There's only time for a partial bath before dinner, so I spend half an hour in rose-scented water. Afterward, not a trace of "dusty road smell," as Matilda remarked when she first saw me, remains.

Matilda slips from my room to get another towel, and I decide to start dressing in a plain, dark blue dress. There's a quick knock at my door before Matilda reappears.

"Can you get the laces?" I ask.

Matilda pauses, scanning me from head to toe. "Are you sure you want to wear that dress?"

"Yes, why not?"

Matilda squeezes the towel. "Perhaps you should wear something more special."

"Why?"

She shrugs and offers a nervous smile. "Just a thought." She wraps the towel around my head, then opens my wardrobe. Hangers scrape along the metal bar holding them up. "What about this? There's still time to change." A red evening gown sweeps from the wardrobe. I blink at it, then at Matilda.

"I have no reason to look nice tonight," I say. "Unless you know something I don't."

"Well, it's just that we have so many guests these days...you want to look your best and make a good impression."

My chest deflates with a sigh. "Fine." I know Matilda means well, but my attire isn't my top priority these days.

I duck into the bathroom. Silken material slinks over my waist, rippling outward at my knees. The sleeves hang off my shoulders, and the bodice dips into a banded sweetheart neckline. I don't want to wear this around guests. It feels too revealing.

"Five minutes!" Matilda calls.

And there's no chance to change. I guess I'm stuck in the red dress.

When I exit the bathroom, Matilda's waiting with a diamond necklace. The stones and metal chain cool my skin as she sets it around my neck. I grab a black shawl from my wardrobe before leaving to dress the look down several degrees.

I enter the Imperial Dining Hall just as everyone else finds their seats around the long table. For some reason, the amount of people around the table seems to grow each time I enter. Now, instead of barely using a third of the space, the table is nearly filled with guests. The strangest part is how unfamiliar the people look. I can usually recognize the members of the Royal Court due to my lessons, but many around me I can't place, though I'm certain some are from visiting kingdoms.

Clemaina smirks as I find my seat across from her. "Well, isn't that a fitting dress?"

She's probably making a pun about how tight it is, but I don't let it bother me.

"My maid picked it out, and there wasn't enough time to change."

"She picked well," Clemaina says. I can't tell if she's trying to irritate me or if her definition of a compliment differs from mine.

A hush sweeps through the room. All are seated except Uncle Rothbart, who stands on my right.

"I have a very important announcement to make," he says. "This has been a very difficult time for our kingdom. The death of King Ivandor came as a shock to all. I don't anticipate that our mourning will abate anytime soon. However, we do need to appoint a new leader to the throne. The Royal Court has decided to hold a ball in two weeks in order to crown our next queen."

A sprinkling of applause rises from the table.

"All of you are invited to this banquet," Uncle Rothbart continues, "As well as the other kingdoms we are allied with. Hopefully, after a month of mourning, we will be able to enjoy the coronation of our new ruler. Until then, I will continue to be the acting executive."

Uncle Rothbart sits. Chatter whirrs around the table. Instead of one big conversation with the king, the guests generate side conversations. Our end is the quietest. Every so often, I glance down the table to get a peek at who these people are. Every time, I'm met with the gaze of some boy. It's rather disconcerting, and I soon decide to focus on the multi-course meal.

The table disperses as people finish the final dessert course of a light custard. I scoop small dollops with my spoon, savoring each bite so I'm not leaving at the same time as one of the boys. I'm not the only slow eater; our family along with some court members are the last remaining.

Clemaina clears her throat. "Uncle Rothbart, I think the coronation ball is a splendid idea."

"Hmm?" Uncle Rothbart looks up from his white ramekin. The custard's surface is still glassy, untouched. "Oh, thank you." He turns his attention back to his dessert. He lifts his spoon and prods the top, then slides it through the vanilla delicacy over and over again.

"You know, Uncle, I was just thinking about something." Clemaina pauses. Uncle Rothbart doesn't respond, even with a glance. "Why don't Sewale and I have our wedding on the night of our coronation."

