Page 59 of The Second Marriage

That told Sejun nothing. He transferred his weight from one foot to the other. His body was stiff and standing made it worse. Even a chair would be better. He said, “What was in the letter?”

“Treason,” Poplar said. “Show me what you have there inside your robe.”

“Inside my—nothing,” Sejun said, then put his hand into the billow of fabric above his belt that served as his pocket. “A handkerchief.”

“Give it to me,” Poplar said, extending his own hand.

Sejun couldn’t imagine what the man wanted with his dirty handkerchief, but he passed it over without argument. Poplar held the scrap of fabric in his fist and closed his eyes. A frown wrinkled his brow. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again and said, “What did your friend tell you when he asked you to deliver the message?”

“Nothing much. He asked me to deliver it and told me where.”

“And you knew the person he wanted it delivered to?”

Sejun wondered if he should lie, but he couldn’t see any reason to as he had done nothing wrong aside from being a too-trusting fool, and Poplar already knew he had taken the letter to Simra’s shop. “Yes, I know Simra. She and my husband are friends of long acquaintance. We took dinner with them recently, so I’m familiar with her and her wife.”

“But you didn’t know anything about the contents of the letter?”

“No. I suppose I assumed he wanted to purchase something from her. I didn’t ask.”

“You delivered the letter to Simra?”

“I—no. To her wife.” Sejun swallowed, hoping he hadn’t just condemned Lavi. Why had he said anything? “But she didn’t open the letter. She put it beneath the counter without reading it.”

“I see.” Poplar opened his fist and returned the handkerchief to Sejun. “It seems that you’re telling me the truth.”

“What did you do?” Sejun asked uncertainly. Magic of some sort—was this man a sorcerer?

“A trick I learned from—a friend.”Friend, this time, was weighted not with irony but with a note of regret Sejun didn’t understand. “You’re only naïve rather than outright treacherous.”

“So I’m free to leave?”

Poplar gave him a long look, assessing him in some way. “Who gave you the letter?”

“What? You said—” Sejun broke off, realizing that Poplar hadn’t given him a name.Your friend. There had been four of them inside the shop, and if Poplar didn’t know the source of the letter, Sejun was reluctant to divulge it.

He could tell Poplar the letter had come from Tarush—but no, Poplar would use his trick to determine that Sejun was lying. Better to say nothing. He had already said more than he should have. Oh, how he wished Taral were here to advise him! He wasn’t clever enough to think through this problem.

“You might as well tell me,” Poplar said. “You’ll remain in custody until we learn the source of the letter. You could set yourself free right now by giving me a name.”

“I need to talk to Feba,” Sejun said. “Or my husband. He’ll be worried about me.”

“He knows where you are. But I’m pleased to give you some time to weigh your options.” Poplar turned to go.

“Wait,” Sejun said, and Poplar turned back with his eyebrows raised. “Is—are Simra and Lavi in trouble?”In trouble—like they were errant children. What a ridiculous way to phrase the question. But he couldn’t take the words back now.

Poplar’s expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the ongoing investigation. You’ve been told as much as you need to know.”

That meant they were considered part of the investigation, which meant they were indeed in trouble. But surely they were both innocent. There was only some misunderstanding. Poplar would use the same magic he had used on Sejun and learn the truth. Probably even Nirav was innocent. Someone had given him the letter and he had passed it on to Sejun without knowing of his contents. That horrible Tarush, most likely. Nirav was too good-natured to be a traitor. All of it was just a mistake.

Poplar went out. Sejun sat down on his mat to wait.

* * *

Taral satin his hard chair all day and heard nothing of what was said. People’s mouths moved and produced sounds, but none of those sounds resolved into intelligible words. He could think only of Sejun, and then of Simra and Lavi, and then Sejun again, locked away somewhere in the bowels of the palace. Sejun wouldn’t be harmed, Feba had said, but what if she was wrong? Simra had called Aditya paranoid—but what if that was a lie? He was lost in a thicket of deceits and couldn’t see his way out of the tangle.

He hoped there would be time at midday, but the proceedings dragged on for longer than usual and then Jaysha went to speak with Feba instead of conveniently making himself available. By the time the meeting broke apart for the day, Taral had talked himself out of seeking Jaysha’s aid, then talked himself back into it. The odds were that Feba was right and Sejun would be fine, but Taral couldn’t shake the fear that something awful would happen. Some palace official would decide Sejun was too much trouble; some order would get misinterpreted, some message misread, and Taral would lose his husband.

The thought made him sick. It made his chest tighten with panic. He would do whatever it took to get Sejun released. He would kneel on the floor at Jaysha’s feet and debase himself, and feel only gratitude if he met with success.