decree."
"M-my Lord?" Lily stopped dead in her tracks.
Lord Gracen looked at her levelly, his eyes still hard, as dark as his military badges. "The guilty often flee the scene of the crime, my dear girl," he murmured. "Lord Fallcrest did not die innocently last night. What we have on our hands is a thinly guised murder. In the case of nobility, that usually points to a guilty relative."
"B-but, the glass!" Lily replied. "The skylight! The shard went straight through his neck! You can't imply, m-my Lord!"
Lord Gracen passed his hand through the air, dismissing her lapse in etiquette, her frantic tone of voice. "I inspected the wound thoroughly. The angle and force of the projectile do not make sense. The shard did not fall from above, but from the side." Lord Gracen glanced upward to the broken skylight, then to the chips of glass that littered the ballroom carpet.
Another breath squeezed out of her. Lily followed his eyes, pale and shaken. She knew that Lady Sora had been distant from her father...even resented him, perhaps. But her Lady was not a murderer!
Lord Gracen turned and retraced his steps, heading back toward the ballroom entrance. Lily followed on his heels, bobbing her head. "My Lord, with all due respect...Lady Fallcrest is not a murderer...she wouldn't know how!"
"She must be questioned." Lord Gracen turned one last time and slammed his cane down. The sound reverberated off the ballroom floor and echoed around the walls. Several servants stopped in their tracks, staring with wide eyes. "And if you, or any other members of this House, hide the Lady on purpose...you will be hanged for obstructing the King's justice. Have I made myself clear?"
Lily nodded shakily, her mouth as dry as parchment.
"Good." Lord Gracen turned on his heel and continued out of the ballroom to where his manservant awaited, stiff in his blue uniform and top hat. "I will be continuing to the town of Mayville, where I will alert the local guard and put them on the hunt. We will find her and discover exactly what happened last night. In the meantime, I will contact Lord Fallcrest's brother in the City. Your estate will be handled according to law."
Lord Gracen gave her a polite nod, unnecessary of the First Tier, and excused himself. His footman fell into step behind him, utterly ignoring Lily's presence. The servants of the First Tier acted superior to those of the Second, though it was all hierarchical nonsense. Lily wrinkled her nose at the manservant's back, wishing she could push him down the front steps. Snooty servants for snooty nobles, she thought angrily. No wonder Lady Sora didn't want to marry.
Lily turned away from the front door before another noble could flag her down. She had been on her feet since before dawn, sending off guests, loading chests of luggage and unopened birthday gifts aboard carriages. Shiny, expensive coaches were lined up almost a mile down the front drive, a river of polished wood and bright paint. An endless stream of horses were walking to and from the stables. Lord Gracen's accusations made her feel even more exhausted.
A murder! She sighed, her thoughts returning to last night. When the skylight caved in, the manor had been thrown into chaos. No one knew what was happening. At first, they blamed it on the condition of the ballroom...the skylight had stood for generations, hardly maintained, rained on and rusted.
Then, people said it was bad luck. Lady Sora's botched performance brought on the calamity, and the Goddess had a wry sense of humor.
When Lord Fallcrest died, with no way to stanch the bleeding, everyone sank into stunned silence.
But who? Lily ran the events over again in her mind. Who could orchestrate such a thing? And why? Lord Fallcrest had been gone for two years; letters had been consistent but vague, usually addressing estate matters. No one knew whom he had consorted with....
And what to do with the body? Lily felt quite over her head. Housekeeper Grem would have to
"M-my Lord?" Lily stopped dead in her tracks.
Lord Gracen looked at her levelly, his eyes still hard, as dark as his military badges. "The guilty often flee the scene of the crime, my dear girl," he murmured. "Lord Fallcrest did not die innocently last night. What we have on our hands is a thinly guised murder. In the case of nobility, that usually points to a guilty relative."
"B-but, the glass!" Lily replied. "The skylight! The shard went straight through his neck! You can't imply, m-my Lord!"
Lord Gracen passed his hand through the air, dismissing her lapse in etiquette, her frantic tone of voice. "I inspected the wound thoroughly. The angle and force of the projectile do not make sense. The shard did not fall from above, but from the side." Lord Gracen glanced upward to the broken skylight, then to the chips of glass that littered the ballroom carpet.
Another breath squeezed out of her. Lily followed his eyes, pale and shaken. She knew that Lady Sora had been distant from her father...even resented him, perhaps. But her Lady was not a murderer!
Lord Gracen turned and retraced his steps, heading back toward the ballroom entrance. Lily followed on his heels, bobbing her head. "My Lord, with all due respect...Lady Fallcrest is not a murderer...she wouldn't know how!"
"She must be questioned." Lord Gracen turned one last time and slammed his cane down. The sound reverberated off the ballroom floor and echoed around the walls. Several servants stopped in their tracks, staring with wide eyes. "And if you, or any other members of this House, hide the Lady on purpose...you will be hanged for obstructing the King's justice. Have I made myself clear?"
Lily nodded shakily, her mouth as dry as parchment.
"Good." Lord Gracen turned on his heel and continued out of the ballroom to where his manservant awaited, stiff in his blue uniform and top hat. "I will be continuing to the town of Mayville, where I will alert the local guard and put them on the hunt. We will find her and discover exactly what happened last night. In the meantime, I will contact Lord Fallcrest's brother in the City. Your estate will be handled according to law."
Lord Gracen gave her a polite nod, unnecessary of the First Tier, and excused himself. His footman fell into step behind him, utterly ignoring Lily's presence. The servants of the First Tier acted superior to those of the Second, though it was all hierarchical nonsense. Lily wrinkled her nose at the manservant's back, wishing she could push him down the front steps. Snooty servants for snooty nobles, she thought angrily. No wonder Lady Sora didn't want to marry.
Lily turned away from the front door before another noble could flag her down. She had been on her feet since before dawn, sending off guests, loading chests of luggage and unopened birthday gifts aboard carriages. Shiny, expensive coaches were lined up almost a mile down the front drive, a river of polished wood and bright paint. An endless stream of horses were walking to and from the stables. Lord Gracen's accusations made her feel even more exhausted.
A murder! She sighed, her thoughts returning to last night. When the skylight caved in, the manor had been thrown into chaos. No one knew what was happening. At first, they blamed it on the condition of the ballroom...the skylight had stood for generations, hardly maintained, rained on and rusted.
Then, people said it was bad luck. Lady Sora's botched performance brought on the calamity, and the Goddess had a wry sense of humor.
When Lord Fallcrest died, with no way to stanch the bleeding, everyone sank into stunned silence.
But who? Lily ran the events over again in her mind. Who could orchestrate such a thing? And why? Lord Fallcrest had been gone for two years; letters had been consistent but vague, usually addressing estate matters. No one knew whom he had consorted with....
And what to do with the body? Lily felt quite over her head. Housekeeper Grem would have to
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