Rachel brought me some clothes, and the mail part of my mythril armor. Her new bag of holding made carrying that stuff pretty easy. I ducked behind the Blue Fal to get dressed, then walked back out.

  The mail shirt was easy to wear, and shimmered a silvery blue in the mplight.

  It was only a little past one in the m. So we still had some energy. Bernie snagged some tea from a serving tray. Probably an attendant on their way to a udying in the library te. Puy would have to double baake more, but we o stay sharp.

  “So,” Rachel started to say, once we were all caffeinated, “do we think that the elves are part of the poisoning plot, or are they exeg some design of their own?”

  Bernie’s eyes narrowed, her fienting, as she did some thinking, then she said, “I think Aquin may be out on his own. I talked to the head of the elven delegation. He’s got family in the Northern Kingswood, where the fighting is it’s worst. I don’t think he’d risk losing a treaty that would secure them help.”

  “What about the King?” I asked. “We know anything about the Elf King? Does he eace?”

  Bernie just shrugged. Rachel frowned.

  “Well,” I said. “What about our other clues?”

  “So,” Berarted, “here is what I got: Someone o distill the poison, slip it into the wihe into the parlor where Randilion and the Kialking. Three other people were in the room with them at the time, the Queen, and two Actors running a se. It’s not determined if the poison lied in the room, or well beforehand.”

  “Actors? What actors?” Rachel asked.

  “Amalia, who pys Princess Lee in the uping Episode IX, a, who pys Hank Solo.”

  “Wait,” I butt in, “same guy we just saw?”

  “Yes, I don’t see—”

  “What did they say under interrogation?” Rachel asked.

  “Amalia is about to retire, but has stayed on as a favor to the King,” Bernie said. “A has been a friend of the King for years. They were there to run a Romantifession se for Caleb and Queen Cerelia. ”

  “How many years have they been friends?” Rachel asked.

  “He art of Uchechi’s crew, so for three, four years. He was a cook. And he sings.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “I don’t think he has magic like you,” Bernie said, “he’s just a good singer.”

  An idea was starting to form at the bay mind.

  “What about the sed poisoning?” Rachel asked.

  “That’s a more difficult one. Princess Harmony was watg a py in the Royal Box with her friends.”

  “Strife?”

  “No, a edy, Much Ado About a Pumpkin.”

  “Huh.”

  “Wait,” Rachel butt in, “what about Cal?”

  “You think he could be involved?” I asked. “Try to get back at the father that never loved him?”

  “I think Cal has only ever kept o his entire life,” Bere said, “and not even that well. He calls himself ‘Cal.’”

  “Right.”

  “Also,” she tinued, “he wasn’t here for the first poisoning.”

  “But Benoit could have been there for both,” I said.

  “Huh,” Bernie said, pg a fio her lips, “I ’t pin down an alibi for the sed poisoning. But he was there for the first, and I know he didn’t have a part in Pumpkin.”

  “What about Princess Mia?” I asked. I was sure that I was close to figuring out the key to this puzzle.

  “She could have been in the Royal Box. But nothing you’ve told me about her makes sense,” Bernie said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Nobody in the castle has said a peep about her hobbies. And the fact that she has a ste?”

  “Did she make it?” I asked.

  “We ’t be sure.”

  My mi back to that text that had fshed across the s of her ste. Nerfherder. That was a Strife Among the Stars reference, I’m sure. Hank Solo? What else had the text said? I was sure it was something about ‘keeping her busy.’ Could it be Bernie?

  “Who do you think is Nerfherder?” I asked. “You think it’s Uchechi?”

  “Hank Solo is an elf. Obviously whe pys him, he has to use ears but… I don’t think she sees her husband as a scruffy hero type. Uchechi is really just a big softy. Even as a pirate, he ruled through fairness and profitability, more than fear.”

  “How well do you know Benoit?” I asked.

  “Pretty well,” Bere said. “He’s my main tact for the theater se.”

  “If you wao throw someone, a man, off your trail, and you knew he was going to iigate you, would you make yourself more or less iing to them?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Do you think you’re the only person with the ‘Beguiling Allure' skill?”

  “Shit,” Bere said, eyes widening in anger.

  “I’m thinking back to that ste I saw,” I tinued, “and I think it said something about ‘keeping her busy.’ Could Benoit have been feeding you exactly what you wao hear, but not what you o know?”

  “Well, damn, maybe. I’d want evidence first.”

  “That would mean Princess Mia would be behind all this,” Rachel said. “And I don’t get what her motive would be.”

