"On their way, sir."
I nodded and turned back to the room, cataloging more details. The cable system dangling from the shattered window was military grade, the kind used by our maintenance crews to access exterior walls.
The attackers had known which room was Kailin's, which window was hers. Inside knowledge. This had been planned by someone within the Citadel, and the attackers must be residents. No outsiders could get into a fortress that was only accessible by a dragon.
I hadn't recognized either of them as they had been taken away, but that wasn't surprising. Thousands of people resided in the Citadel, and the support staff far outnumbered the riders. Besides, they had been covered in blood, and I had been blinded by rage.
I followed the trail of blood on the floor to Kailin's easel that had been knocked over during the fight. The canvas lay face-down on the floor, and her art supplies were scattered among the wreckage. I crossed to the canvas and lifted it upright.
The painting was damaged but not destroyed. A mountain landscape, the peaks rendered in shades of purple and gray with auroras dancing above them. Even unfinished, it showed her skill. The way she'd captured the light, the depth of the valleys, the sense of vast, ancient silence that characterized these mountains.
She had so many gifts.
Prophetic visions that could save thousands of lives. The unprecedented ability to communicate with all dragons. An artistic eye for nature's beauty, a compassionate heart, and a humility that ensured she wouldn't let power and prestige go to her head.
Only evil could want to snuff out this beautiful, bright light, this gift from Elu.
I set the easel against the wall, away from the debris, and gathered her scattered art supplies. Charcoals, pencils, and a small box of paints. Her sketchbook had been trampled, boot prints marring the cover, but the pages inside seemed intact. I added them to the pile.
"Commander Ravel." Another officer appeared in the doorway. "The fourth assailant has been captured."
The one who'd fled out the window.
The knot in my gut loosened a notch. "Where?"
"He tried to reach the lower levels through the maintenance corridors. Sergeant Brynn's patrol intercepted him near the stairwell. He's being taken to join the others in the detention cells."
"Good work. I'll go over the details of the arrest with Sergeant Brynn first thing in the morning."
The officer saluted and left.
Three captured, one dead. All four accounted for. That was something, at least. But the real question was how many more were there? How deep did this rot extend?
I searched the room methodically, looking for anything that the security team might have missed. Under the bed, I found a knife that must have been knocked aside during the struggle. It was plain steel, no identifying marks, the kind that could be purchased in any market. Deliberately anonymous.
In the corner near the doorway, I noticed a small piece of paper, crumpled and partially hidden beneath an overturned chair. I picked it up and smoothed it out.
It was blank. Just a scrap, probably knocked from one of the desks during the struggle.
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that the four had been members of the support staff. Former cadets who hadn't qualified for bonding with dragons but stayed on to serve in other capacities.
I couldn't conceive of riders turning traitor, or of dragons being complicit in an assassination attempt. Sitorians, and especially the Shedun, wanted all dragons dead. It made no sense for dragons to assist riders who had turned to the dark god. Then again, I'd learned a long time ago that logic didn't always prevail and that people were incredibly susceptible to brainwashing. The bond could have transferred that brain rot from the human riders to their dragons.
I found that hard to believe and preferred the much more likely scenario of support staff getting infected. Some of them must have felt resentful. Failing to qualify for the bonding after being found gifted would do that to people, and that left them vulnerable to Shedun brainwashing.
Onyx's presence pulsed at the edge of my consciousness, disturbed by my thoughts.
"They were not of us," he sent, his mental voice dark with anger. "But they lived among you. Ate your food. Walked your halls."
"I know."
"How did you not see them?"
"Arrogance," I said aloud. "We pay no attention to the support staff."
Besides, Elusitor converts were patient. They hid behind familiar faces and ordinary routines until the moment came to strike. We'd known they existed, had suspected they'd infiltrated various levels of Elucian society, but we'd assumed they lived on the fringes. Until the attempts to sabotage the pilgrimage and then on Kailin's life, we had naively thought that there was no way they could have infiltrated the Citadel.
I walked out of the destroyed room to look for Varek. I found him in the lounge, using the phone, which was the closest one on this level.
