Baron Duval's Castle, the north tower.
Candlelight danced in the stone fireplace, making the room as warm as spring.
This was Kelvin's residence. While not as luxurious as Baron Duval's own quarters, it was a world apart from the servants' lodgings in the Outer Fortress.
Kelvin stood by the window, gazing at the snowflakes drifting down outside.
He had the Duval Clan's signature high-bridged nose and a head of dark hair—the latter being the only inheritance his mother, a Singing Girl from the South, had left him.
Old Jimmy sat in an oak chair by the fireplace, the wine glass in his hand trembling slightly. "Who do you think killed that Groom?"
Kelvin turned, a shadow of gloom flickering in his eyes. "Norton? An insignificant Groom, but at a sensitive time like this..."
He paused. "Father is bedridden with a serious injury, and Sylvan is cursed. For a murder to happen now... it's far too much of a coincidence."
