Chapter 9: A Servant with a Knife - The Obsidian Seal

By the morning after the incident in the receiving chamber, the palace had developed a new rule: nobody was to touch anything that had come within reach of General Ronan without first obtaining permission from the officer responsible for his security.

The rule was sensible, considering that someone had tampered with the wine intended for him. Unfortunately, the people enforcing it seemed determined to make every servant in the eastern wing feel guilty of murder. Bottles were counted, cupboards searched, and the names of everyone who had worked in the receiving chamber were entered into a ledger. The kitchens had been divided into separate work areas, with guards stationed at the doors, while the household staff were questioned individually about their movements during the previous evening.

Elara spent most of the morning carrying linen between the eastern wing and the laundry rooms, trying to remain unnoticed while listening to the conversations around her. Nobody knew what had been added to the wine. The physician had confirmed that it contained a dangerous substance, but he had refused to identify it without a more thorough examination. The bottle had been sealed and sent to the palace physician's laboratory, and the remaining glasses were being kept under guard. The young servant who had delivered the tray was still being questioned, and rumours about his guilt had begun circulating long before anyone had presented evidence against him.

His name was Tomas Bell, a kitchen assistant of seventeen who had worked in the palace for less than a year. Elara had seen him several times carrying baskets between the pantry and the receiving rooms. He was thin, awkward, and perpetually anxious about making mistakes in front of his superiors. According to one of the laundry girls, Tomas had already confessed to taking a silver spoon from the kitchen three months earlier, although he had returned it the same day after his mother threatened to report him herself. Now the story had spread through the household as proof that he was dishonest enough to poison a general.

Elara found him near the servants' entrance shortly after midday. Two guards were escorting him toward the administrative offices, and he looked as though he had not slept. His shirt collar was torn, his hands were trembling, and a dark bruise had begun to form along one cheek. When he passed her, he glanced at her with the desperate expression of someone who had run out of people to ask for help.

"I didn't do it," he whispered.

One of the guards struck his shoulder with the back of a hand. "Keep moving."

Elara lowered her eyes and stepped aside. She could not help him in front of the guards, and she had no proof that he was innocent beyond the suspicion that the investigation was moving too quickly. Still, she remembered the wine tray, the cut red thread, and the guard who had insisted that the incident remain quiet until the source of the tampering could be established. If the household had found something substantial, Tomas would have been charged formally and the evidence recorded. Instead, the palace seemed eager to settle the matter before anyone asked too many questions.

She finished her duties and reported to Sabine, who had been assigned to supervise the staff questioned during the morning. Elara asked whether she should prepare another inventory of the service pantry, explaining that the stores had been disorganised by the searches. Sabine looked at her suspiciously.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because the bottles were moved, and some of the labels are missing. I thought it might help the pantry staff avoid making mistakes."

Sabine considered the suggestion. "You are not to touch anything that has been sealed by the guards. But you may help the steward compare the remaining bottles against the household records. Do not make a nuisance of yourself, Vale. The general's officers are already convinced that every servant in this wing is a potential traitor."

Elara thanked her and went to the pantry.

The room was crowded with crates, shelves, and narrow cabinets containing the household's ordinary supplies. Two guards stood beside the sealed cabinet where the wine from the receiving chamber had been stored. The pantry steward, a nervous man named Hobb, was trying to reconcile the contents of three separate inventories while a clerk recorded each discrepancy. Elara offered to read the labels aloud while Hobb checked the quantities, which gave her an opportunity to examine the arrangement without touching anything that had been sealed.

The red thread used to secure the bottle lids was stored in a small wooden drawer near the back wall. Elara noticed that the drawer had been left open, and several lengths of cord were scattered across the shelf below it. Some were clean and tightly wound; others had been cut into shorter pieces, apparently for use on bottles that were to be carried to the private chambers. The thread on the floor of the receiving room had been darkened by something, but the cut had been straight and deliberate. It could have been made by an ordinary pair of scissors, yet the stained end suggested that it had been handled after contact with the substance inside the bottle.

"Who prepared the wine tray yesterday?" Elara asked while Hobb checked a list.

"The kitchen assistant, Tomas. He took the bottle from that cabinet, put it on the tray, and carried it to the receiving chamber."

"Did anyone else handle the bottle?"

Hobb frowned. "I would have to check the shift record. The bottle was delivered from the cellar in the afternoon, but it sat here for several hours before the tray was prepared."

"So someone could have reached it before Tomas collected it."

The steward looked at her sharply. "Are you suggesting that someone tampered with the wine while it was here?"

"I'm asking how the records work."

"Then ask the clerk. I am not paid to speculate about poisonings."

