Erador held the cold knob and pushed the door open. His heart dropped like a weight. The cards were scattered across the rug, red vomit dried to the fibers. Candle wax had dried to the dresser as the flame grasped to the last of the wick.

  His gaze ran over each card but not one stood out. Red splattered across the marks like remnants of a murder. He moved past the cards and sat on his bed. He leaned forward on his knees. Thunder rumbled outside the window. Erador’s insides churned as he tried to block the memories of Pia, but it wouldn’t ease. Shade peeled from his shadow and covered the negative thoughts with pleasant memories of him playing Warden Tower. Erador’s stiffness eased for a moment, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have the energy to tell Shade to go away.

  Shade dragged himself back into Erador's shadow. Pia’s condition and not knowing who blackmailed her dripped anxiety through him like rain in a bucket. Shade’s sadness and his own fate drowned him in his emotions.

  White furry slippers shuffled into his line of view. “You’re up?” Sescina’s voice snapped him to his feet.

  “How is she?” Erador said.

  Sescina’s curls stuck out from the pins. The light flickered across her face deepening the shadows under her eyes. “It’s too soon to tell, but I think she’ll be fine.” She studied the vomit. “Do you know what she ate?”

  Erador let out a breath. “She was eating in the throne room... from a bag. Breck gave it to her.” His eyes widened. “You left Pia alone!”

  Erador shot out the door. Sescina's feet thumped after him. He darted across the manor and down a floor until he reached the infirmary. He burst inside. Mikra dipped a towel in the bowl of water and wrung it. His eyes flitted toward the doorway. Erador stepped toward the bed. Pillows propped Pia up and the covers were tucked around her slow rising chest in fresh clothes. Mikra dabbed the cloth across her pale forehead. She was sleeping. On the floor, her uniform was stained with pinkish-red vomit—a familiar sight but this time it wasn’t his father’s blood they wanted.

  “See.” Sescina panted from behind Erador and rubbed her sweaty face. “She’s fine.” She gestured at Mikra to continue and shut the door.

  “This isn’t the end.” Erador looked around the hall. “Where’s Breck?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Erador stomped back down the corridor and Sescina scurried after him.

  “We can’t be sure Breck meant it and if what she ate made her sick.” She couldn’t contain the rising pitch in her voice this time.

  Erador’s aggressive thoughts drowned out Sescina’s pleading words. He kept thinking of the hooded person at Haven’s village and Breck’s smile. A smile meant to deceive Pia when he handed her that bag. He was probably praying for her death.

  He entered the throne room and went to the bench under the banners. Dethil sat where Pia had been. His arms were crossed and he had fresh bandages; his deeper wounds were almost healed after two weeks, except the cut from Slen which would take longer.

  Erador searched underneath the bench. “Did you see a brown bag?”

  Before Dethil could answer, the sound of a wrapper perked Erador’s ears. He got up and spun around. Yuni popped a candy in her mouth, cheeks raised and her eyes sparkled like a child’s. A brown bag clashed with the colorful nail polish bottles on the short table. He brushed past Sescina and swept it up.

  Yuni snatched it back. “Those are mine.”

  “Go ahead, have some,” Erador growled.

  Yuni’s face stiffened, and her hand loosened around the bag. She shifted in her seat when he gave her a satisfied smirk. The first time she was uncomfortable—how he wanted her to feel around him, but it didn’t bring him satisfaction he hoped for. She didn’t know anything about it.

  Sescina caught up to him. “Pia is sick."

  “Sick.” Yuni lowered the bag. Her worried voice squeezed his insides like a juiced citrus fruit, the sour taste lingering. “What happened?”

  Sescina’s chin nodded to the bag. “We think she ate something bad.”

  Yuni undid the string and dumped the round fruit into her palm. The fuzzy red berries brushed against the smooth ones. They were nearly identical, easy to mistake, but not for someone who knew what they were doing.

