Staying on Top Read online

  Table Of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Staying on Top

  Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Corrigan. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: September 2018

  ISBN: 978-0-9862573-4-6

  Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

  This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Beatrin Oriole nee DeValeriel stood in the lavish bathroom attached to her childhood bedroom and splashed water on her face. She stared at her severe pixie cut and heavily mascaraed hazel eyes and tried not to notice how her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror looked so much older than it used to. She remembered the young girl with her long, curled brown hair and smooth, rosy skin, who could never imagine getting crow’s feet around her eyes. If she’d thought about it, Beatrin DeValeriel would have said she might someday get laugh lines.

  No one would suggest that Beatrin Oriole had laugh lines.

  At least I look better than I did on my wedding day. She touched up the foundation around her eyes. Wrinkles are one thing, but no one looks good in tears.

  Somehow, she could never come up to this room without thinking of her wedding day, which should have been reason enough to avoid it. Yet this suite of rooms was the only place left in the world that felt like it belonged to her. It was in her brother’s estate, of course, but Baurus would never change it or keep her away from it if she really wanted it, so she found herself seeking its familiarity whenever Baurus decided to hold a gala, which was all too frequently these days.

  I thought after Callista died… Well, I don’t know what I thought.

  Beatrin had expected the queen’s death would affect her brother. After all, he had been her most frequent and infamous lover, if not her only one, and he adored her, despite her infinite flaws. If he had holed himself up in his estate or gone on an extended vacation overseas or even become a public drunkard, she would have understood.

  Instead, he had decided that if he couldn’t shock society by sleeping with his cousin’s wife, he was going to find as many other ways to do it as he could. He’d started attending Assembly meetings, and at first, Beatrin had thought he was finally taking his hereditary duty seriously. But then he started siding with the Merchants as often as he did with the Imperials, and an equal share of the time, he started going off about creating laws to help the commoners instead of exclusively the wealthy. Beatrin had hoped his brief stint of civic-mindedness would pass, but six months after his stint in a Valeriel holding cell, he seemed determined to stay the course.

  At least he doesn’t expect people to go along with his insanity.

  All of this would have been embarrassing enough if Baurus had at least made an effort to keep out of the Valeriel Tribune, but he’d begun throwing an endless stream of galas, all of which made the front page of the Society section. Beatrin had hoped that part of his motivation was seeking a wife to soften his image, but despite all the press, his name hadn’t been linked with any woman’s for more than an idle moment of speculation.

  Of course, it wasn’t the galas that were the problem so much as the people he invited. At first, he asked a few of his new Merchant cronies from the Assembly. Beatrin had managed to grit her teeth through these. Zevier Marsh and Travor Skid might have worked in trades, but they were part of the government, and they knew their place. Baurus had crossed a line tonight, though, when he invited Entertainers.

  No, she thought. I will not even acknowledge that with a capital letter. This new generation making money off moving pictures and rock bands and whatever else may be trying to form their own guild to rival the Merchants and the Imperials, but I will never acknowledge them.

  Beatrin didn’t know how Baurus had met Coelis Crest, Philindra Dixie, and Mandrick Pane, but Baurus had put them on the guest list for his autumnal equinox gala. And of course, the fools didn’t have the decency to realize they weren’t supposed to come—not that Baurus helped matters by treating them like treasured friends.

  In her heart of hearts, Beatrin knew that part of the reason she resented the entertainers so much was that she envied them. They were the young and beautiful up-and-comers, with wealth that didn’t come with years of Imperial traditions and obligations. She wondered if Baurus felt as old as she did, standing next to this new generation, but she knew he didn’t. He was a man and considered the most eligible bachelor in the city, even though he was thirty-five. She, on the other hand, would be forty in another two months, and five minutes of dabbing had not covered the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.

  She almost wished her mother were there because the Dowager Duchess Augustille DeValeriel was the only person who despaired of Baurus as much as Beatrin did. Baurus didn’t listen to either one of them, but sometimes, Beatrin appreciated having someone sympathize with her.

  Of course, I’m not so much someone Mother commiserates with as complains at—not that I can blame her. I, unlike Baurus, listen to her. Somehow, though, that meant that Beatrin got blamed for Baurus’s flaws as well as her own, even though she had been a perfect Imperial and daughter in the twenty years since her forcible removal from the company of Garson Grey.

  Beatrin stifled something she wasn’t sure was a laugh or a cry. That’s the kicker, of course: that Garson is here to witness my humiliation. The Valeriel Tribune’s premier reporter on the social life of the city’s elite, and Beatrin’s former lover, attended most high-society parties, and never had she seen him fawn over anyone like he did over Coelis Crest.

  After that, Beatrin had consumed a few more drinks than was appropriate for someone of her station and decided to come up here to avoid embarrassing herself. And so she had come full circle because between the memory of the party and the crow’s feet in the mirror, she wanted another drink.

