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Jonessa’s wings trembled briefly and she stared at him. Then she nodded. “This way.” Fluttering off her high stool, she led him to a side door, opened it, and beckoned him inside. “I think we’ll be able to be alone here.” It was a small office, with a couple of chairs and a lot of ledgers.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “It’s early morning and this is the Gloamtide. I’d like to think most of your house is asleep, Jonessa...”
“You never know,” she sighed. “Anyway. Sit. Talk. And don’t make it complicated, it’s been a long night and I’m tired.”
He took a breath. “I have bad news, and there’s really no way to make it any easier.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his handkerchief and unwrapped the tiny star, holding it out toward Jonessa. “I believe you will recognise this.”
She took it, turned it over on the palm of her hand, then looked at Cyrus. “Fuck.” She swallowed. “Where’d you find her?”
“Bram found her a couple of hours ago now and called me.” He shook his head. “It was bad, Jonessa. Clean-up crew bad.”
The fae’s eyes turned dark purple as she fought her emotions. “This is all that’s left of her?” She glanced down at the star.
“There wasn’t any way to identify her other than this.”
It was a blunt statement, but Cyrus knew she understood. There would be no ceremonial farewell. There would be a tastefully small casket, and Jonessa would have a silver moth design engraved on it with a star beneath. The star she held in her hand would go to the family, if there was one.
“I think it’s Tywilla,” she said quietly. “Not positive, but it’ll be easy to verify.”
“Once you do,” Cyrus kept his voice as calm as he could. “It would help if I knew whether she was working last night, whether she had a particular customer, or whether anyone saw her leaving...perhaps with someone?”
Jonessa brushed away a tear that threatened to trail over her soft cheek. “You’re going to look into this, then?”
He met her gaze. “How could I not?”
“She was just an amusement.”
“She was a fae. She had friends, I’m sure. She might still have a family.” Cyrus’s voice was hard. “Don’t you dare say she was just an amusement.”
Jonessa swallowed. “Apologies. We don’t see you down here much, and we tend to forget there’s someone from Caelemar’s upper echelons who actually gives a shit.”
Cyrus nodded. “I understand.” He stood. “Anything you find out, Jonessa? Tell Bram. He’ll get it to me.”
“I will,” she slid from her chair and hovered a few moments, her wings whispering in the silence. “Cyrus, one other thing...”
He watched her, seeing her frown in thought.
“It may be unimportant, but over the last six months or so, three amusements have disappeared. One sharpfang from the Bloodkin, one caster from the Spellcasters, and a shifter from the House of Nine Veils.”
“Disappeared?”
“Gone. Vanished.” Jonessa shrugged. “It happens. They get tired, they don’t want to be amusements anymore, some run away...honestly? It’s part of the whole Velvet House scene. And nobody really makes much of it. I wouldn’t even have mentioned it, except I believe these three disappearances were unexpected enough to get a comment from a couple of people during the last Velvet House management meeting.” She frowned. “About six weeks ago, if I remember correctly.” She glanced at him. “A connection, maybe?”
Cyrus’s mind was already way ahead of her. “I couldn’t say. But if you could get a copy of those meeting notes to Bram, they might be of use...”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I must go, Jonessa. I’m sorry for your loss, and even sorrier for how I know you’ll be spending your time today.” He leaned toward her, stroked a wing, and kissed her cheek once more. “Look after yourself. And maybe quietly keep an eye on your fae, all right?”
She nodded. “Bet your gorgeous ass on that, Cyrus. And if you’re ever in the mood...”
He managed to toss a small grin over his shoulder as he opened the door. “I know. Bad fae. Behave.”
Chapter Six
To say that Theryn House was abuzz with excitement would have been to severely understate the situation within those elegant walls.
By Saturday, the day of the ball, everything shone so brightly that one servant shook his head and observed that the fumes of furniture polish would probably knock all the guests out before they reached the ballroom.