Elara returned her attention to the inventory. There was nothing in the pantry that proved Tomas had been framed, but the time gap between delivery and service meant that several people could have handled the bottle. If the guards were treating the last person to carry it as the only suspect, they were ignoring a large part of the chain of custody. She needed the shift records, and she needed to discover whether anyone had entered the pantry without signing the ledger.

Before she could ask another question, the door opened and a palace clerk entered carrying a folded sheet of paper. He spoke briefly to the guards, who immediately began preparing to remove the sealed bottle for examination. As they moved toward the cabinet, Elara noticed a small smear of red wax on the clerk's sleeve. It was the same shade used on the envelopes dispatched from the Empress's private office. The stain might have come from any number of documents, but it reminded her of the sealed message that had summoned Ronan to the Glass Garden.

She said nothing.

The bottle was removed, the cabinet relocked, and the guards departed with the clerk. Hobb resumed his inventory with renewed irritation, muttering that the palace would soon need a separate staff just to count the people who were counting the bottles. Elara finished reading the labels, copied the discrepancies into the household ledger, and returned to her regular duties before anyone could ask why she had spent so long in the pantry.

That evening, the eastern wing became unusually quiet. Several servants had been dismissed from their usual assignments while the investigation continued, and the senior staff were reluctant to leave any room unattended. Elara was carrying a stack of folded sheets toward the storage corridor when she heard raised voices near the old record rooms. She recognised Tomas's voice first, followed by the sharper tone of a man who appeared to be one of the general's security officers.

"I told you I never touched the bottle after I put it on the tray," Tomas said. "You can ask the steward. I did exactly what I was told."

"Then explain why your name appears beside the wine delivery twice."

"Because I delivered it once to the pantry and once to the receiving chamber. That's what the ledger says."

"You expect us to believe that a bottle containing poison passed through your hands twice, and you noticed nothing?"

"I didn't know there was poison!"

The conversation ended with the sound of a door opening. Elara moved behind a stack of linen baskets as two guards brought Tomas into the corridor. His wrists had been bound with a strip of leather, and he stumbled when one of the men pulled him forward. The security officer followed them, holding a narrow piece of paper.

"The boy is being transferred to the lower cells until the physician completes his examination," the officer announced. "Anyone who interferes will answer to the marshal."

Tomas turned his head and caught sight of Elara. "Please," he said. "Tell them about the pantry. Tell them I wasn't alone in there."

Elara could have remained silent. It would have been the safest decision, and she knew that an inexperienced handmaiden had little chance of changing the outcome of an investigation conducted by senior military officers. But she had spent sixteen years learning that evidence could disappear when nobody challenged the people responsible for recording it. If Tomas was innocent, allowing him to be punished simply because he was an easy suspect would make her no better than those who had destroyed her home.

"The bottle arrived several hours before he prepared the tray," she said.

The security officer turned toward her. "Who are you?"

"Nera Vale, sir. I was helping the pantry steward with the inventory this afternoon. The delivery and service entries are recorded separately."

"And that makes you an expert in the investigation?"

"No, sir. It means the records should be checked before a decision is made."

One of the guards gave an impatient laugh. The officer's expression hardened, and Elara realised that she had made the mistake of speaking in front of people who regarded questions as challenges to their authority. He ordered the guards to continue, but before they could move, another voice came from the far end of the corridor.

"Release him."

General Ronan stood beside the stairway, accompanied by the palace marshal. He had apparently been returning from a meeting when the argument caught his attention. His expression was calm, but there was a firmness in his voice that silenced the guards immediately.

"General," the security officer said, straightening. "The prisoner is being transferred under the authority of the household investigation."

"Then the investigation can continue after I have seen the evidence against him."

"The physician has confirmed that the wine was contaminated."

"That is evidence that someone contaminated the wine. It is not evidence that this boy did it."

The officer hesitated. Ronan held out his hand for the paper, examined the entries, and then looked toward Tomas.

"Who prepared the bottle?"

"Tomas collected it from the pantry, sir."

"Who delivered it to the pantry?"

The officer glanced at the record. "The cellar porter."

"And who had access to the pantry between delivery and collection?"

"That is still being established."

"Then why are you taking the boy to a cell as though the matter has been settled?"

The officer's jaw tightened, but he handed the paper to the marshal. Tomas's restraints were removed, and he was instructed to remain in the administrative offices until further notice. As the guards led him away, Ronan turned toward Elara.

"You were the one who reported the thread in the receiving chamber."

"Yes, sir."

"And now you are telling my officers that the servant may have been framed."

"I'm saying the records should be checked before anyone decides he is guilty."

Ronan studied her for a moment. Elara kept her expression composed, but she could feel the attention of the people around them shifting toward her. She had intended to gather information quietly, not become involved in a public argument with the general's security staff. The more she spoke, the more likely someone was to ask why a new handmaiden seemed to understand the importance of a chain of evidence.

