Poison by Megan Derr

had likely tried to murder the White Eagle—but who, and why? She was an old woman and well-liked. Was it related to the ceremony, or personal?
    Personal made more sense, since everyone stood to lose if the ceremony failed. Unless, of course, it was Pozhar all over again and somebody benefited if the Ceremony failed. But he could not believe that of Verde, not when they had always worked so hard for what the other countries had worked against. But, there was no point in theorizing before he had more information. Best to look around the estate as well as the temple where the murder took place and see if that turned up anything. Then he would speak with Lady Elianne's family. If it was a personal matter, they were the likeliest source of the culprit.
    If not family, he would move on to colleagues. Outside in the pavilion, Ailill climbed back into his carriage and ordered the driver to take him home. Leaning back in his seat, propping one ankle on the opposite knee and bracing his chin in one hand, he stared out the window, lost in thought.
    Depending on how he traveled, based on what Freddie and Gael had told him, it would take two to three days to reach the estate. He would prefer to reach it in two, but there was no telling how long his investigation would take. Best to pack thoroughly and spend the extra day on the road, though he was not looking forward to being trapped in his carriage for so long.
    Sighing, he waited impatiently for them to arrive home, all but throwing himself out of the carriage when they finally arrived. Bursting through the front door, he immediately headed for the stairs.
    His butler chased after him. "Your grace—"
    "I am going on a trip, and I must leave at once. I will be gone several days, at the very least. If I am to be more than a month, I will send word," Ailill said, cutting him off. "If anyone inquires, tell them you know nothing about it, and I'll return when I return. Where—"
    "You have a guest, your grace."
    Ailill shook his head, but reached reflexively for the calling card presented to him on a silver salver. He motioned impatiently. "I don't have time for a guest. Send whoever it is away and tell them I will see them when I return in a few days."
    "Yes, your grace."
    "Where do we keep the trunks? I need a small one to hold clothes and such for at least a week."
    "I will have something suitable brought out of storage, your grace," the butler murmured and slipped away back down the stairs as they reached the top.
    Ailill stood in the hallway a moment trying to sort his thoughts. Pack. Would it be better to go on ahead himself and leave his belongings to catch up to him later? Yes, that idea had merit. Then he could leave straightaway and trust the packing to Andre. That sounded shockingly noble-like—perhaps he would adjust to being one yet.
    That reminded him of the guest his butler had mentioned. Who would bother to come visit him? One of the Beasts perhaps? Oh, he supposed it might be Verenne; he really should finally go see her, as she was the only other Beast he had known before he left. Well, that could wait until he got back. Ailill resumed walking toward his bedroom to speak with Andre before he left and glanced down reflexively at the calling card as he went to tuck it away—then froze midstep, nearly losing his balance.
    Ivan Mikhailovich Kozlov, Duke of Vaklov
    The Duke of Vaklov? That was the title of the Minister of Magic, wasn't it? Why would whoever had been given that Duchy when the Minister was arrested be visiting him? Why would any of the nobility from Pozhar be paying him call? The only people he knew in Pozhar were Ivan and his men ...
    He glanced at the name again. Ivan Mikhailovich Kozlov .  Ivan. That was too much coincidence. But surely not? Was it possible?
    "Wait!" Ailill bellowed as he turned and bolted back down the stairs. "Wait!" he called again, stopping his butler right as he opened the door to the front parlor and nearly knocking his head against