A burst of air knocks open the vestibule door. Konstantin strides over the threshold, carrying a slender wooden box.
“What? No knocking?”
“Only those who have something to conceal require advanced warning, Miss Ríhbiadh. What is it that you have to con—” His voice ebbs as he takes in my accoutrement, his lambent gaze tapering on the band of bare thigh visible between my trimmed dress and my velvet over-the-knee boots.
The footwear is one of the two gifts I received from Izolda. The other is a set of shimmery underthings that make Shabbin undergarments seem conservative.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Isla.” His Adam’s apple jostles as his gaze rushes over the sheer sleeves that tie with a bow around my wrists to match the one around my neck.
“Don’t say that. Not even in jest.” I move toward him, then wrap my arms around his slim middle and rest my cheek over the slate fabric of his dinner jacket, right above his scudding heart and the Cauldron’s talisman that safeguards it. “Any new developments?”
“Salom didn’t kill Lev.”
I blink. “You’re certain?”
He nods. “One of the soldiers tasked with listening and transcribing reported hearing father and son argue after Salom left the room. If his throat was being chewed open by iron, he wouldn’t have been able to talk.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“Who was trying to make Lev look like a traitor… Lev asked his father if he’d sold those weapons.”
My heart feels suspended. “You heard this from the soldier’s mouth or from Salom’s?”
“The soldier’sandSalom’s. Imogen offered to give Salom a ride to pick up Bohdan and carry him back here for an interrogation.”
My skin prickles at the idea that Bohdan could be behind his son’s demise.
“May I ask you something?” Konstantin sounds downright exuberant, which clashes with the way I’m feeling. I suppose learning Salom isn’t deceiving him must be quite the reprieve.
Filicide… How horrific. How incomprehensible. I shake the deliberation away. I’m getting ahead of myself. There must be another reason…another suspect.
I press out of my thoughts to embrace the here and now. “Of course. Anything.”
He snakes one arm around my back and nods to my dress. “Is this Crow fashion?”
“No, I just felt like showing off the boots that your sister got me for my birthday, and the floor-length skirt was hiding them.” With a smile, I step back and twirl. “Admittedly, I may cut all my dresses from now on, because the shorter hemline is loads more practical.”
His throat bobs. “I’d encourage you to go wild with the scissors considering the end result, but?—”
“Talons.” I wriggle my fingers.
“But I’m uncertain how I’ll react if anyone else lays eyes on your bared skin.” He traps my raised hand and presses a wooden box topped with a folded piece of parchment into my palm. “I never got a chance to say it, but happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” I whisper
The crisp sheet of paper feels heavier than the box. Probably because I assume it’s Mimi’s inked reply to the talisman query.
“I have another gift on its way, but money—I recently learned—cannot buy expediency.”
I hand him back the letter, pulse bumping out of alignment as I picture myself trying to decipher my great-grandmother’s script under his watchful stare. “Read it out to me?”
“There’s not much to read.”
“Please?” I croak.
“All right.” He unfolds the missive. “It’s a ticket.”
“A…ticket?”