"Come with me," Ronan said.

The marshal looked surprised. "General?"

"I want to see the pantry records, and I want to hear the account from the steward who was responsible for the wine. Miss Vale appears to have read the inventory more carefully than the people assigned to investigate it."

Elara followed him toward the administrative offices, trying not to show her unease. She had spoken up because Tomas was being treated unfairly, but she had not expected Ronan to take such an immediate interest in her observations. He had already seen her during the attempted poisoning, and now he had a second reason to wonder how she had noticed details that the rest of the staff had overlooked.

The pantry steward was summoned, along with the clerk responsible for the delivery records. They laid the relevant ledgers on a table and began comparing the entries. Elara stood at the side, answering questions when addressed and otherwise keeping her attention on the pages. The bottle had arrived shortly after midday and remained in the pantry until the evening meal. Tomas had collected it just before service, but the ledger showed that another person had entered the room during the intervening hours. The name was difficult to read because the ink had been smudged, yet the final letters appeared to match the surname of a junior clerk who worked in the Chancellor's administrative office.

Ronan leaned over the page.

"Who wrote this entry?"

"The duty clerk, sir," Hobb answered. "He records everyone who enters the pantry when the household is preparing a private service."

"And where is he now?"

The steward looked toward the other clerk, who had gone pale. "He was reassigned this morning. I believe he was sent to the western offices."

Ronan straightened. "Find him."

The marshal gave an order to one of the guards, who hurried from the room. Elara watched the exchange with growing unease. The missing clerk might be nothing more than a careless employee who had forgotten to sign the ledger properly, but his connection to the Chancellor's office was enough to warrant further investigation. She remembered the man beneath the eastern balcony, the damaged window latch, and the red wax on the sleeve of the clerk who had removed the bottle. The clues were beginning to overlap, though she could not yet establish a clear connection between them.

Ronan turned back to her. "You said the thread on the floor had been cut deliberately."

"I said the cut looked deliberate."

"Why?"

"Because the ends were too clean for a thread that had broken naturally. Someone had used a sharp blade or scissors. The stain on the other end suggested it had been handled after the bottle was opened."

The general said nothing for several seconds. Then he asked, "Who taught you to notice things like that?"

Elara felt the question settle between them. She had prepared a dozen answers for questions about her background, but none of them seemed appropriate here. A seamstress's daughter could be observant, certainly, yet the way she had described the thread had been precise enough to suggest experience beyond ordinary household work.

"My mother taught me to be careful," she said.

"Was she a seamstress?"

"Yes, sir."

"What happened to her?"

Elara looked down at the ledger. "She died in a fire."

Ronan's expression changed. "Where?"

"The Ash District."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Elara felt the room become smaller as Ronan studied her face, searching for something he could not quite place. She wondered whether he remembered the night he had rescued a frightened girl from a burning house, whether he remembered the silver coin he had given her, or whether the memory had faded beneath the weight of the years that followed.

He did not ask her age. He did not ask whether she had been present when the fire began. Instead, he looked back at the records and said, "I'm sorry."

The simple words unsettled her more than any interrogation could have. She had heard people express sympathy before, usually in the hurried manner of those who wanted to acknowledge grief without being drawn into it. Ronan spoke without ceremony, as though he understood that an apology could not change what had happened but might still deserve to be offered.

Elara inclined her head. "Thank you, sir."

The investigation continued for another hour. The clerks established that the wine bottle had been moved from its original shelf shortly after delivery, although nobody could explain why. A guard stationed outside the pantry recalled seeing a man in household clothing enter the room carrying a small package, but he could not identify him. The man had signed no register, and the officer who had supervised the search could not account for the missing entry.

By the time the meeting ended, Tomas had been released from immediate custody, though he was ordered to remain in the palace until the inquiry was complete. The general instructed the marshal to preserve every relevant document and prevent the Chancellor's office from removing any records connected to the wine delivery. It was a direct challenge to the assumption that the matter could be settled quietly, and Elara suspected that someone would be displeased by the order before the night was over.

As the others left the room, Ronan remained beside the table, studying the page that contained the disputed entry. Elara gathered the loose papers and returned them to the clerk, taking care not to rearrange their order.

"You can go," Ronan said.

She turned toward the door, relieved that the conversation had ended. Before she reached it, he spoke again.

"Miss Vale."

Elara stopped.

"You have been in the palace less than a week, yet you noticed the thread, questioned the timing of the delivery, and identified a discrepancy in the records. Those are useful observations, but they are not ordinary duties for a handmaiden. I would like to understand how you came to make them."

