“I’m on the investigation, so I’ve reviewed all of the evidence. Tesse’s illicit phone was found in the gardens and the contents were reviewed for clues. There were a fair number of texts and calls between the two of you.”
“Wait, that call I received after her death. Was that you?”
“It was an Enforcer, but not I.”
Becka shook off the disgust over having her privacy breached. It was the nature of the investigation.
“No, we talked about a lot, but never roses.”
“Perhaps they are illusory? She was tremendously gifted.”
“It’s possible.” Becka picked a peach-colored rose, twirling it between her fingers. “But I doubt it.”
“How would we know, right? It’s said only other illusionists are trained to perceive the art.”
Becka narrowed her gaze at him. “Yes, that’s what they say, and no, I wouldn’t know. I never trained, remember?”
“I just thought, because you had been raised among them, that maybe you would have gained some insight into their techniques? I know in the Earth Guild we trained at a young age, well before any gifts evidenced themselves.”
Was this the way all Enforcers were, or was he specifically grilling her for information? “Illusionist students must demonstrate the gift before training begins. All learning is shielded from those not deemed suitable. So no, I don’t know how it’s done, or how to detect it.” A bell rang out, which Becka recognized as a call to dinner. “Crap, I’m not ready for this.”
She crossed to the dressing room and threw the doors open, bringing her bags with her. The room was lined with racks filled with custom tailored outfits with drawers and shelves for shoes underneath. At the far end of the room was the en suite bathroom with every amenity one could imagine. Off to the right side was a changing nook in a rotunda of mirrors.
Some of Tesse’s outfits she recognized, but most were entirely new to her. Like the dress made of living lavender roses, which was likely an enchantment created by Tesse herself. Becka marveled at it, but couldn’t bring herself to touch it.
There was a separate standing rack near the door containing a handful of gray-toned dresses, no doubt set aside for her use during the funeral events. Simple yet elegant, they were refined and finely made, yet not extravagant.
“I suppose these were Tesse’s too.”
“You were identical twins?” he asked.
“Yes, so her clothes should fit me,” Becka ran her hand along the set aside dresses. “They expect me to step into her space, her clothes, her shoes. Like I’m her ghost.” She sighed, frustration warring with sadness sitting like a weight on her chest. “I refuse to wear her clothes. It’s too macabre.”
“Then do not.”
Surprised by his unexpected support, Becka’s irritation with him faded a tinge. She lifted her suitcase onto a dresser and opened it, rifling through her clothing options. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re encouraging my rebellious attitude, but it’s still novel to hear it coming from a fae.” She located her bottles of ghost pepper sauce and placed them alongside her toiletries bag.
He raised a brow at the hot sauce. “You know that’s not allowed here. It’s considered sensorially damaging to fae taste buds.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t we have bigger issues at stake than my penchant for peppers?”
He shrugged. “You have been outside this world for nearly a decade. Of everyone here for the funeral, your history places you in a unique position. I do not feel you should be beholden to fae standards.”
“That’s fortunate for me.” Becka raised a bottle to her lips and took a long sip. A burning fire lit up her lips, mouth, and then throat. Her eyes watered, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe through her nose. When the sensation abated, not only could she breathe again but also the desired secondary effect kicked in. A euphoric sensation flowed outward from her belly to the top of her head and the tips of her toes. Her headache loosened its iron grip, and then she sighed in relief.
As the pain lessened, something clicked in Becka’s brain. “Wait a minute, I think I know why you’re shadowing me.”
“I have already explained to you the reasons why.”
She pulled out a pair of extra wide yoga trousers and a vee-neck wraparound blouse, both in black, and then headed into the changing nook. For once, Quinn wisely didn’t follow. She undressed, hanging her outfit on one of the many hooks lining the wall.
“I know what you told me, but we’ve already established that although you claim you don’t lie, you’re also not the full disclosure sort of guy.”
