"Then I'm doubly grateful to Mikhail for staying on."

A blare of trumpets silenced all conversation. "That's your cue," Eadoin said, with a glance toward Kiara. Kiara smoothed her skirts, ready for her formal part in the program.

"Gracious guests, welcome to the feast," Kiara said in a clear, strong voice. This was her first formal role since the wedding,' and many in the audience strained for a better look at their new queen. "This night, we praise the Mother and Childe for the reign of King Martris, and we ask the Lady's blessing on the king in battle and on Margolan's heir," she said, laying a hand on her belly for emphasis.

A murmur rippled through the crowd that grew to rousing cheers in support of the king. Kiara waited until the clamor subsided before she went on. "It's time to make an offering to the Mother and Childe, so Margolan may prosper in the year to come."

Crevan appeared beside her bearing a silver platter. On it was a ramekin of egg custard for an offering to the Lady, along with a flask of port and a freshly baked loaf of bread. He walked beside her as Kiara descended from the dais. The bells at her ankles and wrists chimed as she moved. As they approached the two large statues of Margolan's patron aspects, Kiara took the ramekin from the platter and offered it to the statue of the Childe. "Honored Childe, bless the people and the herds of Margolan. May our children and our flocks increase."

She took the loaf of bread and the flask of port and bowed to the statue of the Mother. "Wise Mother. Accept our gift. Bring water enough for our fields and our people, and healthy crops."

Formalities completed, the musicians struck up a lively tune, and couples on the dance floor wove through round after round of the most popular dances at court. Kiara was grateful that she was not expected to join them. Much as she enjoyed dancing, she doubted she could keep her dinner and swirl through the steps, even had it not been unseemly to dance in the king's absence.

The revelries continued through the night. As the bells in the bailey tower chimed the hour before dawn. Kiara, Eadoin, and Alle led the guests toward the courtyard, where a parade of costumed revelers and more mulled wine awaited. Two servants opened the huge great room doors for the crowd to move into the grand foyer.

In the center of the floor lay a man's body in a pool of blood, throat torn open, eyes staring. Behind Kiara, a woman screamed.

The guards formed a tight circle around Kiara. Tov Harrtuck pushed his way through the crowd, followed by more guards. Crevan came running from the far side of the entranceway. "Your Majesty, this isn't safe—" "Nowhere's safe," Kiara replied. "What happened?" Behind them, the soldiers tried to dispel the crowd, but the revelers surged forward, straining for a look at the body on the floor.

"They found a second body in the back corridor," Harrtuck said. "It's got all the marks of a vayash moru killing."

"That's not possible," Kiara said. "There aren't any vayash moru here tonight."

"Except Mikhail," Crevan said. "No one's seen him all night."

"That's impossible," Kiara said. She heard the sound of boot steps drawing near in the corridor. Behind Harrtuck, six soldiers marched in tight formation, and Kiara could see a dark-haired figure in their midst.

"We found him in the exchequer's office, Captain," one of the soldiers reported.

"Of course I was in the exchequer's office." Mikhail said. "I've been there all night, working on the accounts. Would someone tell me what's going on?"

Crevan stood slowly. "We've found two dead men—throats torn out."

The soldiers shifted, and Kiara met Mikhail's eyes. We both know he could easily escape.

The soldiers are only mortal. But if he does, it's admitting guilt. The truce will be broken, and there'll he reprisals. And if he stays, after all the damage Jared did, will anyone believe him? "I haven't left the exchequer's office since the sixth bells. I wouldn't do anything like this—I fought to save the truce between my kind and mortals. Whoever did this is not of Lord Gabriel's family."

"It's going to be hard to prove that," Harrtuck said. "As far as we know, you're the only vayash moru in Shekerishet tonight."

Crevan stood staring at the body, shaking his head. "We've barely gotten the castle staffed again. When word of this gets out—"

"When word gets out, you'll have a riot on your hands," Harrtuck said gruffly. "And a mob looking for Mikhail."

Running footsteps sounded behind Kiara. She turned to see another guard. "Captain Harrtuck! We've found another body in the stable—same as the last one."

"I have no choice," Crevan said. "A tribunal must be called."

A crowd had already begun to form at the doorway. Gasps at the sight of the dead man's body gave way to murmuring. "Give us the biter!" a man's voice shouted from the entranceway. Other voices took up the cry. "Burn him!"

Kiara glanced at the sky through the open doors of the entranceway. It was nearly dawn, and once the sun rose, Mikhail would be vulnerable. And while one vayash moru was more than a match for a single human adversary, a mob of hundreds was likely to overpower Mikhail. If they dragged him into the courtyard after dawn, the winter sun would be jury and executioner.

"There's another way." Kiara stepped forward, pushing her way past the guards. She raised her voice to shout above the crowd. "Hold Mikhail until King Martris returns. Then let the king call the spirits of the murdered men. Let the victims bear witness. You've seen the Court of Spirits. You know the king can do this. There's no need to rush to judgment."

"Let the king judge!" A voice shouted from the crowd. Kiara recognized Halik's voice. "Give him to King Martris to judge!" another woman shouted, and Kiara was certain it was Macaria. A moment later, Kiara heard a flute playing in the courtyard. The tune was soothing, and Kiara sensed the music was touched with Macaria's magic, trying to sway the crowd from vengeance.

"When word of this gets out, I may not be able to hold off the mob," Crevan said behind her.

"Leave that to me." Harrtuck stepped forward. "Mikhail helped put Tris Drayke back on the throne. I won't abandon him to a mob." "How will you hold him—and keep the mob out?"

"If I'd wanted to escape, I'd be gone by now," Mikhail noted dryly from among his captors.

"My men will take care of any mob. As for holding him..."

"There's a cell in the dungeon built to hold vayash moru," Mikhail said. "Three walls of solid rock, and a door of iron a hand's breadth thick, with its pins sunk into the rock. No windows. A small opening to the corridor for food. It can't be breeched."

"And you would consent to be held there, until the king returns?" Crevan asked.

"I would rather trust my chances with the king than with a tribunal. I'll wait." Mikhail made a low bow to Kiara. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Kiara swung between hopelessness and rage as the soldiers took Mikhail away. Alle laid a hand on her arm. A crowd gathered around the castle entrance, and voices thick with ale shouted for judgment. Soldiers broke up the rowdy festival-goers, sending the brawlers on their way.

"Come, m'lady. You've done all that you can."

Kiara let Alle guide her up the stairs to her quarters. They had barely arrived before there was a knock and Macaria's voice sounded through the door. "My Queen?"

"Come in."

Macaria let herself into the room. "We saw what happened. Carroway sent us out to the courtyard, to see what we could do to sway the crowd." She grimaced. "We were only partly successful."

Kiara began to pace. Alle made cups of tea for all of them, and Cerise padded to the door, still dressed in her nightshift. She joined them, listening with an expression of growing horror as Alle told about the murders in the castle. "I know Mikhail didn't do it," Kiara said.