“I had a special morning tonic from Illan. I’ll eat once my stomach settles.”
Astrid’s face scrunched up in distaste. “I’ve drunk those too and I do not envy you. I swear that man keeps the medicine vile to scare us into staying healthy. Not that we get sick often, but you know what I mean.”
Becka smiled and nodded. The fact that she and her Aunt Astrid could sit together on this couch exchanging pleasantries continued to surprise her. Over four months, she’d gone from outcast to heir. Ungifted to uniquely gifted.
What might the next four months bring?
“What’s that book?” Astrid asked.
Becka looked at Astrid, trying to get a feel for whether she wanted a detailed answer or if she was just making small talk. By the rapt interest in her expression, Becka decided it was the former. “It’s a Shadow-Dweller artifact. With my gift, I’m able to see messages. I’ve been trying to figure out its purpose.”
Astrid’s expression turned grave. “Surely any gains are not worth the risk to study such a dark tome?”
Becka shrugged. Compared to the prospect of being poisoned again, she preferred the book. Perhaps it reminded her of studying for classes, but it felt good to have a book in her hands again.
“For good or bad, I’m becoming accustomed to risk.”
Astrid’s brow furrowed. “A product of the unfortunate twists and turns in the path your life has taken. I don’t envy you.”
Quinn came over and leaned against the wall near the end of Becka’s couch.
“Brent, can your guards keep a steady stream of people queued up?” Hamish asked.
“We’re on it. Start when you’re ready.” Brent left the room, closing the door behind him.
Astrid stood up and walked over to Caeda, who stood next to the chair.
“Are you ready to start?” Astrid asked.
“We are, Lady Astrid. Would you like to be the first to give it a whirl?”
“I’ll even insist upon it.” Astrid sat in the chair, her movements graceful and elegant. “So, you know, I plan to remain for some time to ensure your questions do not cross the line of good taste.”
Caeda picked up a loose cap attached to a tether and walked behind Astrid. “We welcome your oversight. You won’t feel anything from this neural cap,” she added, gently arranging the cap over Astrid’s head. The display on the front of the machine lit up with waves of pulsing colors.
“How do you interpret the patterns?” Becka asked them.
“We take months of classes,” Hamish answered. “But it boils down to catching blips in the flow, or abrupt or incongruous color shifts. It sounds easy, but there’s a lot of finesse.”
“People have a strong sense of self,” Quinn said. “Lies run counter to our internal narrative. We invent explanations and narratives to cover them up, but the patterns are still there, if you’re trained to see them.”
“Unless they’re a psychopath. Then the lies wouldn’t bother them,” Becka said.
“We have other ways of identifying those traits,” Quinn replied.
“Besides,” Astrid said. “Fae don’t have the mental weaknesses humans do.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Becka replied. “Our genetics are part fae and part human. There’s no proof that our magical gifts have fundamentally changed how our minds work. I took a comparative anatomy class my sophomore year, and although functional MRIs are different between the species, there’s no significant difference between hominid brain structures.”
Astrid frowned. “I do not understand some of the terminology you are using, but I think I have the spirit of it. You learned some odd things at that city school.”
“Right.” Caeda smiled. “May we begin, Lady?”
“You may proceed.” Waves of tranquil blues and greens circulated on the display, creating a meditative and relaxing pattern.
Becka opened the book to a random page, resting it across her lap. Quinn glanced at her, but his attention was on the enforcers and their work. Between the two of them, she knew Quinn would listen for whether Astrid’s words were true, and Becka would watch the book. Not that she doubted Astrid, but it was an interesting exercise.
Caeda and Hamish focused on the interrogator, and no doubt all three enforcers had also been trained on reading suspect behavior. Glancing around the room, she again noticed a pair of shifter guards, no doubt there for their ability to read emotion off others’ scents.
She’d furthermore refer to this process as the gauntlet of truth, Becka decided, chuckling to herself.
This brought the three enforcers’ attention to her, but she waved them off.
Hamish cleared his throat. “Please answer the questions directly and to the best of your ability. It’s fine to answer with yes, no, or unsure. You’re also welcome to elaborate if you want to, but it’s not required. And ask us to repeat questions if you’re unclear.”
“I understand.” A deep blue washed across the monitor before the colors flowed back to the light greens and blues.
“Do you dislike Lady Becka?” Hamish asked.
“No.” A pink thread flowed across the monitor and then disappeared.
“Do you have larkspur, in any form, within your possession?”
She frowned, but the colors didn’t change. “No, not to my knowledge.”
“Did you poison Lady Becka?”
Red threads invaded the pulses of color. “Of course not!”
Becka watched the pages of the book, which felt heavier than usual against her lap. The squiggles moved with intensity.
“Have you assisted anyone who you think might harbor ill will against Lady Becka?”
“I would never do such a thing.” Redder, and more pink this time, but the transitions were fluid.
“Do you suspect anyone of poisoning Lady Becka?”
Astrid frowned. “Well, yes. I suspect most everyone.”
Becka looked to the tome under her fingers. The squiggles weren’t just a word repeated, but a series of definite words. They read: Astrid’s loyalty is absolute; protects you; protects family.
That seemed crystal clear.
Hamish shook his head. “Is there anyone you feel we should focus on?”
“I trust you will root them out on your own. No doubt my personal grudges wouldn’t aid your process.”
The screen was smooth as