She kept her eyes lowered. "I do not like seeing someone blamed for something they may not have done."

"Neither do I. That does not answer my question."

Elara looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time since he had asked about her mother. His expression was not hostile, but there was a watchfulness in it that reminded her of the officer who had stood outside the Glass Garden. Ronan had survived wars, political disputes, and at least one attempt on his life. He was unlikely to accept a vague answer simply because it came from someone who wore a servant's uniform.

"I learned to watch people," she said. "When you grow up without much money, it helps to notice trouble before it reaches you."

Ronan considered the answer. "That is true. It is also incomplete."

"I am sorry, sir. I do not know what else to tell you."

For a moment, Elara thought he would press her further. Instead, he returned his attention to the ledger and made a small mark beside the disputed entry.

"Very well. You may return to your duties, but if you remember anything else about the receiving chamber, report it directly to me or the marshal. Do not discuss the investigation with the other servants."

"I will, sir."

Elara left the office and made her way toward the eastern wing. She had succeeded in preventing Tomas from being treated as a confirmed criminal, and the investigation had uncovered a suspicious entry that might lead to the person responsible for the poisoning. Yet she had also given Ronan another reason to watch her. He now knew that the quiet handmaiden had an eye for evidence, a guarded past connected to the Ash District, and a willingness to challenge an officer when she believed he was wrong.

She would have to be more careful.

Near the servants' stairs, she found Tomas waiting beside the wall with a folded coat in his hands. He looked exhausted, but the fear in his face had eased.

"Thank you," he said when she approached. "I thought they were going to send me away before anyone listened."

"You should still be careful. The investigation isn't finished."

"I know." He glanced toward the administrative offices. "The man who brought the bottle into the pantry was not one of our regular staff. I saw him that afternoon, but I thought he was a clerk. He asked where the general's wine was kept, and I showed him because he had an official-looking paper."

Elara stopped walking. "What did he look like?"

"Dark hair, a narrow face. He had a scar beside his ear, I think. I didn't see him clearly."

The description was frustratingly vague, but the detail about the scar reminded her of the man she had seen beneath the eastern balcony. She asked whether Tomas had noticed any insignia on his clothing, but the boy shook his head. He remembered only a dark coat and a silver clasp, which could have belonged to dozens of people employed by the imperial household.

"Tell the marshal what you have told me," Elara said. "And do not leave the palace until they finish questioning you."

Tomas nodded and hurried away.

Elara stood alone in the corridor, considering the possible connection. The poisoned wine, the altered window latch, the unidentified man, and the missing record entry could all be separate incidents. But they could also form parts of a single attempt to remove Ronan before the coronation. If someone wanted to weaken the Crown Prince by killing the general, then the poisoning might have been only the first attempt, and the people involved might already be preparing another.

She reached the servants' room as the evening bell sounded. The other girls were discussing the investigation in hushed voices, and Lysa immediately asked whether Tomas had really been accused of poisoning the general. Elara gave a brief answer, explaining that the evidence was incomplete and that the inquiry was still underway. She did not mention the missing entry or the unidentified man. For once, she was grateful for the palace's strict rules about gossip.

After the others had gone to bed, Elara took a scrap of paper from beneath her mattress and wrote down everything she could remember: the time of the bottle's delivery, the disputed pantry entry, the clerk's red-waxed sleeve, and Tomas's description of the man with the scar. She added the name of the guard whose silver hawk insignia matched the emblem worn by the men who had burned her home, though she still had no proof that he had been involved in either event.

She folded the notes and hid them inside the lining of her spare apron. The information would have to be compared with the Ash Network's records, but she could not send a message immediately without risking exposure. For now, she would continue observing the palace and wait to see whether the missing clerk was found.

Before extinguishing her candle, she took the silver coin from its hiding place and held it between her fingers. Ronan had asked who taught her to notice things, and she had given him an answer that was true without being complete. She could not tell him about Maelin, the Ash Network, or the years she had spent studying the hidden machinery of the empire. Nor could she explain why she had returned to the palace under a false name, carrying evidence that implicated the woman he had loved for most of his adult life.

He had looked at her today as though he sensed that something was missing from her story.

For the first time since entering the palace, Elara wondered whether the greater danger was not that Ronan would fail to recognise her, but that he would recognise the wrong things first.

She returned the coin to its hiding place and blew out the candle.

Tomorrow, the search for the missing clerk would continue. If he was innocent, he might know who had tampered with the wine. If he was involved, he might lead them toward the people who had arranged the attack. Either way, the inquiry had moved beyond a poisoned bottle and a frightened kitchen assistant.

Someone had entered the palace with a plan, and that person had expected nobody to look closely enough to notice.

Elara intended to prove them wrong.