“I do. Wage your campaign against magic, but confine it for now to the Druids. Their order is far and away the most obvious and unattractive congregation of magic users. No one likes or respects them, and any attacks on them will be met with widespread indifference. Perhaps somewhere down the road, a few years from now, after the Druids are destroyed and your own position secured, you can find a way to make an exception for me and those who act for me.”

Drust Chazhul frowned. He didn’t much care for making her any promises. “Perhaps,” he allowed.

She frowned. “You patronize me, Drust. I can hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes. You say what you think will keep me compliant, but you have no real intention—”

She stopped suddenly, a startled look on her face. Her hand went to her throat and her mouth opened as she gasped for air. Drust Chazhul stared at her in a mix of confusion and shock.

“What have you done?” she hissed at him.

He shook his head quickly. “Nothing! I … don’t … What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“The wine!” She was on her feet, throwing away her glass, clutching now at her chest. “You’ve poisoned it!”

“No! I’ve done nothing!” He reached out to catch her as she lurched toward him, but she pushed him away. “Edinja, this wasn’t my doing!”

“Liar! Pretending … friendship, and all … the while …”

Cinla was sitting up straighter, watching it all, but not doing anything. Not yet. Drust looked in the moor cat’s eyes and began to back away, edging toward the door. What was happening here? Edinja had dropped to her knees and was bent over, retching violently. Drust knew he should do something, but he couldn’t think what it was. If it was poison, one needed to know what kind in order to provide an antidote. Her symptoms suggested something of every poison he knew.

“Treachery!” Edinja shrieked. Then she toppled over and lay still.

Dead. Drust knew it at once. Her eyes fixed, her skin turned blue, her inner glow gone dark, her voice silenced. A white froth leaked from between her lips, pooling onto the floor.

Drust kept backing away, aware that Cinla was on her feet now and moving over to where her mistress lay. It would only be seconds before the moor cat turned her attention back to him. He had to get out of there before that happened. None of this was his doing, but if he were found in her chambers like this he would be blamed anyway. No amount of explaining would save him.