Voices erupted in unison, drowning every sense of order in Elred's system.

"What's this fool saying?" Meire exclaimed, turning to Raimon amidst the chaos. "Can you get rid of him?"

Elred clenched her fist. Nobody's getting rid of her brother. Besides, when did Meire get chummy with Raimon? The last rumor she heard about them was that they hated each other and would go through great lengths to rip each other's throats off. What changed?

The noise around the dining room rose to a hilltop. Finally, Elred slammed her hand on the table. A couple of shocked faces whipped to her. She blew a shaky breath. "Let's just..." she massaged her temples. "Let's just focus, shall we?"

The stunned nobles settled back in their seats and looked at Cirasa still glaring at Raimon with enough acid to melt glass. "Cirasa, would you mind putting the blade away?" Elred cajoled. She breathed a sigh of relief when her brother lowered his hand to his side. "Okay, what about our relative being a...criminal?"

It didn't make sense, at least to Elred. Raimon told her he didn't have anything to do with it. Why would he lie to her? To his family? Besides, if Raimon wrecked the Feast, he would go down with the Valkalins since he was one.

"Yes, you dimwit," Raimon seethed. He had his arms propped on the table, his hands clasped together. From Elred's vantage point, she could see how white his knuckles were. "How dare you accuse me of trying to bring down the clan?"

Cirasa opened his mouth to say something but he started swaying. Elred made a move to run to her brother but one of the Garde caught his arm and steadied him. Her heart wrenched. If he was so sick, why risk going here? Did he fly all the way from Vertinso?

"Shoes," Cirasa blurted, the word spreading through the room before fading into the distance.

Elred blinked. "Shoes," she echoed. "You've gotta be more specific than that, little brother."

He glared at her, having hated that title since he could articulate it. "Look at his shoes," he jerked his chin at Raimon. At least a dozen heads swiveled to the Valkalin who flinched and looked down at his own pair. "This was a formal Feast and no doubt an important one. Why would he wear the same pair he wore every day?"

Whispers broke out among the nobles. Elred glanced down at her relative's shoes and knitted her eyebrows. In fact, those shoes looked familiar. Where had she seen those?

"Can't it be that this is my favorite pair?" Raimon scoffed and brought his hands down. "You can't fault a noble for having his obsessions, right?"

Cirasa looked behind him expecting to find a ballroom full of guests. Instead, he found a shut door. Anything that happened in this room would stay in this room, gods be damned. Elred sighed. "Is that all?"

Her brother whirled back to the gathered people—all were somewhat important to how Helinfirth thrived. "You're right, I can't," Cirasa said to Raimon. "But I can completely fault you for leaving algae-covered tracks all over the carpets," he looked at Elred. "Thanks, sis. I knew you would go with the reds."

Elred opened her mouth then closed it again. What was she supposed to reply to that anyway? "It's a special type of algae found only in Entobern," Cirasa continued. "Why would it be found here?"

Raimon shrugged. "I did go to Entobern the other day," he said. "But it's for a personal matter. I know nothing about what you're implying, boy. Must my personal life be put into the limelight?"

Cirasa's eyes hardened. From her place in the table, she could see how bloodshot they were. His hair stuck up in all the directions she couldn't name, like he spent all day confined in his bed and only dragged himself out of it. His tunic and trousers were simple and rumpled. Elred swore she could see a faint bloodstain in them.

"Then, let's talk about how you killed that maid," Cirasa said. Gasps rang in the room. More heads swiveled between Raimon and the young prince. Elred knitted her eyebrows. Savel said he hadn't gotten any information about who killed the maid. How did Cirasa get to his conclusion?

Raimon rolled his eyes. "By all means," he said. "Spout more nonsense and embarrass the Valkalin name even more."

Cirasa blew a breath. His hand moved to the side of his head and began massaging it. Was he in pain even now? "Cela, the maid who died in the kitchens, was my friend," he said. Elred's eyes widened. Was that why she was in the Vertinso mansion way before the supposed time servants come in? "She came to me the other day and she told me the most interesting thing."

Nobody spoke so Cirasa took that as a signal to continue. "She told me Raimon came to her and asked about the secret passageways inside the Vertinso mansion and it was very specific," he said. "You see, servants use a different ways around the palaces to avoid colliding with the nobles. They walk in the corridors where nobles can see them was when they are called for."