Uncle Rothbart halts in the massacre of his dessert and sets his spoon down. "I think it's best if the queen is crowned first, Clemaina."

"Why? Sewale must be crowned, too."

"I understand that. But we've had so much going on, that a wedding on top of a coronation would be too much."

Clemaina scowls. Though she says no more, I get the sense that this isn't the end of the conversation. Sigvard edges from his seat.

"Sigvard and Aylo, I must speak with you after dinner."

Sigvard freezes, and our eyes meet. There's a million things he could reprimand us for—sneaking around the palace, leaving the palace this afternoon (even under the guise of diplomacy), reading documents we aren't supposed to, the list goes on. I scoop the rest of my pudding onto my spoon and shovel it into my mouth. It creeps down my throat, almost a game. Once it reaches my stomach, Uncle Rothbart unleashes his fury. That is, if he's mad at us. Maybe he just wants to have a friendly talk, catching up on the latest news.

Clemaina smirks as she rises from the table, clinging to Sewale's arm. The leeches leave with the rest of the Royal Court and staff. Only my brother, uncle, and Wolfgang remain.

"Am I to understand correctly that you visited Evlyn Garris?" Uncle Rothbart says.

Sigvard catches my eye. The tiny apple on his throat bobs.

"Yes, sir," he says.

"Huh." My Uncle's blue eyes shift between me and Sigvard. "Funny, I don't remember giving you a special errand to complete after the memorial. Perhaps you can remind me?"

Darn it. The guards must have told him about our stop. They probably reported all the duties they completed, including our supposed "errand."

"I'm willing to keep this between you, me, and Wolfgang if you explain the situation," Uncle Rothbart says. "I didn't tell the guards that I never sent you on an extra task. However, I need to know what you were doing."

Sigvard and I exchange glances.

"I, I mean we, wanted to speak to Evlyn Garris," I say.

"That much is clear, considering you went to her house. My question is why?"

"She was...kind of...on our minds," Sigvard struggles to get out. "You know, cause she was...kind of...connected to our mother."

Our Uncle's blue eyes shimmer. "Oh, I see." Uncle Rothbart's gaze drifts to his chopped-up baked custard. "I haven't been as active as I should've been in talking with you both, Clemaina too. How have you...been?"

"We're coping," I say. "Father's murder has just been a lot to process."

"Murder?" Uncle Rothbart's head jolts to me. "Who said anything about murder?"

I want to scream. How could I have made such a terrible slip?

"Well, it's just that a lot of weird stuff has been going on..." Sigvard says.

Oh no. Now Sigvard is trying to cover for me. I stare at him, hoping it's enough to get him to shut up.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like the windows and the footprint."

"What window and what footprint?" Uncle Rothbart's eyes narrow.

"Just some stuff we heard around the palace," I say. "You know who the servants love to gossip. And with all the distress of the situation, it's hard to tell fact from fiction anymore."

Uncle Rothbart sighs. "I should've seen this coming. Do you promise not to repeat this to anyone under any circumstances? Not even Royal Court members, Wolfgang, or myself? What I tell you in this room stays here."

I nod, my eyes flicking to Wolfgang. He's so still, I forgot he was there.

"I didn't want to tell anyone this just yet, but the tests we ordered show that the king had poison in his system at the time of death. I'm still piecing together what could've happened with Duke Von Stein."

"Why haven't you announced it yet?" I ask.

"It'd be a repeat of your mother's death. No one knows we're investigating, except you two now. Don't make me regret my decision to tell you."

"What do you mean by a repeat of Mother's death?" Sigvard asks. His voice lowers. "Do you think Odeia was innocent, too?"

"I just mean that right now, we have the element of surprise. Regarding Odeia, she's a complicated matter."

"What type of poison was it?" I say.

"That's not important," Uncle Rothbart says quickly. "Right now, it's imperative that you don't share what I told you. And if you hear any rumors, try to stop them. I can't stand those whispers floating through the palace."

