I nodded and somehow managed to turn around, walk back into my bedchamber and throw on a dress. Together, wemade our way to Hugo’s quarters. As I floated down the familiar hallways and corridors in a terrible daze, my eyes landed on the servants we passed. They were gathered in groups of twos and threes and whispering somberly to one another. Some looked visibly rattled, others looked as though they were fighting back tears. I had to look away before my own grief overwhelmed me.
By the time we reached Hugo’s chambers, the atmosphere was somber. Hugo, still in his bed, had just finished a briefing with his guards. Upon our arrival, he dismissed them, leaving only the three of us.
“I’ve told her,” Filip said.
Hugo looked at me with what might have been sympathy on his face. For some reason, it only made me feel worse. “I have the details. They may be difficult to stomach, given your relationship with the deceased, so I’d understand if you’d rather not hear what I have to say.”
“No,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “I want to hear it.”
“Very well. The servant—”
“Runa.”
“Runa,” he amended, “was last seen alive yesterday morning when she informed Ingrid she was feeling unwell and would not be able to perform her duties for the day. Ingrid sent her to bed; however, based on accounts from the other servants, she never went back to the servants’ quarters.”
I shook my head as if the act would undo the past. As if this story would not end in Runa’s death. Slumping into the chair next to Hugo’s bed, I asked, “Where did she go?”
“That remains to be seen. What we do know is that her body was discovered in the early hours of the morning.” A shadow passed over his features. “In the same cell I was found in the night I was attacked.”
I felt as though I had been plunged into icy water. If the murderer had taken her to the dungeons—to that very cell—itwas to send a message. They were unquestionably responsible for attacking Hugo.
He hesitated for a moment as if second-guessing whether to go on. “Her body was strung from the ceiling and… it’s likely that she was tortured.”
I was going to vomit.
“Are you okay?” Filip sounded worried as he eyed me from his post at the foot of the bed. “You’ve gone pale as a ghost and you’re shaking.”
I took deep breaths, focusing on not spilling this morning’s toast all over Hugo’s handwoven rug. After a long moment passed, I said in a strangled voice, “Go on.”
Hugo and Filip exchanged reluctant looks.
“Go on,” I repeated more firmly.
Hugo shifted in his bed. “There were marks left that were consistent with Lord Hywell’s mutilations, though her fingers remained intact and there was no brand left on her body.”
At those words, Filip looked as repulsed and unsettled as I felt.
I ran my hands up and down my arms, chasing away the sudden chill. “Why would they have branded Lord Hywell but not Runa?”
“The theory is the symbol meant something to Hywell,” said Hugo. “The murderer carved it into his skin as a way to torment him. It’s a bullshit theory from men who are too frightened to admit it’s a symbol of witchcraft. However, I can only speculate…”
Filip and I looked at him expectantly.
He rubbed his chin. “And the only explanations I can come up with are that either the murderer ran out of time, or the symbol was for a spell. A spell that was performed on Hywell, but not Runa.”
“Or it’s not the same person?” Filip offered.
Hugo looked dismissive. “The odds that there would be two different murderers are extremely low. Let’s revisit the facts, shall we? Someone kills Hywell then attempts to murder me two days later. Then, the day I awaken from my coma, Runa—the servant who delivered the note that led to my attack—gets murdered and placed in the same cell I was found in with nearly identical cuts on her body. Not to mention the witch you found beheaded in her cottage; although, I admit, I struggle to see how she fits into the puzzle. All of this considered, I’d say it’s undeniable that this is the work of the same person. The same witch.”
We sat in silence as we processed the weight of his words. I stared blankly ahead at the bookshelf lining the wall. Why kill Runa if not for some dark magic practice? Unless it was to keep her quiet?
“So, can we all agree that Runa knew something, which is why she was killed?” said Hugo, breaking the silence and echoing my thoughts.
At our responding nods, he continued. “Alara, did you notice any unusual behavior from Runa in the days leading up to this?”
I thought back to the past few days. How had she seemed? Did she say anything unusual?
Her concern for me after my experience in the forest had been touching. She’d been horrified and had asked plenty of questions, although I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that she didn’t fully believe me when I said I’d gotten lost. She was, after all, more perceptive than most. Still, she seemed unusually quiet after I returned from tea with Livia.
