Whatever the answers to those questions might be, it was pretty evident he had no intention of telling me just yet.
“It does makes me wonder why,” I said, after a moment, “given your suspicions, you did not take steps to remove him from my life.”
“There are plenty of reasons a man or woman might manufacture a false past, Bethany, and some of them are legit. Until we knew otherwise, I thought it best to watch.”
“And hope that I made a sensible decision when it came to the men in my life?”
“Indeed. Although I daresay you consider me far from sensible.”
“Ain’t that a truth.” I grinned and ate some more cheese. “In other news, I met my father the other day.”
Surprise flitted through his expression. “And did he have any wisdom or information to impart?”
I quickly updated him on everything except the whole death thing, then added, “He also said you were placed in my life to cause utter havoc.”
“And instead, you cause utter havoc in mine.”
His voice was dry, and I laughed again. “He did say that this game had a limited time frame, and my subsequent dream said it would end in nine months.”
“At least that gives us a time frame to work with.”
“Yes, though there’s still the matter of the missing relics and the council’s edict I find them all.” I took another drink. “Which reminds me, has Mathi contacted you about us needing the services of a dark elf tomorrow?”
He nodded. “I’ve assigned Bodhrán. I trust him to keep you all safe.”
Keep me safe, he actually meant. “He a relation?”
Cynwrig shook his head. “We grew up together—our parents were at one point close friends.”
“At one point? What happened?”
“My mother died, and my father—” He paused and shrugged. “He basically lost interest in almost everything except running the kingdom and ensuring his children were more than capable of taking over ‘the family business,’ as he liked to call it.”
I picked up a chocolate-covered strawberry and ate it. “How did you go working up a list of suspects from those who attended Jarvil Maehdon’s funeral?”
“We have a number of possibilities, but we’ve yet to interview those from the immediate family.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“A Myrkálfar mourning period cannot legally be interrupted without good reason.”
“You’re in a mourning period, and yet you still have to deal with all the outside shit that comes with being heir.”
“Because of the very fact I’m heir to the throne. There are separate rules for us.”
Such as the “no fornicating” thing with those outside the Myrkálfar race—a rule a long-ago heir had very quickly found a way around. Cynwrig picked up the bottle of wine and raised an eyebrow in question. I held out my glass.
“Are any of Maehdon’s family—immediate or otherwise—missing a finger on his left hand?”
“I have no idea, but that is easy enough to uncover. Why?”
“Because one of the two men our thief hired to stop me and Mathi chasing after him today claimed that he was missing a pinky.”
“That certainly gives me reason to break the mourning period. I shall arrange a meeting in the morn.”
“If you find him, I need to talk to him.”
“Why?”
