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once more.

Siraay did some quick thinking. Someone had healed her. Someone who had the same gift she did. But they hadn’t wanted anyone to know who had done the healing. They had even killed Trelar to hide the fact.

But they had known enough to sneak into her rooms while her guards were close to swapping shifts.

She raised her eyes to Genlie. ‘Send word to Lord Chezran that I have awoken and am recovering quickly, but dissuade him, if you can, from coming here at this time. Explain that I will, following more rest, meet with him tomorrow.’

Genlie nodded, swallowed, and then left the room promptly.

Siraay turned her gaze on Melora. ‘It seems I have both an enemy and a saviour within the walls of this palace. And somehow, both managed to get to me without my personal guard knowing.’ She gave the female an icy look. ‘You and Genlie will stay in this room and stand watch tonight, while those two remain outside.’ She nodded her head towards the door, and Melora nodded.

‘Also, have a message sent to Archon Renhed. Let her know that I wish to see her first thing in the morning.’

Melora nodded again and then walked towards the door.

‘Oh, and have those two remove this from my room,’ Siraay ordered, waving her hand in disgust at the body still lying by her bed.

She frowned down at the dead female as Melora opened one of the doors to the room and exchanged a few quick words with the males standing outside.

How annoying, Siraay thought. Now she would have to find a new servant.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

‘YOU ASKED FOR me, lady?’

Renhed’s voice broke through Siraay’s thoughts as she stood on her balcony, observing the city which was just awakening. She turned her head slightly towards the spymaster.

‘I did. Join me outside, would you?’

The archon did, stepping out past the balcony doors, but Siraay saw her pause at the sound of the doors closing behind her and the scrape of another person’s boot on the stone.

Siraay shifted her focus back to the view before her, knowing that the spymaster was eyeing off Melora, who now stood guard on the balcony before those doors, just as Genlie stood guard on their opposite side within the room.

No one, not the spymaster, or even Chezran, would pass through those doors until Siraay had the information she needed.

She shifted now to regard the female archon, the neutral expression on the spymaster’s face well matched by the one Siraay herself wore. She knew that Renhed must know something about what had happened to her, but the female was doing an excellent job of looking innocent and curious as to why Siraay had asked her there.

There were two ways Siraay could play this. Exchange pleasantries and other small talk until she managed to cajole something out of Renhed, or use a direct approach.

She wasn’t in favour of using the first strategy—she was done with the game she had been playing with the spymaster. Done with the hints and suggestions.

‘Archon Renhed,’ she said formally, ‘I like you. I think I can help you rise to the position you once told me you desired. But to do that, I need to know who tried to kill me.’

Renhed opened her mouth to respond, but Siraay raised a hand to stop her.

‘Wait. I need to explain something to you first. You know what I’m after here. And I need to make that happen soon. But I also need to deal with an enemy who can apparently reach me in my quarters with poison. So my patience, therefore, is very limited right now.’ Siraay twisted away from the spymaster, looking back out to the horizon, her calm countenance underscoring her words better than any glare or threatening tone could. ‘So I ask you not to test my patience today, because the consequences’—she peered over the balcony railing, eyeing the drop to the ground below before turning back to Renhed—‘could be severe.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Tell me what you know about who tried to kill me, so I don’t have to tell Lord Chezran why I lost my temper with one of his archons.’

The spymaster’s expression hadn’t altered during this short speech, but she had grown still. Not that she had been moving beforehand, but it was as if any looseness in her body had evaporated, leaving a listening stone in its wake.

Siraay was still too, knowing that this was the moment where she would either gain the complete confidence of the spymaster, or have to utilise her sevonix form and eliminate the archon altogether.

Either way, she would leave this balcony with either a solid ally or one less obstacle.

She was ready for both outcomes, her mind already stroking awake that inner core of power. She didn’t know what the archon’s other form might be, but Siraay strongly doubted it would be a match for her sevonix.

And because she was tapped into her power just enough to have enhanced her hearing, she heard Renhed’s breathing drop to a deeper breath just before she began speaking.

‘I respect your strength. And, if you keep your end of our original agreement, then I will tell you all I know.’

Siraay gave a curt nod, deciding to stall any further action for the moment.

Renhed smiled, seemingly satisfied with her safety. ‘I had my people look into the poisoned drink. Who was in the kitchens at the time, who touched the platter from the moment it entered the palace to the moment it came to your door. I questioned a lot of people, and found out that only those who should have been in the kitchens at the time were there, and I know that none of the servants there would risk their position, or their life, by poisoning you.’

Siraay exhaled through her nose, frowning at the spymaster. If that’s all the archon would have Siraay believe she knew—

But the spymaster raised a hand, forestalling any judgement. ‘So I looked at it a different way and questioned the

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