by Claire Luana
Lucas nodded with a grimace. “Discovery that it was Gemini doesn’t clear you, not by a long shot. But if we can discover where the second poison was hidden, if it was something you never had access to…”
“Then it couldn’t be me.”
“That’s the hope.”
“Where do we even start? If it was something Kasper ate, it could be long gone by now.”
“That’s a real possibility. But maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Luck, Wren thought, thinking of the Alesian gold coin hitting heads four times in a row. How long did her cupcake luck last? She needed to talk to Hale about her Gift—and soon.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, for now. Just keep your ears open. I’m headed back to the Guildhall to go over the scene again and interview some of the servants and kitchen staff. We’ll get to the bottom of this mystery.”
Chapter 8
Wren and Lucas walked back to the Guildhall under the sharp August sun. Their conversation was light. They spoke of the hot summer weather, Lucas’s flat above a bookstore across the street from Lake Viri, Wren’s history as a confectioner. If he picked up her grimace and change of subject when he asked her about her life before Master Oldrick’s shop, he was tactful enough to move on without question.
As she hopped up the stone steps to the Guildhall, she found herself sorry that the walk was ending. They came to a stop in the antechamber of the Guildhall before the yawning mouth of the staircase leading to the second floor. Wren stared at her sandaled feet, feeling strangely tongue-tied.
“Thank—” Wren said, while Lucas said, “Wren—”
They laughed nervously. “Go ahead,” she said.
“Wren!” a booming voice called from above. Hale closed the distance from the balcony in two strides and slid, literally slid down the staircase bannister before hopping off next to Wren.
“There’s my little robin! Trying to get out of your lesson?” Hale teased, putting his arm around her and pulling her against his body in a side-embrace.
Lucas’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he took in Hale’s virile form. Lucas was tall, but Hale stood a head above him and was much broader in stature. He was muscled where Lucas was lean, bright and obvious where Lucas was dark and subtle.
Wren was the first to recover from her surprise, shrugging her shoulder in an attempt to dislodge Hale’s meaty arm. “Hale, this is—”
“Inspector Imbris.” Lucas offered his hand. “I’m in charge of the investigation into Guildmaster Kasper’s murder.”
Hale unwound his arm from Wren’s slender shoulders and shook Lucas’s hand, pumping it several times. Wren could see the whitening of the men’s knuckles as the handshake lasted longer than was strictly necessary.
“Aren’t you a little young to be investigating such an important murder?”
“The office of the crown didn’t think so,” Lucas said with a grim smile.
“You Imbrises do all stick together.”
“Hale,” Wren said, astounded at his sudden rudeness. “Lucas is helping me clear my name.” She looked at Hale pointedly. We need him.
“Lucas, is it?” Hale said, raising a golden eyebrow to Wren. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Anyone who’s looking out for our girl is all right by me.”
“I’m happy to hear I meet with your approval,” Lucas said dryly.
“Now we must be off to the teaching kitchens,” Hale said.
“Of course,” Lucas said. “Wren, I’ll be in touch.” He turned up the stairs, missing the “I’m sorry” she mouthed at him.
Hale slung his arm around Wren’s shoulders once more and led her to the left into the hallway with the teaching kitchens.
“Why were you so…?” Wren couldn’t articulate Hale’s behavior. “Rude,” she finished, knowing that wasn’t quite right.
“Naw,” Hale said. “I was perfectly polite.”
“We need him. He wants to help me figure out who really killed Kasper.”
“He’s useful, but don’t put too much faith in him.” Hale turned into one of the kitchens and turned up the lights on the gas chandelier. He shut the door behind him, leaving them alone in the room.
“What do you mean? Why shouldn’t I trust Lucas?”
“Inspector Imbris,” he said, speaking the name with a mocking undertone, “works for the office of the crown, first and foremost. His loyalties lie with the crown. He will seek to secure their best interest, not ours.”
“I don’t understand,” Wren said.