  Besides, I need to get back to the party before anyone notices my absence.

  She couldn’t help taking a minute to gaze about her old bedroom. It looked as austere as the day she’d left, all mauve and mahogany, as her mother had decided befitted the daughter of a prince. None of the Imperial houses of Valeriel used pink as a color, but the DeValeriel black and red was reserved for the men of the line.

  The only thing out of place was the slightly ajar closet door. She could have let it be, but somehow, it seemed the one thing that evening she could control. She moved toward the door and pushed it shut. When the latch didn’t click as she expected, she pushed again, harder this time.

  The door bounced back, and something fell out. That’s odd. That looks like a
hand. If one of those idiots got drunk and came up to my room and… shut themselves in the closet? Even as she thought the words, she realized how little sense they made. She pulled open the door.

  A body tumbled out.

  Beatrin took in the blond hair, the garish pink dress that clashed horribly with the room’s tasteful mauve, and the ashen skin too pale to exist on a living person.

  Fabulous. Starlet Coelis Crest had not only had the audacity to come to a gala she had no business attending, but while she was there, she had the poor taste to get murdered.

  Chapter 1

  “Well, I guess this is good night.”

  Kadin Stone stood on the front stoop of her brother’s townhouse and reminded herself that she wanted her date to kiss her.

  The night was balmy despite the calendar switching to autumn earlier that day. A moon hung nearly full in the west while the one in the east showed barely a sliver. Stars twinkled between them in the darkening blue sky of late evening. All in all, the night was perfect, yet Kadin couldn’t wait for it to be over.

  This is not how you’re supposed to feel, she told herself. You should be happy you’ve held onto a boyfriend for six months. If things continue, he’ll propose in the next few months.

  Somehow, no matter how many times she gave herself this lecture, her stomach did a swan dive every time she thought of spending the rest of her life married to Dahran White. She didn’t object to marriage in general, she told herself, and she was too practical to expect the butterflies-in-her-stomach kind of romance her friend Trinithy Gold imagined with every gentleman who took her out.

  I just want someone who doesn’t condescend to the waitstaff. Kadin ground her teeth at the memory of Dahran chewing out their waitress that evening for splashing a drop of water on the table. Is that too much to ask?

  “I suppose it must be.” Dahran’s voice held disappointment, and Kadin felt a stab of guilt. She should be as happy to spend time with him as he was to spend time with her.

  Not that I understand why he likes me so much. I’m not exactly a scintillating conversationalist on these dates. Mostly, he did the talking, while she did the looking pretty. She guessed that was all he wanted in a girlfriend, which at least meant the hours she spent primping for their dates wasn’t in vain. Her red hair did not curl itself. Her pale skin did not blush delicately on its own, and the lashes around her brown eyes did not curl so prettily without mascara.

  Kadin took a step back toward the door. “I had a great time. We’ll have to do it again some time.” She laughed to show she was kidding. They had plans to try out a new club the next evening and to go to the autocar race on Saturday, in addition to seeing each other every day at work.

  “Come here.” Dahran barely spoke the words as warning before he pulled her closer, but they were enough that she avoided tensing in his arms.

  Standing so close to him, she wondered if he put nearly as much effort into his appearance as she did. She suspected he didn’t and added it to the list of things she would try not to resent him for. His slicked-down dark-brown hair and crystal-blue eyes had most of the girls in the office swooning, and the straight white teeth of his killer smile had more than one of the sideways men turning their eyes his way as well.

  Dahran’s lips descended on hers, and she did her best to make her mouth warm and inviting, as if she had any idea how to do that. His arms went around her, and she’d focused her defenses so much on not stiffening that she almost jumped in surprise when he slid his tongue into her mouth. She jerked her jaw fast enough that she didn’t clamp her incisors down on the offending organ, but her normal teeth squeaked against his perfect ones, which she suspected was not the least bit sexy. He must not have been too offended, though, because he maintained the kiss for a few moments longer, and when it ended, he let out a sigh.

  “Kay, you’re amazing,” Dahran whispered against her forehead.

  Am I? She didn’t feel particularly amazing. She felt phony. She felt passive. She felt like Dahran was an idiot for not realizing that she could barely stand to have him touch her.

  As she did when she started having uncharitable thoughts about Dahran, Kadin remembered Trinithy’s list of his virtues. He’s handsome. He’s employed. We have work interests in common. He likes me. And I’m not as pretty as Trinithy, so I can’t just dump every guy who shows an interest in me.

  Dahran reached into his coat. “I wasn’t going to do this now. I was going to wait for the perfect moment, but every moment with you is perfect.”

