“There are several native plants poisonous to livestock and people alike,” Illan replied. “But this is not the same as the first poison. I wonder why they used a different poison this time?”
Quinn rubbed a hand along the nape of his neck. “Perhaps they didn’t have more of the first and improvised with the second dose? Larkspur is easy to find, and anyone who has worked in the fields here would know the consequences of consuming it.”
“Which could also explain why it wasn’t in the correct concentration,” Illan replied. “Their skill was lacking. It’s one thing knowing something is poisonous, quite another to manufacture a concoction or tincture. But it would also explain the timing delay between the two attempts.”
Quinn nodded. “The initial poison was an amalgam of three different formulas, including the Treatment. That one wasn’t made here.”
“But the first poisoning didn’t kill me, so they used what they could find on hand for a second go?” Becka asked.
“It points to the poisoner being within the household, with their knowledge of local lands,” Shamus said.
“This confirms what you told the council yesterday,” Becka said to Quinn.
“Thanks for sharing your report with me.” Illan handed Quinn back the tablet. “I need to get going.” He packed the thermos back into his bag.
“How is Vott doing?” Becka asked. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by to check on him more.”
“He has regular visitors,” Illan replied. “And he appears fully healed, but he’s still in a coma-like state.”
“That’s encouraging,” Becka replied. “Will you still let us know if he wakes up?”
“You’ll be the second to know, right after the duchess.”
“Of course.”
Quinn’s phone buzzed. He checked it, and then a mixture of tension and relief played over his features.
“Get dressed, Becka. The other enforcers have arrived.”
“Can I catch up?” she said. “I still need a shower.”
“No.” The intensity of his gaze electrified her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Brent’s getting them situated, and we already have a series of interviews scheduled for today.”
She gave a quick nod and headed to her expansive closets. “Then I guess it’s messy bun day for me.”
“Do you ever do your hair fancy, like the other Rowan?” Lorelai asked, following her to the changing area but discreetly standing outside. “I bet with the pink it would look amazing, all shiny locks braided up.”
“On my gosh, do I ever have better things to do with my time!” Becka laughed, tossing her pj’s onto the floor and throwing on a brown peasant shirt over a pair of batik orange-and-yellow wide-legged pants. “Like anything else.” Sandals, teeth brushed, face washed, and messy bun later, she was ready to go.
She would have preferred a shower but didn’t want to hold up Quinn.
Becka returned to the bedroom, stuffing the Shadow-Dweller book into her bag and then hooking the strap over her shoulder. She donned her signature silk gloves, and then memories of yesterday flooded back to her. A heavy weight settled into her stomach. “Wait, are the Hawthornes still around?”
“No,” Quinn replied. “The entire retinue left shortly after delivering their warning to Duchess Maura.”
Becka glanced over to her bedside table, where Alain’s unopened scroll sat, taunting her. “That’s something, at least.”
“The entire house is all a-murmur over it,” Shamus said. “You’d think they didn’t have murders and poisonings and better things to worry about.”
“Oh, there’s never too much drama for House Rowan,” Becka replied. “And you’re wrong, this news is worse than murder or poisonings. A break with House Hawthorne is tantamount to war.”
Chapter 24
By the time Becka arrived at the library, the Enforcers had already transformed the space into a comfortable but serviceable interrogation room. A small, round table with a machine Becka didn’t recognize sat next to a plush chair in the center. There were a pair of couches across from it, but someone had pushed most of the seating and extra tables to the outer walls, allowing for clear views to the center of the room. They had placed additional gear on tables along the outer wall.
Two of Brent’s shifter guards stood outside the door, teamed up with a pair of fae household guards. Two more shifters, Luce and Saige, stood against a far wall, chatting quietly.
Entering the room, Quinn headed straight for the newly arrived enforcers who were fussing over the machine on the table. When they saw Quinn, both snapped to attention.
Just how does Quinn rank within the enforcers? She’d never wondered before now, other than knowing he reported directly to Chief Elowen.
Becka realized she’d met the female enforcer in the city after an altercation two years ago. She remembered Enforcer Caeda as both fair and fierce.
“Thank you both for coming,” Quinn said to them, shaking their hands.
“How could we say no?” the large male replied. The fae enforcer laughed, a light, airy sound.
“Lady Becka, this is Enforcer Hamish,” Quinn said, motioning to a tall shifter man whose pronounced jawline overwhelmed the other features on his face.
“Pleased to meet you, Hamish. Are you a member of Brent’s pack, the Sawatch Enclave?”
“Nope,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m from the Bitterroot Enclave.”
“You’re a long way from home, then.”
He squinted his eyes at her and then shrugged. “That’s the truth.”
“And this is Enforcer Caeda of House Poplar.” The pixie-like fae was unusually petite, but the steely edge to her amber gaze belied any impression of her being a delicate flower.
Becka arched a brow at Caeda, who arched a brow right back at her.
“Enforcer Caeda and I met briefly in the city a while back,” Becka replied.
“Nice to see you again,” quipped Caeda.
“I suppose it is,” she replied.
“Don’t you worry. We’ll get your poisoner,” Caeda said in her birdlike voice. “And anyone else who might have helped them better be ready for the hammer.”
