“There’s been a murder, Your Grace.”
“What? Where? Who?” I tumbled through questions as I dressed quickly and hustled out the door.
“One of the guards. Favic.”
“No.” I stopped in the hall. “He was just married.”
“I’m afraid so, my king. They found his body at the gates.”
“Do we have any idea who killed him?”
“Some of the townsfolk are blaming the draconians that were here with Umari. They said Favic was the guard in charge of their arrival.”
“No. I just can’t believe it would be them.” I shook my head. “Umari may hate me—may blame me for the death of her daughter—but she honors fae life. She wouldn’t kill, or order her draconians to kill, without cause.”
“I’m only reporting what I heard, Your Grace.”
“Of course, Inok. Lead the way.”
The long hallway carried the sound of our hustled steps. The occasional staff we passed held knowing looks of concern and somberness. Though early morning, word had already spread. Unlike the northern kingdoms, death was a great loss in the Flame Court. I trailed the halls with Inok close behind, wondering what I could say to bring comfort. My private council would already be waiting for my late arrival.
“Have you called an open council for later?”
“I have. Though I believe sooner rather than later would be wise.”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
Days like these made me grateful for Efi’s eye for details. I could feel her in the halls as I walked. I looked at her paintings, the drapes she chose, and the hand-woven tapestries and willed them to bring me comfort so that I may give it to others. I entered the quiet room and stood before my council as they sat shoulder to shoulder at the lengthy table with long, somber faces.
“Do you see these empty chairs?” I gestured to the lines of vacant seats behind me. “In a short time, these seats will fill as my people beg for solace and answers. A widow will sit in that chair and look into your faces seeking something, anything to change the way she feels. As we continue this meeting, I want you to think of her.”
They dipped their heads in a slight bow, and I walked up the stairs and took my seat in the middle of the lengthy table.
“With all due respect, Your Grace. You know where the blame will be pointed,” Jacon said timidly, his eyes never fully meeting my own.
“I know,” I answered.
“And what will your response be, my king?” Igrer asked, taking notes as he always did.
“We cannot close our borders to those seeking refuge. We do not yet have answers on the boy’s death, do we?” I looked to Adom for clarification.
He stood and shuffled through his own notes. “My king.” He nodded. “Favic was found early this morning, propped against the portcullis. His neck was sliced open and an ear missing.”
“An ear?” Igrer curled his lip as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“I can’t make sense of it, but yes. There is no other evidence, other than he didn’t die there. They deposited him. Which meant they intended to leave a clear message and likely also intended the death.”
“What message could they possibly be sending with murder?” Sabra asked.
“If I may, Your Grace?” Madu asked, standing.
He was quiet for longer than I thought he might be. I allowed him to continue. I knew where he would land. We all did.
He walked down the stairs, turned his back to the empty chairs and faced us all, just as I had upon entering. He was nothing if not dramatic. “I think I speak for several when I offer two suspects. Two choices, I suppose.” He crossed his hands behind his back and paced, looking at each of my council as he passed them. “The draconians—”
“Stop,” I interrupted, rising. He bowed low and waited. “I will let you speak, as I always do, Madu, but you will speak only with facts of this council meeting and not your own prejudice. Radical suspicion will derive no answers. Be mindful of your words, but get them out before my people are in attendance.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” he said behind a forced smile.
