No, it couldn’t be. Perhaps laudanum? That would make sense of his jumpy, strange behavior and how he hardly felt the pain of his wound. But even if he had a drug habit, it didn’t explain the stitches, or why he would bar access to an entire wing of the house.…

She focused more intently on stirring cream into her coffee.

“I fear I’ve been a poor host to you. I know it’s hard to believe, but Colwick Hall used to be among the finest estates in the country. My friends have counseled me to sell it, but it’s all I have left of my father.” Lowry plucked a napkin from the silver coffee tray. His hands immediately bloodied the fabric. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“No.” Wren dreaded this line of questioning. “I don’t.”

“He was a brilliant scientist but a terrible father, if I’m honest. He spent all of his time holed up in in this library.” He dragged the napkin down each finger as deliberately as a whetstone over a blade. “But he had a single-minded pursuit. He so desperately wanted to know why Cernosians have no magic, whereas Danubians and Vesrians do. So one day, about five years ago, he wrote the University of Greine to inquire about conducting research in Vesria. Everyone suggested it was madness to walk into a war zone, but my father was a brave, somewhat reckless man. When he arrived on the border, the military asked him his business.”

“What happened?”

“They told him they already knew the answer to his question.” Lowry’s gaze was level. “God had blessed Vesria, and that was all there was to it. To suggest anything more was heresy. Naturally, he asked what that suggested about Danu.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing. He was detained.” Lowry sipped his coffee. “They didn’t release him again.”

“Oh. Lord Lowry, I … I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He sighed. “After the funeral proceedings, my older brother inherited the dukedom and seaside view that comes with it. I, the courtesy title—and this.” He swept an open palm across the library. “Colwick Hall, full of ghosts and memories. It’s all I can do to keep it afloat.”

With his tired smile, one crooked elbow pillowing his head, Lowry was the perfect image of grief. It was no surprise that artists across the continent flocked to capture even a glimmer of him on canvas.