Page 46 of The Prophet

“By Monday.” I meet his gaze. “Is there a rush?”

He traces one of the onyx buttons. “No, no rush.”

I set my tablet aside. “Humor my curiosity, Lord Marius. Why come to my humble shop if not to ask about Merri? You could have any tailor at court.”

His nostrils flare, but he dips his head. “That’s true, but those tailors are all cut from the same cloth.”

He gestures toward the suit laid out on the drafting table. “Your designs resonate with a uniqueness that draws from both worlds. They are…singular.”

“Singular.” I scoff at the praise. “Let’s not pretend this is about fashion, my lord.”

“Agree to disagree.” His lips twitch, but the smile fades. “But it is not all about fashion. You are one of the scant few who knew me before I was raised to High Lord who does not pander to me now.”

Annoyed, I look away. “I pander plenty.”

“Not for long.” His intense stare burns a hole in the top of my head. “You speak far more plainly than those at court. Your time with Marc rubbed off on you, and I find I value your company.”

The admission hangs between us as I consider his words, letting them sink in. “I could speak more plainly, if that is what you desire.”

He straightens to his full height and lifts his chin in challenge. “Family does not stand on formalities.”

Warmth spreads through me that he considers me family without a wedding to his daughter. “Plain speech can be a double-edged sword, my lord.”

His lips quirk. “You are the only one in this family who offers me such respect. Take a play from Marc’s book.”

“I do not think I can bring myself to go that far. But since plain speech is what you seek, your sudden appearances scare away my business.” I glance at the clock that ticks toward closing time. “However, should you be freed of the chains of your title at ten in the morning or two in the afternoon, you will find the shop closed. I take tea at those times.”

“Tea.” He lingers over the word as if savoring its simplicity. “Yes, perhaps I shall join you.”

He nods once, as though marking the appointment on his calendar.

“Tomorrow, then.” He lifts a hand, and a shimmering line appears in the entrance to the fitting room, spreading outward to meet the edges of the frame. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You, as well…Marius.” His name feels foreign in my mouth without the honorific, but I can get used to it.

With a final nod, Lord Marius steps through the portal, and it snaps shut behind him, leaving silence in the shop.

I stare at the place where he stood, my mind struggling to process the conversation. Slowly, I reach for the suit, the fine material cool and smooth under my fingertips.

A crinkle sounds from within, and my brow furrows as I set the garment back on the table to investigate. I slip my hand into the breast pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper.

I open it and read Marius’s tight, meticulous script.

My daughter does not do well in confined spaces. Consider this my early wedding gift, and your key to unlocking the quandary of your delayed construction project without bloodshed.

I reread the message before flipping it over, and words rise from the back.

A smile spreads over my face. This knowledge, given to the right people, will get the cabin remodel back on track, and there will be nothing Bailey can do to stop it.

I fold the piece of paper and tuck it into my pocket, where my fingers brush against the note the imp left.

When I unfold it, the edges stick together with a substance I refuse to identify.

The imp’s hasty scrawl is barely legible, detailing the death of a frog demon near Main Street.

Fear spikes through me, wiping away my excitement, and grabbing my keys, I stride for the door.

explosive case

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