The older one turned on him, the muscle in his jaw quivering. “You told her the victim’s name, Trainee?”
The younger man opened his mouth, likely to stammer out an excuse, but it was too late. The senior officer swiftly descended the steps and grabbed him by the ear.
“I don’t care who your father is.” He dragged the yelping trainee toward the glider. “If you want to be part of the Patrol, you do not share details of an active investigation with anyone.”
Without another word, he threw the other in through the glider’s open door. “Is that clear?”
A muffled “Yes, sir!” came from inside.
Emmaline swallowed hard, remaining still as the older officer turned away from her and back toward Lady Isolde.
“We’ll be back in the afternoon.” His tone was clipped. “Have your son available for questioning and someone to take us through the grounds. We will be conducting a full search for any evidence of violence or dark magic.”
Lady Isolde clicked her tongue, her hands folding neatly in front of her as if the entire conversation bored her. “I assure you, officer, that no member of this household, especially my son, has done anything untoward or in violation of the Law. And if you insist on continuing this line of inquiry, I shall have no choice but to raise a formal complaint with your superiors.”
“My Lady.” The officer’s expression didn’t so much as twitch. “You can raise a complaint with the Sentinel or even the Goddess, her luscious self, for all I care. I will do my job as my Oath requires. I will find the young Lady Allistair and uncover what happened to her, regardless of where that trail may lead.”
The Patrol officer gave Lady Isolde a final, pointed look before sitting in the glider. The door sealed shut behind him with a faint hum, and the vehicle lifted smoothly off the ground, drifting away from the castle gates.
Emmaline resisted the urge to sag with relief. At least, for now, the Patrol’s attention was elsewhere.
A soft sigh drifted through the quiet. “Honestly, Emmaline.” Lady Isolde faced her. “I do hope all of this unpleasantness won’t distract you from your duties. The ball is barely a week away, and I would hatefor Lord Greymane’s most trusted clerk to be anything less than fully prepared.”
Emmaline swallowed her irritation and gave a quick nod. “Of course, my Lady. Everything is on schedule.”
“Good.” Lady Isolde studied her for a moment. “I would also hate for you to become distracted, or worse, lost like our poor Lady Allistair.” She let the words linger, then tilted her head in mock thoughtfulness. “Speaking of which, I didn’t see you at all yesterday. I was ever so worried that the Northern forest might have swallowed you up, never to be seen again.”
Emmaline’s pulse kicked up, but she pulled her brows to knit. “The Northern forest?” She blinked. “Why would I be there?”
For the barest second, Lady Isolde’s lips quirked in a flash of something smug before she smoothed it behind an expression of perfect aristocratic concern. But Emmaline didn’t wait for whatever barbed remark was surely next. She lifted her chin and strode past her, feeling the woman’s gaze pressing into her back like a phantom hand.
However, the moment she passed into the castle, her carefully maintained composure cracked. Sucking in a breath, she leaned into the cold stone of the wall, willing her heart to settle.
The Patrol was searching for evidence of dark magic or violence.
Lady Isolde was paying her an uncharacteristic amount of attention.
And worst of all, Emmaline, always ready with a plan, had no idea what she would do next or even how she’d get through the day without a full-blown panic attack.
Chapter twelve
Theflamescrackledinthe fireplace as another paper curled into embers, blackening at the edges before crumbling to ash. Emmaline tossed in another one, muttering under her breath as she rifled through the stack on her desk.
Pointless. Everything is pointless.
Her fingers tightened around the next sheet before she flung it into the fire with unnecessary force.
Numbers and ledgers, things that usually grounded her, felt impossibly trivial in the wake of seeing the Patrol that morning. She had spent the last couple of hours trying to focus, drowning herself in work, but the officers’ presence still clung to her thoughts, wrapping around her ribs like a vice.
Maybe I should leave.She immediately shook her head. “No. That would look suspicious.”
She sat back in her chair, only to lurch forward a second later, elbows on her desk. “But if I stay—”
She caught her thoughts swirling and groaned, rubbing her temples.
“Goddess above, get it together, Emmaline.”
She had to stop thinking about the Patrol. She had to stop thinking about Lady Isolde, Deyric, Caelith, the murdered noblewoman, all of it. Losing herself to paranoia wasn’t going to—
