Dracen cast him a nervous look, and Kestrel burned. Like he wanted to make himself seem even more incompetent before these older, more experienced magi. Already, they saw him as a simple mountain bastard. If he wanted to change their impression, he had to seize the initiative himself.

"Yes, about that, my lord," he said, raising his hand—proper protocol when speaking out of turn. "May I ask a question?"

"You wish to know everything we've uncovered during our investigation, is that it?" Alexandir said, his cat-like smile tightening.

Had he read Kestrel's mind? Absurd. Most likely, what Kestrel wanted to ask must have been blindingly obvious.

"Well, I'll inform you—and the rest of the Circle as well," Alexandir said. "First things first, we have recovered the assassin's body from outside Etherio Library."

Kestrel's heart leapt. "So he's dead?”

"Yes, you killed him in one shot. Congratulations, Lord Knight."

His first kill. Kestrel's hands shook; he fisted them in his pants. He thought he would have been more triumphant about it, but instead he felt empty and drained.

"From examining the body," Alexandir went on, "we have determined three things. One: he was most likely from Ransha, judging by his clothing and general appearance. Two: he appeared to be a professional Ranshanese assassin, for he carried the typical tools. The needles in his gloves, the climbing ropes, the strange devices they use to turn invisible."

Ransha, the mysterious land across the eastern Great Rift. It couldn’t be more different from Senero; whereas Senero was a land of magic, Ransha depended on advanced technology. The two realms were never on good terms; they often went to war.

But there was a truce now. Or at least, there was supposed to be.

"And what else?" Savine demanded. "The third thing?"

"Everything hinted that he was a proper Ranshanese assassin, through and through...except for this." Alexandir set something on the table with a clack, then flicked it with his thumb and forefinger, sending it spinning toward Dracen.

“Please have a look, Lord Thandemar,” he said in a voice like poisoned honey.

Beside Dracen, Ilya craned his neck like he wanted to see. But he made no move to get up.

Dracen's face could have been carved from stone. He picked up the object like it was diseased, then tugged on one end. With a snicking sound, he slid a blade free from its sheath.

"A knife. Cheap-looking, isn't it?" Alexandir said. "But tell me, Lord Thandemar: is it not familiar?"

Dracen said nothing. He turned the knife back and forth. As the blade caught the light, Kestrel remembered the assassin rushing toward Aramy with something gleaming in his hand...

"Perhaps Lord Thandemar doesn't know," Aramy piped up. "He might ask his ministra."

Savine snorted before quickly pressing her lips together. Kestrel knew why she'd laughed; it was forbidden for ministra to speak in the Circle Chamber.

"No need for that. Yes, I have seen knives like this in the Red and Black Districts." Dracen sheathed the knife and set it down. "They sell cheaply, making them the favored weapons of gang soldiers."

Kestrel felt like he'd been punched in the head. Dracen Thandemar was the last person he’d expected to know anything about street gangs.

"I will tell you, however, that my ministra has nothing to do with this. All of his weapons are currently accounted for. Nor would he use a weapon of such poor craftsmanship, even back when he was a gang leader. All this proves is that our assassin bought a weapon from a manufacturer in the city."

"Why? Ransha surely possesses more advanced weapons," Aramy said.

"We're getting to that." Alexandir lifted a finger. "I've put Maestro Villux and his team on examining the assassin's recovered tech—"

"The drake?” Savine cut in, frowning.

“He does have his uses,” Alexandir said smoothly.

"Maestro Villux has served at court for the past two decades," Dracen said stonily. "I would put my implicit trust in him."

More than any of you, but that went without saying. Kestrel glanced at Ilya again, though he sensed it wasn't proper. The tiny ministra had bitten his lip hard enough to smear the black paint.

Pity spiked inside Kestrel. It couldn't be fun to have everyone badmouth you without being able to come to your defense.

But what was this about drakes? While common in the Flamelands, the lizard-like beings preferred to stay away from metropolitan areas. So why were they talking about one serving at court?

Alexandir cleared his throat. "Anyhow, according to Maestro Villux's analysis, the assassin's cloaking device doesn't function. It's nothing more than a hunk of metal."

"Ah, right.” The words came out before Kestrel could stop himself. "I remember now. I noticed him because I heard something, but Ransha assassins' devices are supposed to hide every trace of the user—sight, sound, scent, touch. To identify them, you have to hone your ability to notice disturbances in the air..."

He trailed off when he realized everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Only Aramy didn't look surprised; indeed, his red eyes gleamed with something very much like satisfaction.

"I took a unit on counterintelligence," Kestrel said when nobody spoke. "Just last year, so I remember everything. I know exactly how to deal with assassins from any country or region, all right?"

I didn't learn nothing at Mount Jaeg.

"Of course, Lord Knight.” Alexandir’s smile became oily. "Thank you for your valuable input. So we can surmise that the assassin was not actually from Ransha, but only pretending so he could have a cover story. Judging by his choice of weapon, he most likely came from the streets of one of Azed Court's rowdier districts. But he was no amateur, for he managed to make it past palace security and got all the way into Etherio Library. If Lord Knight hadn't noticed him, he might have succeeded in assassinating the Prince's Consort."

"So." Lady Teresa Urchkas spoke for the first time. "The question becomes, what was the assassin's objective?"

Oddly, Savine turned away and scoffed. Her ministra, a voluptuous auburn-haired woman, reached up and squeezed her hand.

"My death, clearly," Aramy said.

"You only matter in connection to the Crown Prince," Savine said, a brittle fury twisting her words. Her ministra snuggled closer, resting her head on her energos' thigh, but Savine didn't seem to notice. "Don't get any ideas."

Alexandir banged his gavel. "Enough. You're all talking out of turn. Move on in order of precedence. Lord Thandemar—"

"It's fine," Dracen said. "Lady Urchkas brought up a topic I'm interested in discussing, too." He shot Aramy a glance that was almost a challenge.

At last Aramy snapped the fan shut, revealing his taut smirk. "Lady Aluana is quite right. Who on earth would care about eliminating the Basquiales? No, getting me was a way of getting to His Highness as well. Because I am the reason His Highness—"

Savine jumped to her feet and banged her fist on the table. Crying out, her ministra tumbled to the cushion.