Page 37 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

Davin’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. It’s the natural reaction to being asked for an alibi even when you’re innocent. No one likes the implication. “My neighbor. Old Merris. She’s always at her window, watching the street. Nothing happens on our block without her knowing about it.”

I make a mental note. Old Merris will need to be questioned to verify the story. If she exists and was actually at her window that night.

“What time did you arrive home?”

“Tenth bell, maybe a quarter past. It’s a twenty-minute walk from the Hall.”

Garrett makes another note. “Thank you, Davin. Send in Eòghan next, would you?”

Davin salutes again and leaves. The door closes behind him with a heavy thud. Silence settles over the room. Garrett stares at his notes, quill poised above the parchment.

“Well? Your professional opinion?” he asks without looking up.

“He’s telling the truth.” I glance toward the door. “His body language doesn’t suggest deception. But he’s scared.”

“They’re all scared.” Garrett sets down his quill and rubs his eyes. “Wouldn’t you be? Their comrades are vanishing without a trace.”

“Scared people make mistakes. Watch for the ones who are too calm,” I remark.

He picks up the quill again, dipping it in ink. “Send in the next one.”

I return to my position against the wall and signal to the guard by the door.

Eòghan, the second guard, is younger than Davin. It’s hard to tell their exact age with pure-blooded elves. He has a nervous energy that makes him fidget. His fingers drum against his thigh and eyes dart around the room, never settling on one spot for long.

He’s terrified. Eòghan never saw the missing guard that night. Different patrol route, different shift. He went straight home to his mother’s house at the end of his shift. She’ll verify because she always waits up for him.

The third Valorian, Freya, is harder to read. She has the kind of face that reveals nothing. It’s probably what made her a good Valorian in the first place. She answers Garrett’s questions with no wasted words. Yes, she saw Marcian. No, nothing seemed wrong. Yes, she went straight home. Her husband can confirm.

Freya meets my eyes once and there’s a challenge there. She knows I’m watching her and she doesn’t like it.

The fourth guard has gray threading through his dark hair. Tomas, according to the roster. Older than the others. He’s been a Valorian for three centuries. The High Elf knew Marcian well.

His answers are similar to the others, but there’s something in his voice when he talks about Marcian. “He was good,” he says quietly. “Good soldier, honest husband. He didn’t deserve this.”

“I’ll find who’s doing this, Tomas,” Garrett says, and his voice is soft. “I promise.”

It’s a promise he might not be able to keep, but Tomas nods like he believes it. That’s the thing about Garrett—people trust him. They’d follow him into the abyss if he asked.

Tomas’s story checks out the same as the others. He saw Marcian after patrol. Everything seemed normal. He shares a barracks room with three other junior guards, so he has multiple witnesses for where he was that night.

This is how the afternoon progresses. Valorian after Valorian, each with the same story.

Nothing unusual, normal patrol, Marcian seemed fine, and they went home. They all have alibis from neighbors, wives, or drinking partners at the local tavern.

I watch Garrett question seven more people. Each time, he’s patient, empathetic, giving them space to talk. He’s never aggressive or accusatory. Just gentle questions and careful notes. But I can see the frustration building.

“That’s all of them,” Garrett says when Petros, the last one leaves. He spreads his hands over the papers, looking down at the notes he’s made. Eleven interviews. Eleven different Valorians and alibis that will need to be verified.

“They’re all tense. Afraid. But not of whoever’s taking their comrades.” I fold my arms.

“What?” His head snaps up. “Then what are they afraid of?”

“You.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, looking down at his notes again. His jaw works, muscle twitching beneath his skin. “I’m trying to protect them.”

“They don’t know that. All they know is their commander is interrogating them about disappearances. Interrogations mean someone is guilty.”