“I also included some of the cakes,” Alaina added, gesturing to a covered plate. “In case you wanted to study those as well.”Eatthem, she meant, not study.
I smiled, neither confirming nor denying her assumption. “You’re very thoughtful.”
Alaina beamed. “If you need anything else, just ring. I’m happy to provide whatever you require.”
“Actually,” I said as she turned to leave, “I do have one more question. I’ve noticed there’s a lot of giggling here in the court.”
“Ah, yes, we’re happy people, aren’t we?”
“Have everyone always laughed this much?”
She paused, thinking. “Actually no. We’re a cheerful group but it does seem excessive lately.”
“How long has the excessive laughter been going on?”
Her brow furrowed. “Let me think. It was…oh, I believe not long after our court received the missive from your grandmother with the marriage proposal.”
“Have you experienced it yourself?”
“A few times, Your Majesty. Usually after the midday meal, though once or twice in the morning. It felt forced. Disruptive. I never could figure out whattriggered it.”
“Did you notice if it happened after eating or drinking anything specific?”
Alaina’s frown deepened as she considered. “Not that I could tell. Sometimes I’d have tea and be fine, other times I’d have the exact same blend and end up giggling. It was the same with food. There was no consistency that I could see.”
Which supported my theory that this wasn’t simple contamination. If it were, the pattern would be clearer.
“Thank you,” I said. “That’s very helpful information.”
“I do hope you can sort it out, Your Majesty,” Alaina said. “It’s been disconcerting. It’s hard to properly season a sauce when you’re laughing too hard to taste it.”
I could imagine that would be challenging. “I’ll do my best.”
After Alaina and the servant left, I returned to the balcony with my notes and the tin holding the spring harvest blend she’d indicated everyone drank this morning.
Savory hopped closer, eyeing the tin with interest.
“No,” I told her. “You’re not testing anything. Your stomach has been through quite enough today.”
I was merely going to observe,she said with a lift of her beak.
“Observe from some distance away, then.”
I opened the tin carefully, letting the scent of dried tea leaves drift up. It smelled earthy and slightly sweet, with hints of flowers. Nothing obviously wrong.
Reaching in, I trailed my fingertip through the leaves, trying to recapture that sense of wrongness I’d felt in the kitchen. The texture seemed right, neither too dry nor too damp. The color looked proper for spring-harvest leaves.
But then I felt that same faint magical residue that didn’t belong.
I pulled my hand back, studying my fingertips. They looked normal. But the sensation lingered, like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
What do you sense?Savory asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s like the leaves have absorbed something or been exposed to magic they shouldn’t have encountered. But it’s so faint, I can’t identify what.”
Perhaps you’re knocking on a door that’s meant to be felt. What does your magic tell you?
I blinked at her. “My magic?”
