28
Ilaid out the operafliers side by side. The first from the farmer, which was creased and covered in soot. The second from Dominic’s satchel, and finally, the third I had taken from backstage. I sunk my fingers into the carpet. We were in the middle of the floor in my chambers, Bennett crouched across from me. He studied them, brows furrowed.
“Both attackers had these on their person,” I said. “I had a feeling the opera house is connected to the rioters in some way.”
“It’s fitting to call them rebels at this point,” Bennett said quietly. “Do you remember the Winter Solstice Ball?”
I nodded.
“The rigging system backstage is identical to the one fashioned above the ballroom, down to the color of the wood and the thickness of the wires. It could be a coincidence, but I highly doubt it.”
I nodded. Olderea didn’t have many opera houses, the Grand Alevine Opera being the only one in comfortable proximity to Delibera.
I pushed the third flier to Bennett. “There’s something else too. Pippin said they smelled of lemons. This had a lemon juice stain on it earlier.”
Bennett held the flier to his nose and regarded it for a moment. He did the same for the others, coughing after the sooty one. “I can’t smell anything on the other two.”
Pippin shoved his head beneath my arm and nosed them.I still can, he meowed.
“Pippin can,” I said, pulling him onto my lap.
Bennett smiled and scratched the tabby behind the ears. I still hadn’t gotten used to the sight of his mouth curved upward. He cleared his throat, wetting his lips when he caught me staring. “So you found the second flier on the assailant in the forest?”
“Yes.” I took a breath. “I think...I think he was Dominic Turner.”
Bennett straightened. “Are you certain?”
I wrung my fingers and told him what Dominic said to me during the Huntington Abbey ball, and how he tested me with the garter snake. Bennett’s brow furrowed.
“That is a severe overstep indeed. I wish you told me sooner,” he said, frowning. “What made him so certain you aren’t a witch?”
“We were engaged once,” I muttered. “He doesn’t believe—”
“You were engaged to him?”
“It only lasted a month,” I said quickly. “We weren’t close.”
I hardly knew why I had to explain myself when the arrangement had long dissolved, but the crease between Bennett’s brows disappeared.
“If he is rubbing elbows with rebels, I’m afraid this involves more people than I would like,” Bennett said, looking out the window.
“General Turner?”
“I sincerely hope not.” He sat back on his heels and exhaled as if he had a burden the size of a kingdom on his shoulders. I suppose as the crown prince, he did.
“We should tell King Maximus.”
Bennett nodded. “One more thing. Where is Giselle?”
The seamstress came immediately when summoned. She flicked her eyes between us. “What do you need, Your Highness?”
