Negev's gaze narrowed. "Did you really bake those yourself?" the old woman sneered.

Valya sighed. "I did. I've noticed Loethar likes them whenever cook sends some up for him. I wanted to learn how to make them myself, so cook taught me."

"Buying his love through his belly?" Negev queried, disdain dripping from her words.

"I will never understand why you have to treat me with such contempt. I would have thought my adoration of your son would impress you and the mere suggestion of grandchildren would make us closer," Valya admitted, busying herself as she poured the drinks.

"Valya, you have lost more children than I have birthed. I will reserve praise until you actually deliver a son."

Valya hadn't thought anything Negev could say could truly penetrate her mental armor; after all, she had been wearing it and strengthening it for years now at the end of this woman's harsh tongue. But this jab got through, stabbing right at the heart of Valya's greatest fears. She noticed her hand tremble slightly with rage as she handed her mother-in-law a beautiful porcelain cup from the imperial dinner set that was designed at the time of Loethar's coronation. "I hate you more in this moment than I have ever hated you before," she said, glad to snatch her hand back from where she had set down the cup and saucer near the old witch.

Negev smirked. "Well, that makes two of us." She shook her head. "Not for me," she said, refusing the dinch. "I'm ready to go."

"At least taste Loethar's biscuits," Valya said, sipping her dinch to cover her fury and anticipation.

The emperor's mother could never resist a sweet temptation. Valya had counted on this and had deliberately poisoned only the top layer of biscuits. Dara Negev began chewing as she sneered, "Ring for my servants."

Valya obeyed the command, ringing immediately but continuing to sip her tea, leaving her own biscuit untouched. By the time Roland had hurried over, Dara Negev was already in her death throes, Valya turning in a stunning performance of a daughter-in-law in despair, screaming for help as the old woman choked and foamed at the mouth.

"Hurry," she shrieked, "she's choking. Fetch help, I'll try and clear her passageway." But Valya only made a pretense of clearing the old woman's airways, waiting until she knew it was too late and she could see that Dara Negev knew it too. As Roland rushed white-faced from the death scene, Valya smiled. They were finally alone.

"I heard you suggested to your son that I should be killed."

Dara Negev was intent on vainly gasping for air. Even so, Valya could see the shock that flared in the old woman's eyes.

"You've underestimated me. And now you're paying for it with your life. I baked poison into the biscuits, you old fool. Ah, here comes help now," she said, glancing up, pretending to flap helplessly around Negev. "See how concerned I look, Negev? They'll never suspect me. I'll leave you with this one last thought: perhaps I'll poison your son too as soon as my son is born. I can rule as regent for him. Die happy, you old witch." She looked up, feigning terror. "Roland! I think she's dying!" she screamed. "Help, someone, help!"

In the tumult that followed Valya tipped the remaining two biscuits into the silken pouch she carried. She would dispose of them later. She knew what would unfold now and she had to keep her nerve.

Valya watched Loethar stare silently at his mother's face. Dara Negev looked surprisingly as though she were sleeping; her expression was peaceful, belying her final struggle to remain alive. The servants had given Loethar a vivid description of what had occurred and Valya imagined he was, in this uncomfortable silence, trying to conjure a vision of his mother's final moments. Valya, of course, had deliberately cleaned up Dara Negev's mouth. The servant thought she was making her presentable to the emperor but her true aim was to remove all clues to the woman's death.

She could feel the terrible tension building in the room. Loethar was unpredictable and not easily fooled; she would not be surprised if he simply accused her of murdering his mother. Still, she'd made her choice and would not regret it.

Finally the silence got the better of her. "Does that bird have to be here with us?" she said, motioning to the raven.

"He chooses where he goes," Loethar answered.

"It's disrespectful," Valya said, making sure her eyes were misty, her lips slightly trembling. "Where's Stracker?" she asked tearfully. The weeping wasn't hard to achieve; she was genuinely terrified of the brothers. Loethar had walked around his mother's corpse a dozen times already; the creak of his leather boots and waistcoat the only clue, up until a moment ago, that someone else was alive in this chamber with her...other than her baby. She touched her belly. He was alive. Claiming the throne from the womb. Securing his mother's future.

