I felt the tension in the room rise as Master Marcus Wilkerson called the meeting to order. The chamber was suffocatingly small for the storm about to unfold. Lady Beatrix Beaumont sat beside her daughter Clara, both of them looking uncomfortable under the harsh scrutiny of Duke Alaric Thorne.
"Let us begin," Master Wilkerson announced, shuffling through his papers. "We're here to discuss information pertaining to Marquess Lucian Fairchild's crimes and any potential accomplices."
I couldn't tear my eyes away from Clara's face—or what was visible of it. She had accepted my wife's mask, a fact that still made my blood simmer. The irony wasn't lost on anyone in the room: Clara now wore a mask to hide scars, just as Isabella had been forced to do because of Clara's own malice years ago.
"Duke Thorne," Master Wilkerson addressed me. "Since you've been leading much of this investigation alongside the royal guard, would you care to share your findings?"
