2372 Iclis 29, Daleth

Elred frowned into her cup of cousa, processing what Savel had just said. "What?"

The man in front of her smiled. "You're not listening, are you?"

An exasperated huff tore from Elred. It's true, though. They had agreed to meet up in one of the public pavilions in Abshire when she called him through the contactmirrors last night. His voice on the other line was garbled but grim enough to register he treated this case as important as Elred did.

So, despite the heat of the day without any clouds to stop the sun's rays, Elred donned her numerous glamours and stepped out of the Vertinso mansion. She even cancelled some of the meetings she had today. Not that she was looking forward to see Savel.

And when her friend arrived, Elred dismissed the playful leap her heart made. This wasn't the time to loiter around and think of those things. She had a Feast to plan and execute and they had a case, or in this matter, several cases to solve.

Savel had dropped into the seat in front of her and propped his hands atop the table she had saved for them. Elred remembered frowning at his disheveled appearance. "You're late," she said, her tone flat. "You better make up for it."

The man smiled, his green eyes twinkling with the challenge. Heat fled to her cheeks, making it hotter. Damn the clouds. Where were they in this blasted weather? Elred watched Savel brush his messy blond hair off his face. "Oh, I plan to," he said. "It's not every day Helinfirth's princess calls for me personally."

Elred snorted. "You like me calling for you that much?" she did her best to hide the amusement in her tone. "Why not work in the Vertinso, then? I'll call for you until you get tired of me."

"I'll never get tired of you. I thought you knew that?" Savel met her eyes then, and Elred forgot how to breathe for a while.

Then, she mentally slapped herself. Focus. "Of course," she answered with an eye-roll. "The Garde trained you to have the patience of a pelgar."

Savel's face darkened at the mention of the animal. "About that," he started.

"Yeah," Elred's stomach sank at the sudden reminder. They didn't come here to catch up as friends. "What have you found?"

"I went to the scene the moment Yrren informed me the Palace wants us to look into it," Savel tapped a finger in the table in a random beat. "I found something interesting."

Elred straightened, her cousa forgotten. Savel didn't even attempt to ask for anything so he was a bit out of place in a pavillion full of snacking nobles. "Spill," she said.

"The pelgar was killed with a dagger the size of an arm," Savel said. "I can tell from how the blood splattered on the wall. It was also tackled from behind so it didn't even know what hit it. Pelgaris cannot twist their heads very far."

Her eyes were drawn to a random noble not from Abshire who were now trying to find an empty table and a nice copy of the daily prints shipped from Gingow. Judging from the brightly-colored hair and the dark eyes, they're not a Valkalin. Tourists, maybe?

"What?" Elred flinched when she realized she had spaced out.

Savel chuckled. "You're not listening, are you?"

Elred opened her mouth and shut it again. She didn't have anything more to say anyway. "So something about pelgaris not able to twist their heads?"

The man bobbed his head. "That and the fact that pelgaris remember everything they see and are sentient enough to sense that something's wrong. That's why they make excellent guard hounds and why Abshire insisted on using them."

"Which doesn't even make sense," Elred tapped her chin. Sweat beaded on the side of her face before scaling her cheek. Could Savel see that? "There are usually two pelgaris on duty. One would have seen the culprit sneaking from the back of another and warned its companion. With a bark or something. I don't know."

Savel shrugged. "Maybe something happened with the rotation and the animals, themselves?" he said. "It seemed convenient that the culprit was able to chance upon a day where there was only one pelgar on duty."

He looked at Elred then, prompting another flush of heat creeping into her face. "Who was in charge of the pelgaris and their rotation?"

A groan ripped off Elred as the face of her most hated relative popped in her face. "I hate this so much," she frowned as she leveled her gaze on Savel. "Erlan Valkalin."

Savel leaned away from the table and rested his back against the chair. The glass legs squeaked against the pavilion's marble floor. "There you have it," he said. "I suppose you can go to him to ask him what happened that day and why there's only one pelgar on duty."

"He probably did himself, that poor excuse of a Valkalin," Elred scoffed.

Savel cleared his throat. "All the more reason to ask him, right?" he said. "You may catch him in the act, even. Make sure to watch his reactions with your questions."

Elred arched an eyebrow. "The Garde also taught you that?"

"Nah," he waved a hand in the air. "Just a general principle. You get to learn a lot about the world if you slow down, analyze things, and," he reached out and plucked a stray petal in Elred's hair. "Draw appropriate conclusions," he finished with a smile.

Her cheeks burned now. When did that petal even get there? Her fingers voluntarily reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, glamour or no. "That's a good principle," she muttered. "What about the maid?"

Savel reached into the pocket of his dark, Garde trousers and drew a small sheet of parchment. From what Elred could see as he unfurled it, it was folded and shoved down the pocket in a hurry. "I interviewed a couple f servants before they closed for the day yesterday," he said. "They gave me a list of the times they thought they saw Cela last."

"Cela?"

He gave her a side glance. "The maid's name," he said.

Elred nodded. "Ah," she said. "Continue."

"Anyway," Savel laid the parchment flat on the table and slid it over to Elred. "Here's the list of how the servants said Cela's day went."

Elred's eyes scanned the document, trying to ignore the nice, slanted calligraphy courtesy of Savel. He did have one of the most elegant penmanship Elred has ever seen. To think he did all this while talking to people and in a matter of a few hours. Not to mention, he probably did this in the dim light of the Servants's Quarter after the sun went down.

She cursed in her mind. That's not the point of the document. Okay. Cela's day started out normally. Servants' Quarter. Laundry stalls. Stables. No doubt to flirt with the handsome stable boy that's been making rounds in the younger Valkalins. Elred had seen that boy and he was indeed stunning.

