This place is of the living and yours no longer, she thought.

No, she would not indulge such nonsense. There was no such thing as ghosts. She’d heard only the groan of the house as it shifted in the wind, and sleeplessness wore at her already frayed nerves. Still, it couldn’t hurt to explore her new home. For the sake of scientific inquiry, of course.

Beyond hers and Hal’s rooms, doors stood watch like a line of soldiers. Each one she tried was locked, except the last. It resisted at first, but when she pushed her weight against it, the lock gave way with a whine, and the door eased open an inch. For a moment, Wren hesitated with her palm flat against the lacquered wood. She couldn’t just invade her employer’s privacy like this. But the door had opened for her, as if inviting her inside. She entered, the cold draft from within whispering over her skin like a sigh of relief.

Dust swirled through the milky wash of sunlight. It glittered on glass cases and dull metal, forcing her to blink until her eyes adjusted. When the spots cleared from her vision, Wren found herself in a veritable cabinet of curiosities. Wooden stands displayed a menagerie of objects: blades with elaborate pattern welding and elegant silver knots; bullets with engraved casings. In the corner was an old Danubian military uniform from the Marian era, nearly two centuries ago, a coat with long black sleeves with the moon phases embroidered in silver thread. The plaque beside it read: GENERAL AHEARN’S GREATCOAT, WORN AS SHE LED HER TROOPS TO VICTORY IN THE BATTLE OF GREINE (1663).

But strangest of all was the portrait hung on the back wall, framed by windows glimmering white as the sun refracted through the crackled layers of ice. She approached the heavy, gold-trimmed frame and squinted up at the familiar face of a boy.

It was a portrait of younger Lowry, dressed in a red wool coat and staring meaningfully into the middle distance. A shining aiguillette coiled around his shoulder like a serpent, and one hand clutched the hilt of a saber. Despite the twinkle in his eye and his dark curls catching the breeze, he looked …

Well, he looked like a soldier.

What was he doing with all this war memorabilia? The meticulousness and extensiveness of this collection indicated an obsession she’d only experienced when embroiled in her research. But as far as she knew, he had never served in the Cernosian military. Even if he had, she was almost certain they were little more than a team of munitions researchers.

“I see you’ve found my little museum.”