“Aspects preserve us,” Shana swore.
“With the Sun Margrave dead, there is nobody to steady Sauven. Before he can fully come to terms with that murder, Crown Prince Kiel is assassinated during the Winter Hunt.”
I might as well have thrown a grenade on the table. They stared at me, shell-shocked.
“When his son is also murdered, Sauven spins out of control. His paranoia blinds him. He sees plots and conspiracies everywhere. He makes Hreban the next Sun Margrave, because he sees him as an outsider and therefore free of corruption. He gives him the power to kill or detain anyone who gets in the way.”
The room had gone completely silent.
“There is more.” I had saved the worst for last.
“What more can there be?” Clover demanded.
“The Sun Margrave is supposed to die at the conclusion of the High Court’s session, on the eve of the twenty-fifth anniversary of Sauven’s victory over Ralinbor of the Wilds. He will be escorted to that ceremony by three squires of note, one from each of the knight orders. The Defenders, the Conquerors, and the Redeemers will each contribute a squire.”
The knight orders constantly competed for power and prestige. Escorting the Sun Margrave delivered a lot of prestige. It was a public chance to flex.
Reynald was looking at me, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
I had to keep going. “When the killer attacks, the Sun Margrave will order the squires to save themselves and get help. Only the Defender squire obeys. He abandons the margrave and runs, forever shaming the Order of the Defender.”
“What about the other two squires?” Shana asked.
“The Conqueror squire is hit on the head and collapses. He is later ridiculed for not landing a single blow on the killer, is sent away from the capital, and is killed in a border skirmish.”
I looked at Reynald. He was sitting very still.
“The third squire, the one from the Order of the Redeemer, fights to his last breath to defend the margrave and dies trying to save him.”
The words didn’t want to come out of me. I had to squeeze them out.
“It’s Matheo, Reynald. The third squire is Matheo. The Dog Market Butcher will kill your son.”
The silence in the kitchen was so deafening, it hurt.
Reynald opened his mouth. His voice was calm and cold. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid that you would storm off and try to break in to the Redeemer Tower. You had no reason to trust me. I didn’t want you to fail and die. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to succeed either. Everything is connected, Reynald. If you managed to kill Silveren somehow, there is no telling what it would do.”
He was looking directly at me, and his gaze was difficult to hold. It took all my willpower to stare back.
“You should’ve told me.”
“I was going to. I thought I had time.” I pointed at the board. “This isn’t supposed to be happening yet. The Butcher’s first victim isn’t supposed to show up until the first of Harvest Month. That’s more than four months from now.”
“What could’ve caused him to start now?” Reynald asked.
“Us. We caused this.”
“How?”
“The Butcher kills prominent knights from all three holy orders. They flood the city with their people trying to find him. At the height of his rampage, the City Guard triples the patrols. Everyone is looking for him, and yet he comes and goes like a ghost, and then Hreban just coincidentally finds him in some remote warehouse, where Hreban has no business being.”
Reynald’s gaze darkened. He saw where I was going.
“Hreban has eight guards with him. Way too many for a daytime trip to the docks and more than enough people to arrest the Butcher, and yet the Butcher ends up conveniently dead. And then Hreban profits from his death, first by being hailed as the savior, and then by becoming the Sun Margrave.”
Reynald leaned forward. “The Butcher belongs to Hreban.”