“You can count on us,” Hamish threw in. “Have you noticed this place is wound up tight as a virgin’s knickers?”
Becka raised a brow, but no one else reacted to his colorful commentary.
Brent walked into the room, carrying a list on parchment. “Becka, glad to see you’re looking better today.”
“Thank you, Brent.”
Brent handed over the list to Caeda. “Here’s a register of everyone at the manor. No exception. There’s been no one in or out, so we know the culprit, or culprits, will be on this list.”
“We’ll start at the top and work our way down,” Hamish replied. “I bet we’ll have it sorted in two, three days, tops.”
“We should do the guards first,” Caeda replied. “Then the higher-ranking family and staff.”
“Agreed,” Brent replied.
“What does that machine do?” Becka asked.
“It’s an interrogator. Mostly, it puts the fear of transparency into the suspect,” Caeda replied.
“It’s a combination of human tech enhanced by fae magic,” Quinn explained.
“What flavor of magic?” Becka asked.
“House Yew infuses them with clarity of the seen and unseen,” Caeda replied. “And then House Elder does a little something which reveals shadowy aspects of character. It watches brain waves, pulse, temperature, respiration… things like that.”
No wonder Maura didn’t want the enforcers questioning everyone. Becka didn’t want to sit in that chair either. Not that the magic would affect her; instead she might break their machine.
“I’ll remind you both,” Quinn looked to Caeda and Hamish, “there’s to be no deviation from the focus of the investigation or the duchess will shut us down and throw the lot of us out.”
“We both read the report you sent over,”
Hamish replied. “We’ll keep it on track.”
“They can’t kick us out,” Caeda replied, sporting a defiant smile. “We’re too clever and cute.”
“Caeda,” Quinn said, drawing out her name into one long question.
She held up her hands. “You’re so easy to rile up, Quinn. I’ll stay on target. I’m your wee dragonfly with razor-sharp claws. I never miss my kill.”
Quinn shook his head. “I have no interest in anyone here dying.”
Hamish laughed out loud, looked around and seemed to realize Quinn hadn’t told a joke, and then sobered up. “No! No, of course not. Let’s get to it.”
Becka headed to one couch and curled up, retrieving the book from her bag. No sooner had she settled before Astrid sat next to her on the couch.
“Good morning, Becka. We missed you at breakfast.” Astrid’s hair flowed around her, a mixture of perfect braids and glossy sheen.
“I had a special morning tonic from Illan. I’ll eat once my stomach settles.”
Astrid’s face scrunched up in distaste. “I’ve drunk those too and I do not envy you. I swear that man keeps the medicine vile to scare us into staying healthy. Not that we get sick often, but you know what I mean.”
Becka smiled and nodded. The fact that she and her Aunt Astrid could sit together on this couch exchanging pleasantries continued to surprise her. Over four months, she’d gone from outcast to heir. Ungifted to uniquely gifted.
What might the next four months bring?
“What’s that book?” Astrid asked.
Becka looked at Astrid, trying to get a feel for whether she wanted a detailed answer or if she was just making small talk. By the rapt interest in her expression, Becka decided it was the former. “It’s a Shadow-Dweller artifact. With my gift, I’m able to see messages. I’ve been trying to figure out its purpose.”
Astrid’s expression turned grave. “Surely any gains are not worth the risk to study such a dark tome?”
Becka shrugged. Compared to the prospect of being poisoned again, she preferred the book. Perhaps it reminded her of studying for classes, but it felt good to have a book in her hands again.
“For good or bad, I’m becoming accustomed to risk.”
Astrid’s brow furrowed. “A product of the unfortunate twists and turns in the path your life has taken. I don’t envy you.”
Quinn came over and leaned against the wall near the end of Becka’s couch.
“Brent, can your guards keep a steady stream of people queued up?” Hamish asked.
“We’re on it. Start when you’re ready.” Brent left the room, closing the door behind him.
Astrid stood up and walked over to Caeda, who stood next to the chair.
“Are you ready to start?” Astrid asked.
“We are, Lady Astrid. Would you like to be the first to give it a whirl?”
“I’ll even insist upon it.” Astrid sat in the chair, her movements graceful and elegant. “So, you know, I plan to remain for some time to ensure your questions do not cross the line of good taste.”
Caeda picked up a loose cap attached to a tether and walked behind Astrid. “We welcome your oversight. You won’t feel anything from this neural cap,” she added, gently arranging the cap over Astrid’s head. The display on the front of the machine lit up with waves of pulsing colors.
“How do you interpret the patterns?” Becka asked them.
“We take months of classes,” Hamish answered. “But it boils down to catching blips in the flow, or abrupt or incongruous color shifts. It sounds easy, but there’s a lot of finesse.”
“People have a strong sense of self,” Quinn said. “Lies run counter to our internal narrative. We invent explanations and narratives to cover them up, but the patterns are still there, if you’re trained to see them.”
“Unless they’re a psychopath. Then the lies wouldn’t bother them,” Becka said.
“We have other ways of identifying those traits,” Quinn replied.