"So, our dear uncle, who was looking for a specific passage inside the Vertinso mansion for whatever reason, approached Cela and asked for it," Cirasa said. "When she gave it, he gave her a very interesting warning. Raimon told her to never tell anyone about that particular meeting or she will suffer."

"Litttle did our uncle know that Cela had been keeping in touch with me. Poor Cela had been so troubled she went to me with that little secret," Cirasa levelled his gaze on Raimon. "The next day, she was found dead. Interesting coincidence, don't you think?"

"Bah! It's still just a coincidence!" Raimon waved his hand in the air. "Are we going to listen to this brat talk about meaningless things? Your Highness!"

Heads swiveled to the Queen who sat stone-faced at the head of the table. She was glaring at Cirasa and the boy was glaring right back. Finally, the Queen sighed. "I am rather curious about what my son has to say about this curious case that even the Garde couldn't solve," she said. "Go on, Raimon. Why won't you tell us how you killed the poor maid?"

"Your Highness!" Raimon screamed, like he was completely wronged. "I didn't kill any maid! I didn't visit the Servant's Quarter asking for passageways and all that rubbish. Maybe that maid pissed off the wrong nobles, knocked the wrong cupboard or something."

A bitter laugh broke free from Cirasa. "That's an intersting detail you added there," he said. "The Garde did conclude that she knocked some porcelain off cupboards in an attempt to get away from her killer. Why would you know that if the Garde dismissed it as evidence and if you're not there?"

Raimon's face paled. "I-it couldn't be," he said. "That's just a metaphor! I swear, I didn't do anything!"

Cirasa raised his chin. "How about that pelgar, hmm?" he crossed his arms, the dagger still glinting in his hand. "It seems like one has taken a liking to you so you killed it."

"Preposterous!" Raimon exclaimed. "I would never harm Crintine's sacred hounds."

Cirasa wasn't impressed. "But you did," he said. "I went to the scene way before the Garde could and found this," he brandished something in his hand. "It's a button from a cheap cloak from Rabante. It's in season right now, by the way."

"What's your point, boy?" Raimon snapped.

"My point is that the pelgar probably bit you in the arm so you killed it before it could make a scene," Cirasa said. "Pelgaris remember everything. They would have alerted the guards the next day."

Elred raised a finger. "Wait a minute," she said. A dozen heads turned to her. "The Garde said that the pelgar was attacked from behind. It wouldn't make sense if it had its teeth around Raimon's arm and still didn't see the attack coming."

Cirasa smiled triumphantly. "I never said it was done the same day," he said. "You found something too, didn't you, Elred?"

"Huh?" she shook her head and the memory flashed in her mind. "Oh yeah, I did find something peculair when I talked to uncle in the hallway. She dug around the bodice of her dress, praying to the gods the proofs were there. She fished out the button and held it triumphantly in the air, despite the scandalized looks around her. "A button fell from Raimon's red cloak."

Cirasa crossed the room and passed Elred the button he had. It was the same kind. "This could only happen when Raimon got bitten the day he went searching for the secret passageways and the murder of the pelgar happened the next day, when he realized that he needed to get rid of the proof."

"The button only fell off when Elred talked to uncle maybe because it had only been loose but not enough to fall on its own. It would take a few days of wear and tear before it actually do so," Cirasa explained. "That brings us to the question of why there was only one pelgar that night when Raimon struck the one who remembered him."

Erlan scratched his chin. "That part did seem strange," he said. "How did he chance the day when one of the pelgaris I have were sick?"

Cirasa faced Erlan. "What if that part was planned, too?"

Raimon whirled to his cousin. "Don't tell me you believe this nonsense too!"

Erlan faced his relative. "No, I actually am curious about how in Crintine's name my beloved hounds got so sick that week," he said in a tone so flat it matched the luncheon plates laid in front of them.

"What did your pelgar get sick of?" Cirasa asked.

The noble narrowed his eyes. "Pulverized vorkee horns," he said. "I never put that in their food even as a flavoring or scent. I always did wonder how it got there."

"Oh, gods," Elred smacked her forehead with her palm. "That's what the inventory logs were all about!"

Cirasa turned to her. "Inventory?"

