Under the portrait were wide drawers. She pulled the top one open, then the bottom, parsing the files, skimming through the papers. There were lots of recipes and notes, as well as accounting files for the Apothecary strewn with numbers and balances.
Shutting the drawers, Bisma turned back to the desk, where something caught her eye. On top of the desk, beside candles and a framed picture of Eleanora and her husband, was a beautifully carved wooden box. It looked special, and when Bisma went to open it, she found it locked.
Special, indeed.
Bisma searched the desk drawers for a key, but found none.Hmm. There were little potted plants atop the drawers under the portrait.
Putting the wooden box beside a pot, Bisma slipped her hand into the soil of one of them. With magic, a little twig sprouted. Concentrating, Bisma grew the thin, twisted twig until it reachedinto the keyhole. The lock resisted, but she morphed the twig until it fit perfectly.
The box clicked open.
Anticipation laced through her. She opened the box, finding it filled with keepsakes. There was a twisted lock of copper hair that must have been Xander’s from when he was a baby. Bisma touched a finger to it; the hair was feather soft.
There was also an old pocket watch, which had perhaps belonged to Eleanora’s father. Beside that, there were dried roses stuck to a piece of paper with a date on them, dating back twenty-two years; she wondered if they were the first flowers Xander’s father had given to Eleanora.
The box held other trinkets but none piqued Bisma’s interest until she spotted a small painted portrait of two girls.
One was obviously a young Eleanora, but what made Bisma pause was that the other girl looked a little familiar. She had brown skin and long, wavy hair. Bisma could not quite place who she was, but the image remained in her mind even as she closed the keepsake box, using the twig and magic to lock it once more.
She searched through the desk drawers, finding even more notes and old letters. Her eyes skimmed the words. She did not know exactly what she was looking for, and part of her hoped she would find nothing, while another part of her knew deep down that there was something to be found.
And indeed there was.
A letter made her halt her search. It was from a friend, clearly a very close one. The writer seemed to be angry with Eleanora for not helping her, saying she would find help elsewhere; none of which meant anything to Bisma—until she saw who had signed it.
Leilani.
Memories turned over in Bisma’s mind. A few months ago, a woman had come to Bisma for a slow-release poison. Thewoman’s husband was abusive in every sense of the word, and she wished to kill him slowly so as not to raise any alarms.
Bisma had not known the woman’s name, only that she signed her lettersL. Now she recognized that handwriting. She recognized, also, that the woman was the same girl in the portrait with Eleanora.
Bisma had only metL—Leilani—once, but she was clearly wealthy, so it was no surprise she was Eleanora’s friend.
As with all her other customers, Bisma completed the order, giving Leilani what she needed. Bisma did not hear from her again, but she didn’t exactly follow up with her clients.
Now she wondered what had transpired. Had something happened to Leilani? She was evidently a close friend of Eleanora’s. If something had happened to Leilani, did Eleanora blame Bisma? She could have easily worked out it was Bisma who had given Leilani the poison.
But Bisma didn’t have time to think about it further just then. She heard something—someone—heading in her direction. Slipping the letter back into the desk, Bisma ensured everything was back in order before quickly sneaking out of Eleanora’s office. Luckily, the hallway was empty, but she saw a shadow rounding the corner.
Bisma ducked into the first room she saw. It was larger and more lived in than the guest room Xander had shown her to and there was more furniture. There were bookshelves and a desk, and the side tables had various knickknacks. She realized with a jolt that this must be Xander’s room.
She wondered if he had a box of keepsakes, as well, and what might be inside.
Before her curiosity allowed her to search for such a thing, she heard someone approaching. She froze, trying to figure out what to do. Should she hide? Jump out the window? Pretend like she was meant to be there? The options paralyzed her.
Just as she was deciding, the door opened. She prepared to explain herself until she saw who it was.
Xander.
‘Oh!’ he said, surprised to see her. His cheeks and nose were flushed, as if he’d just come in from outside. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Um …’ She looked around, biting her lower lip.
He took off his coat, giving her a sly look. ‘Intrigued, were we?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Not in the least.’
He smiled as if he didn’t believe her and almost looked … pleased. Well, it was as good a cover as any, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. Shewasintrigued by him. That wasn’t a crime. Bisma held her chin up, unrepentant, then assessed her surroundings.
