The doorbell rings before anyone else can add their two cents. Seconds later, our ranch housekeeper enters the kitchen. “Excuse me, Your Highness.” She addresses my brother. “Witchcraft Investigations is here. They’d like to apprise the queen of their progress.”
“Send them in, Leandra,” Donovan says, then puts on his poker face and straightens up to his full height. As he does, I can see the future—and the monarch he is going to be. It’s a good look for him.
As Leandra heads back to the front parlor, the tension level in the room—already high—escalates. I can feel myself bracing for the worst, know that my brother and sisters are doing the same. Whatever WI has to say, it’s bound to be bad news. Either they know who did it and we’ll be faced with finding out who betrayed us, or they don’t know, in which case we’ll still be in the dark, trying to figure out whom we can and can’t trust.
Only a minute or two passes before Leandra leads three detectives into the kitchen. I nearly groan when I recognize Moira. She’s a good cop—or so my family keeps trying to convince me—but since she spent our formative years making my life hell, it’s hard to see past that to the person she’s become. Especially since my loathing for her is definitely mutual.
I don’t recognize either of the male cops with her, but I’m pretty sure they’re the best the department has. This is because, first, my brother knows both of them by name, and second, because lousy cops don’t get assigned to the royal family detail.
“What do you know, Kal?” Donovan asks, jumping right in. The fact that he doesn’t bother to explain to them where my mother is shows just how agitated he is.
The tall cop with the rumpled suit and exhausted eyes answers. “Not enough. But we’re getting there.” He glances around the kitchen. “Should we wait for the queen to join us?”
“No need. She’s here.” My mother steps into the kitchen, escorted down the stairs by none other than Declan. Tsura is trailing behind them, like she’s waiting for one of them to collapse at any moment. Still, I have to bite my lip to stifle my cry of relief at seeing Declan up and about under his own power. He’s still a far cry from looking like himself, but at least he’s doing okay. And when he comes over to stand beside me, I can’t help but lean into him. In response, he strokes a gentle hand up and down my arm. Not enough to distract, but more than enough to soothe the agitation I know must be pouring out of me.
“What have you got for us, Kal?” my mother asks once she’s reached him.
“Not enough, Your Majesty,” he says with an obsequious bow of his head. “As you know, four charges were set in strategic places around your house, next to or underneath structural elements, which caused the worst of the damage. The fire department and bomb squad are looking into the actual, physical components of the bombs—tracing where they were bought, who bought them, and so forth.
“We’re focusing on the magical side of things. Whoever did this has certainly got a lot of talent. They’ve managed to do a very good job of obscuring their magical thumbprint. But we’ve got some real skill of our own and we think it’s only a matter of time before we unravel the safeguards.”
“How much time?” my mother asks. “I have to cremate my daughter next week, and before I do, I want to know who’s responsible for her death.”
“We understand, Your Majesty.” Moira bows her head with a respect she’s never shown to me. “And I assure you, we’re working with the utmost diligence and speed. The entire department has taken a piece of this investigation. We’re close and I believe it will only be a matter of days before we run the people who did this to ground.”
“Close doesn’t count,” Tsura tells her. “This is my niece we’re talking about. My sister. We need answers.”
“Of course, ma’am. We understand.”
“Are there any other leads?” I ask, trying to move the conversation along. My aunt is in superprotective mode and the detectives don’t need the added stress of an inquisition. “Or are we completely dependent on figuring out whose magic is on the bombs? I mean, that only works if whoever wanted my family dead did it themselves instead of hiring it out.”
“Actually, we do have a couple of really good leads,” Kal answers when it becomes obvious that Moira won’t. “We’ve interviewed your entire staff and one of the assistant housekeepers—a woman named Elsa Vinnick—has admitted to letting her boyfriend into the house early yesterday morning. Her boyfriend claimed that he wasn’t feeling well and needed to use the restroom. He was out of her sight for about twenty minutes and he was carrying a dark green backpack. She didn’t think anything of it at the time.”