The Kuakgan was silent and motionless a long moment, then he nodded, his eyes bright beneath his hood. “I have called the others; we will do what we can.”

Kieri turned and went down the passage to speak to his Council. The mumble of conversation stopped when he entered the room; the men and women all turned to look at him.

“My lord king! You’re hurt!” That was Sier Halveric, just a beat ahead of the rest.

“No,” Kieri said. “It’s not my blood.” Most looked scared, startled, shocked. Across the room, Aliam Halveric’s brows went up; the glance between them conveyed the years of comradeship and shared experience in war. “Sit down, please,” Kieri said. He felt the postbattle letdown even more now, but they needed his steady confidence, as they had needed it before he rode away to war. He hoped that this time they would respond better. He waited until they were seated and silent. Amrothlin came in just then, his expression strained, followed by another elf. Kieri waved them to their seats as well.

He began with a terse recital of events leading to his confrontation with Sier Tolmaric.

“Then it’s true you know what the poison was?” Sier Davonin, of course. Women losing their children would interest her more than a fight in his office, however bloody.

“Yes,” Kieri said. “And there’s no more danger of contaminated food here. But let me go on—what comes is as important.” He told it in order, ignoring all signs that someone wanted to ask a question. “The queen and I are alive, unharmed,” he said as he finished. “Lord Amrothlin—” He nodded to Amrothlin. “—as you know, is the Lady’s son. He has told me that the elvenhome is no more. He and I will discuss later what this means for Lyonya, for the remaining elves, and for us, who have long been partners here. I counsel you all to be vigilant. If you have doubts of something you see, tell a palace official or a servant. I must go to the salle, where the bodies are laid for the night. Those who wish may pay respects later.” With a short bow, he left them and headed for the salle.

In the passage near the salle, he met Sier Tolmaric’s wife, escorted by one of Arian’s Squires. Lady Tolmaric’s face, normally pale, was blotched with crying, her graying red hair loosening from its braid.

“My lady,” Kieri began, but she burst into more tears before he could offer any comfort. He knew it had been her first visit to Chaya—she had not come for the coronation—and he had seen her wide-eyed joy in the splendor of the court and her shyness around other Siers’ wives. Now she was bereft here in this strange place with strangers all around and no husband to guide her.