Another realisation crawled into the tent, and inside his skin.
There might be no need to search the forest. Because what if the killer was not out there?
Lord Leighton had probably been killed by someone with frequent access to him. Someone who could get close. It made the most sense that there was someone in the shadows and flickering firelight – amidst royalty, nobles, courtiers – crownsworn, stable hands, staff – feigning innocence.
Gods, please let him be wrong.
FIFTEEN
TO BE PLACED IN HIS MAJESTY’S HAND:
Sorcery-sign near Caer Idris, three days north-west of Eascild.
Have personally confirmed.
Awaiting your order.
Highest-priority missive from Ser Cenhelm,
Chief Iron Talon Huntsman of King Oswald Arden-Draca.
Autumn, 693 A.S.
FIFTEEN
Searching the forest revealed nothing. The hunt was called off. The entire party returned to Eascild Castle, and the Cyngaleg court gathered in the Council chambers, the stained glass in the thin windows dark, hammering with heavy rain.
Aldreda pointedly took the second-highest seat, ankle folded over her knee so she could lean forward on her elbow.
Osian stood, arms folded, though the gesture had been noted by all.
‘Forgive me, Majesty.’ Captain Radnor also stood, levelled and grim. ‘But a thorough investigation of the prince consort is necessary. He was closest to the incident and is the individual whose background we know least.’
It was a good thing Osian had over two decades of practice at cooling his expression. ‘I understand, but his familial background was investigated upon his arrival at Eascild. We must look elsewhere as well.’
‘Many things can be hidden within one’s family tree, Majesty.’
A thinly veiled personal attack against Osian himself, which again no one failed to miss. Bold of the captain, to prod that rumour so overtly.
Aldreda bristled and spoke for the first time, words barbed. ‘Captain. Is it not a little too obvious for him to be responsible? I cannot be the only one thinking it.’
Some agreement, though muted.
Demelza, pale and drawn in, addressed the room steadily. ‘I was not alone in witnessing the prince consort’s reaction to Lord Leighton’s death. He was the most shaken of us all. I agree with the Heir Apparent, though of course you must do your duty, Captain.’
‘Can we test him?’ Wystan asked, from the third-highest seat. His knee bobbed ferociously, but at least he had stopped shouting for Meilyr to be locked up. ‘Iron, or something? I thought that was an option?’
‘Unfortunately, iron was never proved able to identify a sorcerer,’ Captain Radnor said. ‘It does not work on them as keenly as it does the otherfolk. It can, however, prove useful in suppressing their magics, and in putting them down.’
Putting them down.Gods.
‘What of Lord Leighton’s March?’ Kenelm Radnor, with a kerchief to his lips, sat doe-eyed and demure. He had been chosen to take the seat of his March’s Khaim-based Justice, a move Osian regretted not pushing back against. ‘Sanford must be represented. I humbly nominate myself to oversee decisions in Lord Leighton’s stead until another Justice can be summoned.’
Of course that was his prime concern. There were murmurs of assent from some of the nearly dozen people in the room.
Osian bit his tongue. ‘For now, we must continue a wider search of the area. I will oversee—’
‘Forgive me, Majesty.’ Captain Radnor used the words purely for decoration. ‘We have the matter in hand. Rest assured, we are more than—’