He was fishing, accusing her of being nothing but a pretty bauble, the shallow possession of a powerful man. Prosecutor Lothain was making the bold charge that she was simply sexual entertainment and nothing more—repeating what contemptible gossip took for granted—in at attempt to get her to admit that she was indeed more, and that she knew more, than would the mere attractive status symbol of an older man.

Magda didn’t take the bait. She didn’t want to trust this man with anything she knew. Her instincts told her not to tell him what she knew about Baraccus’s journey to the Temple of the Winds.

She felt tears begin to run down her cheek and drip off her chin.

“Because he loved me,” she whispered.

“Ah, yes, of course. Love.”

Magda was not about to explain her relationship with Baraccus to this man. Prosecutor Lothain was too cynical to begin to understand what she and Baraccus had meant to each other. Lothain saw her the way so many men saw her, as an object of desire, not as a person, the way Baraccus had seen her.

One of the council members, a man named Sadler, stepped forward, a scowl growing across his sagging, aged features.

“If you have an important question, then please ask it. Otherwise I think you ought to leave the widow Searus to her grief.”

“Very well.” Lothain clasped his hands behind his back. “What I would like to know, is if you are aware of any clandestine meetings that First Wizard Baraccus might have had?”

Magda frowned at the prosecutor. “Clandestine meetings? What do you mean? What clandestine meetings? With whom?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. Are you aware of any secret meetings he had with the enemy?”

Magda could feel her face go red with rage. “Get out.”

Her own voice surprised her with its calm power. He studied her eyes a moment, then turned to leave.

“I do hope that First Wizard Baraccus was the hero so many think he was,” he said back over his shoulder, “and not involved in a conspiracy.”

Taking long strides, Magda closed the distance to the man. “Are you accusing my husband of conspiring with the enemy?”

He turned back at the door and smiled. “Of course not. I merely think it strange that the men Baraccus sent to the Temple of the Winds failed, and that he would then go himself on such a mission when the war burns hot and he is desperately needed here. After all, approaching enemy troops threaten our very existence. It seems a strange priority for him to take, don’t you think?

“And even more curious, when he returned, he rushed to kill himself before anyone could so much as ask him if he made it into the Temple to repair the damage.”