He nodded. “It’s an uneasy truce, but some of them are not so bad. I do understand the challenges of going back and forth between human and fae worlds.”
How dare he? “But I don’t live in both worlds like you. I’m an outcast, and this is all just an elaborate theatre performance. No one will even remember I was here a few days after I leave.”
Her breath caught, and Becka realized how close she stood to him. Her arm was pressed up against his chest, their noses inches apart.
She cleared her throat and stepped back. She marched off in the direction of her room, Quinn following. “I suppose Vott will see to arranging a room for you.”
“I am shadowing you. I cannot do that from across the hall.”
Becka barked out a laugh. “You’re serious?”
He raised his brow. “I am.”
Right, he’d be shadowing her for the next few days until she returned home to the city. As attractive and charming as he’d been, she didn’t relish the idea of anyone shadowing her.
“I don’t have to agree to this.”
“No, Becka, you do not. But imagine you are attacked at some point during your stay at House Rowan. Do you want me having to break down the door before I can defend you?”
She did not need that visual, but it got his point across while also rekindling her anxiety. From what Vott had described, Tesse had been mauled within moments after Alain had left her side. Perhaps it had been Alain himself, her twin’s fiancé, who did the deed? She shivered at the thought.
“Fine, but I reserve my right to change my mind. And I'm not sharing the bed.”
“Noted. I am confident, even without seeing the room, that there are plenty of couches, divans, and sofas available.”
“You are impossible.”
“Wait till you get to know me.”
“Are we going in, or are you planning to sleep in the hall?”
Quinn stood behind Becka as she stood at the threshold to her sister’s room. Which used to be her room. Which was now, for the next few days, her room again.
Her mind reeled.
She put her hand on the doorknob, the familiar feeling of the silver handle in her hand at once a source of comfort and profound sadness. “Give me a moment, I’m getting my bearings. There are only so many shocks a person can take in one day.”
“It is up to you, but for what it is worth, you are starting to draw a crowd.”
Becka’s head throbbed from the day’s stress so she studiously avoided meeting anyone’s gaze on the way to her quarters. Her thoughts were occupied with processing not only the grisly circumstances of her sister’s death, but also the possibility she or others in her family could be targets. The last thing she’d wanted was to get drawn into some tedious conversation before she’d even had a chance to put down her bags.
She glanced to the left; there was her youngest brother, Gunnar, conversing with someone she didn’t quite recall. He looked so different, but the combination of his lanky and lean frame with his sharp nose yet rounded cheeks was unmistakable to her despite all the years. Glancing to the right, she saw her Aunt Astrid sashaying down the hall away from them, appearing to take in the family portraits hung at convenient intervals.
Of course, no one was staring at her or even appearing to notice her presence. Everyone was quite caught up with their own conversations. Sure. Whatever.
Everything here was familiar and foreign at the same time. She’d grown up with these people, and yet no longer shared their universe. It was like watching a historical documentary, except she was trapped inside. Like one of those picturesque snow-globes, except she could no longer breathe the air.
Becka’s eyes lingered on Astrid, and after a moment her aunt looked up and their gazes met. Astrid’s direct stare drove Becka to open the door and escape from the onlookers.
The smell of roses hit her like a wall, saturating her nostrils. The heady fragrance bordered on a soapy quality, such was its intensity.
Quinn closed the door behind them and turned on the lights.
“Did someone fill the room with bouquets?” she whispered to herself.
He started to search the room, which was no doubt standard enforcer procedure. He checked behind curtains, couches, and furniture.
Enforcer, my ass. More like a player or charlatan, based on Vott’s reaction to him. So then why was she admiring the view of his broad shoulders and taut backside as he moved so gracefully and with determined purpose?
Against the far wall, which was lined with floor to ceiling windows, ran a row of large ceramic pots hosting an army of robust miniature roses. The colors ranged from yellows, peaches, oranges, and pinks, to crimsons.
Becka crossed the room to take in the display, marveling at the space her twin had dedicated to the effort.
“The arrangement is like a sunset in miniature form,” Becka said. “I’m amazed she took the time from her training to learn gardening. Miniature roses can be quite difficult to get to thrive, especially indoors.”
“She never mentioned her efforts?” Quinn asked. He picked up a book on gardening from an end table, holding it up for Becka to read the title: The Esscentual Secrets to Miniature Roses.
Becka smiled a wan smile and shook her head over the clever play on words. “Not this. We talked family drama. Her fiancé. Frustrations over the time she spent in training. Wait a second, how do you know my sister and I talked?”
“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
