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Keilor crossed his arms and waited. He was not the only one tired of murder attempts centering on his wife. A thought struck with sudden force. “Does Rhapsody have anything to do with Yesande, Jayems?” He shook his head, answering his own question. “Of course not. She would not approve a strike against her own daughter, or would she?” he asked, leveling a questioning look at his cousin.

“Who can say now? ‘The dead are notoriously tight lipped’,” Jayems said, quoting a grisly proverb. “A search of her rooms revealed nothing, not that I thought it would, considering how our luck has been running.”

He put his fists on his desk and leaned forward, allowing his loose hair to fall forward, concealing his face. &ldqu