“The king and the guilds tolerate each other, but each fear the other growing too powerful. Power can’t coexist with power. Not peacefully. Not for long.”
Wren shook her head. “I thought the guilds worked for the king?”
“We work for ourselves,” Hale said. “We do favors for the king because it suits us.”
“So we can’t trust the crown. Who can we trust? The other guilds?”
Hale laughed. “No! The guilds are constantly vying for power, for a greater share of the market, for control of the council. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the other guildheads was guilty of Kasper’s murder. If it wasn’t Callidus, that is. My money’s still on him.”
Wren rubbed her temples. “So we can’t trust the crown. We can’t trust the other guilds. And we can’t trust those within our Guild who may be loyal to Callidus. Who can we trust?”
“You can trust me and Sable. That’s it. And this.” He motioned to the kitchen in a grand gesture. “Our Gifts will never betray us.”
Wren chewed the inside of her cheek in thought. Hale’s words were a good reminder. Distrust everyone. This had been the unofficial motto she’d lived by, after she had learned the hard way that humanity’s capacity for cruelty was only surpassed by the ease of its betrayal. She had grown too comfortable with Lucas too quickly when she didn’t truly know anything about him. Perhaps his decision to vouch for her was intended to gain her trust in some way, to use her for some purpose she was too ignorant to conceive of. So she would trust nobody but Sable and Hale. She looked at Hale, leaning against the countertop with an easy arrogance. Her new “family” could have ulterior motives for helping her as well. She would trust nobody, she amended.
“You’re right,” she said sweetly to Hale. “I’m lucky to have you and Sable. There’s so much I don’t understand about this place.”
“That’s all right,” Hale said, brightening and pulling two stools up to the counter. “We’re here to teach you.”
Wren sat, donning the guise of a wide-eyed and pliable pupil. But as Hale began to talk, she found herself growing into her charade, fascinated by what he told her.
“Our understanding of the Gifted is limited because each guild is extremely secretive about their own power. Kasper made you drink the binding wine, yes?”
Wren touched her lips, shivering with the memory of her mouth and throat sealing shut. She nodded.
“So you understand how closely this secret is guarded. It’s why the king tolerates the guilds having such power. Because he needs us. Our Gifts. This secret, these Gifts, are what made Alesia what it is today.”
“I don’t understand,” Wren admitted.
“How much history do you know?”
“Not much,” she admitted.
“But you know that Alesia was not always united, that in the past the clans each held their own territory and warred between one another?”
“Yes, until the Imbris clan conquered the others, claimed the territory of Alesia, and set up Maradis as its capital. The other clans were driven east over the Cascadian mountains into Ferwald.”
“Precisely. But do you know how King Leon Imbris, the father of Alesia, rose and conquered the other clans after centuries of petty wars?”
“No.”
“Few know the real reason. He discovered the first Gifted. It was said he was Gifted himself.”
Wren’s eyebrows raised. “He used Gifted guildmembers to win battles? Surely, it
couldn’t have such an impact.”
“What magic does your Gift generate, if you know?”
“Luck,” she said.
“What type?”
“Good luck.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we! I’m good luck too,” Hale said. “But only when it comes to betting. Games.”
Wren’s eyes were wide.
“Can you see how a little luck might change the course of a battle? Make a man his fortune? An arrow missing its mark, a gambler hitting the right number and making his fortune. Small things change the course of history.”
She nodded. “So the king uses the Gifted to maintain his throne?”
“Yes,” Hale said. “The deal is simple. The Gifted supply their wares to the king for his use and discretion, and they keep the secret of the king’s power. In return, the king leaves the guilds alone, allows us to do what we please—set our own rates, collect our own tariffs and dues. We renegotiate the terms of the Accord between the king and the guilds every twenty-five years, but it’s mostly symbolic. The terms haven’t changed in centuries. Actually, it’s up for negotiation this fall.”
“I understand why you distrust the crown,” Wren said. “But what do all these Gifts do? Surely, they don’t all have to do with luck.”
