Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Why did you have men scouting for the prince? Why did you want him dead? The answer is simple. The king’s supporters have been most active in aiding the influx of refugees, and as they move on and disperse through the kingdom, they’d take their gratitude with them, spreading the word, strengthening support for the king.” I narrow my eyes on the eparch. “You wanted to destroy the true king’s remaining power.” A pawn of the high duke, wearing a mask of benevolence.
“They got sick from porridge you gave them. I didn’t donate a single oat.”
“This is true. You didn’t touch any of the oats.” I lean in. “But you donated the pots, and the poison on them seeped into the food.”
There are hisses around me as my words are repeated and passed on until there comes a cry of outrage from the spectators—the refugees themselves.
Valerius scoffs. “If my aim was to kill the refugees, why didn’t they die immediately?”
“You delayed their deaths by a few days to play the role of saviour. No one would suspect someone who came to the rescue. In fact, your popularity would soar. This is how cunning you are.”
“Stories.”
From my belt, I show the record of donations.
“My name isn’t on it.”
I glance over my shoulder and see that, as planned, Eparchess Juliana has found Sparkles and is hauling her across the field. “Hers is, though. Ariadne Aureliana.”
She stumbles onto her knees beside the eparch and stares up at me, frowning, perplexed.
I soften my voice as I address her. “Your colleagues at the dance house said you help the eparch with his donations. Have you helped him deliver to the refugees?”
Sparkles swallows and looks beseechingly at the eparch, who dares not look back. “He means well,” she says. “Anything he says, I’ll do.”
“What did you deliver on his behalf?”
“He didn’t do anything to make the refugees sick! He only donated tents, blankets, pots and such.”
I return my gaze to Valerius. “Pots.”
He says nothing.
To Sparkles, I say, “The night I came to your dance house, you helped me. Why?”
Again, she tries to seek the eparch’s gaze and fails. “I saw you bang into each other outside. I chased after the eparch to see if he was alright—I was afraid you were trying to steal his hard-earned donations. He said all was fine but to watch you for the evening. So I did.”
Quin hadn’t liked the way she’d been looking at me. I thought he’d meant in a more flattering way, but he’d sensed an ulterior motive.
“It was prudent. You were skulking around alleyways in the dark. What if you were a risk to the prince?”
“Does he often get you to watch people?”
She hesitates. “He just wants to be sure his city is safe.”
“Did he ask you to keep an eye on the commander? Eparchess Juliana?”
She swallows.
“He’s been using you.”
She calls for the eparch to deny it. He barely looks her way. “I almost died helping with the antidote. How can I be the mastermind?”
“He’s fooled everyone from the start, why would he stop at this point?” I say. “Vitalian Dimos died because I had no magic to instantly heal his injuries. Eparch Valerius, however, invited half of Thinking Hall’s vitalians to his house to resume discussions on the antidote. He bashed his own temple, knowing he would be saved. His impaired memory of the killer was believable, and ‘a very long shadow’ was enough to have everyone scrambling to find . . . someone else. Anyone else. Nicostratus’s head aklo.” I throw Constable Michealios a look. “Me.”
The constables shift awkwardly, looking from me to the eparch to the king. Quin keeps his eyes rooted confidently on me.
“Vitalian Dimos went to Thinking Hall to use collective knowledge to help find the antidote.” I meet the eparch’s furrow-shadowed eyes. “You jumped up on stage in an appearance of helping but you were actually taking control. Steering the discussion away from the answer. When impassioned vitalians began drowning you out, you suggested taking a break for lunch and meeting at your residence.
“I imagine when you got out of the hall, vitalians split off in different directions and you kept Vitalian Dimos close, invited him to lunch with you. You got to the canal, out of sight. And perhaps it was there Vitalian Dimos had an epiphany. Discovered the answer. You couldn’t have your plans foiled and took immediate action. You smashed his head with an oar and hurried to your residence to stage your own attack, leaving him for dead.”
Valerius laughs, but there’s a desperate quality to it.
To the constables, I say, “Prince Nicostratus has the vial the eparch so desperately wants. Investigate. You’ll find it’s the antidote. Proof he knows far more about the poison than he’s led us to believe. This—along with the donation of his pots, and his connection to the redcloaks and the flower used to frame Prince Nicostratus—is enough to have him interrogated, if not prove his guilt.”