I glanced at my brother. “Looks like I’ll have to go talk to Kaitlyn again.”

“Yeah, because she took so much notice of your warning last time.” He shoved the flagstone back into place, then grabbed the chair and wheeled it back to the working area. “Might be better if we let Sgott handle it.”

“That would mean telling him we were here. Best not to, given he has to remain on a working relationship with the Eldritch.”

He glanced at me. “Sgott can read you like a book.”

“So you lie to him.”

“It’ll just be easier all around if we admit what we’ve done upfront. He’ll find out in the end anyway.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “Found this in the hidden room; it’s addressed to me.”

“What does it say?”

“Didn’t have time to check.”

He sat on the table and slid a nail under the seal. I perched next to him and tried to curb my impatience as he carefully opened the envelope and removed a piece of yellowed parchment that had been wrapped around several smaller pieces of paper. He placed them on the table beside him and studied the letter.

I’d seen enough of Nialle’s writing to know it was his.

Lugh took a deep breath and then began to read it out loud. “If you’re in possession of this letter, then I’m dead, and you, my friend, need to be very careful. I became aware of being followed a week ago and reported it to the IIT. I thought they’d dealt with it, because I didn’t spot my watchers again, but if you have this, then I was wrong. We both know how much I’d hate that.”

Lugh’s laugh was a strangled mix of amusement and sorrow. He scrubbed a hand across his face, smearing the tears that glistened on his pale red lashes. “Yeah, we do, my friend. We do.”

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. He rested his head against the top of mine for a few seconds, then read on. “I haven’t had the chance to speak to you much these last couple of days, thanks to the fact we’ve both been nose deep in our own investigations. But before I head to France, I wanted to let you know what I’ve found, and I don’t want to risk a text or leave the information somewhere a thief or intruder could easily find.”

“He always was a little paranoid about his research findings,” I murmured.

“And with good reason, given he did have some research stolen a few years ago. Then there’s the whole singing bowl fiasco.”

The singing bowl was part of the Éadrom Hoard and had reappeared in the museum’s crypts a few weeks ago. How and why remained a mystery. Certainly, none of the museum’s protections—magical or physical—had given any sort of clue or warning. The fae council believed it was an inside job, and they’d had Nialle and Lugh high on their list of suspects, even though both had been thoroughly questioned about it at the time by the museum’s security division and the fae council’s.