Where is she going with this?
“Of course she is,” Bennet clapped back.
“No, she’s not,” Gris snipped. “Did you see her hand or the wounds in Freville’s body? She couldn’t have had the strength to do that much damage. We also didn’t find a single weapon.”
Theo eyed Gris but still refused to step in. Her logic seemed reasonable.
“What makes you say this, Sergeant Salter?” Theo’s father asked, giving her the floor.
“She has a broken hand, and there were squirms in the body. I assessed it when we returned, and parts of it were covered in them. He had to have been dead at least a day for them to gather.”
“But the body hadn’t been touched by a scourge or other ravenous creatures,” Bennet cut in. “It was a fresh killing.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Gris said through gritted teeth.
“Quiet,” Theo’s father shouted. “A heinous crime has been committed on Fastrada land, and the one responsible will pay the consequences.”
“Randolf, I request to interrogate her for information. We need to learn what she knows regarding these disappearances,” Bennet said.
Theo’s attention snapped to Bennet. To keep the laws of morality,the law didn’t allow for torture unless the accused was, without a doubt, conspiring against the kingdom or in extreme cases.
If his father granted an interrogation, Bennet would drag Theo along with him. Gris’s wife, Sephardi, was their usual interrogator, having performed many during the war with Theo at her side, but he hadn’t checked if she’d returned yet.
Theo’s hand grasped the hilt of his dagger. During the war, he’d been taught to break someone to pieces but never how to pick up his humanity afterwards. Sephardi had told him to remind himself why they interrogated, for their safety, the people they loved, but Theo didn’t think he’d be able to do it, to hear Amaris’s screams as he pried information from her.
His father inhaled deeply, taking in both Gris’s and Bennet’s outbursts. Theo pulled himself from his daunting thoughts and watched Gris as she sent her eyes flaring at Bennet.
“We can’t interrogate her nor keep her locked in a cell without sufficient evidence,” Theo blurted out, ignoring Bennet’s heated glare as he faced his father. There was a subtle raise of his brow, and Theo knew his father wasn’t pleased.
“I have every right to protect my people,” his father began. “What other evidence do we have against the woman?”
Theo gripped the small strands of his hair tickling the nape of his neck. They had nothing. It was hard, either way, to pin the murder on her or absolve her completely from any wrongdoing. She’d taken his dagger and aimed it at him.
“What we’ve presented is enough—”
“Bennet, we’ll hold off any interrogations for now. I wish to have an audience with her before I make a decision.”
“But, Randolf—” Bennet began.
“You’re dismissed,” his father said, waving his hand toward the door.
Never once had Theo seen his father dismiss Bennet in such a manner.Bennet stormed from the room with Gerard in tow, and it slammed with a thunderous jolt.
His father reclined back, resting his hands upon his abdomen. A simple position one would believe to be of respect or informal, but with him, nothing was without power.
“Sergeant Salter, is there anything else you wish to tell me regarding the situation?”
Gris opened her lips but paused. Her finger coiled the end of her hair, but she shook her head.
“Then you’re dismissed as well.”
Gris retreated from the study, but not before Theo spotted the tightening of her jaw and clenching of her fists. It seemed neither of them could feel a moment of resolve in his presence.
His father relinquished the safety of his desk to take a casual stance by the window. Almost every room had expansive windows lining the walls to allow the natural light to bathe the room in brightness, but not here. A single window centered in the wall was all the study held. All the dukes before his father shared the office, and Theo always wondered why such a small view of the bay was taken for the prize office of the leader of Luana.
His father slid off his pristine frock coat, the golden buttons reflecting the sunlight. Underneath he wore a matching brown waistcoat. He was always a man to dress well—being the duke brought that out in him. His shoes were always shined, not by him of course, and his hair was never tousled like Theo’s but slicked back with a leather tie.
“How are you?”
