron or steel, hers shone blue beneath the torchlight.

"No," Everna said, though she knew it was true. "That can't be mine. Mine's in my room. Above my vanity. It has to be... It has to be someone else's."

"Not a chance," Banor said, and she felt the knife dig further in. "I've only forged one sword like that in my life, and that's it. That blade hasn't been used, though."

Captain Windmore ran his finger along the edge of the blade, his eyes narrowed. "I'd say it has been."

"That’s impossible," Banor argued.

Captain Windmore ignored his insistence and muttered something to the guard nearest the stairs. He turned to her then, his dark eyes burning with disgust. "This is your sword, correct?"

"It looks it, but — It's not—" It took several tries before she finally reined in her surprise and could speak properly. "No. Hang on a damned minute. You said that was in Mayor Ashburn's chest, but that's impossible. That blade would've torn through his armor without issue. His throat was—“

"I never said that was what killed him," Captain Windmore said. "How odd that you knew."

Everna released a frustrated breath through her nose.

She should've expected this. The Guard and the Inquisitors often spoke in circles to force a confession, or something similar, from a suspect, regardless of their guilt. They pressured them at every turn, lied, and manipulated the facts to trip them up. Captain Windmore was no exception; he forewent standard procedure — he should've questioned her after her detainment — to interrogate her before an audience. He seemed convinced she'd committed the crime and dead set on forcing an admission in front of as many witnesses as possible.

Now she understood why the methods she'd only read about and witnessed from the sidelines worked as well as they did. Everna knew she was innocent. She knew what his pointed questions and supposition meant to achieve, but it did nothing to stem the panic building within her. She couldn't think clearly, her thoughts frantic and disjointed. They meshed into one another, forming nothing but incoherent fragments of half-truths — anything and everything she could say to subvert suspicion — that threatened to spill from her lips before she could stop them. She swallowed all of them.

He had her cornered, and her first mistake was engaging him. Now, she had to choose her words carefully, if she didn’t,he'd have her dancing to his tune before she realized it. Damn it all.

Facts, she reminded herself. He cannot argue with facts, no matter how much he wishes he could.

"I did not kill him," she said, fighting to keep her voice even. "I have not touched my sword since the day I returned from Inversa. You heard Banor; it's never been used."

Captain Windmore raised a dubious brow and snorted. "Someone murdered the good mayor with your sword and left it behind to incriminate you? Unlikely. I think you killed him and left it there in a panic."

"Did you look in that room?" Everna asked. "Because if you did, you'd have seen the blood. The footprints. Would you like to check the bottom of my boots? I assure you they're both clean and do not match what's present at the scene."

"You live here. You could've changed your shoes."

She gritted her teeth. "No one witnessed the crime, and you have nothing but conjecture."

That statement of fact fell on deaf ears.

"No one can say that you killed him, but they can't say that you didn't either," he argued. "You're the only one without a supported alibi, from what I understand."

Damn that logic. It was a viable argument — one frequently used in court to call into question the validity of a testimony.

"You lied," she reminded him. "You said, explicitly, where you allegedly found the sword, which I know for a fact is a lie. He was lying on his stomach, not his back, and the marks on his armor do not reflect the damage my sword is capable of. It also does not have a drop of blood on it, which is odd considering you claim it was in his chest."

Captain Windmore had no intentions of listening to reason.

"That does not change the fact that your sword was present at the scene of the crime. As the daughter of the owner of this establishment, you have unrestricted access to every room in this building and knowledge of its layout. We have the weapon, and you certainly had the means to commit the crime."

Everna clenched her jaw and released a slow, deliberate breath. "As I just explained to a guard, whom you should've consulted before making wild accusations, I do not have unrestricted access to the tavern. You have a clean sword, which half the town knows I have, and nothing else."

"You could've wiped it off."

Banor opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, the guard Windmore sent upstairs returned with an empty scabbard clutched in his hands.

"This was lying on the ground in her room," he said as he handed it to Captain Windmore.

Windmore took the scabbard and slid the sword inside. It fit like a glove, offering no resistance as the blade disappeared inside the treated leather. He shook his head, though he did not look at all disappointed. Instead, he looked rather pleased with himself.

What little confidence she'd recovered vanished with a rush of icy panic as the terrible realization set in. She couldn't talk her way out of this. No matter how much truth she presented, it wouldn't be enough.

"If the shoe fits," he said, handing the scabbard back to the guard. "You already admitted you were in the room before the guard arrived. Looking for the sword, I assume? Cuff her."

Everna forced her feet to remain rooted in place as a pair of scowling guards wrenched her arms behind her back and slipped a pair of heavy shackles over her wrists. Running would not help her; she would never make it past the Guard, and it would only make her appear more guilty. Cooperation was her only choice.

She kept her head up, her gaze locked with Captain Windmore's as the guards hauled her before him. Satisfaction lit his features, the smile that split his face bordering on triumphant.

"Everna," he paused, his smile widening further, "Kinslayer, you are hereby under arrest for the murder of Arden Ashburn, Mayor of Pendel."