Quinn chuckled. “Right. But I do not lie.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Becka shimmied into the pants. “But what I was getting at is that your story about shadowing me for my own protection can’t be the whole truth.”
“Oh really? What’s your theory then, Detective Becka?”
Becka snorted, slipping into the blouse. “I’m aiming for a doctorate, not a detective. Anyway, you’re asking a lot of questions about the House of Mirrors and Tesse.”
“I am an Enforcer detective. Asking questions is what I do.”
Checking her outfit in the mirror, Becka adjusted the waistband then pulled the blouse tight, cinching the ties around her waist. The fabric was gauzy fabric with a lotus pattern etched into it; perhaps the icon would help remind her to keep her mindful balance despite the crazy-inducing circumstances? She returned to her suitcase and located a beaded jet necklace.
“Could you help me out?” She held the necklace out to him.
Quinn’s look of momentary confusion shifted to a whisper of a smile. “Of course.” She lifted her hair and he deftly handled the necklace’s delicate clasp around her neck, and then remained behind her.
Becka watched his face in the mirrors. “Thank you. I think you’re here investigating Tesse’s murder using my arrival and potential danger ruse as a cover.”
Quinn didn’t appear surprised. “As an Enforcer, I am trained to leverage every situation to my guild’s advantage. As I have said before, shadowing you is my assignment. It is assumed I will be exposed to information which could aid our investigation.”
Becka pursed her lips. “So why not just ask Maura for permission to continue the formal investigation?”
“The Duchess is a difficult woman. She insisted we conclude our search before the funerary vigil started.”
Becka swept past him, brushing against his shoulder on the way out of the room. “So all of the Enforcers were kicked out, and you had to find some way back in that the House of Mirrors couldn’t block. I’m your convenient damsel in distress.”
She watched for his reaction, and he didn’t disappoint, frowning his grave, serious face again.
“I can assure you, your potential distress is very real to me.”
Becka reached the row of roses before the windows and rounded on him. “Seriously? You can drop the act.”
“Your twin was murdered, Becka. Please, be cautious and accept my help.” His earnest expression begged her to listen.
Becka nibbled her lower lip. “And how do I know you’re not here to investigate my family for other crimes?”
His startled expression was something Becka hadn’t expected, and under her present hot-sauce induced euphoric state, it swayed her perhaps more than it should.
“I swear to you, seeking out unrelated transgressions is not my assignment.”
“Okay, I’ll believe you,” Becka replied. “I know how guild intrigue can be, and I have no intention of getting caught up in it. Here’s my offer. I’ll do what I can to listen and help you out with Tesse’s death, but in return, you have to share with me what you know about what happened to my sister.”
Just then a shifting movement came from the rose bushes next to them followed by an angry, screeching flash of brown and gold. Quinn slipped in front of her, moving between Becka and the emerging danger, taking the full force of the impact.
&
nbsp; Chapter 8
“Yowllll!” Came a plaintive cry from the feline as Quinn held the large tabby up in the air by the scruff of the neck.
“Oriani!” Becka cried out, reaching for the cat.
Quinn eagerly handed Oriani over to her. “You know this cantankerous bundle of claws?”
“Yes, of course.” Becka curled the cat against her chest and nuzzled the grouchy feline who continued to complain loudly. Holding Tesse’s cat made the loss of her sister all the more real. She held Oriani tight, her tears landing on his fur. “This is Tesse’s cat. She’s had him since he was a kitten. Poor thing, I bet he’s been looking for her ever since...”
“Are you all right?” He looked to her arm. “Did I hurt you?”
Becka shook her head. “I’m fine.” Being manhandled was a new experience for Becka. As firm and swift as Quinn had moved her, he’d also been gentle about it.
Quinn caught Oriani’s tail between his fingers, eliciting a pained yowl. “It looks like he’s been injured. Is this black part of his normal coloring?”
Becka frowned, inspecting the cat’s tail, which was blackened in the last four inches. “Not at all. The tip of his tail used to be orange with a white tip, just like his paws.”
