Whoever it is searches for something, just like Iván and I did, except without any care for Bolivar’s things.

He moves toward the fireplace. Metal squeals against stone as he grabs the poker and prods at the ash pile within. Then comes a loud, frustrated sigh, followed by a long pause.

The boot steps come near the bed.

The cloak disappears, then suddenly becomes a pile on the floor in the corner. A weight plunks down on the mattress, pressing the wooden slat against my ear, smashing my cheek into the floor. I’m staring at two worn boot heels, afraid to move the tiniest bit lest I scrape all the skin from my cheek.

He sits on the bed a long time. Surely he can hear my heartbeat? Iván is as still and silent as death beside me. If my head hurts this badly, Iván’s skull must be near to breaking.

At last the bed creaks as the man stands, and I barely hold my gasp in check as I’m overwhelmed with space and air and room to breathe.

He lingers a long moment, turning in place as if to survey the room one last time. Then he steps out the door and closes it behind him. The key rattles, locking us in.

We listen as his boot steps fade down the corridor outside. Finally Iván scooches out from under the bed, and I follow, brushing off my pants, which picked up some ash and dust from the floor.

“Well,” Iván says in a low voice. “That was terrifying.”

Standing up straight gives my rib a nasty pinch. “Do you think he knew we were there?”

“I hope not.” Iván frowns. “Were you hurt? You’re wincing.”

“I’m fine. Just need some rest. It seemed like he was looking for something.” I glance around. The room is disheveled now, the clothing on the shelves upended, the desk drawer half open, more ash spilling from the fireplace.

“Who was it, do you think?”

“Someone who was issued Royal Guard boots.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Iván says.

“And someone with a key to Bolivar’s quarters,” I add.

“That, on the other hand, narrows it down quite a bit more. The quartermaster might have keys to everyone’s rooms.”

I nod. “Lord-Commander Dante too, but he’s away with Elisa right now. Cleaning staff would have access to all these rooms, right? Though I doubt servants wear those boots.”

Iván’s face turns grave. “Sergeant DeLuca,” he says. “The sergeant was left in charge of the barracks. Maybe that means getting a master key.”

“DeLuca is already our most obvious suspect,” I say. “He had the most to gain from Bolivar’s disappearance.”

“Exactly. That’s how he got placed in charge.”

We stare at each other a moment. Iván’s face has an intensity about it that I don’t dislike.

“This is not proof,” I point out.

“No. We need something more.”

“Whoever it was had big feet, worn boots, and a slight inward pronation. We should keep an eye out.”