“Where did you get it, Viv?”
“I…found it.”
“You found it? That’s the story you’re sticking with?”
She sipped her tea, lifting a manicured brow over the rim. “Yes.”
I threw up my hands and turned to Derrick. “And you call me secretive.”
“Because you are,” he muttered.
“Well, it’s super annoying.”
“Tell me about it.”
Vivian feigned interest in her cuticles until it was safe, then asked, “Are there any leads on what happened to Diane?”
Derrick leaned back in his chair. “Nothing solid. We spoke with a few servants who were around back then, but they knew as much as Theo. One day, she was there, and the next, she was gone. We’re pretty confident Diane was having an affair with the king. The problem is, we learned she may not have been the only one.”
Vivian snorted. “Shocking.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “So, let’s assume something happened. Maybe she found out about the other women or—”
“Got pregnant,” Vivian said. “A child out of wedlock wouldn’t have a direct claim to the throne with a legal heir already in place. Diane would essentially be on her own.”
“And possibly forced to go to her sister.” My mind raced with the new theory. “But if that’s the case, what happened to the child? Assuming there was one, how would we prove it without confirmation from the king? It’s not like we can walk up to him and ask about his potential love child.”
“I’m certainly not doing it,” Vivian joked.
We both looked at Derrick. He held up his hands.
“No way. I’m not allowed to investigate as it is. We’d have to find proof before I can present it to my superior. Only then can we consider approaching the royal family.”
This was impossible. I dropped my head into my hands and sighed. There had to be a way to determine whether Diane had a child. It was the only thing that made sense and could account for the mysterious man Argus had seen with Jane.
The bell over the front door jingled as someone entered the waiting area. Vivian lifted her shoulders. She didn’t have any clients booked for the evening.
We all turned when a woman wearing full black appeared through the beaded curtain.
“Please excuse my interruption, but they told me at the agency I’d find you here.” Olivia Lockwood stepped further into the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lips trembling. She clutched a handkerchief tightly in her hand; in the other, she held a worn journal.
Derrick stood to offer her his seat, but she declined.
“I won’t stay long. I’ve already given a statement regarding my daughter. I knew she was troubled—it was why I remarried. I’d hoped a fresh start would set her on the right path. I never imagined she’d be involved with…” Olivia paused, bringing the handkerchief to her mouth to cover a sob. “That’s not why I’m here. I can’t change what my daughter has done, but I refuse to let her be branded a murderer. She didn’t kill Ella, I know it in my heart. Someone manipulated her and then killed her to keep her quiet.”
She extended the journal. I reached out to take them from her.
“I was going through her things and discovered this in her room. It’s in Ella’s handwriting. Helen must have found it after the murder and was worried it would reveal her association. Ella knew my daughter was caught in something beyond her control. Even though they weren’t close, I think she wanted to help her. I have to believe that. I’m giving you this because I want you to find who did this to my family, and I want them to pay.”
“Mrs. Lockwood,” I began, while Olivia struggled to regain her composure, “we know there was someone else involved besides Helen. We’re going to find out who. I promise that if Helen wasn’t responsible for killing Ella, we’ll do our best to clear her name.”
“That’s all I ask.” Olivia wiped at the tears in her eyes, then turned to leave.
After the front door had closed softly behind her, I opened the journal and read through the entries, passing it to Derrick when I’d finished. It was as Olivia had said: Ella had known Helen was in over her head and had started to follow her. The symbols on my palm had begun to itch, and that familiar warmth had returned. I glanced at Derrick then Vivian as unease coiled my stomach.
“Ella saw her killer months before the night of the ball. She followed Helen to the Laughing Raven. We need to know what she saw.” My palm was on fire. I rubbed at the painful spot, wincing when it only grew hotter.
Vivian grasped my hand and turned it palm-up. The symbols glowed orange, giving off their own light.