“Most curious, the blackened fur is rough and brittle,” Quinn replied.
Becka ran her fingers down the length of the tail to see for herself. As she touched the blackened fur it sloughed off, leaving bare patches of pink skin exposed.
Quinn watched her with rapt attention. “I’m no cat expert, but that doesn’t seem normal.”
“Sorry, Oriani,” Becka said, speaking in the coddling voice all pet owners use, “I didn’t realize your damaged hair was so fragile. At least it doesn’t appear to hurt you when the hairs fall off.” She ran her fingers along his tail again, and even more hair fell off and onto the floor.
Quinn, frowning, reached out to inspect Oriani’s tail again. No additional fur fell. “I guess you knocked it all loose.”
Oriani squirmed at the attention, whining to be let down. Becka let him slide out of her arms down to the floor.
“I wonder if it happened recently?” she asked.
“Tesse had some blackened marks on her. It’s possible he was with her in the gardens and also encountered her killer.”
The cat sat imperiously, grooming his fur and the newly naked patches on his tail. For now he appeared oblivious to their attention.
Becka shivered, crossing her arms across her stomach. “What could have done that to Oriani?”
“Perhaps some youth was irresponsible with their magic? Or perhaps he ran into someone’s spell and caught them unaware? Cats have a way of being persistently underfoot when you least need them.” Quinn replied. “It’s difficult to know, but the cat definitely got his tail into something he should not have.”
Becka shook her head, reminding herself to stay on target. “So, will you fill me in on the investigation progress in return for my assistance?”
Quinn rubbed a hand through his hair. “What’s the alternative?”
“Well, I could be difficult.”
He raised a brow, the hitch in his heated smile conjuring all manner of potential welcome possibilities.
Becka laughed, trying to shake off her hot pepper-enthralled imagination. “I could insist on staying in this room until the funerary rites are completed. Or leave and return home. Or even better, I could go to one of Rowan’s retreat cabins for the remainder of my stay. That would be allowed. I’d be present as required for fae propriety, and yet in private meditative practice and no one would be allowed to disturb me. But, that would hamper your investigation.”
“I am appalled that you would even consider leaving. The shame on your family for your poor behavior at this delicate time…”
“I’m an outcast, they aren’t really my family anymore. When I leave here, I doubt I’ll ever come back. I’m here now for Tesse; she’s all I care about. Well, my sister and my history research.”
Quinn’s gaze held hers, and Becka hoped her plea had convinced him.
“Okay, we will give it a go. Partner?” He held out his hand.
Becka recognized the symbolism as more than just a passing agreement. Between fae-touched, a handshake was not just their word, but a form of social contract. To break the agreement would bring shame on both of them.
“I’m an outcast, so it’s not like the honor of my house is on the line.”
“I’ll accept the risk.”
She shook his hand, an electric thrill running up her arm at his touch. As an outcast, she had nothing to lose working with Quinn. If she could help hunt down Tesse’s killer, then maybe the persistent ache in her chest would begin to improve.
“Tesse was the last link of connection I had to my old life.” Becka dabbed tears from the corner of her eyes. “And maybe, just maybe, if I can help solve Tesse’s murder...then it’ll make that final loss feel less profound.”
He nodded, and the compassion in his gaze spoke volumes. “So, what do you think of your Aunt Astrid’s conviction that you are conspiring to ruin the festivities?”
Becka shrugged. “She saw something and I appeared the timely culprit, but we both know that’s impossible. Do you have any theories about what happened to the manor’s funerary shroud?”
Quinn shook his head. “I am convinced you did not sabotage the guild’s magic. I have been with you the entire time and I am secure in my powers of observation. However, the coincidence of the damage happening upon your arrival could point to someone trying to frame you for the act. Or, the timing might be completely unrelated.”
“You believe that?”
“Not at all. I do not believe in coincidences.”
Becka nodded. “I need to get down to the feast.”
