The Santen family villa covered more ground than the king’s castle back at the capital. Painted white and trimmed with gold, the main house stood two stories tall. White marble statues beside elaborate topiary animals decorated the sprawling, manicured grounds. From the main house, two single-story wings spread left and right. The whole thing together had enough space to house an army.

The squad stood across the street from the estate’s iron gate. Jen crossed her arms and studied the place. How much had it cost to build? A gilded red carriage rolled down the cobblestone street. A pair of stunning white geldings pulled it, guided by a coachman in black-and-red livery.

Aside from the carriage the streets in the Lord’s District were quiet. No street vendors shouted, no kids ran around playing, she hadn’t even seen a servant out running an errand. They were far enough inland that the creak of the docks and rush of the waves didn’t reach them. Only the faint tang of salt in the air mixed with the yeast and cinnamon from the bakery behind them gave any sign that the ocean was close.

The district felt dead.

She shuddered. Dead as Dominic Santen most likely.

“What’s the plan?” Talon asked.

They’d arrived a little early for their meeting with Mikhail Santen so they could scout the place. “You and Rhys will come with me to interview the son. Talon, you focus on his heart rate. Rhys, watch his pupils. You two will be my lie detectors. Edward, stay here and keep an eye out for trouble. I don’t expect any, but better safe than sorry. Alec, I want you to snoop around the grounds. Check out security, get a feel for how hard it would be for someone to sneak in, grab Dominic, and escape.”

Everyone murmured their agreement, though Edward grumbled about getting stuck as lookout. He’d also left his maul at the inn. It made him stick out too much to be practical in the city. He’d settled for hiding a handful of daggers about his person.

“Let’s go.” Jen strode across the street with Talon and Rhys beside her. Alec seemed to vanish as he accelerated away from them. Edward leapt up to the roof of the bakery behind them and crouched down behind the chimney.

The gate was unlocked and swung open at Jen’s touch. Either it served no purpose beyond decoration or the family had unlocked it in expectation of their arrival. Jen thought the former more likely than the latter. A white gravel path wound through the grounds toward the curved steps up to the front door. A pair of guards, the first Jen had seen, armed with spears and short swords, stood on either side of a set of massive, intricately carved double doors.

The men crossed their spears. “Name and business?” one asked.

“Jennifer St. Cloud here to see Mikhail Santen. He’s expecting me.”

They moved their weapons aside and the guard who’d spoken nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We just needed to be sure who you were.”

They pulled the doors open and Jen walked into a foyer twice the size of her family’s quarters at The Citadel. A garish marble fountain shaped like a dolphin sprinkled water out its blowhole into a pool at its base. On either side of the room, curved staircases led up to a second-floor balcony. Jen half expected to see Mikhail standing there, looking over them. Closed doors to the left and right opened into the mansion’s wings. Straight ahead a short hall led deeper into the main house. A slim, pretty brunette with short, curly hair, wearing a servant’s black-and-white uniform with a too-short skirt appeared from deeper in the house.

The servant curtsied. “Master Mikhail said to bring you to the sunroom. Follow me, please.”

Jen nodded and motioned for her to lead the way. They went through an arch, turned left, and continued down a white, marble hall lined with carved busts of men Jen didn’t recognize, probably past heads of the family. At the end of the hall an open door led to a round room, the walls consisting of solid glass. A young man dressed in a fine black tunic and trousers, a long, drooping mustache decorating his face, sat in a blue-upholstered armchair. A matching chair three feet away faced him.

“Mikhail Santen?” Jen asked.

The young man nodded and waved an indifferent hand at the empty chair. The servant bobbed another curtsy and scampered out. Jen frowned at the lack of courtesy shown to an agent of the crown, but kept quiet. She sat facing the arrogant merchant, Talon and Rhys taking up positions behind her.

“I’m here investigating your father’s disappearance. Is there anything you can tell us about it?”

He leaned forward, his bloodshot brown eyes half covered by long brown hair. “You say disappearance, but you mean murder. My father has never been out of contact for this long. Only death would cause him to worry Mother so.”

“I say what I mean. Since no body has been found I assume he’s alive somewhere, perhaps being held against his will.”

Jen tried to force sympathy she lacked into her voice. “Does your family have many enemies?”

Mikhail threw back his head and laughed. “No one gets as rich as us without making enemies. And the richer you are the more enemies you make. We have many.”

“I don’t suppose you could narrow it down a little for us?”

“The Blackman clan despises us for forcing them out of the shipping business, as though it’s our fault their ships are outdated and often arrive late. The Corno clan nurses an old grudge over timber rights in the Great Green. There are many others, but those two are the most vocal.”

“Did your father travel with bodyguards?”

“Always. Six men led by a female warlord, Citadel trained, like you lot. We’ve heard nothing from them either. Probably eaten by sharks.”

“What were—”

Talon laid a hand on her shoulder bringing Jen up short. “What?” Jen asked.

“Someone drew steel outside.”