"Thank you for the ride, Alma," Irene smiled gratefully as they arrived at their destination in a carriage. 

"No need, I had a feeling you were going to need some help sneaking out past the journos. They are quite tenacious when it comes to finding a story for the papers," Alma smiled back. 

“I’m more surprised that the robes you gave us tricked the journos,” Lucas scratched his head in confusion.

“Well, a lot of them just so happened to be followers of the faith, so, of course, they wouldn’t dare to act disrespectfully,” Alma smirked, it seemed that she hadn’t completely outgrown her mischievous habits, after all. She got out of the carriage before turning to the Ironblood siblings. “Shall we go inside then?” 

The two hopped out right after Alma and the trio walked right inside the temple. She leads the siblings to the section where the bodies are prepared for the funeral. Once they arrived, Alma opened the doors to the mortuary room. Crystals were used to keep the room cool to slow down the corpse’s decaying process. 

Inside the room was Quin Owen, a light elf who works as the temple’s mortician. When he saw Alma, he bowed respectfully. 

“Your Holiness, welcome to the mortuary.” 

“It’s good to see you in good health again” Alma smiled as she bowed back. 

“I apologize for last week, it’s unbecoming of me to faint as I had,” Quin’s cheek blushed in embarrassment.  

“We all get sick, it’s a part of life,” Alma reassured him. “However, I do hope that you will take better care of yourself the next time you fall ill.”

Quin bowed humbly, “I’ll keep better track of my health, I promise” 

The elf then turned his attention to Irene, his eyes narrowing. “Lady Irene, it’s a pleasure to see you.” He didn’t sound happy to see her, but Irene remained silent and bowed back to Quin.

“I trust you know why I’m here sir Owen,” said Alma.

“I’ve been informed of your intention. And with respect, Your Holiness, I can’t in good conscience let this happen.” 

“And may I ask why you are against it when I gave explicit permission?” 

The elf let out a frustrated sigh. He wanted to remain professional, but it seems he simply can not 

“To be honest, I don’t trust Lady Ironblood there,” he pointed at Irene. 

Irene was confused. “Me, why? What did I do to get you to distrust me?” 

“Wait a minute, are you still mad about what happened thirteen years ago?” Lucas spoke up.

“Well, yes.” the elf answered very bluntly.

Irene was shocked by the answer. “That was a long time ago! Why are you still upset about it?” 

“If you must know, I take my job of preserving the dead seriously. And that includes making sure that no one disturbs their rest.” Quin continued to glare at Irene, determined to keep her far away from the body. 

Alma spoke up asking “I’m afraid I’m confused about what's going on here, What exactly happened thirteen years ago?”

Irene turned to the prophetess. “A few months after I was adopted by the Ironbloods,  a relative passed away. We attended the funeral and,” Irene paused, feeling embarrassed. “I felt the need to properly introduce myself and I took the relative’s hand and shook it.”

Quin chimed in, “I was there when it happened preceding over the body and gave the lady a good scolding.” 

“I can still feel the sting on my hand,” Irene commented, rubbing her hands at the unpleasant memory. “But I was a child then, I know better now to not do that.” 

Quin was still not having it,“Then you should understand why I cannot allow you near the body.”

Irene simply walked right up to the mortician. “Please try to see reason. What if that princess that died was your daughter instead?” 

Quin was caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?” 

“If your daughter was suddenly murdered, wouldn't you want to find the culprit to bring her murderer to justice?” 

Quin was silent. He hated thinking about it, but he could see where Irene was coming from.  After his wife died in a carriage accident, his daughter Mary was all he had left. The thought of anyone wanting his sweet, little girl dead deeply angered him. 

With a stern look on his face, he tells Irene, “I’ll go ahead and prepare the body.” He turned around and left the room.

Irene sighed relieved that she was finally given permission. She turned to Alma and asked, “I hope that what I said wasn’t too cruel to Mr. Owen.” 

Alma simply put her hand on Irene's shoulder. “It may not have been pleasant, but sometimes it is necessary to get others to see your perspective.” 

Minutes later, Aoife’s body was lying on the examination table with a cloth covering her private parts. 

“Remember, you must be respectful of the body,” Quin warned Irene.

“I understand, Mr. Owen. I only want to see her hands.” Quin simply nodded before stepping aside to let Irene up close to the body. She pulled out her leather gloves and slipped them on, making sure that they fit comfortably. 

Lucas watched his sister. “Why are you putting your gloves on?” 

“So I don’t tamper with the evidence,“ Irene stated simply. “If any evidence is tampered with, it’s no longer useful. My birth mother told me when we were watching a crime show on TV.” 

Irene gently grabbed the princess’s right hand and examined it, looking under the fingernails and around the fingers. She pulled out her folded-up handkerchief out of her purse and removed and unfolded it to reveal a bloody mirror shard. 

“Wait, isn’t that from the crime scene?” Lucas asked, shocked. “Did you take it from there?”

“I’m sorry, Lucas, but I needed it to confirm something.” With the shard in her hand, Irene positioned it close to the princess’s hand, where there were cuts. A huge smile grew on Irene's face. “Look! They match!” 

“What are you talking about?” asked Lucas.

“Look under her fingers and the palm of her hand. You can see a few cuts underneath,” she pointed at them. 

Lucas looks at where Irene is pointing. “Okay, so what caused them?” 

Irene placed the broken mirror shard in the dead princess’s hand. Lucas noticed how the scars matched the sharp parts of the mirror shard. “Oh, that’s right. You did mention earlier that she could have used the shard to defend herself.”

“Exactly. Judging from the blood on the tip of the sharp point, she must have used it to strike her killer, nicking them on the cheek.”

Alma, who was silent during the examination, then spoke up. “That means whoever attacked the princess would have a fresh, new scar on their face.” 

“Right! This will help us narrow down our search,” Irene then turned to Quin and said, “Thank you for allowing me to examine the body.”

Quin simply bowed to Irene, “May the Great Mother guide you.” 

The elf didn’t want to admit it, but watching the whole process had left him intrigued. He was starting to think about implementing a team of morticians to replicate the procedure that Irene had done.

Perhaps, he mused, that some good would come out of this.