“I like birds,” I said. It was the truth; he didn’t need to know the rest.
He smirked. “I suppose we must all have our little hobbies.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the golden key displayed next to the vase.
“Don’t get him started on that,” Filip groaned.
Hugo’s eyes lit up. “That,” he said with pride, “is a magical key that can open any lock. I call it The Chameleon. It cost me a bloody fortune.”
I quirked an eyebrow. Magical artifacts in Anerdor could not be easy to come by. I thought back to all the stories I’d read warning mortals against magic. “I’m surprised you’re allowed to keep it?”
With a guilty look, he said, “Its magical properties are not exactly widely known, so kindly keep that bit of information to yourself.”
“Does Tarben know?” I asked in a would-be-casual voice.
“He does, as a matter of fact. Why so interested in my brother?” he asked with a sly smile.
“Just wondering,” I said, tracing circles on the soft velvet of the chair. “Did either of you find anything of use?” I changed the subject.
That wiped the smirk off of Hugo’s face, but it was Filip who answered.
“Nothing yet. We haven’t had much time to search with all that’s been going on in the wake of Runa’s murder.” I flinched. No matter how many times I heard it, it still didn’t feel real. “We’ve been pulled into endless meetings. His Majesty has demanded the investigation into the castle murderer be prioritized above all else.”
“Good,” I said, emotion cracking my voice.
A flicker of sympathy passed over his eyes. “We’ll find who did this,” he said.
We would. We had to. Runa’s death was a devastating blow—I would not let this monster harm Tarben too.
I continued to speculate with Hugo and Filip, until Hugogrew noticeably faint, although he would never admit it. When he began yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open, I took it as my signal to leave.
Much later, back in my bedchamber, I was puzzling over the riddle, vaguely aware of the soft pattering of rain against my window pane, when there was a knock on my door.
Who would be calling on me at this hour?
I rolled out of bed and padded to the door, not bothering to throw a dressing gown over my pale pink nightgown.
I opened the door and my jaw dropped; but, before I could say a word, a pair of lips was crushing my own.
Tarben had returned.
Chapter 38
I was stunned, but I wrapped my arms around Tarben’s neck and kissed him back. He pulled my body closer, resting his hands on my waist. His kiss was somehow both sweet and urgent, and, when he slid his tongue into my mouth, I yanked him into my bedchamber and slammed the door shut behind him.
“Hello,” he said, grinning down at me. The way he looked at me reminded me of a child at midwinter, opening a present and finding it was exactly what they’d wished for.
“You’re back,” I breathed.
“I am.” His hands remained comfortably at my waist, as if he didn’t want to let me go. He smelled like him—pine needles and leather—and soap.
“When did you get back?” I asked, running my hands through his damp hair.
“About half an hour ago. I thought I’d do you a favor and bathe before I came here.”
“How considerate.”
He pulled me closer so that our bodies were flush. “I missed you,” he said, his lips tracing soft kisses up the column of my neck.