"Yeah," Elred bit her nails. "I did some investigating on my own and went to the Inventory logs. The attendant there told me he encountered the red cloak fairy who checked all those items out. One of the entries were of vorkee horns."

Raimon snorted. "This is getting more and more convoluted," he complained. "I told you I didn't go to the Servant's Quarter!"

Something clicked in Elred's mind. "Oh, gods. The wires," she breathed. "That's also you?"

Cirasa nodded. "There's no doubt he checked out the things he needed to enact the final part of his plan together with the vorkee horns."

He looked at Elred. Standing a head taller than him, she could see the fatigue dancing in his eyes, like he was ready to drop unconscious at any time. "Along with the vorkee horns, there was also a set of wires, atalfa leaves, and vipiel shrubs," she reported. Then, it finally clicked. "Of course. Vipiel could be flammable if not handled properly. It was so easy to light it on fire. And atalfa..."

"It gives off the scent of glass being made when it's burned," Cirasa finished for her. "That's what the servant triggered when fixing up the trangene tree, right?"

Elred's eyes widened. "What did you do?" she screamed at Raimon.

"He probably tested the mechanism on the test run and one of the servants triggered it by accident," Cirasa said. "You would attempt to light the trangene tree on fire to signal the Entobern army lying outside Abshire to attack the State Dinner, right?"

"Now, the Entobern devils are being dragged into this mess?" Raimon shook his head. "I'm not the one who dragged some of their rascals to the Feast because of some paranoia."

"Elred?" the King's voice rang from the other end of the table. "Did you go to Entobern?"

Her throat constricted and dried up. "Y-yeah," she said. "But I also found this," she dug for the Valkalin crest in her bodice and showed it to everyone. "This belongs to the Valkalins. It means that someone from us went there too, a few days before I did."

"Ha! But you still went to the den," Raimon pointed an accusing finger at Elred. "You're as guilty!"

"I only did it because the Garde alone would not be enough to hold back an attack planned for the Feast," she said. "Now it looks like I'm wrong in even considering Entobern now that they're allying to you and procceding to rebel against us."

Raimon slammed his hand on the table, matching Elred's stance. "Where's your proof of that?"

As if on cue, the door to the state dining room burst open and a huffing and sweaty Garde burst through. "There's an armed force spotted at the lip of Abshire," he reported, bracing his knees to catch his breath. "It seemed like they're waiting for something but they look ready to attack. What is the course of action, Your Majesty?"

The nobles all whipped towards the Queen. Instead, she turns to Raimon. "You have one chance of admitting to all your crimes," she said. "If what my children are saying is true, you will face exile and all your privileges as a Valkalin will be stripped away. Are you ready for that?"

"Don't condemn me, Your Highness," Raimon clasped his hands together in a begging gesture. "I'm innocent."

Elred frowned. "You wanted the power, right?" she blurted.

The Queen's head snapped up to Elred. "What do you mean?"

"I followed a red-cloaked fairy sneak into the archives and gather a bunch of tomes about the myth of Selna and the hidden power inside Helinfirth," Elred said. "I know it's rubbish but it seemed like it's the one Raimon is after," she turned to him. "Aren't you?"

Raimon didn't speak. The Queen slammed her hands on the table and shot up. "Answer the question, you prick!"

A vein pulsated in Raimon's forehead. He stood from his seat so suddenly his chair fell to the floor the thud. "I should have been the King and not you!" he screamed. His voice reverberated along the glass walls in a horrifying set of echoes. "My family should be the one sitting on your throne and not you dimwits! I am the rightful heir to the Abshire crown and I intend to take it all back now!"

Before any of them could stand up and cross the table, Raimon turned and sped for the ballroom where the trangene tree was. Elred's breath hitched as her wings sparked to life behind her. Something whizzed past her ear and she saw Cirasa lunge forward, wings already out.

Then, Cirasa tackled Raimon to the ground. They tangled in a mess of limbs and wings until Raimon got a hold of Cirasa's neck. "You..."Raimon seethed. "Will not take anything more from me!"

Elred cursed and jumped over the table to rescue her brother. With a cry, Raimon slammed Cirasa against on the rim of the table. No! She was too late.

Something cracked and shattered. Blood colored the tablecloth red.