Page 76 of Sword & Sacrifice

“No, sir.”

“When was the last time you saw Jacoby?”

She blinked, her gaze going distant as she considered the question. “A few days before the Arnsveldian Army arrived. My family was concerned about war coming to the city. My mother has lived alone ever since my father passed, so I went to help her prepare for the—” she stopped short of saying ‘invasion.’ “Well, to help her feel more secure. I didn’t return to work until two days after the battle in the courtyard. By then, Jacoby was already gone.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“If I had, I would have reported him to you, Your Majesty.”

As Silas wrote down her answers, someone knocked on the door. He glanced up and nodded for his guard to open it. Another Arnsveldian soldier stood in the doorway, holding a leather wrapped package. “We found this while searching the aides’ apartments,” the soldier announced, stepping forward and handing the package to Silas.

As he accepted the package, he watched Juniper’s face carefully for alarm, concern, fear. Her only reaction was a furrowed brow and slight interest as she leaned forward to see what the guard had found.

Silas unwrapped the package and flipped it open to reveal a copy of the Vault key. Still, he waited for Juniper’s reaction.

She glanced at it with no recognition and then settled back in her seat.

Silas wrapped it back up and set it aside without addressing it, then continued down his list of questions. None of her answers provided any further insight into the investigation. She answered clearly and concisely, wary but not nervous. Once he reached the end of his list, he dismissed her and called the guard back inside.

“Have you finished searching their offices?” Silas asked as he wrapped the leather package back up and handed it to the soldier.

“Not yet, sir.”

Silas nodded and dismissed them, then asked the guard standing outside the door to bring Quentin in.

They heard Quentin’s arrival long before the door ever opened. Shouted, pleading words echoing in the hallway.

Silas pinched the bridge of his nose. If the sun was up, he’d have gathered quite the audience. Thankfully, with the palace still undergoing cleaning and reconstruction, only the soldiers helping with the investigation would witness Quentin’s caterwauling.

The door opened and Quentin immediately fell to his knees. Tears streaked his pale face as he blubbered, “Your Majesty, I’ve done nothing to deserve this treatment!” Unlike Juniper, his wrists were red and scraped from the manacles, as if he’d tried to claw them off.

Silas sighed and broke his own rule, reassuring the frantic aide, “Quentin, this is a murder investigation. No one is trying to harm you; we’re simply trying to find the truth.”

Two guards each grabbed Quentin under the elbows and dragged him to his feet, practically carrying him to the chair across from Silas.

Snot dripped from the aide’s nose. He tried to sniff it back into his nostril, but it just continued on a steady path. Silas found a handkerchief and started to hand it to him, but a guard grabbed it and passed it to Quentin instead.

Quentin flinched away from the movement, raising his chained hands to block his head. He sat there, quivering, for several seconds before lowering his arms and accepting the handkerchief to blow his nose with a loud honk.

Silas waved to the two guards, dismissing them. If they hovered over Quentin the whole time, he’d be less cooperative. They bowed and left, closing the door behind them, leaving just the one guard with Silas.

“I have a few questions for you,” Silas said. “Some details to clear up.”

Quentin blinked at him with red, puffy eyes. “And then I can go?”

Depending on your answers. Silas kept that thought to himself, unsure how Quentin would react. “Do you have a copy of the Vault key?”

“No, sir! Of course not! Otherwise I wouldn’t have had to ask you for it!” Quentin insisted.

It took Silas a moment to remember their earlier conversation. It seemed like days ago instead of only hours. “Have you opened the Vault without me or Adviser Mirinda present?”

“With Jacoby, of course,” Quentin replied. “Before he fled, I mean.”

“Did he ever loan you the key or give you permission to open the Vault on your own?”

Quentin’s hand clenched around the handkerchief. “No, never, he always kept the key on him. Guarded it jealously. Probably so he could steal more easily.”

A loud scraping screeched over his words, hurting Silas’ head. He flinched and looked around for the source. The chair legs scraping against the floor? he wondered before shaking his head and focusing on the interrogation. “When was the last time you saw Jacoby?”