Page 62 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“I think I found something significant.” She didn’t look up from the folio. “An eighteenth-century sketch matching the sword.”

“That’s good news, so why aren’t you more excited?”

“It’s complicated.” She glanced up at me, then away. “It says the inscription was a later addition, which is a lot less exciting than my wild-ass theory. I’ve called a friend who can verify some details for me. In the end, it’s a huge win for the provenance documentation.”

“Sounds like progress.”

“We’ll see.” She frowned, clearly not agreeing with me.

Probably best not to mention my hopefully unwarranted concern about the man on the walking path. “I’m going to step out and call Lance. I’ll stay close—in the hallway.”

She smiled at me, but it was forced. One more step toward finishing her project, but apparently it landed like a kick instead of a win. “I’ll be here.”

I left through the main door and leaned against the wall by the restrooms. Through the glass wall, I had a clear view of the three people working inside. Gwen’s head was down, her pen moving across her notebook, with the sword case on the floor next to her. What would the other people or the archivists think it was? Did they think she was carrying a toolbox or an instrument?

If my danger senses weren’t going off, I would have laughed at the image of Gwen opening the sword case and drawing every history-loving person in the building to her side.

But that would bring more attention. She’d either come alive under it, as she had with Fergus, or wither, as she had with Bridget. As long as no one knew about Lionel and the lies he’d⁠—

Fucking focus, Penn.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Lance.

“About time,” he drawled when he answered.

“I didn’t realize we were on a schedule.”

“I’m hanging out with the documents the archivists pulled for me yesterday, and the translator is forty-five fucking minutes late.”

“Have you followed up?”

“Twice. They’re ‘on their way.’” His air quotes were audible. “Meanwhile, I’m staring at these old books, pretending I give half as many shits about what’s in there as Gwen does.”

Maybe I should have suggested getting her on a video call with him. She might have recognized what she needed on his end, or maybe he’d improve her mood as he had on the ferry. No, she was busy with her own disappointing breakthrough, so I let her be and continued. “When the translator arrives, focus on references to St. Catherine’s Church or the inscription. I’m thinking property transfers or⁠—”

“Arthur. I’m bored, but I know what I’m doing.”

Fair enough. “Sorry.”

“You’re micromanaging from another country. I’d like to say that’s new, but…” He paused, leaving ample space for me to taunt him back or protest. When I didn’t, he said, “What’s bothering you?”

I looked at Gwen through the glass wall, trying not to stare so intently she’d feel it. “Since the tail when we landed in Cornwall, have you noticed anything? Anyone following you, anything out of place?”

“No. Why?”

I craned my neck around to check the other direction and the placement of the security cameras. I angled my body away from the cameras and lowered my voice. “We had a break-in at Gwen’s hotel, someone sitting in the parking lot at the condo, and that car from the airfield. And since then, nothing. Not in the rest of Cornwall, not in Glastonbury, not on the ferry, not here. Complete silence.”

He hummed aloud. “And you’re wondering where they went.”

“I’m wondering if any of it was even related. Maybe we read it all wrong. Maybe they were a coincidence.”

“Two of them would have been a coincidence. But three?”

Perfect. Lance and I were on the same page, which we usually were for important things. My gut told me something was off, but instinct without evidence was nothing more than anxiety, and so far I couldn’t prove a thing. I had three events that each stood on their own.

I also had a best friend whose gut was telling him the same thing. I asked, “So where did they go?”

“Are we losing our edge?” There was a squeaking noise on his end, like movement in an ancient wooden chair.