  “Me either,” I said.

  I liked her. I didn’t wao be a killer, but I also had to admit that everything we had ointing back to her.

  There was silence as we all thought on that.

  “What do we know about Princess Mia?” I asked.

  “Sed born of Caleb, eldest daughter,” Rachel said, rattling off facts. “21 years old. Brilliant aiful, even among the elves, who sider her a half elf. Just delivered Caleb’s first grandkid. Married a fner, and pirate. Was trained by her mother in court politibsp; Exceles in horseback riding, and feng. Apparently a master alchemist. Has a ste, somehow. Why she could be involved in any of this…”

  “Xander is first in line for the throne, right? Then Mia?” I asked.

  “Human kingdoms are patrilineal,” Rachel said, “uhe elves. If Caleb wao ge things he could have, but since his first born was a man, he didn’t o.”

  “So if Xander died, in line would be Pes?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Rachel said.

  This didn’t help or hurt our suspis of Mia. If she wao be queen, she’d have to murder both of her brothers, not just her brother’s wife. This wasn’t making any sense.

  “Of course. I don’t see hoys into poisoning Randy and Harmony,” Bernie said.

  “What do we know about Randy?” I asked.

  “Another singer,” Bernie said. “But more of a court icler, and co-writer for Strife. Old friend of Caleb’s. A peace advocate. His death is part of the reason why we don’t have aablished treaty with the Kingswood yet. The nobility suspects the elves, and with Randy dead, the war ti outhe peace side.”

  “Who does that be?” I asked.

  “The Evil Queen, for one,” Rachel answered.

  We all thought for a moment.

  I pulled out my ste and shot off a text. It was a big swing, but I o do something.

  Breznik: Are you talking to Princess Mia?

  I got an answer right away.

  Innara: would it mean anything if I was?

  Innara: did you get my gift?

  “Who are you texting?” Rachel asked.

  “Sofia,” I said.

  Bere crossed her arms.

  Breznik: yeah I got it. Thank you. Very generous

  Breznik: I mean, yeah, I think Caleb would imagi was a betrayal

  Innara: you’re talking to me. Would Caleb think you betrayed him?

  Innara: I would never dictate who you should or shouldn’t talk to. Just remember that

  I put my ste away.

  “What did she say?” Rachel asked. Bere leaned forward.

  “Uh, she was frustratingly vague, but didn’t deny talking to the Princess.”

  “So,” Bernie said, “that means they either were talking, or she wants us to think they’re talking.”

  “Could be she's just trying to sow some chaos,” Rachel said.

  “I don’t know,” I tered, “I think the reason she’s so vague is because she doesn’t want to lie. I don’t think she’s lied to us.”

  “Telling the truth in a deceitful way, is the same as lying,” Bernie added. “The point is to hide something. So what is she hiding?”

  Silence simmered, along with the soft glow of the mps. Rachel folded her arms behind her and stretched her back muscles. Bere rested her on her fist. I thumbed the pommel of my sword, and tried not to tap my foot.

  “I think it’s Benoit,” I said. “At any rate, we o front him. If he has a ste on his person or in his room, then that’ll prove he was in tact with someone he shouldn’t be. Also, maybe we read what he’s said to Mia. Could be she’s the mastermind, or maybe she’s just been duped into helping him.”

  Bere gave me a skeptical look.

  “That’s a good idea,” Rachel said. “Where would he hide it?”

  “You know him best,” I directed to Bernie, “is he stupid enough to just keep it lying around?”

  “I mean,” she replied, “I didn’t think he was clever enough to trick me. So, maybe?”

  “Where does he stay?” Rachel asked.

  “He’s couch surfing right now. So, he could be anywhere,” then she added, “we saw him kissing Arturo. Things move fast with the theater crowd, but not that fast. I’d bet on him staying with them.”

  “First — does he keep his things here?”

  “We keep people’s effects in a chest when they’re in e.”

  “He was in e,” I mentioned.

  “Where?” Rachel asked.

  Bere showed us to a side room piled with es, the pce we’d told him to go just hours before. He’d obviously moved on. In the er was a locked chest. Bernie said the stage manager had the key, then produced a lockpid ope handily.

  Inside were an assortment of knives, makeup, and a satchel taining sundry items such s, and dried fruit. No ste. I should have noticed that the fsk we found here owder horn, not for alcohol, but we were moving fast.

  “Well,” I said. “Nothing here. Let’s go find him.”

