“I will hear her out,” Leyus said. He came to stand in front of Kyra. “What do you mean?”

Kyra heard a hiss from Tristam’s direction. The knight was looking at her, eyes wide with realization, and she knew he’d come to the same conclusion. Kyra ran her tongue over dry lips, willing her heartbeat to slow. “The night Pashla found me, I raided James’s study. He had ten vials of blueflower extract in his poison chest. I believe he’s used it to taint the garments he just gave you.”

“The girl grasps for anything to delay her death,” said James. “Why would I poison you on the eve of our biggest raid?”

“Because it’s a slow poison,” said Kyra. “You’d be fine for the raid, even for several weeks afterward. But once the winter’s over and you’ve outlived your usefulness, you’ll sicken and die.”

Leyus looked slowly from Kyra to James and back. “Do you have proof?”

“Ten vials is enough to poison a hundred garments. And James has just delivered fifty garments to you, with the promise of fifty more….” Kyra trailed off as she realized how flimsy her logic was. It was a stretch, she realized. But there was something about her suspicion that felt right. This was something James would do. He needed the Demon Riders in order to weaken the Place, but he wasn’t a fool. James knew that his alliance with the Makvani was tenuous at best. They bore no loyalty toward him, and he’d always been careful to eliminate threats preemptively, before they had a chance to strike.

Leyus’s expression changed from concern to disdain. “You disappoint me, Kyra, grasping at stories to add a few more moments to your life. You disgrace your blood heritage.”

Blood heritage. Kyra clung to those words as her last hope. “If you really acknowledge my blood, grant me my right of Challenge.”

A shocked silence followed her statement. Then, a murmur ran through the crowd.

“Explain yourself,” said Leyus.

James eyed her suspiciously, but Kyra ignored him and plunged forward. “Let me face the one who would kill me, in combat.”

“You make a mockery of the Challenge,” said Leyus. “It is a right of someone who has something to lose, not a last-ditch option for a prisoner about to die.”

“I don’t want to Challenge for my life. You can kill me either way.”

Leyus came closer. “What do you mean?”

“Let me fight for the right to prove myself,” said Kyra. “If I lose the Challenge, so be it. But if I win, let me take the garments to a healer who can test them for poison. If I’m wrong, you can kill me then.”

Around her, the murmurs died down, and all eyes turned to Leyus.