“Poisoning—like we thought. It was fast-acting, which means she consumed it in the tent. Traces were found in her mouth and on her lips, but not in her stomach.”
I frowned. “You were right. It was absorbed through the skin then?”
He nodded.
“So we’re thinking it was probably a rival baker who did it? With the tea?”
Peter shrugged and leaned close again. “Coroner said tea was the only thing in her stomach. Her daughters told the truth—she hadn’t had anything else to eat or drink this morning before she died.”
I bit my lip, thinking it over. “So it had to be the tea.” I tipped my head to the side. “But if that’s the case, why wasn’t anyone else poisoned? The palace servant poured from the same pot to everyone, and if the killer poisoned the mug, how could they have known which mug would go to Polly?” I frowned. “Unless it was the servant who did it. But Daisy cleared him, and besides, what motive could he have?”
Peter nodded. “I agree it’s much more likely to have been one of the rival bakers. Russo did some digging. Apparently, Mimi Moulin actually took Polly to court years ago over the sourdough bread starter she claimed Polly had stolen. The court was going to test samples of Mimi’s and of Polly’s. Since Mimi had been in business for decades before Polly came along, if the starters were determined to be identical, Polly would likely have lost. But according to court records, Polly pushed Mimi’s buttons in court and triggered Mimi to shift into a squirrel. The judge threw out the case.”
“Wow. Just because Mimi had revealed herself to be a shifter?” I huffed. “Typical.”
Peter nodded. “I don’t agree with the judge’s call, but it certainly gives Mimi a strong motive. Plus, it was bread day in the competition. Maybe she couldn’t stand to see Polly competing with her recipe.”
I considered it. “She might have snapped because of the competition, sure, but it seems odd after so many years that she’d—” I stopped midsentence as my gaze landed on a familiar face.
Neo, a kid I’d grown up with in the orphanage, stood among the crowd. I rolled my eyes at how much hair potion he must have to use every night to get it as slicked back as it was. He shifted from foot to foot, glancing around, sharp jaw set. I narrowed my eyes—he seemed agitated. And what was he doing at a shifters’ rights rally?
Though he was a shifter, he basically worked for the king of keeping shifters oppressed. Whatever camaraderie we’d once had, had evaporated as far as I was concerned when Neo decided to work for Ludolf.
The two goons he managed stood behind him—Sacha, a huge bald brute who was always surprisingly gentlemanly to me, and Viktor, a wiry, tattooed dude who reminded me of a live wire, always moving and twitching and giggling. I curled my lip. Again—what was this gang doing at a rally for shifters’ rights? Had Ludolf sent them to report back to him, or had they actually come in support of Sam?
Doubtful.
And then I spotted another man beside them. One who made my stomach fill with icy-cold dread. It felt as though time slowed down. I didn’t know his name, but he’d been in Ludolf’s lair. He was a lion shifter, one of the mob boss’s personal guards. Ludolf had sicced him on me once, in lion form, and I’d felt like prey.
My breath stopped as the lion shifter drew his wand. I followed the direction he was pointing it—at Sam Snakeman. No. The rush of noise from the crowd dampened, my own heartbeat hammering in my ears. I had to do something.
Ludolf benefitted from shifters being oppressed. He only had power because we’d been driven underground, forced to go to him for jobs and loans and housing and any semblance of protection or justice, flawed as it was. Of course he wouldn’t want Sam and his message to succeed.
I knew Sam would never hear my voice out of the many in the crowd if I shouted a warning. I had no magic to amplify my voice. And so, in a split-second decision, I cupped my hands to the sides of my mouth and shouted at Sam as loudly as I could—in snake. “Ssss hiss!” Sam! Get down!
10
CHAOS AT THE CASTLE
The sound of Sam Snakeman’s native tongue must have cut through the din of voices, because he turned my way, his pale eyes wide behind his glasses. It seemed to take forever for my words to sink in, but suddenly he dropped down, disappearing behind the podium.
A moment later, a flash of acidic yellow light whizzed over the heads of the crowd and crashed into the podium. The wood exploded into thousands of splinters. People screamed, the police shouted orders, and hundreds of spectators threw themselves to the ground as another flash of light exploded against the stage.
As everyone around me dropped flat on their bellies, I stood, shocked. It’d worked. Sam had heard me and ducked… but where was he? Palace guards with their golden lances ushered the royal group back inside the gates, to safety. Amelia, the woman in white from the competition, and a dark-haired guy with a goatee fought against them, shouting for Sam even as the guards pushed them inside the gates.
Across the field of prone bodies, the lion shifter, alongside Neo and the boys, turned to face me. The lion’s lips peeled back in a sneer, and though I wanted to disappear, I squared my shoulders, plastered on a huge grin, and waved.
The tall dude’s expression darkened, and he pointed his wand at me just as a warm hand clapped around my shoulder and dragged me to the ground. Peter hugged me close to his chest and rolled us to our sides, shielding me with his body.
I lifted my head and peeked over his broad shoulder. Shouts sounded as the police
