My curiosity had swelled into a monster, eating me up on the inside. What had Taeral been up to since we’d last met? What had he uncovered in the veil between the world of the living and that of the dead? Most importantly, who was going to help me get to Visio?
I had more questions than I’d thought, but I also trusted Taeral. If he said he had a way, then he had a way. But I was dying to know what it was. Whatever method of transportation he’d provide, I understood that I was one step closer to reaching Visio, to finding out who’d killed my Nethissis and why. That was all that mattered.
Esme
We had a lot on our plates after only a few days on Visio. It wasn’t just Nethissis’s death that was haunting us—though, as far as I was concerned, it was by far our most pressing issue. Derek, Sofia, and Amal were still working on identifying and isolating the day-walking protein from the Aeternae’s blood, in the hopes of turning all vampires into day-walkers.
The emergence of Darklings and their murderous attempt against Valaine had also taken center stage, along with the possibility that they might’ve had something to do with Nethissis’s demise—we had no proof of this, though. No motive. It was difficult to move it past the assumption point. On top of that, the premature return of the Black Fever, which threatened to decimate the Aeternae population and had no cure, was equally troubling. With our hands full like this, Tristan and I had decided to divide the tasks between us as efficiently as possible.
He and Valaine were following the Darkling angle, mainly because they had yet to figure out how the group had infiltrated the palace. Kalon and I focused on interviewing the palace gardeners first, hoping we’d get an answer as to how Nethissis had made her way out here—and how a damn fox had managed to kill her.
The first three interviews had not yielded much, though I couldn’t fault the Rimian gardeners for it. They’d all told us the same thing. They’d been having trouble for years with keeping the foxes out because of the gardens’ exquisitely attractive biodiversity. The animals’ presence here was not odd.
Golden guards were stationed by the palace’s back doors, and they were a recent fixture. Danika and Acheron had apparently ordered them to stay close, because their eyes were on us at all times.
“You know they’re watching us, right?” I asked Kalon as we moved to interview a fourth Rimian gardener. He waited close to the bush where we’d found Nethissis, sweating rivers as we approached him.
Kalon glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. “You mean the guards?”
I nodded. “We’ve stirred the pot, haven’t we?”
“You can say that again,” Kalon muttered. He couldn’t see me smiling beneath my sun mask. I found his broodiness a bit endearing, because I felt it was genuine. Nethissis’s death had taken him by surprise, and he was more than willing to help me figure out what had happened to her. My opinion of Kalon Visentis had shifted significantly from that first impression.
We stopped in front of the Rimian gardener, who bowed politely, nervously eyeing me. “Milady,” he mumbled.
“You were on the night shift here, weren’t you?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and soft. I’d learned to soothe my interviewees, especially when they were on edge like this guy. Maybe he was hiding something.
“I was, milady,” he said, avoiding eye contact.
Kalon was quick to notice. “What’s wrong? You look nervous.”
“Oh, no, milord. I’m… I’m just shocked by what happened,” the gardener managed, but I wasn’t buying it.
“What is your name?” I asked, keeping my hands behind my back.
“Beval, milady,” the gardener said. “At your service.”
“What did you see last night, Beval?” I replied, knowing he, like his colleagues, had already been questioned by the golden guards.
Corbin was still in the palace, interviewing servants. I had no idea what Petra and Zoltan were up to, but a murder investigation was definitely not their cup of tea, especially since they were keen to label this an accident. I could see why they didn’t want Nethissis’s death to be anything more than an unfortunate accident, but I cared very little for their national pride.
“Not much, milady. I was just tending to the nocturnal plants on the other side of the garden. I could not see all the way here,” Beval said, staring at the torn bush. His breathing was erratic. His heart was pounding.
“You know, there’s one thing I appreciate about good people,” I replied. “Genuinely good people. They’re terrible liars. Did you know that?”
Beval stared at me, his eyes wide and burning with guilt. “No, milady.”
“You seem like a very good man,” I said. “And a piss-poor liar.”
“Maybe you should tell us what you didn’t share with the golden guards,” Kalon interjected, his blue eyes reduced to cold, inquisitive slits. There was a threatening tone in his voice, one which beckoned Beval toward the truth—for more lies might get him in trouble, especially since he was so transparent.
I was being honest, though. Beval came across as a good soul. A kindhearted Rimian with thick black hair and a clean-shaven face. He couldn’t be older than twenty—still young and malleable, in terms of character. He could still be steered in the right direction with the right prompting. I’d met people like him before. Beval wanted to tell the truth, but he was frightened. I just had to figure out why.
“Milord, I don’t want to upset anyone.”
“You’re upsetting me right now,” Kalon retorted. He towered over the Rimian in a muted but menacing fashion. I gripped his arm and squeezed gently, quietly asking him to stand back and let me take care of this.
To my surprise, he didn’t question my intervention. On the contrary, he nodded once, allowing me to take over the conversation. Kalon understood what this investigation meant to me, so he’d let the more assertive side of him go dormant while we tried to find the truth.
“Beval, please,” I said. “If there is something you know about what happened here, please tell us. I just want to find out what happened to my friend.”
The Rimian looked at me, his eyes wide, his face red with… shame. “I am sorry, milady, but these are dangerous questions you ask.”
“I know you can’t really tell by my dress and all, but I’m perfectly equipped to deal with danger, regardless of its scale,” I replied.
Feeling Kalon’s eyes on me, I gave him a brief glance. Indeed, he was measuring me from head to toe, and it wasn’t the first time. Granted, I’d opted for a black leather dress with a full and rich tulle underskirt, and it did make me stand out, though not in a flashy way. It matched my mood.
My insides felt warm as he looked away and focused on Beval again, who was still having trouble opening up to us. I had to get him to talk, sooner rather than later.
“I won’t tell anyone whatever it is you’re keeping from us,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I only want to know what you saw, Beval. I’ll make sure none of the golden guards hear about this.”
Beval seemed tempted to trust me, but he looked at Kalon and was wary again.
“My lips are sealed,” Kalon said. “Esme and I are on the same team here.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, milord, if I find that hard to believe,” Beval replied. “Especially considering who your mother is.”
“Oh, snap.” I gasped, trying not to chuckle.