“You are correct, my bright pupil. Kasper and the prior guildheads have spent decades uncovering the power of the other guilds. We know generally what magic most of their Gifts create. We don’t, however, know the identities of the Gifted in other guilds, or the specifics of their Gifts. With the exception of a few.”
“Why don’t the guilds work together? Share information to become more powerful?”
“There’s a history of distrust between us, which Sable suspects the king encourages. And revealing you are Gifted makes you a target. Kidnapping, murder, extortion. All are risks. No one is willing to be the first to bare themselves.”
His words chilled her. Kidnapping? Extortion? Someone would go to such lengths to get their hands on a Gifted… She thought of Kasper, convulsing on the floor, his mouth foaming. Yes… she supposed he spoke the truth. She wasn’t sure she wanted any part of this.
“You said you know the general nature of the other Guilds’ magic. What is it?”
“The ten aperitive guilds are divided into the three orders. The Leavening Guilds—that is, us, the Baker’s Guild, and the Cheesemonger’s Guild. Our powers deal with luck and fortune. The Cheesemonger’s Guild’s magic deals with intelligence and learning. Imagine being able to learn a new skill overnight. It would come in handy, would it not?”
“I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that,” she admitted, thinking of all the learning she had missed through her childhood. She wouldn’t even be able to read if it hadn’t been for her brother.
“You and me both.”
“What’s next? The Infusing Guilds?”
“Precisely. The Piscator’s, Butcher’s, and Cuisinier’s Guilds. Their magic is a bit more foreign to us since they don’t make something from scratch, like we do. But best as we figure it, the Butcher’s Guild’s magic gives strength and prowess in battle, and the Cuisinier’s Guild has the power of healing and health.”
“Healing?” Wren’s eyes widened.
He nodded. “You can see how those would all be important on the battlefield. The last Order are the Fermenting Guilds—the Vintner’s, Distiller’s, and Brewer’s Guilds. The Vintner’s Guild magic deals with secrets and lies. We’re not sure about all the rest.”
“Secrets and lies…” she said. “The wine I drank.”
“Oh, yes,” Hale said. “All the guilds know of the Vintner’s Guild’s magic, thanks to the binding wine. It’s part of the Accord, that we will bind all Gifted with it.”
“That’s only nine guilds.” Wren said, ticking them off on her fingers. “The last is the Spicer’s Guild? What power do they have?”
“The magic of death.”
“Death?” Wren asked. “As in, their spices kill people?”
“Is it so hard to believe? Food gives life… or it can bring death. Steal years from a life, bring on wasting sickness.”
“Do you think they had anything to do with Kasper’s death?” Wren asked. “Would another guild oppose ours in that way?”
Hale frowned, an expression that still managed to look alluring on his handsome face. “The guilds tend to prefer political maneuvering and dirty looks over the council table, but it’s possible. The head of the Spicer’s Guild is a devil of a man named Pike. He’d poison his own sister if it put a few crowns in his pocket. Sable seems to adore him; the gods only know why. I’ll ask her about him, though.”
“Ask me about who?”
Hale and Wren both jumped, as if they had been caught with their hands in the candy jar.
Sable stood at the door, looking effortlessly beautiful in an olive gown with a mustard-gold bodice. One dark eyebrow was arched in a question.
“Grandmaster.” Hale straightened, inclining his head. “Wren and I were discussing our theories about potential suspects.”
Sable pulled Hale’s stool out from behind him and sat on it, motioning Wren to sit as well. Hale leaned against the wooden countertops, at ease despite Sable’s slight. So far, Sable seemed to be the only woman Hale didn’t turn his charms on. He was strangely deferential around her. Perhaps she’s immune, Wren thought, with more than a little jealousy. If her stupid stomach would quit performing somersaults in Hale’s presence, it would simplify things considerably.
“Tell me your theories,” Sable said.