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  Erador grabbed the bag and the berries from Yuni and dumped them back inside. He headed for the front doors.

  “Where are you going?” Sescina called.

  “Out! I’ll be back.”

  Erador busted open the doors and ran into the pounding rain. Water rushed down the sloped streets. He maneuvered blindly in the dark, slipping in puddles and tripping over holes in the cobblestone, catching his direction when lightning flashed. When he thought he was heading in the right direction, lightning lit the sunflowers on the alley walls. Stopping, he caught his breath as rain dripped down his brow. When the sky brightened, shadows appeared and stretched only to fade into the darkness. He tightened his grip on the bag and went another direction.

  By the time he reached Loma’s porch, he was soaked and muddy, his clothing plastered to his body. Erador tried the knob but it wouldn't open. He yelled for Loma but the pattering rain on the roof drowned out his voice. He went to bang on the door and it opened. Cade supported himself on the door frame, the other hand trembling on his cane.

  “What are you doing?” Cade said.

  “Where’s Loma?”

  “At the bathhouse.” Cade looked in concern at Erador. “What’s wrong?”

  Water dripped from Erador’s clothing onto the porch. He pulled out the wet bag from his pocket and showed the berries. “Pia had these.”

  “I gave them to Breck.”

  “You gave them to him?” Erador’s hand tensed around the bag, berries squishing. “Didn’t you know they’re poisonous!”

  Cade flinched and his face scrunched. “Why are you yelling?”

  “Just tell me what happened.” Erador tried to speak in an apologetic tone but it shook.

  “I gave him that bag. That’s it?”

  “Did you put the smooth berries in here?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Cade said. “I know the difference!”

  Erador threw the bag down. He pushed his wet hair from his face and gripped the banister. Rain plummeted off the roof in a sheet. Water rushed past the house, and caught in puddles along the houses. He focused on his breathing as his gaze flicked to the berry trees by the steps. Could Breck have made a mistake? Could he have taken some, not realizing they were poisonous? Or did he want to make Pia’s death look like an accident?

  He bolted off the porch. Cade called after him, but he didn’t turn back. Allowing the rain to bury the sounds of his racing heart. Erador squeezed through the manor’s barred gates. A silhouette stumbled toward the manor’s steps. He blinked and wiped the water from his brow. Lightning flashed. Breck’s brown sopping hair caught in the light.

  Erador clenched a fist. “Breck!”

  Breck turned around. He hunched, holding his side. Erador stomped toward him. He stopped as Breck’s pale face materialized through the blurry rain. The burning in his chest extinguished at the fast rise and fall of Breck’s chest and trembling pale lips.

  Breck took one step and fell. Erador caught him before he hit the ground. He pulled him onto his back. His hair slopped in Erador’s lap. Breck’s pained eyes focused on Erador as he reached up and brushed the scar on his jaw.

  Breck’s hand dropped. “That scar...”

  “Tell me,” Erador said, shaking him.

  He leaned his ear toward Breck’s mouth. The gentle brush of his voice was lost in the cracking thunder.

  Erador gripped Breck's soaked jacket. “Say it!”

  Breck’s cheeks puffed and he hurled. Red chunks flew from his mouth into the stream of water rushing down the hill. His blank eyes drifted to the sky, as his body went limp.

  “Breck.” Erador shook him. “Breck!”

  Erador’s breathing escalated as he looked over Breck’s body and pulled his left sleeve up. His light flesh didn’t have a scar. Erador dipped his head against his lifeless body. He touched a warm and wet spot on Breck’s abdomen and when he raised his shaking hand, he saw red.

  He peeled apart Breck’s jacket and a stab wound was in his gut. Erador punched a puddle. Water blurred his eyes and the rain slipped down his face, mimicking the gentle touch of tears, but it felt like he was drowning again. In a flash of light, a shadowy figure stood in the distance by the towers with curled horns peaking at their head. It was gone when Erador blinked.