Page 21 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

He fetched his medical case from his room. Once Johann rejoined them in the hall, Lorelei led them to the war room. In the hazy smear of daylight, the walk felt almost dreamlike. Inside, everything was exactly as she had left it. Ziegler’s body lay perfectly still, her skin beginning to swell and discolor where the fluids collected. Her eyes stared into vast emptiness. The spilled water lay glasslike on her desk and floorboards, mottled with blood. Lorelei found herself staring at the teacup on Ziegler’sdesk—theone with the inlaid seashell and the handle fashioned in the shape of a coral. Ziegler had always chosen it because its gaudiness amused her. Distantly, Lorelei noted the damp breeze sighing through the openwindow—andZiegler’s elwedritsche missing from its perch. It must have flown off after Ziegler died, the disloyal beast.

Good riddance.

No one spoke. She felt the horror spread through their group like winter’s chill unfurling. Heike, clinging to Adelheid’s arm, buried her face in her shoulder with a choked sob.

Lorelei thought she understood what grief was. That night twelve years ago had torn something out of her, something she’d never managed to sew shut. Through that wound, pieces of Aaron had slipped in. His fear of blood. The ripple of his shadow always stalking her through darkness. The echoing laughter of his murderers. By now, she was used to living with ghosts. And so, she hadn’t expected seeing Ziegler again to feel like nothing.

Johann’s expression didn’t change as he crouched beside Ziegler’s body. Closing his eyes, he extended his hands over the body. His fingers twitched, just barely, as though he were maneuvering a puppet on gossamer-fine strings. While most people possessed some aptitude for magic, only a rarefew—thosewith the utmost precision oftechnique—couldbecome medics. They studied for years, mastering the art of detecting any anomalies in the body’s fluids. Lorelei could not fathom it herself. The human body was primarily water; it all seemed an undifferentiated mass to her untrained senses.

“I’d estimate the time of death was around two in the morning.” Johann opened his eyes. A strange light filledthem—somethinglike intrigue. Disgust curdled Lorelei’s stomach. “There is fluid in her lungs. Blood, I suspect. The stab wound appears to be the cause of death. It is a clean cut, likely inflicted by a knife.”

“Human, then.” Adelheid’s lips pressed together in a bloodless line. “But the staff don’t have access to these rooms.”

Heike made an admirable effort to keep her voice disinterested. “What, are you suggesting one ofuskilled her?”

“That would be the most reasonable explanation,” said Johann.

“Now, let’s not be rash.” Ludwig held up his hands placatingly. “I’m sure there’s at least one other reasonable explanation.”

“Such as?” Johann asked. He fished a scalpel from his medical case and made a thin incision in Ziegler’s arm. Blood welled lazily to the surface, and he pressed a vial to the wound to collect it. Lorelei steadied herself against the wall at a sudden rush of light-headedness.

“You can’t be serious.” Heike laughed humorlessly. “I’ve known all of you since you were as high as my knee. No one here is a murderer.”

“Well,” Ludwig said weakly, “technically, that isn’t true.”

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that half ofthem—Adelheid,Johann, andSylvia—hadtaken up arms for Wilhelm’s cause. Ludwig, a commoner by birth if not by title, had not been expected to fight. Heike had abstained “on principle.” Lorelei suspected that principle was self-preservation rather than any true pacifist sentiment. They did not train their children for battle in Sorvig like they did in Herzin or Ebul. It was a tiny, wealthy territory that valued a rapier wit over swordplay.

Neither Johann nor Adelheid flinched at Ludwig’s quibble, but Sylvia reacted bodily. Her shoulders bowed, and for a moment, her silver eyes went vacant. Lorelei hated it. The swiftchange—likea candleextinguished—discomfitedher.

“Is it reallymurderif it’s war?” Heike jabbed a finger at him. “You be quiet. You’re not helping. Andyou”—here,she rounded onJohann—“areprovoking people. Stop it.”

Johann corked the vial of blood and rose to his full height. His shadow cut the room in half. “Believe what you want to believe, but you can’t hide from the truth. You’ve been sheltered and spoiled in your lonely castle by the sea. You always have been.”

“Johann,” Adelheid hissed.

“How dare you.” Heike’s voice trembled with barely leashed anger. “You know that isn’t true.”

“The reality is,” he continued, undeterred, “everyone here had a reason to want Ingrid Ziegler dead.”

Sylvia bristled, her eyes ablaze with fury. “Be that as it may, only one of us has the capacity to act on it.”

At last, the cruel amusement drained from Johann’s eyes. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he leveled her with a flat stare.

Lorelei could not bear to listen to them discussmurderso callously any longer. A headache bloomed in her temples, and she felt dangerously on the brink of losing control of her power. “Enough!”

Everyone stopped talking at once. Slowly, Lorelei forced her fists to unclench.

Something bothered her about thescene—somethingshe had not been able to place until now. “Ziegler wasn’t a particularly talented magic user. Why would someone stab her when they could drown her? It seems a more difficult way to go about it.”

Johann met Lorelei’s gaze with clear intent. “Perhaps they couldn’t.”

Lorelei felt the attention in the room shift to her. “Be careful of what you’re implying.”

“Johann,” Sylvia cut in, “I don’t want to accuse you of lying, but you and I both know this does not look like a stabbing.”

“There are some anomalies,” he said lowly, “but it is the simplest explanation.”

Adelheid’s expression darkened with understanding. “There’s hardly anyblood—notin the room or on her body.”