Quinn, who until now had observed their interaction with keen interest, spoke up. “To our knowledge,” no doubt meaning the Enforcers investigation, “there were no portents nor presciences concerning Tesse nor the House of Mirrors in the preceding days. But the investigation is still open.”
“Do you have any idea what happened that night?” she asked Quinn. “Or who’s responsible?”
“I apologize, Becka, I cannot divulge the details of the open investigation,” Quinn replied. “I will share with you that this tragedy is our top priority and we are taking all necessary precautions, including overseeing your safety. But there has been no indication that there will be any further threats to you or anyone else in the House of Mirrors.”
Becka had worked side by side with a few of the campus police doing volunteer work to drum up enthusiasm for University interest groups. She’d listened to their stories and she didn’t get the impression that cops, fae or human, took assignments on a whim or for having nothing better to do. More likely, she guessed, the Enforcers had more than just a suspicion she was in danger or they’d never waste the fae power shadowing her.
What else about the killer was Quinn withholding? The hair at the back of her neck and on her arms rose at the thought.
“Wait...could the killer still be here?” she asked.
“We have to assume that’s a possibility,” Quinn replied.
The killer could have been out there in the courtyard with the other fae. They could have seen her arrive. Becka shivered.
At that moment the door to Vott’s study flew open and Becka came face to face with her Aunt Astrid.
“Good evening, Becka.” Astrid’s melodious voice was almost as dainty as her diminutive, for a fae-touched, form. “I had not expected you would become a pawn in the great game of life, and yet here we are.” She swept into the room, practically forcing Becka out of the way.
“What is the meaning of this interruption?” Vott asked.
“All will become clear in time, Duke Vott,” Astrid replied, holding up a hand to forestall Vott’s ire.
Becka shot a confused look to Quinn, whose expression remained neutral. Astrid was the head trainer for the Illusionist Guild, overseeing the training of all students. Despite her size, she commanded the space around her. Becka had never quite understood whether others feared or respected Astrid. Perhaps it was a little of both?
“Aunt Astrid, I’m afraid you have me at a loss,” Becka replied.
Astrid circled Becka like a lion would their prey, clad in an elegant dove-gray sheath dress with delicate couture ruching along the neckline. Her cascades of delicate braids were nested three levels deep, braids made of braids. “I could care less whether you attend the feast. Why did you return to House Rowan?”
“I returned at Vott’s request, as per tradition. Actually, it was more of a rude demand.”
“Tradition is a convenient reason, to be sure.” Astrid replied. “But I am convinced there’s more to this story.”
The hair at the back of Becka’s neck raised, her skin tingled. She’d known Astrid and the woman was not known for flights of fancy. What was Becka missing?
“What did you mean when you said I’m a pawn?” Becka asked.
Astrid arched a brow and stepped in close to her, stopping an arms-length away. “I might entertain the possibility that you are being played,” she side-eyed Quinn, “but even his reputation is not this dark. The Enforcers are not known for indulging in politics, either. I do remember you are a clever girl. So the alternative is you know exactly what you are doing, although for the life of me I can not figure out why you would disgrace your sister’s memory.”
Becka clenched her jaw. She didn’t deserve Astrid’s attitude. “I may be clever, but I have no idea what you’re getting at. Can you start from the beginning and take me step by step along the winding road to your point?”
Astrid’s cheeks inflamed, followed by a few quick blinks. For a moment, Becka thought she’d angered Astrid, then a slow smile built across her face. “Tesse was perhaps the most promising illusionist in four generations.”
Becka felt a combination of fierce pride for Tesse and jealousy for being excluded from her sister’s life. Becka had lost her firstborn birthright and the opportunity to learn aside her sister due to her ungifted status. Although thinking ill of Tesse caused guilt to sit like a rock in her stomach. What cause did she have to be jealous of her now dead twin?
“I’d heard she was talented, but I didn’t know she was that good.”
Astrid nodded. “Tesse would never have bragged. But I made sure everyone understood the range and depth of her abilities.”
“Everyone...fae,” Becka replied.
Astrid gave a quick nod of the head. “Regardless, I watched you as you entered the manor. I saw the truth with my own eyes.”
What. The. Shit? Becka took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, anger and confusion warring for dominance within her mind. Had grief driven her aunt into irrational and delusional behavior? Or was it something else?
“What did you see happen?” Becka asked.
“Yes, Lady Astrid, keep your words plain,” Vott replied.
Curiosity and confusion warred on Astrid’s features. Her eyes narrowed, as if she could ferret out Becka’s level of honesty by mere sight alone. Heck, maybe she could?
“The warp and weave of the manor’s shrouding rippled and began to unravel as you arrived. I am unclear how you, an ungifted, managed such a feat. I just now finished repairing it.”
Becka held up her hands, trying and failing to comprehend Astrid’s accusation. What in the world was she talking about? “As you are well aware, such talent is beyond me. I don’t even have fae friends who could manage some sort of disruption spell, nor would I want to.”
“It was no disruption spell.” Astrid shook her mane of braids like a
