Caelith blinked, glancing between the two of them with mild confusion. “Of course,” he corrected, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “Father has spoken highly of you, even going so far as to call you quite clever.”
He looked her over again, gaze traveling from her plain, dark dress to her wringing hands and then to the faintly scuffed shoes peeking out from beneath her hem.
“Even for a number-pusher unskilled in magic,” he added with an almost dismissive shrug.
“Yes, my Lord.” Emmaline forced a smile, ignoring the sting of his words as she stepped toward him again. But he raised a hand, halting her before she could get any closer.
At least he thinks I’m clever. Emmaline’s stomach flipped at the thought.
“Well.” He waved vaguely toward the motionless body. “What do you think we should do with this particular situation?”
“She’s dead, my Lord,” Deyric said, moving away from the body and rejoining them.
“Oh, for all the clumsy, ungraceful, unbecoming behavior of a Lady of Vale!” Caelith exploded, throwing his hands up. He began pacing in small, sharp steps, his words tumbling out in a rising tide. “Why couldn’t she simply walk properly? Of all the people to—”
“We’ll need to get rid of the body,” Deyric interrupted Caelith’s rant. “Unless, of course, you want to call the Patrol?”
Caelith stopped mid-stride. “No, of course not,” he snapped. “Those Corgi-hugging fools have hated me for years. I don’t need them poking around the manor.”
“So, the body…” Deyric prompted.
Emmaline swallowed hard, her mind racing. The Lady’s family wasn’t just wealthy; they had access to all sorts of magic and resources. Spells to track their daughter. Magic to trace the scene. And if they found even the faintest residue of Emmaline’s spell?
The soft hum of her speak-easy ringing again broke the tense silence, drawing both men’s attention like a needle scratching across a vinyl record.
“And who exactly is calling you at this hour?” Deyric asked, his brow arching.
“What do you care?” Emmaline shot back, fumbling for the device. The pulsing runes on the speak-easy’s surface glowed faintly, taunting her as she clumsily retrieved it.
If it’s Ursula again, I’m going to kill her.She paused.Wait. Ursula.
Her heart skipped as a dangerous idea bloomed in her mind. They never spoke openly about it, but everyone in their little circle knew Ursula dabbled in dark magic at that club of hers. Murder… and what happened after… wasn’t beyond her capabilities. It might even be a specialty.
She snapped her head up and raised a finger toward Deyric, cutting off his protest before it could begin. “Hold on,” she said, her voice steadying with new determination. “I have an idea.”
Before either man could respond, she turned the speak-easy on, her thumb pressing firmly against its glowing surface.
Immediately, Ursula’s velvety voice flowed through the speaker. “I hope you’re not doing something stupid trying to get that idiot lordling’s attention again, Ems. Cassidy had a bad feeling about tonight, and you know how she is with her feelings.”
“Ursula!” Emmaline fumbled to switch the device to private. She pressed it against her ear, her eyes darting between the men.
Deyric’s posture stiffened.
“That is… um… an entirely different matter!” Her words tumbled out too quickly. “Nothing to do with this. Purely a financial task from Lord Baelin.”
Caelith, now inspecting his nails with the exaggerated boredom of someone waiting for the conversation to end, waved a hand impatiently, gesturing toward the body with a flourish.
“If you say so, dear,” Ursula sighed. “But you’re okay?”
Emmaline rolled her eyes. The woman was overprotective to a fault, though it wasn’t the time to argue about it. “Of course, Ursula,” she said quickly, hesitating as Caelith raised both hands in a dramatic shooing motion.
“Because I will rip his intestines out through his nose if he’s hurt you, Ems.”
“No!” Emmaline squeaked. “Nothing of the sort! Lyra’s breath, you are dramatic!”
“You promise?” the other woman pressed.
“Yes. But…” She stole a glance at Caelith, who was now rolling his eyes skyward.
