Chapter Two: One Cup Kills Three Men

Mordred looked up sharply. Moon-salt, already smeared on Lain’s cup, changed color in the heat of dragonbreath wicks. It proved nothing, but it created a sign only a guilty man would fear. The servant flinched. His wine jug shattered on the floor. “What happened?” Lain asked innocently. “Seize him!” someone shouted. Herbert, Mordred’s nephew, rushed forward too early. He caught the servant and reached inside the man’s coat, plainly trying to recover something. Count Tarren of the Frost faction stood at once. “You have not examined the wine. Are you making an arrest, Lord Herbert, or silencing a witness?” “There is poison in it!” “How could you know?” Herbert froze. The first crack opened.