Emris was at her side; he’d noticed the corpse. Lena watched as his eyes darkened. “As I feared, Chaos has grown powerful in this man. We need to hurry,” he murmured, as if to himself. He signaled the other hunters over his shoulder. “Lena,” he said, turning back to her. “I need you to watch what’s happening from the outside.”

“From outside?” She needed to see! How could she understand from out here? “But—”

“Remember your promise, Lena. See those bushes outside the ballroom?” He pointed to the green, manicured bushes below the room where the chandeliers were framed by the windows. “Hide there and watch. If things go wrong, take one of the horses and return to the temple. Tell them what happened. Do you understand?” Not waiting for her reply, he entered the courtyard, followed by the other huntsmen, stepping carefully around the body and the blood spreading across the paving stones.

Lena waited a few breaths, then crept into the courtyard herself. A border of soft earth and thorny roses protected the broad windowsills of the ballroom. She edged into the flower bed, felt the sharp thorns scratch her legs as she tried to find purchase on the pillowy earth. Standing on tiptoes, she glimpsed inside.

The room was cavernous. A highly polished marble floor reflected the candlelight from the chandeliers, hanging relatively low from an enormous ceiling painted with scenes from temple stories. A huddle of frightened people in sumptuous dresses and silken suits stood a little distance from Lena’s window. Among the huddled forms, she noticed Lord Chatham. He didn’t look frightened like the others. Everyone was watching something at the far end of the room, including the group of black-and-white-clad guards standing uselessly in the grand doorway opposite, swords drawn. On the floor in front of them, one of their number was sprawled in a pool of blood, obviously dead—his body twisted. Lena knew instinctively that he had died in the same way as the woman in the red dress.

She peered further into the room, wondering where Emris had gone … Ah yes. The twenty huntsmen were filtering in through another grand set of double doors. They stood in a half-circle formation, facing the far end, where a raised dais housed a throne. On the throne sat a handsome man dressed in green velvet wearing a slim golden circlet upon his head. The King. Even from a distance, Lena could tell that his expression was oddly strained, for at his side, his hand resting on the King’s shoulder, was the man Lena knew right away must be the Radical. Even so, he didn’t look very dangerous. He was dressed in silver brocade and was portly, his fair hair wavy and slightly receding.