Page 66 of Exiled Heir

Page List
Font Size:

“Why did you use iron, then?” I looked at Jay.

“It was the only thing in there,” he said. “We only had the rope to bind his hands. And… Nia thought it would be scarier.”

“You’re not wrong,” I said to her, remembering what it had felt like to be bound by chains in the back of the bar, knowing death was coming for me. “How did you know something was wrong? Did he scream?”

Nia tugged on a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Then she tapped her forefinger against her nose.

“What did you smell?” I asked, frowning. I couldn’t smell anything from out here. No blood, no viscera. Nothing to indicate there was a dead body inside the cabin.

She pointed at her stomach, and I looked at the cabin again. I walked closer, examining the ground. Using her footprints, the disturbed leaves and seedpods, I leaned my back against the cabin, closing my eyes.

The smell crept up slowly, so subtle that I almost missed it. My nose twitched, but I’d smelled worse.

“You have a good nose,” I said to Nia.

She shrugged, walking over to where I stood, leaning on the wall beside me.

When she got there, she frowned, tapping her nose again.

“It was stronger when it first happened?” I asked.

She nodded emphatically.

“You’re just going to let him lead this investigation?” Isaac asked sharply. He was staring at Cade, who only had eyes for me.

My body heated under his gaze, like I was standing under a scalding shower, being pummeled by the drops of water. My skin seemed to come alive, every sense activated.

Nia elbowed me sharply, and I looked at her, embarrassed.

“Believe it or not, his abilities in this area are one of the reasons I chose him,” Cade said, his voice low.

I frowned at him, trying to figure out how he would know about my abilities at all. I had never seen him with Declan, and Declan wasn’t the sort of man who wanted to brag about anybody but himself. How did Cade know a thing about me?

I turned to the door, examining it in the bright white light. I could see where opening it had scraped an enormous pile of leaves and detritus to the side. The first thing I noticed was the lock.

“Who has a key for this?” I asked.

“I do,” Isaac answered. “But usually, Jay keeps my keys. I’m just as likely to lose them as have them when I need them.”

“I have keys. So does the seneschal,” Cade said.

“Have you lost them recently?” I asked Isaac.

He shook his head, but I couldn’t help but wonder if one of those times they had been “lost,” they had actually been lifted, someone making a copy.

“You, Isaac, and Leon,” I said. The three most trusted men in House Bartlett. It didn’t help me decide who was more suspicious: Isaac or Leon.

Nothing around the lock indicated that it had been picked or forced, no scratches, no bent metal. I reached for the handle, but Cade stopped me, his warm fingers on my wrist.

Stepping back, I watched as he waved his hand through the air, his fingers moving in slow circles. Dark lines peeled off his fingers, surrounding the door handle. Three colors appeared on the door, a fluorescent orange, blue, and maroon. When I turned, Isaac, Jay, and Nia held up their hands, each with a palm the same color as the fluorescent magic.

“Only those three opened the door?” I asked.

“Within the last year,” Cade confirmed.

“Could someone disguise themselves from your spell?” I asked.

“No.” But Cade hesitated on the word, dragging it out a moment longer than he would have if fully confident.