Eve
Eve headed home, fishing out her keys as soon as the house came into sight. She let out a harsh sigh as she unlocked the door, feeling the weight of her feelings settle on her shoulders. She dropped the keys onto the small table by the door and headed up the stairs, going straight to her room. She was grateful for the silence that greeted her, but a selfish part of her was annoyed that she'd have to run her own bath.
She undid her braid, running her fingers through the strands. The sounds of the square floated in through the double doors that lead to the balcony, flowers masking the more unpleasant smells that came with a city. She was about to pull the crop top over her head when she heard a noise downstairs. She stiffened, moving to the landing. Her heart was in her throat as she looked at the open door. She had definitely closed it. Not locked, but she had done the latch. She was sure. She strained her ears, listening for anything else, any sign of an intruder but she heard none.
She eased down the stairs, her slipper-clad feet silent on the marble steps. The thudding of her heart made her limbs heavy. She strained to listen, praying that no one was in the house. The silence in the house was almost painful. When she was certain she couldn't hear anything she quickly moved through the ground floor, checking the rooms and closing the windows. The heat would grow, but she would feel safer. She was just closing the window in Don's study when she noticed something that looked wrong.
The drawer in his desk was slightly open, scuff marks on the deep, polished wood around the lock. She pulled the drawer open and jumped back.
A lock of hair, golden and rich.
Her finger shook as she reached for the lock, one hand covering her mouth. She thought back to the hearing, a pit of dread opening in her stomach. Nadia had been blonde, supposedly Don's type. This... could this be her hair?
No. Don- He would never. He didn't kill anyone. He wasn't capable. The evidence was circumstantial at best. But this... what jury wouldn't find this somewhat compelling? It was just what Ned needed to get the actual case moved up.
Eve dipped her hand into the drawer pulling the lock out of it. She had to get rid of it. She wouldn't let them frame Don any more than he already had been. Her suspicions were confirmed an hour later when someone was pounding on the door. She stepped out of the soothing bathwater and pulled on her silken robe. She'd burned the hair before her bath and then thrown on some herbs to mask the smell.
She had thought long and hard during that hour. Someone was working hard to make Don guilty. Whether they were covering up their own actions or trying to frame Don, they had made a mistake. She was going to find the real murderer. And she'd do it before the month was up.
She opened the door, peering out into the sunny street at two muscular, tall city guards who had the manners to blush when they saw she was in a robe.
"Eve," Ned sneered, stepping out from behind the two guards. "Good afternoon. We have a writ from the courts to search the premises."
"By all means," she said, trying to sound surprised as she stepped aside and let the men in. "Although, the house has already been searched. I'm not sure what you'll hope to-"
Ned stormed passed, pushing the door into her and knocking her back a step. The guards shared a look and gave the back of Ned's pampered head a glare, muttering apologies to Eve.
Ned headed straight for the study and Eve felt a sense of satisfaction as he opened the drawer.
"Can I help you find something, Lord Svaunall?" she asked, keeping her voice light and sweet. "The study was searched twice over during the initial search. I believe a few items were taken in."
He looked up from his search of the desk to give me an angry glare. "I want the rest of the house searched."
"Not before I get a look at that writ," she said, holding out her hand. One of the guards quickly handed her the piece of paper. She scanned it and her eyes lit up when she found that one word. "It says you only have permission to search the study, unfortunately."
"I'm sure you'll be happy to cooperate though," he said, voice hard, eyes cold. Either he planted that hair himself or he'd been tipped off by someone he trusted.
"Not without the proper channels being followed. I'm sure you understand."
"Do you have something to hide, Eve?"
"That's Duchess Mintarryl to you," she said, her heart thundering in anger. But she coolly checked her manicured nails for any dirt. "If you want to search the rest of this house, you'll need probable cause or a new writ from the courts. Although, a third time might be considered harassment. I'll have to check with a lawyer on the matter."
"One might consider this an admission of guilt."
"Are you so upset that Luc refused your request that you'll happily see any member of his family wrongly accused of a foul crime?" she asked, her composure cracking. His eyes flashed, as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear.
"I simply want the truth. And if it were you instead of your uncle I wouldn't be surprised. You're nothing but a gutter rat."
