Chapter Two: One Cup Kills Three Men

The seventh had sweat at his temple. Among four cups on his tray, the one marked with a tiny red dot was meant for Lain. 【Fatal causality approaching.】 Lain turned as though a neighboring lord had jostled him. His knife clattered to the floor. While eyes followed the sound, a pewter cup slipped from his sleeve and his silver one vanished beneath the hanging cloth. The seventh servant filled the false cup. “Forgive me,” Lain said. “I disgrace every important occasion.” “Not at all, Your Highness.” Lain lifted the drink. Mordred watched from the far end. Cassian tapped one finger against his chair. Drink. As wine neared Lain’s lips, the dragonflame lamps overhead spat purple sparks. Silence.