Elias studied his father’s face as the reality of what he’d just said sank in. The room fell quiet for several long minutes.

“What the hell?” Sander finally said. “Let me see the dagger.”

Elias liberated the piece from a wrap of material he’d found in the Land Rover. After unwinding the material, he left the dagger sitting atop it on the desk within easy viewing range of the king.

“One side has the old crest, as I call it. The other side is engraved with the name. We found papers, maps, and journals, too, but it’s going to take some time to go through them all and see if there’s any mention of who the dead man is and why he was entombed down there,” Elias said as his father examined the dagger closely.

“Ariss Rehn Ahtissari,” Sander said. His voice had dropped to a whisper. “I don’t recall ever hearing of an Ariss Ahtissari, and the name Rehn was not passed down through the generations.” He paused, then added, “Our generations.”

“I do not recall seeing the name in our literature,” Elias said. “And it seems very unlikely to me that one noble family would honor the name of another family with whom they have appeared to have so much strife.”

“I don’t see that happening, either,” Sander said. “Let me know what you find when you go through the papers here. Hopefully we’ll get some answers.”

Elias nodded, watched his father exit the office, and then glanced at Inari. “You ready to dig in?”

“I’ve been ready since we left the castle.”

---

For two hours, they pored meticulously over the journals. It was slow going, both due to the careful handling required of the pages and the sometimes hard-to-read script. Elias’s first book was a memoir from one of the king’s brothers. He learned several new things from the thin tome, but nothing earth shattering or groundbreaking. The king’s brother had been more interested in complaining about his own lack of power and the frustrations he endured because of it.

There’d been no mention of Ariss or changes on the crest.

Now and then he glanced across the table to find Inari immersed in her task, delicate brows furrowed over her pretty eyes. She caught him staring once or twice, but he did not shy away from her attention. He enjoyed having her there, trusting her enough with his family history to explore the nuances together. He felt a bond forming, a tether that he welcomed into the more intimate aspects of his life.

They took a break to stretch and refresh with drinks, finally, and Elias decided to take her on a walk down one of the hallways that he liked to think of as ancestor row. Many, many paintings hung there, all Ahtissari royalty, dating back too many generations to count. He watched Inari’s face as she paused to examine many pieces, curious over her own intense curiosity. The longer they walked and looked, the more intrigued she seemed to become.

“What’s on your mind?” he finally asked, shoulder brushing against hers.

“I’m not sure what it is. I can’t quite pinpoint what’s caught my eye.” She gestured to the painting they currently stood in front of.

Elias faced the painting and tried to look at it from another point of view.

It was a man, one of his direct ancestors, sitting astride a dark horse somewhere in an open field. The background beyond that was done in gloomy shades so he could not detect anything familiar, only the recognition of trees and a few large rocks. Most of the focus was on the rider, of course, as would be expected for royalty. Elias thought perhaps Inari was comparing the resemblance between himself and his ancestor, though he personally saw very little with this particular grandfather. If anything, he could claim the strong jawline and the lighter hair.

“I’ve seen it so many times it’s difficult for me to help you decide what’s caught your attention,” he admitted.

Inari hummed then moved on to the next painting.

Another great-great someone, male again, though this king happened to be settled negligently upon his throne. He had the same blondish hair as himself and his father, the same pronounced jaw. Elias glanced from the painting to Inari, but did so discreetly. She’d brought her fingertips to her mouth by then and was tapping her lower lip. Thoughtful.

He decided to move to the next painting while she considered whatever it was she was considering. As with the precise timing of seeing someone almost dump a drug into Inari’s drink, Elias’s gaze snagged upon a much less relevant part of the painting he currently stood in front of. Not the king lounging on a chaise with a sword held point down, or the apparently favored caramel-colored dog lying loyally at the king’s feet. What his gaze landed on was a shield propped against the end of the chaise, as if forgotten, the angle just barely allowing him to see two lions face-to-face, with an A between them.

He took a sudden step closer and narrowed his eyes. His vision did not deceive him. That was the same crest that he’d found on the daggers.

The crest that was not the same as today’s Ahtissari clan. How the hell had that slipped past so many people? Or had the angle simply deceived those who had looked? Perhaps the slim view of the lions was all it had taken to throw people off so that no one looked closer.

Maybe historians had thought the painter had it all wrong. Sometimes details were mistakenly confused.

“Inari, look here. See anything familiar?” Elias asked.

Inari stepped over immediately. She scanned the painting, though she seemed to keep focusing on the king’s features. “I don’t see too much of you in him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No. Look closer.”

He saw her continue to study the king himself, scanning the man’s face.

“Other than the king,” Elias said.

Inari took a step back from the painting and conducted a thorough inspection. Elias could see her breaking down the objects piece by piece, starting from the left to the right.

She missed the shield’s contents on the first try.

“The shield!” she said a few minutes later on her second pass. She stepped up to the painting and gestured to the vague depiction of the lions. “That’s very hard to make out because of the angle. What do you think? Was this on purpose or a mistake? A message?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it was a message, but the potency of it got lost over the centuries. Lost and forgotten. What’s a little frustrating is that this may have been an older shield when this painting was done, so it doesn’t give us a specific date to go back to. Maybe this ancestor added it at the last second as his own message. Or a reminder.”

“I was about to say, too, that it would give us a good starting point in time. To go back before him for the answers. But you’re right. I’m sure the sword he’s holding isn’t brand new, either. Probably passed down, an heirloom of sorts. The shield could have been the same. Even something gifted to him as a child that he was fond of and wanted in the painting as a remembrance of his grandfather before him,” Inari said.

Elias grunted. All were possibilities.

“I wonder if there are other clues we’ve missed over the centuries,” he said, stepping on to the next painting with renewed interest.

“I don’t know, but this is exciting, Elias. It makes me want to go back to Somero and dig around my ancestor’s pasts.”

He smiled and looked away from the portrait of a distant king. “It can be addictive. You already know of my interest. Sometimes there’s just no telling what you’ll find.”

“I see that.” Inari studied his face. “Why don’t we go through all of these paintings, since we’re on a break of sorts, and look closer at the smaller details? We might find something else. If not, we’ll get back to the papers and journals.”

Charmed by her undeniable enthusiasm, Elias gestured to the other wall. “You start at one end there. I’ll start on this side.”

And so it began. Elias parted from Inari to begin a more thorough inspection of the portraits. He paid close attention to the details in ways he hadn’t before, standing back a few feet to give him a better perspective. Sometimes you had to literally see the whole picture before something jumped out.

When he drew even with Inari down the row, going in opposite directions, he pulled in a deep breath and inhaled the delicate sweetness of her perfume. They stood shoulder to shoulder, each facing a different wall.

At first, when he felt her fingers brush his hand, Elias thought nothing of it. But then her fingers slid silkily between his, interlacing, and he took the opportunity to drag the pad of his thumb across the skin of her hand. He did not glance over to acknowledge the touch and neither did she. Their shared interest in contact ended some minutes later as they moved past to the next painting in line.

By the time he reached the end of his row, Elias had discovered nothing else unusual. He wasn’t too disappointed—after all, he had the initial find, which might still provide more insight at a later date.

Inari appeared at his side. “I didn’t find anything, though I think you should go back over them all when I’m gone. I may have missed something.”

“I will.” He didn’t think she would be offended by his blunt honesty. “At least I know it’s been gone over once, though. Every bit helps.”

“Should we attack the journals now?” she asked.

Elias tamped down the urge to tell her he wanted something else at that moment. Something much more intimate. He smiled, held out his hand, and said, “You read my mind.”

There would be other days to dally between the sheets.

Today was a day to unearth mysteries.