Edward pushed past the soldiers, his boots striking the marble floor as he knelt down.
Chief Warren's wife clutched her husband's shoulders, shaking him desperately, her sobs tearing through the stunned silence of the hall. Edward's eyes dropped to the man's limp hand. The fingernails bore a faint, unnatural purple hue.
"Poison…" he muttered under his breath.
The wife was still trying to shake the man awake, but the truth was undeniable. The Chief was already gone.
Edward rose, his gaze sweeping across the hall, sharp and searching. Dozens of faces stared back at him—nobles, merchants, priests, soldiers, servants. Anyone in this room could have slipped something into the chief's goblet.
Who? When?
His jaw tightened as questions spiralled in his head.
Moving swiftly to the nearest soldier, he pulled a token from his coat and pressed it into the man's palm. "The chief has been poisoned. Secure the area. Don't let anyone out."