Loethar glanced up at her, startling her out of her thoughts. "How is our child?"

"Thank you for asking. Today has been very unnerving. But he...he is fine."

Loethar nodded. The silence lengthened again before he sighed. "This is the second time in as many days that I've had to view the body of someone I care about here in this chapel."

He cared about Freath? He'd never said as much before. "I don't know what to say to you," she admitted.

"She died choking, I'm told."

"Her heart must have given out. She was struggling to breathe."

"She came from people who lived well past their tenth decade. Her mother was ninety-eight anni, her father ninety-nine."

Valya shook her head. "I'm no physic. She could have choked on the biscuits she ate."

"Biscuits?"

She nodded. Stick close to the truth, she'd told herself. "I think she might have eaten two. You know how she is about sweet things."

"And drank nothing?"

"No, that's my point." Valya sniffed, and dabbed a silk square to her expertly running nose. "She refused the dinch we served. I did say to her that she should take a swallow of it."

"Who served it?"

"Er...it was Roland."

"Roland?"

"Yes. He's attached to your mother's retinue."

Loethar strode to the door, opened it and gave a muffled order before returning. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I can't. I can't be still. This is so terrible. I felt so helpless."

"Helpless? You, Valya?"

"Oh don't you start now, Loethar, please. And stop repeating what I say. I'm weary and your mother is dead. Let's show some respect."

He stared at her, expressionless. "I presume my mother was her usual charming self?"

Valya nodded. "She was wicked to me. But I would never wish this on her."

Vyk flapped his wings and made a loud cawing sound. He lifted from Loethar's shoulder and swooped near Valya's head. Shrieking, Valya slapped at the bird, which found purchase on an archway, staring menacingly down at her.

"What possessed you to seek her out today?" Loethar continued. "You've ignored each other for several moons."

She tossed her hair in a vexed manner. "As I tried to explain to Dara Negev, I am about to deliver her grandson. I have no family that I care about, I have no one close to talk to-you..." She shrugged. "Well, you're always busy. I just thought she might talk me through this whole business of childbirth and I really rather hoped that our son might bring us all closer. I wanted her and myself to find a level of friendship. I know we come from different worlds but we have you, our son, the empire in common. We are family."

He did not seem moved; in fact, he regarded her with a look that was so veiled she couldn't tell whether he was amused or startled by her suddenly impassioned manner.

At the sound of a knock, Loethar turned. "Come," he called.

Roland entered, looking terrified.

"Your highnesses," he said. "I...words can't...I'm sorry."

"We understand," Loethar comforted. "This is a very difficult time for us all. Roland, you are attached to Dara Negev's retinue, am I right?"

"Yes, my lord, since her arrival in the palace."

"Did you make the dinch?"

Roland looked startled. Then he frowned. "No. It was made by the kitchen staff. I could-"

"That's not necessary. Were you present when the dinch was made?"

"Yes, I was."

"Were you present when it was poured for my wife and my mother?"

"No, my lord."

"So who did pour?"

"I did, Loethar," Valya said, adding a freshly weary tone to her voice. "I also drank it," she added before he could move to the next obvious question.

"Did my mother drink any?" Loethar turned to Roland, ignoring Valya.

Roland shook his head. "I watched two cups poured and only one was drunk from. Your mother's cup was full, her dinch untouched. I noticed the empress sipping from her cup before and in her anxiety after your mother...er..." He looked too terrified to say any more.

Loethar turned. "We checked for poison, did we, my love?"

Valya sighed. "Ask Roland."

"The empress instructed me to take the tray immediately to the apothecary, my lord. The physics have tested the pot, the cups, the remains of the dinch in both cups and pot and can find no trace of poison."

Loethar nodded. "The biscuits, Roland. Where did those come from?"

"From a tin in the chambers of the empress."

