Descendant of the Crane(26)

“I do.” The representative projected like an opera singer. “The murder of the king concerns the entire kingdom. I dare not put my own interests first.”

The court clapped, as if he’d done the honorable thing, sacrificed his ticket past the preliminary round of the civil service exams for the truth.

“I’m going to vomit,” said Lilian.

Hesina wasn’t far behind. She swallowed the taste of breakfast—pickled daikon—then opened her eyes to watch Akira ascend the dais.

“Closing remarks?” asked the director, turning as Akira walked behind him.

“Yes.” Akira spun with him like a tail to a cat, eliciting gasps when he clapped the director’s back. The man froze, slack-jawed, allowing Akira to point at the list of witnesses he clutched. “Can I see this maid you have listed?”

The director’s jaw snapped shut. “Insolence!” he cried, jerking away from Akira and straightening his robes.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

The director grumbled, then waved a hand at the doors. The guards opened them for a servant, clad in a cream ruqun, the hydrangea-blue sleeve cuffs denoting her as a lady-in-waiting. She floated down the walk, head high as she entered the witness box.

“Repeat your account to the plaintiff’s representative,” ordered the director.

“I was cleaning my lady’s vanity four days ago when I came across her powder,” began the maid. “The top of the box hadn’t been properly replaced. I was about to close it when I realized the color of the powder was off.”

“How did you know the color of the powder was off?” asked Akira, leaning an elbow against the witness box.

The lady-in-waiting regarded him as she might a roach in her rice congee. “Because she uses it every single day.”

Akira gestured at Rou. “And would her son be able to confirm the color of this powder?”

“Men wouldn’t know such things,” sniffed the lady-in-waiting. “At first, I thought my lady had simply switched powders, even though it didn’t make much sense. This new powder didn’t match her skin tone. Then I heard the Investigation Bureau was looking for anything suspicious. I remembered the color change and brought the box of powder to them.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” said Akira.

“Desist from the commentary,” snapped the director. “Questions only.”

“Understood. Wait. Er…forgive me?” Akira faced the lady-in-waiting. “By all means, will you please go on?”

Lilian held back a snort.

“The Bureau had the Imperial Doctress examine the powder,” said the lady-in-waiting primly. “She said it was poison.”

The court fractured with voices, and Hesina’s throat filled with shards. She didn’t always agree with the Imperial Doctress, but she trusted the woman’s loyalty. If the Doctress deemed the powder poisonous, then it very well was. Golden mist or not, planted or not, poison was poison. They’d found a hole, all right, and they’d fallen straight into it.

“May I inspect this powder box myself?” asked Akira.

Before the lady-in-waiting could speak, the director inclined his head to the imperial balcony. “My queen,” he said. “I believe your representative doesn’t understand the rules.”

Then he turned to Akira. “Boy, your job is to represent the queen and the queen alone. You’ve convicted the murderer and won the case. When the preliminary rounds open with the new year, you’ll be exempt—”

“Director Lang.” Hesina’s voice drew the heat of every gaze. She tried not to shrivel like a sprout under the sun. “My representative has the right to examine any evidence that is listed.”

The court muttered.

It’s never been done before, Caiyan had said.

But neither had an investigation into the king’s murder.

Neither had the use of a convict as a representative.

Hesina stood. Everyone in the court rushed to stand with her. She pretended they were her warriors, even if they were just following etiquette.

“The box,” she ordered the director.

The director flung out a hand. “The box!”

A page carried a gilded tray to Akira, who lifted a small, ceramic box from it.

“Does the consort have any other boxes like this?” he asked the lady-in-waiting as he flipped open the top.

“No. This is her only box of powder.”

Akira sniffed the powder, then swiped a finger through it. “Who said this was poison?”

“I did,” muttered the Imperial Doctress from the opposing witness box.

“Can you describe the properties?”

“The powder comes from the desiccated root of jinsuo.” The Doctress sounded as though she’d much rather be in the infirmary, tinkering over her tinctures. “The plant flourishes only in dry, hot conditions. In the context of our kingdom, that means it’s found along certain sections of the Yan-Kendi’a borderlands. If taken with a water-based substance, immediate, painless death is guaranteed.”

“And in its dry form?”

“Not poisonous but sure to burn skin through prolonged contact. So I’d suggest wiping that finger.”

Do what the Doctress says, Hesina mentally ordered, irritated when Akira did not.