Page 133 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

He drifted, drunk on the black cloud. It rushed into his nostrils and plumed out again.

A mournful sound, like a dying baleen. A thud that shook the earth. He saw Jannart walking barefoot on the beach, a faint smile on his lips. “Jan,” he breathed, but he was gone.

Two booted feet pressed into the sand.

“Give me a reason,” a voice said in Seiikinese, “and I may not gut you.” A bone-handled knife flashed in front of him. “Do you have something to offer the Fleet of the Tiger Eye?”

He tried to speak, but his tongue felt bee-stung.Alchemist, he wanted to say.I am an alchemist. Spare me.

Someone lifted his satchel. Time splintered as scarred hands rummaged through his books and scrolls. Then the hilt of the knife clipped his temple, and a dark wave swept away his cares.

30

West

Truyde utt Zeedeur was imprisoned in the Dearn Tower. Under threat of the rack, she had confessed to many crimes. After the royal visit had been announced, she had approached a playing company called the Servants of Verity, a so-called masterless troupe, bereft of the patronage of a noble and treated as vagabonds by the authorities. Truyde had promised her own patronage, and money for their families, in exchange for their help.

The staged attack had been intended to convince Sabran that she was in mortal danger, both from Yscalin and the Nameless One. Truyde had meant to use it as grounds to petition her to open negotiations with the East.

It had not taken much wit to piece together what had happened next. Those with true hatred toward the House of Berethnet had infiltrated the performance. One of those—Bess Weald, whose home in Queenside had been stuffed with pamphlets written by doomsingers—had murdered Lievelyn. Several innocent members of the Servants of Verity had also been slain in the fray, along with a number of city guards, two of the Knights of the Body, and Linora Payling, whose grief-stricken parents had already come for her.

Truyde might not have meant to kill anyone, but her good intentions had been for naught.

Ead had already written to Chassar to tell him what had happened. The Prioress would not be pleased that Sabran and her unborn child had come so close to death.

Briar House was draped in the gray samite of mourning. Sabran shut herself into the Privy Chamber. Lievelyn was laid in state in the Sanctuary of Our Lady until a ship arrived to bear him home. His sister Ermuna was to be crowned, with Princess Bedona as heir apparent.

A few days after Lievelyn had been taken, Ead made her way to the royal apartments. Usually the early morning was peaceful, but she could not shake the tension in her back.

Tharian Lintley had watched her take four lives during the ambush. He must have realized she was trained. She doubted anyone else had seen in that bloody clash, and it was clear Lintley had not reported her affinity for blades, but she intended to keep her head down.

Easier said than done as a Lady of the Bedchamber. Especially when the queen had also seen her kill.

“Ead.”

She turned to see a breathless Margret, who caught her by the arm. “It’s Loth,” her friend whispered. “He sent me a letter.”

“What?”

“Come with me, quick.”

Heart pounding, Ead followed her into an unused room. “How did Loth get a letter past Combe?”

“He sent it to a playwright Mama supports. He managed to pass it to me during the visit to Ascalon.” Margret withdrew a crumpled note from her skirts. “Look.”

Ead recognized his writing at once. Her heart swelled to see it again.

Dearest M, I cannot say much for fear this note will be intercepted. Things are not as they seem in Cárscaro. Kit is dead, and I fear Snow is in danger. Beware the Cupbearer.

“Lord Kitston is dead,” Ead murmured. “How?”

Margret swallowed. “I pray he is mistaken, but . . . Kit would do anything for my brother.” She touched the handstamp. “Ead, this was sent from the Place of Doves.”

“Rauca,” Ead said, stunned. “He left Cárscaro.”

“Orescaped. Perhaps that was how Kit—” Margret pointed to the last line. “Look at this. Did you not say the woman who shot Lievelyn invoked a cupbearer?”

“Yes.” Ead read the note again. “Snow is Sabran, I assume.”

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