  Holy shit! Kadin chastised herself for swearing. He’s going to propose right now. Dahran continued to blather, but her heartbeat was so loud and her breathing so shallow that she couldn’t listen to what he was saying

  Oh, Deity save me. I can’t marry him. I can’t.

  You have to, you idiot. Have you been leading him on all this time? You need to get married. You need to move out of your brother’s house. What are you waiting for, anyway— Duke Baurus himself to come down off his Imperial Estate and sweep you away from your life? If he planned to do it, he would have done it six months ago.

  She didn’t know where that thought came from. After her brief interaction with Duke Baurus in the wake of his lover’s murder, she might have harbored a fantasy or two about him. After all, she’d believed he hadn’t murdered Queen Callista when no one else had. But she knew she was merely a helpful commoner to him. Dahran was reality, and if he was asking her to marry him, she had to say yes.

  Time seemed to slow. Kadin felt every drop of saliva trickle down her throat as her mouth went dry. Dahran’s arm slid out of his coat as he ever so carefully bent his knee.

  The door behind Kadin opened with a creak and a whoosh, and with this surprise, she did jump.

  “Kadin Stone! Thank the Deity you’re home! What is Duke Baurus DeValeriel doing in my living room?”

  With Octavira’s arrival, the rest of the world resumed its normal speed. Kadin couldn’t fathom her sister-in-law ever moving in slow motion. Dahran’s hand emerged empty from his coat, and he used it to cover his mouth as he cleared his throat. The screen door swung closed behind Octavira with a swish and a slam. Kadin, however, felt that the time it took her to turn around and face Octavira lasted longer than any sleepless night.

  Oh, of course, she thought as she took in first the red rose pattern on Octavira’s full white skirt, then the red-nailed hands on Octavira’s hips, and finally the horrified “Os” of Octavira’s painted red lips and kohl-lined eyes beneath her dark brown updo. I’m dreaming.

  She had to be dreaming. In the real world, Dahran White’s proposal would not be interrupted by the duke of the city appearing in her life after six months’ absence.

  But the pounding of her heart and the thin layer of moisture on her palms felt more real than anything that occurred in a dream. She remembered everything that happened that day and knew how she had gotten there. Her teeth weren’t falling out, she couldn’t fly, and she had that solid, real-life feeling that dream-Kadin could never quite muster.

  And it is just like Baurus to show up in the nick of time to rescue me, like a prince out of a fairy tale or at least someone whose life is so privileged he wouldn’t dare show up at any time except the exact right one.

  “I… I don’t know?” said Kadin when she finally found her voice, or at least half of it. “You should ask him.”

  “I did.” Octavira’s hiss indicated she feared the duke overhearing.

  Fair. The living room is right on the other side of that drafty door.

  “He said he was here to see you,” said Octavira.

  “Oh.” Kadin’s head felt floaty, as if maybe she were in a dream after all. “Then I guess he’s here to see me.” Her heart pounded for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening, except this time excitement, rather than terror, drove its motions. One of the most important men in the city wanted to see her.r />
  You don’t care how important he is, a traitorous voice inside her whispered. You’re excited that Baurus wants to see you.

  “Yes, but what does he want?” Octavira managed to emphasize the “s” in the word “want,” which Kadin found impressive.

  “I… don’t know.” Kadin said again, and her voice had returned to its full timbre. “I guess I’d better go find out.”

  Kadin brushed past Octavira and pulled open the screen door then pushed open the heavier wooden door behind it. She had almost forgotten Dahran’s and Octavira’s presences when Octavira said, “Yes, I think we’ve kept His Grace waiting long enough.”

  Kadin stepped into the homey living room, appreciating the slight increase in temperature from the outside. The scent of the apple pie Octavira must have made for dinner still hung in the air. Kadin barely took in the usual sights and smells of home, though, so focused was she on the red-and-black-clad figure standing in the middle of the room.

  The society glossies wrote page after page about how handsome Baurus DeValeriel was, but Kadin, for her part, didn’t see it. She had known much more classically attractive men—Dahran White, for example. What Baurus had—and what Kadin found so much more appealing than mere handsomeness—was energy, a palpable force that radiated from every pore of his body. It electrified the room around him and made people forget that his nose was a little too big, his hazel eyes a little too far apart, and his jaw a little too square.

  “No, I won’t sit, my good woman. I—” Baurus’s features animated when he saw that it was not Octavira who had entered the room. “Kadin!” He didn’t smile, but Kadin nonetheless got the impression he was pleased to see her.

  “Indeed, Your Grace.” Kadin picked up the hesitation in her voice. What was the proper address for a duke who stormed in and out of her life as he wanted? She wondered if she should curtsy. She had no doubt Trinithy or Octavira could have pulled off beautiful curtsies, owing to the full skirts they wore. Since tapered skirts made Kadin’s sturdy legs look less like tree trunks, she opted to wear them, but they made curtsying difficult.