“You,” Kael said in a measured tone as he crossed the threshold into Edric’s study.
Behind him, Garrick shut the door with a heavy thud, gripping his spear as Ward took position at the entrance.
“Me?” Oona replied.
Oona stood near Lord Edric, examining the letter clutched in his right hand, the fingers already stiff with rigor mortis.
Lord Edric’s lifeless body draped across the large oak desk that dominated the center of the room. His figure was a stillness that unnerved.
Kael remained steady. “You’ll forgive me if I ask why you are standing in the middle of a murder scene, with only the family allowed in.”
Edric’s head lolled to the side, his cheek pressed against a sheet of parchment, stained red. His half-lidded and glossy eyes stared at a point beyond; the hollow lines beneath etched deeply, as though the man had been decomposing for years.
A slow smile curved Oona’s lips, with no amusement in it.
“I could ask you the same, soldier.”
Marcus fumbled with the buckle of his sword belt. “So glad you’re here, Crownsman. Somebody needs to take charge of this investigation. Our father was just killed.”
He gestured at the obvious corpse in the room, then nodded toward Elena, his sister, teetering off to the side, who was hot with fever.
At nineteen, Marcus moved with the unrefined strength of a boy still growing. His lean frame was topped with loose, dark curls clinging to his damp forehead. His face, like Elena’s, held a youthful softness.
A shattered glass lay among scattered papers, the tannin-colored stain bleeding across the brittle surface of ancient texts. The hearth fire had burned low; its embers cast a faint orange glow.
Blood pooled slowly, drip by drip by drip, onto the flagstone floor.
Kael’s hand hovered near his sword, gaze locked on Oona.
He watched, startled, as she brazenly snatched the stained note from Edric’s lifeless hand and held it up. The movement seemed to jostle the corpse, causing it to slump further.
Before he could draw his blade, Oona tilted her head.
“Before you reach for that sword, Crownsman, you might want to know what your guards missed.”
His fingers stopped a hair's breadth shy of the hilt.
“Most people, and especially not servants,” he said carefully, “don’t reach for evidence at a crime scene.”
“Most people,” she countered, “whether servant or high-born, don’t notice when a victim’s right hand clutches papers, especially if they were left-handed.”
She extended the letter to him. “Or did you think I was here to steal love letters?”
Kael’s expression shifted—surprise, appreciation… suspicion.
Marcus stiffened. “She’s the village healer, my lord, attending to Elena. And I don’t think she has been cleared to be here.”
A moment of recognition passed between Marcus and Oona. Oona’s gaze narrowed, meeting his, holding his secrets as tightly as her own.
Before either could speak, the color drained from Lady Elena’s face. She swayed, reaching for something, anything, to steady herself. Finding nothing, she collapsed in a faint.
Kael and Oona moved at the same time, lunging forward from opposite sides. Their arms locked awkwardly around her, faces suddenly too close. For a breath, Kael found himself staring into Oona’s amber-flecked eyes.
She looked away first, but the moment lingered… a little too long.
Then, as if remembering themselves, they shifted Elena from one to the other, their hands brushing in the exchange. Elena, semi-conscious, became an unspoken buffer between them.
Their voices dropped to whispers.
“Astute observation about the letter,” Kael murmured.
“Not bad investigating yourself,” Oona replied, starting to lead the Lady out. “But we should get her to her chambers.”
As Garrick pulled open the study’s heavy doors, Oona paused.
She shifted her balance just slightly, but it was enough to make Kael stutter forward. Then, a low rumble, distant and deep, vibrated through the stone beneath their feet.
For a second or two, Oona looked toward the frosted window. But the sound faded quickly into the howling storm.
Kael spoke evenly, but with a hint of curiosity. “Something wrong?”
Oona blinked. Twice. Then, softly: “No.” And then, cryptically: “I mean… not yet.”
Kael watched her closely as they stepped into the corridor. For him, she was a puzzle he meant to solve.