Page 44 of Caress of Fire
Isobel turned away from Asha and walked to the girl’s small dresser, the only other piece of furniture in the sparse room apart from the bed and the chair, then braced herself on the plain wooden surface where there was a small jewelry box. Fedryc could see her hands gripping the wooden surface so hard her knuckles were white. He watched his aunt for another second before looking at Henron.
“Have your men found out anything about her?” Fedryc asked him. “Did the girl have any enemies?”
“She was nineteen years old,” Isobel snapped, not turning around to look at them. “No nineteen-year-old has enemies.”
Fedryc stared at Isobel’s straight back for a moment before turning back to Henron. “Did the girl have a lover?” he didn’t add that if she did, then that man was in all likelihood the one who had killed her.
“Her name wasAsha!” Isobel spun around fast and in doing so, she knocked the small jewelry box down to the floor.
The box opened and the contents spilled on the stone floor. A glass bead necklace and a few earrings that were likely family heirlooms. Nothing out of the ordinary. The few possessions of a girl born into servitude and who would serve all her life.
Then something unusual attracted Fedryc’s attention. He bent and lifted a necklace, frowning as he examined the sapphires and diamonds, ornately displayed in a heavy gold bezel. His eyes went to Henron, whose face now bore a frown.
“That isn’t a servant’s jewelry,” Henron commented, looking down at the rest of the box’s contents.
“No, it’s not.” Fedryc turned to Isobel, who watched with reddening eyes. “Do you recognize this necklace?”
“It belonged to my mother. Made of dragon-forged sapphires,” Isobel said, her face gradually twisting some more. “It’s priceless. A family heirloom.”
“Do you know when it went missing?” Fedryc handed the jewelry to Isobel, who took the necklace then stuffed it into a hidden pocket inside her dress.
“I wear it only for special occasions.” Isobel suddenly widened her eyes. “At your father’s Mourning. That’s when I wore it last.”
Fedryc stared at his aunt as her face contorted with the grief of betrayal, but when she looked at Asha, there was no resentment, no hatred in her expression.
“She wouldn’t have stolen from me.” Isobel’s lips quivered and she turned away again, bracing herself on the wood dresser. “Asha wouldn’t steal from this family. There’s an explanation for this.”
Fedryc allowed his aunt some time and turned to Henron. Understanding passed between them. This girl had been stealing from her mistress, and had likely done so for a long time, no matter what Isobel said. She had stolen and surely sold whatever she could get her hands on. Now, she had died because of it.
How she had died and who had killed her remained to be seen. Thief or not, nobody was going to murder a young woman in his own house without feeling the repercussions.
“Oh my Gods,” Isobel whispered, then turned around, a white piece of paper in her dainty, trembling fingers. She unfolded it and started to read. Her red, swollen eyes took in the few lines before she exhaled forcefully, then braced herself on the dresser again. Fedryc watched as his aunt’s faced twisted with grief and hurt, then gave way to anger. She lifted her gaze to him and her lips trembled. “She asks for my forgiveness for stealing from me. She killed herself. Stupid, stupid girl.”
Her voice broke and her face crumpled as she covered it with her hands. Her dainty shoulders shook as she wept openly.
Watching the uncharacteristic display of emotions in his aunt, Fedryc understood the girl—Asha—had meant something to Isobel. Something much more than a servant girl who had played with her daughter when they were young.
“Henron, check the body,” Fedryc ordered as he reached for the letter in Isobel’s hands. As soon as his fingers came in contact with the paper, he let go as a wave of weakness traveled up his arm, leaching out his strength.
“Henron!” He turned to his friend in alarm. “Don’t touch her!”
Henron stood over Asha’s lifeless form, surprise and suspicion on his face.
“It’sVenemum Ardere.” Fedryc carefully wiped his fingers with a handkerchief but even that didn’t remove the feeling of his strength being sucked away. “The letter’s covered in it.”
Isobel’s sobs stopped and she looked up, but her eyes soon glazed over and she stumbled forward. Fedryc rushed to his aunt’s aid, then lifted her as she went limp.
“This is not a suicide,” Fedryc told Henron as he walked to the door with his aunt’s limp body in his arms. She weighed painfully little, and he asked himself how he could not have noticed her withering away over the last few weeks. “This was a murder, and whoever killed Asha also intended to kill me. Me and you.”
“How so?” Henron eyed the cadaver with suspicion, pulling leather gloves from his pockets at the same time.
“Who else other than you and me was supposed to find that letter? Isobel was only here because she had an unusual attachment to the girl.” Fedryc paused as he crossed the threshold. “This has been done from inside the castle. The murderer is still here.”
“Yes, and from now on, we can’t trust anyone.” Henron reached for the commu-link at his wrist and spoke rapidly in Delradon. “You’d better make sure your Draekarra is safe.”
Without another word, Fedryc turned and left, running for the medical wing with his aunt in his arms. He couldn’t feel her pulse anymore.
The killer was getting closer.