  I looked at the others, and saw no pint. We left.

  “How do roach this?” I asked, as we walked down the hall. “Do we grab guards on the way?”

  “I say we try to do this ourselves,” Bernie said.

  We all agreed.

  So, I haven’t had the opportunity to talk much about how Caer Vern worked. It was much more like a small town than a traditional castle. Traditional castles had a tral bailey and as many towers as there were ers in the walls. Caleb’s castle had three massive free standing towers with a dozen rooms each, alongside the one’s you would expect at the ers of the walls.

  It was Fantasy Castle big. And all of that space was used.

  Long ago, the ste spaces in lofts, and attics of the towers had been transformed into cozy living spaces. Depending on the seniority of the staff they may have their own rooms. This meant that instead of servants being forced to sleep where they worked, is or outside the doors of their masters, that they had space for their own quarters, or shared quarters.

  One such person was Arturo’s father, who had a room at the top of the Eastern Tower.

  It was well past two in the m when we exited the stairs to the Easter Tower Lofts. At the end of the stairs was a hall with four doors. Each door was a distinguished servant’s living quarters, big enough for a small family.

  Bere listened behind first ohen a sed one before she gave us the nod. Rachel kicked the door open.

  The room was quaint, just big enough for three beds, a vanity, and a couple chests. Benoit was at the vanity. Arturo was in bed. Beyond the window, a long pennant fluttered in the wind.

  Benoit stood, his eyes flicked across us. He then pulled a strange four barreled pistol from his waist, and shot Arturo where he y.

  Several things happened all at onbsp; My hands flew to my waist, and I drew my sword. Benoit shot Rachel through the shoulder. Berhrew a dagger.

  Benoit turo the side, and the dagger sailed past him.

  I’d never seen Bernie miss.

  The gued again, and Rachel fell to a knee. Berhrew anger, and this time he caught it. I lunged with my sword, and he parried it with Bernie’s dagger.

  I cursed. He turned a out the window, grabbing onto the pennant, and swinging out of view. Bernie ran after him, and I was just able to get out an Inspiring Words, before she vaulted over the side of the baly, and away.

  The bullet was a through-and-through at the meat of Rachel’s armpit. I grabbed her shoulder, and gave her a heal light wounds. My eyes flicked over to the bed Arturo y in. He was not moving.

  “I think he’s dead,” I said.

  “No shit!”

  “Maybe I cut him off,” I said, referring to Benoit, “at the West Wing.”

  I didn’t know he was going for Princess Mia, but It was my best guess at the moment.

  “Then go!” she responded. She the out a primal scream, and disappeared into a puff of teocolor stardust.

  I turned on my heel, and ran into the hall, and doweps.

  How had this all gone wrong? What didn’t we know? Arturo must have had vital information. What did Princess Mia know? Was he going after her to silence her, or to pn their step together?

  I didn’t have much time, or else I would have texted the DM. This was all too important not to use him as a resourbsp; But to stop, or slow running, even for a sed, may let Benoit get to her sooner, and I couldn’t have that.

  Nearly the whole castle was asleep, so I had empty halls to run through. But so did Benoit. As soon as I made it to the courtyard, I looked up. I saw a man leap from one baly to the , and run inside, a tiny dark shape running after him. That was the West Wing. I was right.

  I used an Adrenaline Rush, and pumped my legs as hard as I could, desperate to get there before him.

  Once I reached the hallway outside Princess’s Mia room, I noticed something was wrong immediately. The stool outside her room was empty. Why was it empty? Where was her guard?

  I burst through the door. Princess Mia sat in a chair, a horrified look on her face, and a finger poi the window.

  I put my body between her and the window, immediately.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  I didn’t see him. Was I too te? Was he hiding in the room? What had frightened her?

  A small, strong arm sself ay chest. Before I had much of a ce to react, another hand pressed a handkerchief to my face, just c my nose and mouth.

  Because I was breathing so hard, it took a matter of seds for the chemical to do it’s job. I smelled a sweet stri smell, and immediately became dizzy. I tried to fight her off, but it was too te, I had nth.

  Princess Mia, for that was surely who had attacked me from behind, was not a rge woman. I could have fought her off, easily. Had I just thought to be suspicious. Had I just thought not to turn my back to her.

  At least I now knew for sure that she was one of the spirators.

  But that didn’t help me much when I fell unscious.

  The st thing I heard as she lowered me to the ground was, “Saints! You’re heavier than you look. I’ll probably need another dose.”