Not just yet, however. Leaving the Gallery too quickly would betray her impatience, arouse suspicions. And Aodhan was enjoying this. Happy to wait for him, she eventually found herself looking into a glass cabinet in which lay a tumble of golden artworks in miniature. Tiny sculptures, paintings, jewels, all of it sized for dolls.
Delighted, she took out her phone—which she carried around out of habit—to grab a few shots for Eve. She knew her youngest sister would enjoy zooming in to see all the different objects. It was only after she slipped away her phone that she realized this place was probably “No photography allowed,” but oh well, at least she hadn’t used the flash.
Leaning in closer, she smiled at the cheerful way this space had been organized. Someone in the Luminata had a sense of joy, understood that art didn’t always have to be in perfect lines. She was about to move to the other side of the case when her eye fell on something half hidden beneath a tiny bust of a hawk-nosed man. It was the edge of what looked like a small painting.
The surround was aged gold, but there was a miniature canvas within, and from what she could see, that painting was of someone with long hair of near-white. It could be nothing, a truly ancient archangel or vampire, or just a blond woman whose image had faded over time, but Elena’s heart thundered. She couldn’t walk away without seeing it. But no matter how carefully she looked, she couldn’t see a way to open the case.
She didn’t realize Aodhan had noticed her preoccupation until he came up right next to her, their wings overlapping and the bare skin of his biceps almost touching her own arm. “Ellie, what is it?”
Elena glanced around before whispering, “You think this place has security cameras?” There’d been none in their suites, or in the hallways, but this Gallery held treasure after treasure.
“I would bet my wings it doesn’t,” Aodhan said. “Many angels believe such technological intrusions disrespectful to the contemplative space required for art. The Luminata are highly likely to fall into that category.”
Breath coming a little too fast and shallow, she touched her fingers to the case. “There’s a miniature painting right at the bottom with a portrait inside that I want to see.”
“Which one?”
She tapped her finger on the glass to point it out. “Under the bust.”
Aodhan’s expression sharpened as he realized what had caught her interest. “I can break the seal.” His tone was as quiet as hers had been. “But the damage would be obvious.”
Shaking her head, Elena looked up, the lights of the chandeliers now frustrating because they blinded her to anyone who might be watching them, or who might be heading to this level. “No,” she said after looking back down, spots of black light dancing behind her eyes. “We can’t risk the Luminata becoming suspicious—if they figure out I’m searching for information about the unknown woman, I think they’d bury any other clues that might’ve been inadvertently left lying around.” She was pretty certain the miniature, if it was a clue, had been overlooked because it was so small and part of a jumble of other objects.
Aodhan’s eyes remained golden, reflecting all the metallic surfaces here. Like glittering fire. And again, she remembered Illium’s words about people wanting to own Aodhan. “Give me a minute,” he murmured. “Any case such as this will have an official way to open it so the archivist can rearrange the objects within.”
Though it almost physically hurt her to do so, Elena wandered away from the case to look at a collection of gold-handled hand mirrors that Aodhan pointed out to her. If anyone was watching them, it’d appear as if she’d gone from one fascinating object to another. Nothing unusual. And lingering on this level could hardly be unexpected—it was a room designed to captivate.
The tiny hairs on her nape prickled the entire time, her skin tight, so when Aodhan spoke her name softly, she nearly burst apart. Turning with deliberate laziness, she strolled over to him. “Success?”
“I need a very thin blade, the thinnest you have, with the narrowest tip.”
Mahiya, Elena thought, I owe you one.
Reaching up to the hair she’d twisted into a roll at the back of her head, she removed one of the blade sticks. She was careful to keep the movements ordinary, everyday, nothing but a woman fixing her hair. Palming the blade stick while appearing to slide it back in, she passed it over to Aodhan by placing it on the very edge of the case, near the thick metal rim. Then she turned and, blocking the case and Aodhan’s hands with her wings, pointed out the carvings on the bottom of the staircase to this level.