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One thing was clear, however, as Maelin prepared herself for the day ahead. The more she thought about the events in Gloamtide, the more determined she became to begin some research on whatever this Rhovan thing was all about.

With that in mind, she headed for breakfast, only to find her aunt already there, and welcoming her with a bright sunny smile.

All her senses went on alert, but she maintained her own best “good morning” face and took her seat at the table.

“Why, how lovely you look this morning, my dear. That shade of orchid is such a perfect choice for your delightful colouring.”

“Thank you, Aunt Varelle. You’re looking most elegant yourself. Plans for the day?”

It was a casual inquiry, no more, but Maelin noticed a sharp glance before her aunt’s face relaxed into another smile.

“Oh, the usual sort of stuff.” She waved a free hand, teacup in the other. “My dear friend Constance Hedgecock’s son has a showing at the Caelemar Gallery this morning. Such a brilliant young man, my dear. I’d love for you to meet him.”

Maelin managed not to clench her teeth. “How delightful for Lady Hedgecock,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I have already made plans, and I doubt I’ll be back until late afternoon.” She paused, debating. “I plan on dropping by to see Uncle Phineas. I understand he’s at his club. Probably lost in some dusty old book,” she smiled, wondering at how her aunt would receive this news.

An airy gesture from her aunt blew off any chance of a discussion about her uncle. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” sighed Varelle. “Honestly, the man is devoted to his studies. I sometimes wonder if he hasn’t completely forgotten about Theryn House and the Theryn family. All those musty old books...” She sighed. A little more dramatically than necessary. “We must forgive him his eccentricities, though, mustn’t we?”

The conspiratorial and charming twinkle that went along with that question set Maelin’s teeth on edge, but she bit down on a piece of toast. Not a substitute for a piece of Lady Varelle’s flesh, but doubtless better tasting.

It gave her a chance to gather her thoughts, and to phrase a question that would test something that was lurking at the back of her mind.

“Indeed,” said Maelin, after swallowing. “I’m sure Uncle Phineas is grateful for such an astounding library so close to Theryn House. Why, I’ll wager he hardly ever comes home for dinner, does he? I was hoping to see him here tonight, but then I thought just in case I’d stop by and say hello this morning.”

“Oh, I doubt he’ll be here tonight,” laughed Varelle. “He does have a distaste for guests, whereas I enjoy their company. So we agreed that each should do whatever makes us happy. For me, and I’m sure for you as well, dear Maelin, the presence of friends is such a delight. I was only saying to Constance the other day that I was simply enchanted at the notion of introducing you to many of my wonderful acquaintances.”

Maelin thought carefully. “I agree, Aunt. Friendships are the foundation of so many of the joys we experience, aren’t they?”

Lady Varelle glowed. “How perfectly said, my dear. Goodness I must write that down, lest I forget.”

“You are too kind.” Maelin simply couldn’t manage a blush, so she reached for her tea instead, aware that she was being set up for something, but not quite sure what.

“Well, I must go and finish my toilette.” Lady Varelle rose. “I can’t persuade you to come with me to the gallery?”

“Perhaps another time, aunt. But thank you. You must tell me all about the art show when you return.”

“Of course, dear. Of course.” She nodded and smiled, then whirled out on a whisper of silk, leaving behind a half-eaten sweet bun and the strong scent of lilies.

Maelin buttered another piece of toast and added damsonberry jam. She ate, enjoying the flavours, but with most of her mind busily interpreting the underlying messages delivered by her aunt.

Firstly, she cared naught for Uncle Phineas, his location, or his activities. She had his house and his prestige, not to mention his money. That was, apparently, sufficient.

Secondly, she was—without a doubt—looking to match someone eligible with her niece-by-marriage. A plan which said niece was going to put a stop to at every possible moment.

She made a mental note to check with her Uncle Phineas as to who had control over her future. At twenty-four years old, she sincerely hoped it was neither her aunt nor uncle. But stranger things had happened, and she’d learned it was by far the smartest option to be as prepared as possible for whatever might be lying in wait.

When it came to Lady Varelle? All of that went double.

Chapter Fifteen

Cyrus had slept little, and though he would have delighted in dreams of a certain beautiful young woman, that was not to be. In fact he dreamed not at all and awoke with a sigh after only a few hours, knowing there would be no more sleep for him before morning.

The killings preyed upon his mind, and much as he would have preferred to find Mae in his dreams, it wasn’t to be.

So he sat on the side of his bed and rubbed his hands through his hair.

He needed a plan, an approach, something that would advance the investigation into the killings. All he had thus far didn’t amount to very much at all.

First, the murder scenes were fairly similar. Enough to believe that the same person or persons were responsible for each. The lack of concern for discovery—the remains weren’t hidden at all, just left where they fell—signalled to him that the killer or killers were confident that they couldn’t be traced from the evidence left at the scene.