He smiled, but no warmth reached his eyes. He sipped his sweet tea. “Silly me. Allow me to explain: Lady Patience Santini was the first wife of your Duke. Although originally from the Wishes to the far south, like most noble mages she trained with the temples as a young woman, while living at court. She visited me to buy the butterfly a few days before she left to be wed.”

Lena felt suddenly pale. She didn’t remember the first Duchess, but she knew she was interred in the crypts below the castle. So, effectively, Lena really had stolen grave goods. But then…

“When I first found it … or … when it found me…”—she gulped, her throat dry—“it was … flying.”

“How interesting.” Chatham ran his fingers through his smooth, pale hair and glanced down at the open page. “You see, the ledger reminds me that when Lady Patience bought the butterfly, she wanted it empty.”

Lena shook her head. “Empty?”

“Generally, my magical mechanicals, those designed for ordinary people, are woven through with magic upon purchase—it’s something I do once they’re taken off display. Come, little bee.” The bee flew to his palm, its yellow light glowing brightly as it lifted and lowered its wings. “See this glow? My own magic powers this little creature. But for some of my customers, I can leave it empty. Here.” He touched a finger to the bee, and with a flicker of yellow the light went out and the wings froze in position. Dead, Lena thought, a sudden chill running through her, but she brushed the thought aside. Had it ever truly been alive? He set it beside the still form of the butterfly. “Now it can be filled with someone else’s magic … or perhaps with a spell, or several spells.”

She frowned, not understanding. “What would be the point in that?”

“Well … say you were a mother, and you wanted your child to be safe. You might cast a healing spell and put it in this bee, and magically instruct the bee to follow your child around. And then, when the child grazes her knee, the spell activates and the wound is healed. The bee can carry one or two small spells.” He turned his attention to the butterfly. “This little creature is more complex, however, and can easily carry two or three small spells—perhaps more, depending on the skill of the mage.”

“Right…” Lena’s mind jumped around wildly, returning to a point earlier in Chatham’s explanation. “So Patience Santini was a mage?”

He nodded. “Magic runs famously strong in the Santini bloodline—and I see she asked for the butterfly to be sent to her quarters in the temple of Regis. She trained there before her marriage was arranged. Although I doubt they told Patience’s new family in Duke’s Forest about her talents.” He smiled briefly. “You Foresters are not known for your love of magic.”