“Besides,” Astrid said. “Fae don’t have the mental weaknesses humans do.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Becka replied. “Our genetics are part fae and part human. There’s no proof that our magical gifts have fundamentally changed how our minds work. I took a comparative anatomy class my sophomore year, and although functional MRIs are different between the species, there’s no significant difference between hominid brain structures.”
Astrid frowned. “I do not understand some of the terminology you are using, but I think I have the spirit of it. You learned some odd things at that city school.”
“Right.” Caeda smiled. “May we begin, Lady?”
“You may proceed.” Waves of tranquil blues and greens circulated on the display, creating a meditative and relaxing pattern.
Becka opened the book to a random page, resting it across her lap. Quinn glanced at her, but his attention was on the enforcers and their work. Between the two of them, she knew Quinn would listen for whether Astrid’s words were true, and Becka would watch the book. Not that she doubted Astrid, but it was an interesting exercise.
Caeda and Hamish focused on the interrogator, and no doubt all three enforcers had also been trained on reading suspect behavior. Glancing around the room, she again noticed a pair of shifter guards, no doubt there for their ability to read emotion off others’ scents.
She’d furthermore refer to this process as the gauntlet of truth, Becka decided, chuckling to herself.
This brought the three enforcers’ attention to her, but she waved them off.
Hamish cleared his throat. “Please answer the questions directly and to the best of your ability. It’s fine to answer with yes, no, or unsure. You’re also welcome to elaborate if you want to, but it’s not required. And ask us to repeat questions if you’re unclear.”
“I understand.” A deep blue washed across the monitor before the colors flowed back to the light greens and blues.
“Do you dislike Lady Becka?” Hamish asked.
“No.” A pink thread flowed across the monitor and then disappeared.
“Do you have larkspur, in any form, within your possession?”
She frowned, but the colors didn’t change. “No, not to my knowledge.”
“Did you poison Lady Becka?”
Red threads invaded the pulses of color. “Of course not!”
Becka watched the pages of the book, which felt heavier than usual against her lap. The squiggles moved with intensity.
“Have you assisted anyone who you think might harbor ill will against Lady Becka?”
“I would never do such a thing.” Redder, and more pink this time, but the transitions were fluid.
“Do you suspect anyone of poisoning Lady Becka?”
Astrid frowned. “Well, yes. I suspect most everyone.”
Becka looked to the tome under her fingers. The squiggles weren’t just a word repeated, but a series of definite words. They read: Astrid’s loyalty is absolute; protects you; protects family.
That seemed crystal clear.
Hamish shook his head. “Is there anyone you feel we should focus on?”
“I trust you will root them out on your own. No doubt my personal grudges wouldn’t aid your process.”
The screen was smooth as silk in bright greens and blues.
“She’s good,” Quinn declared. “And the device appears to be calibrated correctly. Let’s get her out and move on to the next one.”
Caeda removed the neural cap, taking care not to disturb Astrid’s hair, while Hamish called in the next subject.
Astrid came to sit beside Becka again, tucking a loose braid back into place as she got comfortable.
Brent brought in one of the fae household guards and Caeda repeated the setup process as everyone watched.
“How are you doing today?” Astrid asked Becka in low tones to not disturb the enforcers. “I’m sure Alain’s announcement last night must have upset you.”
Becka sighed. Sure, she was
upset, but did Astrid really think she’d wanted to marry that dolt?
“I hate what happened to Hanna. If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat.”
“Of course you would, dear. You’re not a monster.”
“How did Maura take the news?” Becka asked.
Astrid blew out a long breath. “How do you think she took it? I haven’t seen her that angry in years.”
“Glad I wasn’t there.”
“It’s for the best. Alain wanted to grandstand, so he delivered the news to Maura as she came down the great staircase. He’s got an impressive set of lungs. I’m guessing even Vott heard him.”
“Vott’s still in a coma.”
“Exactly,” Astrid replied. “Anyway, we received a letter from the House of Time—House Ash—informing us they stand with House Hawthorne. They refuse to do business with House Rowan while you’re here, for the safety of their people, so they say.”
Becka rubbed her temples. “Are there any Ash in residence here?”
“No, none by marriage, nor any here as tradesmen, so the immediate impact of their decision is minimal. But we can predict others will take up Hawthorne’s banner on this issue. Yew and Blackthorne are likely to follow, as they share the same territory and have long aligned.”
“What’s the plan for damage control?” Becka asked. She might not be able to heal the rift with Hawthorne, but Becka hoped she could help mend fences with houses swayed by Alain’s charges.
“You think just like her.” Astrid gave a halfhearted smile. “She’s mulling it over, being deliberate and not reactive. We must wait to see where the other houses fall, but Maura will entreaty all to reason. Her plan to offer compensation for Hanna’s injury is on the table, but it’s not likely enough to mollify Hawthorne. I hear Alain gets his temper from his father, Duke Eldinrod.”
“I’m not surprised. I mean, they are fire elementalists.”
Astrid laughed, and then so did Becka. Caeda shot them a warning look, reminding Becka of her self-proclaimed status as the killer dragonfly. They quieted down, and Becka mouthed a sorry to Caeda, who shook her head in disappointment at them.
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