"Get out of this house. Now." Her words were hard, but her hands were shaking.
Ned opened his mouth, but one of the guards interrupted him, urging him to leave. The look Ned gave him said a thousand words. If the man hadn't been taller and thicker than the noble, he'd have beaten him bloody. But as it stood Ned had no grounds to disagree, so he begrudgingly left.
Eve locked the door when they were gone and leaned against it. She needed a plan of action. But first, she needed to bring Don his things. She headed for Zyrna Gaol, a small jail that was luxurious compared to the dungeons of the palace beside it. The jail across the street from it was made of sandstone, imported from the midlands. It was built into the city guard headquarters, the main branch of the group that spanned across the city and into the three growing settlements around it.
Eve stepped out of the heat and into the reception area of the jail. The guard on duty was one she'd met before, which made things a little easier, thank the Stars. She signed herself in under the watchful eyes of the guard, opening her satchel for his inspection. He barely looked inside, too busy sneaking glances at her breasts and making a pitiful attempt to flirt with her.
He unlocked the gate that lead to the cells and gestured for her to go first. She didn't think for a second that he was doing it to be gentlemanly. She quickly walked towards the cell she knew was Don's, if it could be called a cell. By some small blessing, these cells were comfortable. Under other circumstances, they'd be considered beautiful rooms, for example if you were sailing on a ship or stopping at an inn on the road to the south. The floor was tiled and covered with a lavish rug that you could curl your toes into. The walls were painted a deep burgundy. There was a four-poster bed with lavish blankets and cushions. There was even a toilet and a bath behind a partition. But the windows were slits in the upper wall that barely let any light in.
She didn't fool herself. This was a luxury compared to what a poorer, lower born person would have experienced. A luxury compared to what she would have experienced once upon a time, in a life that felt like it didn't belong to her any more. Don was lucky, so lucky. And yet, cursed at the same time.
He was sitting at the desk in the far corner of the room when she stepped inside, the guard locking the door after her and telling her to just shout when she was ready to leave. Don glanced up, meeting her eyes over the reading glasses he wore. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were bloodshot. His clothes were creased and rumpled, as if he'd slept in them. He looked a decade older than when she'd seen him in court yesterday.
"You look like shit," she said, crossing the room to sit on the bed.
"You don't look much better," her uncle said, turning in his chair and resting his elbow on the back of it. He smiled, but it was strained.
"I had a lovely visit from Ned," she said, and then explained what had happened.
Don loosed a deep sigh, running his hand through his hair. "Eve, perhaps you should go back south."
"What? And let Ned find any way in his power to frame you?"
"Eve," he said, his voice laced with a warning. "Leave it to my lawyer. I-"
"Your lawyer is a not worth a single coin you've paid him. If he was, you wouldn't even be in here. I can find something that's been missed. I know I can. Or something that's been hidden by that rat-"
"No." He raised his voice as he stood. She flinched, suddenly reminded that he was her uncle, older, wiser. "Ned will do anything, anything, to see me put to death for this. He's not above foul play, not above hurting you to make sure I accept my fate."
She blinked at him, lost for words.
"You didn't murder those people, Don," she said, her voice soft.
"It doesn't matter. Someone has to be brought to justice."
"This... This is not justice. I- You're insane. He's insane. This whole, damned city is insane," she said, her breaths coming heavy. "The real culprit walks free, while Ned's personal vendetta sees you in prison. Did you even ever go to that brothel?"
His jaw feathered and that was all the proof she needed that he hadn't, all the admission from her uncle she required. They had played cards enough for her to know how to read his face.
"I'm going to find evidence. At the very least enough to exonerate you. Whoever did this, they're not a ghost, not infallible."
"Please, Evelyn, just leave it alone."
"Never."
He rubbed a hand over his haggard face. "Let's... let's not talk about this anymore. Tell me about your lunch."
She watched him for a minute, but then she relented, regaling him with the stories Ali and Rik had told at lunch. She spent an hour there, before the guard commanded she leave. Almost as soon as she stepped outside, she felt the pressure of her worry slide soundly back onto her. She hadn't even realised it had been gone to begin with.
She sighed sharplyand realised that she needed a drink. And so, a drink she would get.
Need to add scene of a search taking place