“And who, pray tell, is Rostin De Clari?” Cynwrig asked.

As Lugh explained, I reached for the chocolate croissant, took a bite, and almost groaned in pleasure. There weren’t many places outside France that did a perfect chocolate croissant—in my opinion, anyway—but this place got pretty damn close.

I licked some chocolate from my lips—very aware of the sharp increase of intensity of Cynwrig’s gaze as I did it—and then said, “Did they know she was female? It was unheard of back in those days for a woman to be a chevalier, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but she presented as male throughout her life and had female lovers, so none were the wiser. They only discovered the truth on her death here in England.”

It was likely her servants knew—it would have been extremely hard back in those days to successfully conceal your periods. But if she had female lovers, then maybe they were used as decoys when that time came around. Plus, period syncing was a known—if not studied—phenomenon.

“If she fought and lived in France, why did she die on English soil?” Cynwrig said. “That’s an extremely unusual choice, given England and France were very often at war during the Middle Ages and Early Modern periods.”

“It seems to have had something to do with the sword, and De Clari’s wish for it to be concealed, never again to be raised by the hand of humanity.”

“It’s the Sword of Darkness, so why not simply wrap it in shadow? And why come to England to do that? It’s not as if the old gods were continent restricted.”

“Depending on what year De Clari came to England,” Cynwrig said, “it’s possible that we were already guarding the crown and the ring. The sword was the last of the Claws to be placed in the Tenebrous Hoard.”

“Would she have known that though?”

Cynwrig shrugged. “It would depend on her connection with the sword and the goddess herself. Does the notes say anything in regard to the Claws?”

Lugh reached for the crème pâtissière-filled croissant, leaving Cynwrig the cinnamon apple. He didn’t seem to mind. “Unfortunately, that’s as far as I’ve gotten with the notes, so I have no idea what other information there might be.”

Cynwrig glanced at me, silvery eyes dark with barely banked desire. “Were you able to question the café’s staff before the police arrived?”

“Yes.” I hesitated, but there was no point in avoiding the matter any longer. “Tell me, does Jalvi wear amber earrings that resemble bees?”

He stilled for a fraction of a second and then sighed. It was an annoyed and regretful sound. “Yes, she does, and it would certainly explain why she was absent when the hotel staff insisted she hadn’t left yet.”

I frowned. “How could they be sure? There’s usually more than one way in and out of a hotel, and it’s not like they’d keep an eye on everyone coming in and out.”

The smile that tugged briefly at his luscious lips held little in the way of amusement. “In this case, it’s a boutique hotel with only a dozen rooms, so they’re familiar with all guests. Both the internal stairs and the elevators deposit guests into the lobby; there are three exit options from there, but all are visible to check-in and anyone seated nearby.”