"I see," he said, glancing at Valya.

"Did you bring them to the table?" he asked her.

"I baked them for you. I brought none to the table but I asked Roland to fetch some when your mother decided on something sweet."

Loethar returned his attention to the servant. "Tell me about the biscuits."

Roland looked baffled. "They were freshly baked. I brought a few on a plate as instructed. The rest I left where they were in the empress's chambers."

"Were all the ones you brought to the orchard eaten?"

Roland frowned, looking down. "Yes, I believe they were, my lord. There were only crumbs left."

"I ate one," Valya lied, glad that Roland hadn't noticed the leftover biscuits. "Your mother ate the rest rather greedily," she added sourly.

Loethar ignored her. "Go and fetch the tin of biscuits, Roland, and bring them back here."

The man nodded and walked to the door. To Valya's discomfort, Loethar followed him and quietly muttered something before Roland left the chapel.

"Biscuits?" she snapped, moving into the theatrics she knew were now necessary. "You don't honestly think I would-"

Loethar cut her off. "I don't know what to think, Valya. Yesterday my mother was hale. Today she lies dead before me."

"You don't seem terribly upset."

"Neither do you. And the difference is, I don't share my emotions with everyone. How I feel is nobody's business. You unfortunately do show your every mood, which is why these fake tears and quivering lips have me baffled."

"Loethar!"

"No, let me finish," he said, holding up a hand, his voice annoyingly calm and even. "You and my mother were not friends; you were not even good companions. But as much as you disliked her, Valya, she disliked you." She noticed he ignored her look of indignation. "I feel no sympathy for either of you. We can't be forced to like one another but I did hope you could get on."

"We did. In fact, today was my effort to try and build some bridges. As I explained, I thought if she could give me some advice, perhaps take more interest in our child, we might go a long way toward being closer. But she said the most cruel things."

"Surely that didn't surprise you."

Valya realized she couldn't win. She made her voice sound weary. "I suppose so, Loethar. I'm very, very sorry for your loss, truly I am."

Vyk swooped back to Loethar's shoulder, calling again. Valya scowled, wishing she'd thought to poison the bird somehow as well.

There was a second knock at the door and, after Loethar's command to enter, Roland reappeared, bearing the tin she recognized. He bowed. "Here is the tin of biscuits, my lord."

"Good. Open it." When Roland did so, Loethar leaned in and inhaled. "Mmm, lovely. You baked these?" he said with surprise, turning to Valya.

She nodded, and maintained wearied tone. "They were for you. I know you like those buttery things. Me, I can hardly bear to smell them in my condition," she said, rubbing her belly. "Certain foods make me feel ill."

He regarded her now with even deeper scrutiny, his expression creasing into a quizzical one. "And still you managed to eat one only today."

Valya blinked, but recovered instantly. "I was being polite," she said. "I'm quite sure it's why I feel so unwell now."

"Ah, and there I was thinking that it was having to sit this close to my mother's corpse."

"Loethar, I don't want to play your games. I ate a biscuit, I feel ill, your mother's dead. Where is this going? You think the biscuits are poisoned? You think I killed her?"

He stared silently at her. Vyk stared intently at her too.

Valya gave a long sigh. "Loethar, please select a biscuit. Any one."

When his gaze narrowed, she sighed again. "I'll have to hurry you, my love. I really don't feel terribly well. I make no jest."

Turning and staring into the box, Loethar pointed to a biscuit.

"Roland," Valya said. "Bring me that biscuit the emperor has chosen, would you?"

The servant did as he was asked. Valya took the biscuit and very deliberately ate it. As both men watched in silence she made a show of swallowing the final morsel. "Now I shall need a drink and a rest. If I should start to foam at the mouth or suddenly writhe all over the chapel gardens, you will know I am dying from the poison that I put in the biscuits I made for you!" Her voice had turned wintry. She curtsied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my lord, I shall retire to my chambers."

Valya swept to the door, Roland only just getting there in time to open it. Silently she strode out, her head high in feigned self-righteous indignation.