voice in her head, and repeated his words almost by rote. “The force and angle of the projectile was different. It...it came from the side. As though someone had thrown it.”
The man was standing icily still. The corner of his mouth lifted. His arctic-blue gaze remained trained on the body.
“Were there any witnesses?” he asked.
Lily let out a slow breath. “No,” she paused, then bit her tongue. Should she tell him about Sora? Of course, and yet, she was still disturbed. His skin was too pale; his teeth were too long.
He was waiting. She could tell he could read her like a book; he knew she had more to say. Finally, she relented. “His daughter, Lady Sora, is missing.” She licked her lips nervously. Something almost made sense about that, now that she said it aloud. No witnesses, and the Lady missing. Had Sora seen something...?
“And no idea where she might have gone?” The man's eyes sharpened.
“N-no,” Lily bit her tongue again. The energy around him was decidedly cold. “But Lord Gracen, of the King's Private Guard, you know....He suspects that she arranged the murder.”
The man nodded slowly. When his eyes met hers, there was a strange pity in them, as though he was gazing at a wounded animal. “And she might have,” he spoke carefully, watching her reaction. “Assassins rarely kill on their own whim. This man had need of money...and your Lady had motive to kill, I take it?”
Lily felt her hopes plummet. This man wouldn't understand. Her mistress spent her time in the open fields, whittling wooden flutes and studying birds. She didn't have a vicious bone in her body.
But something had happened last night. Her gut twisted sickeningly again. Sora had witnessed something. Bumped into the killer, perhaps?
“Do you know what this assassin looks like, sir?” she asked. “Perhaps I could ask the servants if anyone else saw him....”
“Athletic build,” the man replied idly, almost disinterestedly. “A little over six feet, perhaps. Young, barely in his prime.” He stepped away from the couch, slowly touring the room, obviously finished with the body. Lily let the white sheet drop over the corpse, then watched the man closely.
He gazed at the Lord's bookshelves. Then he picked up a large crystal sphere, a decorative paperweight, from Lord Fallcrest's desk. He slowly turned it in his hand, watching the light play off the surface. “Black hair, green eyes,” he continued thoughtfully. “And I expect—yes, I expect he'd be dressed in black." The man grinned, strange for such a conversation. "He has an immeasurable capacity for violence. To state it quite plainly, my dear, he is a very highly trained murderer. Some might even say his thirst for blood is... inhuman. " Then he grinned wider, and his fangs flashed in the light.
Lily tried not to flinch. "Uhm," she said slowly, her mouth dry. "I will certainly ask around. Would you like to speak to Lord Gracen? He would be very interested in this. You might catch up with him in Mayville....”
“No,” the traveler said shortly. “My investigation is private. It is of a personal nature, you see. And the killer is a cunning man. The less he hears of me, the better.”
A personal nature? Lily wasn't sure what to say to that. She wanted to ask, but then didn't. She doubted this man was as good-intentioned as he seemed.
Finally, the man set the crystal back on the desk. “I have imposed on you long enough. Thank you for your help, miss, and...” his face pulled into a frown, “I am sorry. This is a tragedy. Lord Fallcrest was well respected by his serfs, by what I have heard.”
Lily nodded slowly. "Yes. A tragedy.” She wondered which serfs he had spoken to. Her Lord had been a businessman, concerned with trade and money, his sights set on the First Tier. He had governed with a strict, if consistent, hand, dealing harsh punishments in all disputes. But who knew? In the lawless countryside, perhaps that was necessary. The serfs did
The man was standing icily still. The corner of his mouth lifted. His arctic-blue gaze remained trained on the body.
“Were there any witnesses?” he asked.
Lily let out a slow breath. “No,” she paused, then bit her tongue. Should she tell him about Sora? Of course, and yet, she was still disturbed. His skin was too pale; his teeth were too long.
He was waiting. She could tell he could read her like a book; he knew she had more to say. Finally, she relented. “His daughter, Lady Sora, is missing.” She licked her lips nervously. Something almost made sense about that, now that she said it aloud. No witnesses, and the Lady missing. Had Sora seen something...?
“And no idea where she might have gone?” The man's eyes sharpened.
“N-no,” Lily bit her tongue again. The energy around him was decidedly cold. “But Lord Gracen, of the King's Private Guard, you know....He suspects that she arranged the murder.”
The man nodded slowly. When his eyes met hers, there was a strange pity in them, as though he was gazing at a wounded animal. “And she might have,” he spoke carefully, watching her reaction. “Assassins rarely kill on their own whim. This man had need of money...and your Lady had motive to kill, I take it?”
Lily felt her hopes plummet. This man wouldn't understand. Her mistress spent her time in the open fields, whittling wooden flutes and studying birds. She didn't have a vicious bone in her body.
But something had happened last night. Her gut twisted sickeningly again. Sora had witnessed something. Bumped into the killer, perhaps?
“Do you know what this assassin looks like, sir?” she asked. “Perhaps I could ask the servants if anyone else saw him....”
“Athletic build,” the man replied idly, almost disinterestedly. “A little over six feet, perhaps. Young, barely in his prime.” He stepped away from the couch, slowly touring the room, obviously finished with the body. Lily let the white sheet drop over the corpse, then watched the man closely.
He gazed at the Lord's bookshelves. Then he picked up a large crystal sphere, a decorative paperweight, from Lord Fallcrest's desk. He slowly turned it in his hand, watching the light play off the surface. “Black hair, green eyes,” he continued thoughtfully. “And I expect—yes, I expect he'd be dressed in black." The man grinned, strange for such a conversation. "He has an immeasurable capacity for violence. To state it quite plainly, my dear, he is a very highly trained murderer. Some might even say his thirst for blood is... inhuman. " Then he grinned wider, and his fangs flashed in the light.
Lily tried not to flinch. "Uhm," she said slowly, her mouth dry. "I will certainly ask around. Would you like to speak to Lord Gracen? He would be very interested in this. You might catch up with him in Mayville....”
“No,” the traveler said shortly. “My investigation is private. It is of a personal nature, you see. And the killer is a cunning man. The less he hears of me, the better.”
A personal nature? Lily wasn't sure what to say to that. She wanted to ask, but then didn't. She doubted this man was as good-intentioned as he seemed.
Finally, the man set the crystal back on the desk. “I have imposed on you long enough. Thank you for your help, miss, and...” his face pulled into a frown, “I am sorry. This is a tragedy. Lord Fallcrest was well respected by his serfs, by what I have heard.”
Lily nodded slowly. "Yes. A tragedy.” She wondered which serfs he had spoken to. Her Lord had been a businessman, concerned with trade and money, his sights set on the First Tier. He had governed with a strict, if consistent, hand, dealing harsh punishments in all disputes. But who knew? In the lawless countryside, perhaps that was necessary. The serfs did
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