Heir of the Forgotten

~The Prince~

Around noon, Dorian slid back into his friend's tent. "I think the best choice is to stop setting up anything elaborate."

"Are there any inactive assassins that date back five years?" Vincent stared at a map on the desk. He's been working on something clearly. Each dot is a murder currently linked to their assassin.

"Not to my knowledge. I don't have access to every record unless we are at the castle." Dorian stares at the pins displayed on the map. There's no rhyme or reason to the placement of the bodies. "What are you doing though?"

"You got me thinking is all." Vincent takes a pen and scribbles the dates of each of the eight murders. "What if not all of them are related to the incident? If we get rid of three, we have a clear path from the Borderlands towards the inner part of the island. From there he probably walked, or we're missing a body."

Dorian glances over everything again as he trails his finger from the first murder that took place at an inn towards the Deadlands. He stops at a marking for a river. "She could have been found here. There's coverage for a part of it. The river also slows in this spot." He's had a few tasks to do there, so he knows the layout relatively well.

Of course, not even he has lasted more than two weeks in that land. There's so much that is left untouched. Their Queen and a few true Fae on the courts may be able to stand longer, but Maribella would never extend her hand to help her kingdom.

True Fae, it's a term Dorian will forever loath. What use is it to split those with no human blood or so little that it's impossible to tell from those whose lineage is stained? True fae, high fae, whatever anybody calls them, it's the same premise. They are above those of them with human blood and are dangerous. There are also so few of them that exist any longer.

Vincent stares at the findings of the man in front of him. He's a friend, but he knows the ache of this kingdom. "He can not learn of this."

"Your excuse?" Dorian knows Vincent refers to his father in that sentence. Their little found Fae would be executed. Whether for true reason or not. A fae found in those lands so badly wounded must come from a place that had been destroyed. Either a settlement, rebels, or an old court.

Vincent's lips curled into a devastatingly cruel smirk, and Dorion could have sworn he saw those blue eyes cloud red. Sometimes the boy prince before him looks terrifyingly like his father.

"Easy Dor, you can lie, You're still partly human no matter how your blood runs." Vincent hums

"Sometimes Vince, sometimes." A lash of venom as he clenches his hands at his sides. "And what of you? Your tongue is hardly made to lie." Born to a human and a true Fae and yet somehow so utterly fae. His sister is the elder of the two and Fae but him? Those glassy eyes that shift color. Neither True Fae or Fae and yet also not human.

"I'll shift the truth. You found her. I met her and she knew nothing about her past. I know only what I was told."

"As if he won't ask you to be clearer." Dorian rolls his eyes.

"I can lie, I just need to put some truth to it. Unlike somebody who, when backed to a corner, can't utter a single lie." Vincent waves his hand before he goes back to staring at the map.

"Vincent." Dorian sneers at his friend's full name, which seems to snap the prince out of whatever mood he'd been speaking.

Clearing his throat, the Prince runs a hand through his dark streaks of hair. "Look, the only thing we need to worry about is pressure. We've dealt with this bastard for years. I have had to deal with him since I was born. We'll be fine." After a few moments of pause, Vincent continues, "Then back to the matter at hand. If she was found there, she came from upstream somewhere."

His eyes scan, calculating and debating.

"If she knew what her injuries were, I could do this with ease." Vincent scoffs. Death's doorstep... she couldn't have been killed where she was found. Couldn't be too close nor too far. "Five years back, any traitors you can think of?"

"None, the last time the king had a family killed, it was just a branch and the child was spared. Sir Hearth does still hold his seat as the king's advisor." Dorian sighs, staring at the table. "He raised his niece like his own child."

"Isadora? Oh yes, that one definitely seems to just enjoy her prison." Vincent sneered, crossing his arms. There is a flicker of pain in his eyes as he speaks that name.

"She doesn't see the temple as a prison. Just because you can't marry her because of her Saintness position does not give you the right to insult the temple Vince." A slight jab that causes the prince's ears to turn a cherry red as he clicks his tongue.

"Anyhow, if there's been nothing recent, then she might just have been living out there in a small group who didn't want to make a life among society. They piss anybody off." Still makes her a criminal. It's illegal to live on any land owned you haven't officially purchased, and nobody, but a few exceptions, have that right.

Royal houses like Hearth, those that have existed on that land long before it fell to the tyranny of humans, have the rights to their old land.

"Then leave it at that Vince." Dorian shrugs.

"If we know the motive, we can set a trap for the assassin." Vincent pushes for this option once again.

"It's better to teach her to use a sword or a knife. I doubt that fragile female can wield a sword." Dorian counters, wanting to avoid using the fae as bait.

Vincent snorts, "Now who's the one making misogynistic comments? Though you are likely right. Despite being fae she is incredibly thin and frail."

"So human compared to the rest of us." Dorian mumbles. He's never met a fae like this before. He grew up Sheltered in the capital and he's true fae.

"But her eyes." Vincent taps his finger. That's what's really bothering him. He's sure Dorian wouldn't notice, but he has his mother's affinity to notice traits that separate fae. "A struck of luck with genes I suppose." Yes, those incredibly unique eyes are the luck of the gene pool. She said so herself, she's an empty box. There's not a trace of magic in her veins. He couldn't sense any either.

"What if we travel the path of the bodies? Just you, myself, and Selenetta?" Dorian hesitated, but it's all they have. If they can jog memories, things will lead to them capturing their assassin.