Not her type, though.

Savel cleared his throat, taking Elred off her reverie. "Found anything unusual?" he said.

Elred frowned. "Let me guess," she said. "You already know it and are only testing me?"

He laughed. It was music to rival the most prestigious ensemble in Elred's ears. "Since when did you know me that well, Elred?"

Since, well...forever? They've known each other all their lives. Since that skirmish in the gardens, Elred and Savel had never looked back. Savel has this...easy and laid-back energy in him that she found nice over and again. What did Savel see in her to keep showing up all these years?

"Well," Savel clasped his hands together when Elred failed to give an answer to both his questions. He leaned over to point at something in the parchment. Elred's brain didn't let the fact that their heads were just a few inches apart pass. "Look here," Savel said. Elred made sure she was looking at his delicate fingers tapping the parchment. "She went to the Vertinso Mansion in the afternoon, according to one of the maids I interviewed."

Elred knitted her eyebrows. "Servants do not come until well into the evening," she said. "Why would she go there?"

Savel shrugged. "I'm not allowed to snoop in any of the mansions so I'll leave finding the answer to that question to you," he said. "Good luck."

A ball of dread unfurled in her gut. "Yeah," she said. "Thanks for your help. It's a start, at least."

He hummed. "What are you planning to do now?"

Elred finished her cousa, the sweet, milky concoction going down her throat with a lukewarm ease. It's not the best when it's cold, but what choice did she have? "I'll pay my relatives a visit."

The walls of the Vertinso Mansion reflected Elred's grim expression back at her. Here goes nothing. Again. She pressed her hands against the wall, disregarding the cold licking her skin and wrapping around her wrists. Then, she uttered the rysteme spell underneath her breath.

Light shimmered in the walls before speeding down the long hallway, into the dark. This time, she added something in the spell. That was to specifically look for a certain person who went into the mansion following the death of the pelgar and Cela's murder. Would he be so foolish to wear his red cloak over and over, knowing that the memory from the walls could find him?

True enough, a familiar red cloak traipsed along the wall. Due to the age of the memories, the image was a little blurry but it'd have to do. Elred matched Red Cloak's pace and followed him. He didn't seem to be in a hurry this time. Was this even the same Red Cloak? How many Red Cloaks were there holing around in Abshire?

Soon, the corridors became unfamiliar. Elred scratched her head. Was this even Vertinso, still? Which corner had she turned last? Panic rose to her throat. Holy Crintine. Was she...was she lost?

"You got some nerve showing up here," a stern voice ripped Elred from her preoccupation. Her gaze landed on a man she knew to be Raimon Valkalin. Somewhere in her mother's cousin's extended side, maybe? She couldn't be sure. "Didn't you have a Feast to plan? The event is only a few days away."

"I am aware," Elred narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here? What is this place, even?"

Raimon blew a breath. His scarlet eyes were hard when they trained down on Elred. "This is my quarters, Your Grace," he clarified. "Just like how your family stays in the west wing, the rest of the clan stay in the east. Do you not know that?"

Elred blinked. "B-but—"

"Whatever it is you think I'm doing, I don't have anything to do with it," Raimon snapped. "I'm just going back to my rooms. Which are cramped to a fault, by the way. Thought I should let you know since your mother stopped listening to me fifty years ago."

She coughed when her saliva didn't go down the right way. "I haven't even asked you anything," she said.

Raimon raised an eyebrow. "Please," he scoffed. "The Crown Princess is seen here instead of being with the planners. With the amount of madness happening in the past few days, you wouldn't be here for a chat. You're here to ask your own family about the incidents."

Elred opened her mouth to retort but her relative cut her off. "And I assure you," he crossed his arms. "I don't have anything to do with it," he said. "It would not be in my best interest to see our clan face disgrace in the Feast. Why would I sabotage it?"

Elred shook her head. "But I've been told—"

"Don't believe your brother too much," Raimon said. "Children are known to spin tales like what you are doing right now. You can't undo everything you have prepared at this point. The Feast must continue. You can count on my attendance."

Then, what he said registered in Elred's mind. She faced her relative. "Wait," she called, stopping Raimon in his tracks after he had already turned away. "How did you know about Cirasa?"

Raimon had the pall to look offended. "I'm family," he said. "I know everything, even things your mother doesn't like talking about."

Well...it's true. The Queen shut out each and every attempt of talking about Cirasa whenever it came up in a conversation. Elred blew a breath. She didn't like how frustrated it sounded. "He wasn't spinning tales," she said. "I think what's happening to him is something more."

Raimon didn't look convinced. He uncrossed his arms. "Well, whatever," he said. "Go back to the planning meetings. Erlan's close to blowing his pale head with you."

Elred knitted her eyebrows. Erlan again? Raimon didn't appear to be aware of her internal turmoil because after that, he turned and walked away, leaving Elred alone in the eastern wing she didn't even know existed until today.

She was about to go the opposite way her relative did when something glistened in the dim light from the rods lining the corridor. Something...

She crouched and picked it up. A button lay in all its embellished glory in her palm. Her head snapped up to the direction Raimon disappeared to. Buttons...

Elred shook her head. She shoved the button into her bodice doubling as pockets. Later. She'd think of this later. For now, as much as she hated to admit it, Raimon was right. The Feast was in but a few days. It would be best for Elred to push through with it.

Despite the knife clearly aiming for her. Despite the apparent disappoint her whole family felt for her. This time, Elred was sure whoever was responsible for this would strike at the Feast itself. Elred clenched her fist. She had to be ready for the worst.

She owed her family and her brother at least that.