“Well,” Wren stuttered, caught off guard. It had been less than a day since Kasper had been declared dead. Was she already expected to have theories? “Callidus.”
“No,” Sable said, shaking her head curtly. “What else?”
“But… He stands to be the next guildmaster. And he had access to the cupcake. He was alone with it. He knew I would be there, and he literally pointed the finger at me. He’s the obvious suspect.”
“It was not Callidus. Do not focus your energy there.”
Wren looked at Hale for support. His eyes were sympathetic, but his face remained stony.
“How do you know?”
“I know, girl,” Sable said. “Callidus is miserable and spiteful and unfeeling, but he is not a murderer. He certainly wouldn’t have harmed Kasper in particular.”
Wren opened her mouth to protest again, but the intensity of Sable’s expression made her think the better of it.
“Got it,” Wren said. “Not Callidus.”
“Who else?”
Hale chimed in. “Wren had the good instincts that it might be one of the other guildmasters. Moving in on our territory, seeking to consolidate power.”
“Perhaps,” Sable said, pondering. “The Distiller’s Guild and the Confectioner’s have always vied for position at the head of the table, so to speak. Guildmaster Chandler seems innocuous enough, but that could be a façade. I will think on it.”
Wren let out a breath, dismayed to find how much this woman’s approval mattered to her. But as Sable had said last night, she and Hale were her family now. They were the only guild members besides Olivia who had shown any interest in helping or protecting her. If she was going to find Kasper’s killer, she couldn’t do it alone. She needed to be in Sable’s good graces.
“Have you learned anything else?” Sable asked. “You spoke to the Inspector today, yes?”
“Yes,” Wren said, glancing sidelong at Hale. How had Sable known? Hale hadn’t left her side. “The poison that killed Kasper is called Gemini.”
Sable’s eyes widened.
“You’ve heard of it?” asked Wren.
“Yes. Very hard to come by. Very hard indeed. And expensive. This will narrow our pool of suspects considerably. I will speak to Guildmaster Pike to see what he knows.”
“Luc—Inspector Imbris still doesn’t know how the second poison was delivered,” Wren admitted. “It’s possible we’ll never know.”
&n
bsp; “Then I suggest you focus on what we do know.”
A pause.
“The cupcake,” Sable said, exasperated. “We know the cupcake was poisoned.”
“Right, which Callidus had,” Wren countered, wishing the woman would reconsider her position on the man.
“The cupcake didn’t spring into existence fully formed in Callidus’s hand.”
“No…” Wren admitted.
“Presumably your Master sold it to someone, someone who had knowledge of its unusual properties ate it, and somehow Kasper learned of it. There shouldn’t be a long list of individuals who meet those criteria.”
“Does Callidus know who the original purchaser was?” Wren asked. “Did he retrieve it?”
Sable shook her head. “I asked him. Kasper was the one who learned of your Gift and acquired the cupcakes. Callidus is unaware of how.”
So he says, Wren wanted to scream. Callidus may have Sable convinced, but Wren wouldn’t be fooled so easily.
“I could ask Master Oldrick whom he sold the cupcakes to,” suggested Wren. “He may still have a record.”
“Excellent,” Sable said. “The Masters will be convening in two days’ time to vote on a new guildmaster. You can ask him then.” Sable rose with a swish of silk and chiffon. “Hale, I have need of you. You can resume your lessons tomorrow.”
She nodded to Wren and swept from the room, Hale trailing like an eager puppy.
Wren sat on the stool for a moment, dumbfounded. Sable was like a looming thunderstorm, full of barely contained power and force.
She looked about the kitchen, biting her lip. Did she have the rest of the afternoon to herself? She needed to discover who’d killed Kasper, that much was perfectly clear. The cupcake, the secret of the second part of the poison, these were both possibilities to explore. But where should she start? Indecision gnawed at her.
Lucas should still be upstairs investigating Kasper’s rooms, she realized, her feet propelling her before her conscious mind made the decision. Maybe he’d found something.