Page 46 of Shadow Throne King
She collapsed against me, her wet face scrunched into my shoulder. Slowly, I let go of her hands, and she made no move to repeat her assault on the corpse.
Her horrible, pathetic sobs echoed in the room, muffling the footsteps of the servants who entered. No one tried to speak, no one tried to fight, and I wondered if this was how it had been when Emperor Millu had died.
Had everyone who continued to work at the Lakeshore Palace accepted that they were living on borrowed time, and their death would come for them soon enough?
“I need your help,” I told her, gripping her elbow tight to force her to stand with me. “Tell me everything on this table. Every food you know, anything the dishes might be called.” I pointed, shaking her when she squeezed her eyes closed. “Now.”
Topi blinked her eyes open, eyelashes wet. Slowly, she began to name the foods on the table, and I grew frustrated when none of them had the same letters I thought Coyome had been trying to write.
The footsteps finally ceased, and I looked out to see nearly half of the servants who had greeted us only hours earlier arrayed in the room. The Kennelmaster stood next to Tallu’s chair, his arms crossed as he looked over the crowd.
I couldn’t see his expression, but I knew what would happen next. He would start with the servants who had touched the dishes last and likely torture them in front of their peers so that the next group would be more eager with their answers.
Someone in the palace had tried to kill the emperor, and they were all about to pay for it.
“Is this all of them?” Tallu’s voice came from the doorway like an arctic wind, and every servant shivered. Tallu’s Dogs didn’t move—they might as well have been puppets who responded only to Tallu’s commands, their strings connected to his fingers.
“This is every servant who touched a dish on the table,” the Kennelmaster confirmed.
I glanced at him sharply. He had made the list so quickly, so sure of every servant in the palace. Then again, he was the Kennelmaster. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a few spies in the Lakeshore Palace as well as spread throughout the kingdom.
Tallu walked across the room, careful not to step on the results of Coyome’s poisoning, his leather boots shining in the light. He moved slowly, unhurried, the expression on his face such mild disinterest that I felt a shiver run up my spine.
Then, Tallu’s eyes cut to me for just a moment, the russet brown sending a shiver of a different sort into my heart. Tallu had a plan. Now, I just needed to figure out what it was, figure out how to fit into it.
He reached the chair he had vacated and then sat back in it, fingertips pressed together in front of his mouth. Silence stretched in the room.
“Well? Begin the questioning.” His gaze fixed on the Kennelmaster, and the Kennelmaster’s eyes widened before they narrowed.
He looked out over the crowd of servants, their eyes downcast. He raised his hand, but before he could point at the first victim, I spoke.
“Before he died, Coyome was trying to tell me which of the dishes he believed was tainted.” I waved my hand over the dishes. “If it was merely a single dish on the table, then perhaps that is an easier way to narrow it down than questioning the servants at large.”
I blinked, playing innocent, although I wasn’t sure why I bothered. There were no courtiers here to perform for, and both the Kennelmaster and Tallu knew exactly how dangerous I could be.
“What do you mean?” Tallu asked, and for the first time since entering the room, he smiled.
It wasn’t pretty, and the servants seemed to understand exactly how dangerous he was now—the kind of predator that showed its teeth before tearing out the throat of its victim. Only I knew Tallu. I knew he was here because otherwise the Kennelmaster would have tortured everyone in the room, and Tallu couldn’t stand the idea of innocents dying for this game we were both playing.
“If only one dish was tampered with, then perhaps we should have the servants try each of the dishes they touched. To prove their loyalty.” I frowned, considering the dishes.
If someone wanted to make sure they killed the emperor, they wouldn’t put a small bit of poison on one of the dishes. It needed to be enough that it didn’t simply make him sick. It alsoneeded to be spread over the entire food. They couldn’t chance that he wouldn’t eat the poisoned portion.
“I’ve already eaten the salted meat,” I said, lifting the serving tray and putting it further down the table. “As I feel no ill effects, it must be safe. And you, my lord, have eaten the fish. Do you feel ill?”
Tallu shook his head. “That still leaves a great many dishes.”
“Well, wedohave time.” I turned to the Kennelmaster. “I leave the rest to your discretion. You seem to have a good understanding of who touched His Imperial Majesty’s food.”
The Kennelmaster’s eyes took on an intrigued light, and he reached for one of the appetizers. Holding it out, he said, “Who made this dish?”
A servant dressed in white, wearing a yellow armband, stepped forward. He bowed to Tallu, his fingers forming a triangle. “As head chef, I have had a hand in making all of the dishes.”
“A hand, perhaps,” Tallu said. “But you did not personally make it. Who did?”
The chef hesitated, and the Dog nearest him shifted in position, a blade flashing as he pulled it silently free from his sheath. The chef looked down, then swallowed. There was a scar across his cheek, and I wondered if it was from his years in the kitchen—a stray knife or a bit of splattered oil—or if it was from the torture after Emperor Millu’s death.
Finally, the chef named two other servants, and they each stepped forward. They glanced at each other only once before stepping toward the table and each taking a bite of the creamy dish. When they stepped back, the Kennelmaster demanded the servant who had put it on the table. She inhaled a shaky breath as she approached the Kennelmaster. He was nearly a foot taller than her, and, trembling, she took the spoon from his hand and tasted her own portion.