He stepped close and raised a hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb down the frame of her face. “Your makeup is a little smeared. Do you need a minute to clean up?”
His considerate suggestion warmed her. “Oh no, appearing to be late due to a crying fit will play well with this crowd.” Becka headed out the door, and again Quinn fell into step next to her. “Today has been overwhelming. Do you ever wish you could slow down time to give yourself the chance to process each beat? To give each trauma the energy and space it needs to do it justice. Do you know what I mean?”
“Sure, but life never works out that way. It’s messy and we do not get to pick the timing.”
“Tell me about it.”
Becka looked at herself in the mirror on the way out the door. She sighed. “I’m covered in tears, clots of cat hair, my hair looks like I haven’t combed it in days, and I’m wearing black. I’m good to go.”
“Do you recall that fae funerary garb is gray?”
“If you’re gonna be judged anyway, pick the fight.” Becka walked out the door.
Chapter 9
Despite her determination to not step into her sister’s shoes, Becka moved through the main hall feeling every bit the part of her twin’s ghost. Traversing the room evoked memories of her childhood. Everything here was the same. The same people. The same emphasis on custom. The same allegiance to politics and familial ties. And yet Becka’s experience of it was so different through her new perspective on the world. The human world.
Having Quinn near helped change the narrative in her mind. She didn’t feel as alone amongst a sea of familiar yet distant faces. In him, she had an ally, if only for this week of funerary observance.
As she entered the great hall, a ripple effect emanated everywhere she passed. Tradition required her inclusion, but did not dictate behavior beyond polite social graces. Some of the guests looked at her passively. Others with gentle curiosity. A few appeared shocked; perhaps at first mistaking her for her twin? And then there those who sneered, not even bothering to mask their disdain. Were their sneers focused on her clothing, her hair color, her ear piercings, or something else altogether?
Her telltale headache was already building, a v
ice across her brow.
Becka ambled over towards the head table, where her immediate family all sat. Many regarded her with sadness, grief plain upon their faces. Her brother Calder, who now sat in a position of eldest to the right of their mother, appeared especially troubled. What was that about? Becka didn’t recall him being prone to moodiness, but many years had passed. Her mother, Duchess Maura, had yet to meet her gaze or speak to her.
A newcomer sat at the table, his bearing regal and refined. His clothing was ornately embroidered in shades of gray, and his mane of platinum hair had not a strand out of place. He wept openly, avoiding food but partaking of the wine which was so liberally provided.
Speaking of wine, Becka helped herself to a glass of purple-tinged claret from a passing server’s tray. She took a sip of the tannic and earthy beverage before looking for a seat.
Her sisters, Ingrid and Sigfrid, sat across from her. Less than a year apart, they’d behaved nearly as twin-like as Tesse and Becka. Even now they murmured quietly to each other while shooting quick glances at her hair and pierced ears. When she smiled at them, they smiled in return, nervously giggling to each other. Her youngest brother, Gunnar, sat down the table openly gawking at her with large, round eyes.
Vott pointed to the end of the table, indicating Becka take the open seat. No one spoke to her as she sat and instead welcomed her with a hushed silence. Becka was a specter of a memory. Not only of her sister Tesse, but also of her own departure so many years ago.
Quinn wasn’t placed at the family table. This wasn’t surprising, given Vott’s earlier disdain of his presence and Quinn’s history with House Alder. He’d been offered an open seat at a table nearby, but instead he stood by the wall behind the head table near one of Vott’s shifter guards.
When a server stopped by the table and offered her squash blossoms filled with honey, pistachios, nutmeg, and goat cheese, Becka took three. Biting into the aromatic, sweet, and savory treat invoked a wealth of childhood memories feasting in this hall during better days. She’d yearned for the fae food of her childhood; it was the thing she’d missed most during her exile. These delicacies were designed by and for a species with more refined and sensitive palates than humans enjoyed.
Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1) Page 6