The dining hall goes still, but I can feel our conversation pulsing through the air. Murder. My father was murdered. Before, it had been speculation, even a documented hypothesis. Now, it's a fact, a law like gravity.

Uncle Rothbart stirs. "I suppose that's all. You're dismissed."

Sigvard and I slide from our seats. Uncle Rothbart's spoon clinks against ceramic, the sound amplified by the otherwise noiseless room. When we're in the hallway, I whisper,

"I'm so sorry. I can't believe I messed up like that."

"It's fine," Sigvard says. "We got some vital information." His brown eyes twinkle in dim light. "And it made Uncle forget about Evlyn."

Sigvard and I jog up the stairs together. Benno waits at the top, near the lounge by the staircase. It's like we planned this impromptu meeting. The three of us sprawl on the couches. I angle myself so my feet can hang over the armrest while my back leans against the cushions. Silver flats peel back from my heels, allowing my feet to stretch.

"You're just asking to get dinged," Sigvard says.

"I'm tired," I reply. "Besides, it's just us talking. No need to be formal."

"What did Uncle Rothbart need to talk to you about?" Benno asks.

"Evlyn Garris," Sigvard mumbles.

"He knows?"

Sigvard nods. "But it's fine because he doesn't know what we talked about."

"And Uncle Rothbart confirmed something very important for us," I add. "We were right. Father was murdered."

Benno lets out a whooshing breath. "Seriously? How?"

"Poison. Again."

"The same one?"

"I don't know. Uncle Rothbart wouldn't say." The news is still surreal, prodding at the well inside me that I thought was boarded up. I try to think, to use the information as a tool. But one thought buzzes in my head, and the vibrations suppress any others.

Father is dead. He was murdered.

Is the murderer Evlyn or a stranger, even a hitman who snuck into the palace? Or is the murderer living among us?

"Is there a way to find out what type of poison it was? It might matter." Benno's voice cuts through the mental block, bringing me back to the lounge lit only by the faint light outside.

"We need to take a look at that letter," I say.

"Are you kidding me?" Sigvard says. "We can't go searching through the palace for it. It could be anywhere."

"It'd be in a place no one can find it."

"Which means it's probably in a place we shouldn't be. No more sneaking around, Aylo. I'm serious." Sigvard hardens his expression to solidify his stance.

The image of a letter flashes into my head. I try to picture the scribbles again, recall the name that could've been there.

"Does the name Dr. Grizgzen mean anything to you?" I ask.

Benno shakes his head, and Sigvard starts to do the same, but then stops.

"Wait," he says. "Do you mean Dr. Grinszein?"

"Uh, maybe. Who is he?"

"I think he was Uncle Rothbart's old tutor. Some sort of analyst or physicist, something like that. Why?"

"He sent a letter to Uncle Rothbart. I saw it in his room." I pause for a moment to think. "Is it possible that he ran the tests on our father? Maybe it says which poison he died from."

"No," Sigvard says. "We are not sneaking into his room again."

"But Benno's right, it might be important."

"There's no guarantee that his letter relates to our father."

"Sigvard, Uncle Rothbart won't let any person run these tests. He's going to turn to a person he trusts. Who better than his old tutor?"

My brother is quiet for a long time. In the meantime, I figure out a plan to get inside, starting with the time. The Royal Court will meet tomorrow from the morning to the early afternoon, but my lessons run until a couple hours before dinner, which complicates things. Even if Uncle Rothbart is busy with other affairs, other court members whose rooms are in that area might catch us. Frustration creeps inside me. I'm so sick of my lessons ruining everything.

"Fine," Sigvard says. "If you're certain you know where the letter is located."

"I'm sure," I say. "Meet you here tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure." Sigvard stretches and stands. "As for right now, I'm going to bed."

I would do the same. Fatigue weighs my muscles down, and I know I could fall asleep right here on the couch. But I have schoolwork from Lady Nyoko that I must complete. So I rise to my feet, say goodnight to Benno and Sigvard, and drag myself to my room for a couple hours of late night studying.