Doyle started to say something, but I got there first. "I've got two arms, Rhys."

His smile widened to a grin. He offered me his arm, and I took it. As I slid my hand over his sleeve, I realized it was my right—the one the ring was on. But the ring didn't react to Rhys. It lay quiet, just a pretty piece of silver.

Rhys saw it, eyes widening. "That's…"

"Yes, it is," Doyle said, quietly.

"But…" Rhys began.

"Yes," Doyle said.

"What?" I asked.

"All in the queen's good time," Doyle said.

"Mysteries make my head hurt," I said.

Rhys did his best Bogart impression. "Then buy a bottle of aspirin, baby, because the night is young."

I looked at him. "Bogart never said that in a movie."

"No," Rhys said in his normal voice. "I was ad-libbing."

I gave his arm a little squeeze. "I think I missed you."

"I know I missed you. No one else at court knows what the hell film noir means."

"I most certainly do," said Doyle.

We both looked at him.

"It means dark film, correct?"

Rhys and I looked at each other and started to laugh. We walked down the hallway to the echoes of our own laughter. Doyle didn't join in. He kept saying things like, "It means dark film, doesn't it?"

It made the last few yards to my aunt's private chambers almost fun.