"Again, I have no proof," Alet cautioned. "It's only that his grief runs so deep that it permeates all he does."
Daleina nodded. She tried to imagine Ambir as the poisoner, but she couldn't. He was filled with sadness, not hate . . . But despair can turn to rage. "And the other?" She braced herself.
"Champion Piriandra." This name, at least, wasn't as much of a surprise. Daleina exhaled as Alet continued. "She's been vocal in her disapproval of you as queen, plus she has pushed two candidates so hard in training that they have died."
Daleina had heard about the deaths and blamed herself. She'd approved Piriandra's candidate, even though she knew the girl was too young. "I told the champions to push hard. I bear responsibility as well."
"As I said, I have only suspicions. But I believe it is enough to warrant continuing the investigation. May I have your permission to do so?"
"Yes, of course," Daleina said. "You are relieved from guard duty until further notice. Alet . . . I'm asking as your friend, not your queen . . . Do you believe a champion could hate me so much?"
Alet's voice softened. "No one could hate you."
Bayn made a huffing noise, as if in agreement.
"But," she continued, "that doesn't mean they wouldn't kill you."
Captain Alet dismissed herself, and Daleina leaned back against her throne. The wolf pressed against her leg, and she ran her fingers through his fur. She wished she'd kept Arin with her. She wanted to talk to someone, be comforted by someone, but once again, she'd told her sister that she was safe enough with Bayn and her guards, and Arin hadn't lingered to argue. She'd fled as if she had somewhere else she wanted to be. At least Arin is safe, Daleina consoled herself, again.
Beside her, Bayn growled softly, and Daleina saw that the seneschal had entered the throne room. He was standing patiently by the door, his sheaf of papers clutched to his chest. She didn't know how long he'd been there.
"Come," she said.
He bowed and then scurried forward.
She studied him: he was a small man with mottled-brown skin and features so delicate and perfectly shaped that his face looked carved out of wood. He reminded her of a doll that Arin used to have, carved by their mother. She realized she didn't know anything about him, not even his name. "Forgive me, but what are you called?" she asked.
He bowed again. "The seneschal."
He was very good at not conveying any emotion in his perfect face. "Your name," she clarified. "I have always called you my seneschal, but you must have a name beyond that."
He hesitated for a moment, as if she'd asked a personal question and he was weighing if the social faux pas was overcome by her position. "Belsowik, Your Majesty."
"And where are you from?"
"Here, Your Majesty. Always here. My father was seneschal before me, his mother before him, back seven generations."
She blinked. "I was not aware it was a hereditary position."
"It is not. But the skills required are hereditary." He tapped his head with one finger. "Forgive my immodesty, but if you are looking to replace me-"
"Of course not. I simply realized I know very little about you."
He shrugged and seemed to relax minutely. "There is very little of interest to know, Your Majesty. I live to serve the Crown."
She noted he said "the Crown," not her, and wondered if that was significant. "You serve it admirably. Your predecessors would be proud."
The seneschal bowed for the third time. "Your kindness is appreciated. However, we have a schedule to keep. Chancellors Quisala and Isolek await outside. May I show them in?"
Daleina suppressed a sigh. She doubted they had good news. "Please, proceed."
He paused for one moment by the door. "You should know that Chancellor Quisala has family in the north near Birchen, by the border. Her interests in this topic are not wholly academic."
That was interesting information. She straightened. "Thank you, Seneschal."
Inclining his head, he opened the door. The two chancellors filed in. Daleina studied them-both looked as if they hadn't slept since they last spoke. Chancellor Isolek's eyes were sunken in so far that his bushy eyebrows overwhelmed them, and Chancellor Quisala looked brittle. She trembled as she walked, slightly but it was there.
"You have news?" Daleina asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Chancellor Isolek bowed.
"Please, be seated." Daleina gestured to the chairs. "As the seneschal either has or will inform you, I am scheduled to meet with my champions shortly, but of course I can spare a few minutes for your news." She hoped that would keep this meeting shorter than the last. She was certain that the seneschal had arranged it this way deliberately-the champions were the only ones who outranked the chancellors and therefore the only ones whose meeting could take precedence.