"We found him in the exchequer's office, Captain," one of the soldiers reported.
"Of course I was in the exchequer's office." Mikhail said. "I've been there all night, working on the accounts. Would someone tell me what's going on?"
Crevan stood slowly. "We've found two dead men—throats torn out."
The soldiers shifted, and Kiara met Mikhail's eyes. We both know he could easily escape.
The soldiers are only mortal. But if he does, it's admitting guilt. The truce will be broken, and there'll he reprisals. And if he stays, after all the damage Jared did, will anyone believe him? "I haven't left the exchequer's office since the sixth bells. I wouldn't do anything like this—I fought to save the truce between my kind and mortals. Whoever did this is not of Lord Gabriel's family."
"It's going to be hard to prove that," Harrtuck said. "As far as we know, you're the only vayash moru in Shekerishet tonight."
Crevan stood staring at the body, shaking his head. "We've barely gotten the castle staffed again. When word of this gets out—"
"When word gets out, you'll have a riot on your hands," Harrtuck said gruffly. "And a mob looking for Mikhail."
Running footsteps sounded behind Kiara. She turned to see another guard. "Captain Harrtuck! We've found another body in the stable—same as the last one."
"I have no choice," Crevan said. "A tribunal must be called."
A crowd had already begun to form at the doorway. Gasps at the sight of the dead man's body gave way to murmuring. "Give us the biter!" a man's voice shouted from the entranceway. Other voices took up the cry. "Burn him!"
Kiara glanced at the sky through the open doors of the entranceway. It was nearly dawn, and once the sun rose, Mikhail would be vulnerable. And while one vayash moru was more than a match for a single human adversary, a mob of hundreds was likely to overpower Mikhail. If they dragged him into the courtyard after dawn, the winter sun would be jury and executioner.
"There's another way." Kiara stepped forward, pushing her way past the guards. She raised her voice to shout above the crowd. "Hold Mikhail until King Martris returns. Then let the king call the spirits of the murdered men. Let the victims bear witness. You've seen the Court of Spirits. You know the king can do this. There's no need to rush to judgment."
"Let the king judge!" A voice shouted from the crowd. Kiara recognized Halik's voice. "Give him to King Martris to judge!" another woman shouted, and Kiara was certain it was Macaria. A moment later, Kiara heard a flute playing in the courtyard. The tune was soothing, and Kiara sensed the music was touched with Macaria's magic, trying to sway the crowd from vengeance.
"When word of this gets out, I may not be able to hold off the mob," Crevan said behind her.
"Leave that to me." Harrtuck stepped forward. "Mikhail helped put Tris Drayke back on the throne. I won't abandon him to a mob." "How will you hold him—and keep the mob out?"
"If I'd wanted to escape, I'd be gone by now," Mikhail noted dryly from among his captors.
"My men will take care of any mob. As for holding him..."
"There's a cell in the dungeon built to hold vayash moru," Mikhail said. "Three walls of solid rock, and a door of iron a hand's breadth thick, with its pins sunk into the rock. No windows. A small opening to the corridor for food. It can't be breeched."
"And you would consent to be held there, until the king returns?" Crevan asked.
"I would rather trust my chances with the king than with a tribunal. I'll wait." Mikhail made a low bow to Kiara. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Kiara swung between hopelessness and rage as the soldiers took Mikhail away. Alle laid a hand on her arm. A crowd gathered around the castle entrance, and voices thick with ale shouted for judgment. Soldiers broke up the rowdy festival-goers, sending the brawlers on their way.
"Come, m'lady. You've done all that you can."
Kiara let Alle guide her up the stairs to her quarters. They had barely arrived before there was a knock and Macaria's voice sounded through the door. "My Queen?"
"Come in."
Macaria let herself into the room. "We saw what happened. Carroway sent us out to the courtyard, to see what we could do to sway the crowd." She grimaced. "We were only partly successful."
Kiara began to pace. Alle made cups of tea for all of them, and Cerise padded to the door, still dressed in her nightshift. She joined them, listening with an expression of growing horror as Alle told about the murders in the castle. "I know Mikhail didn't do it," Kiara said.
"Carroway said to tell you that he'd check in on Mikhail," Macaria said. "Damn, I wish this tea were brandy after, the way this night's gone!"
"I wish Zachar were here." Kiara shivered despite the warmth of the fire. "Crevan's completely overwhelmed. He's only been here since they restaffed the castle. Tris said Crevan waited out the war in Isencroft and came back when it was safe again. Zachar would know what to do."
"Why don't get your mind off it?" Alle suggested. "There's nothing more to be done tonight. Look—the guards left the gifts for you. Let's have a look. Even if you're not curious, I am!"
"All right. Come on then." Macaria and Cerise joined Kiara and Alle as they walked over to the table laden with gifts. True to Alle's prediction, many of the gifts were charms and amulets in an impressive variety of ornate and very expensive settings. Kiara looked at all of the jewelry without touching any of the pieces.
Her hand closed over the talisman at her throat made of Margolan gold, set with two large pearls, one white and one black, in honor of the Lady's dual faces. It was a gift from Tris, left for her to open this morning, and Kiara fingered it, wishing that she could sense in it a trace of his presence. The amulet remained tucked inside her pillow, to keep at bay the shadows that still haunted her dreams.
"I know you had one of the Sisterhood here when the gifts were opened, but I'm not touching or wearing anything until Tris gets back," Kiara said. "I've had all I want of magicked items!"
Other sumptuous items covered the table. Garments and baby blankets, woven from soft wool spun as fine as silk. Silver and ivory rattles and teething rings. Pairs of tiny earrings, in styles suitable for either a boy or a girl child. A coverlet of satin with an exquisite embroidered crest. Kiara shifted the coverlet for a better view of the small box beneath it. Inside was a folded garment and a small vial of oil. An unusual, sharp scent rose from the vial.
Alle caught her hand. "Don't touch it. Who would dare to give this awful thing!"
Macaria glanced at the box and paled. "Sweet Mother and Childe," she murmured, making the sign of the Lady. She dug through the gifts. "I can't find a note."
"What is it?" Cerise asked.
"Funeral oil," Alle said. "The fabric is a shroud," Alle whispered. "For a baby."
Kiara felt her blood run cold. "Why? Why would anyone want to do that?"
"Someone intended to send a message with that gift." Beneath the anger in Alle's voice, Kiara could hear steel. "Your baby's going to reshape the future of the Winter Kingdoms. Every noble stands to gain or lose. Figure out who sent that, how it got into the palace, and we might also find Malae's killer."
"We're not going to say anything about this," Kiara said. "Whoever gave the gift is'out there, watching. He wants to see how I'll react." I never ran from battle, and I won't run from this. But Sweet Chenne! It won't be long before I can't fight to protect myself—or my baby. What then?