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set the library on fire, Leonidas disappeared, and Alex assumed his former tutor had been the spy. But now Leonidas’s body has been recovered. He had wronged his former tutor by thinking he was the traitor in the council.
    His glance falls on Theopompus, his full rosy cheeks, his hair sparkling with gold dust. A man who lives well, swirling in bejeweled robes, enjoying the finest food and wine, the owner of luxurious estates... And yet the origin of his wealth is a mystery. He was an actor’s son with winning ways who worked his way up in Philip’s diplomatic service.
    Alex’s gaze slides to Hagnon’s pursed lips and darting eyes. He’s a known miser reputed to have hoards of treasure hidden in the walls of his houses even though he was born a sandal-maker’s son. If he is hiding treasure, where did it come from?
    He studies Gordias, his thin eyelids fluttering a bit as he naps. The ancient minister of religion is known to live frugally and devote himself to honoring the gods. But wouldn’t that be the best cover of all?
    A memory comes to him. A rumor. A story that Philip had forced Gordias’s beloved granddaughter to go to bed with him and when she discovered she was pregnant, Olympias poisoned and killed her. It could be possible the old priest seeks revenge...
    If only he could figure out how to enter someone’s mind at will to see their past the way he just entered Hagnon’s thoughts to persuade him. But the Sight has always come at random moments and it isn’t coming now. Perhaps he could try to make it come... But no, he is too exhausted from his experience with the finance minister to try anything else.
    Kadmus brings the conversation back to reinforcing the defense of Pella, and Alex is glad to hear the general speak so sensibly. Lean, alert, and serious, Kadmus has been the only council member to take Alex’s side again and again since he was appointed regent. But how much does Alex know about him? He’s...what? Twenty-five? He rose quickly in Philip’s army to become the youngest general. But the king snubbed him by taking an older general, Parmenion, to Byzantium. Would he want to avenge himself on Philip for that? And didn’t Alex hear some story about Kadmus visiting family members in Persian territory a few years ago?
    Who is the traitor? The idea of a betrayer so close at hand is deeply unsettling. But equally disturbing is the simple fact of not knowing. It undermines everything. It leaves him reeling with distraction and uncertainty, when he should be focused and fierce. The question doesn’t leave Alex’s mind even after the council adjourns for the day.
    As the men amble out of the chamber, Heph approaches him, his face cold. “May I have a word.”
    A wave of irritation floods Alex—he doesn’t have the patience for another one of Heph’s jealous complaints. But the look on Heph’s face erases that annoyance instantly. Something terrible has happened. He doesn’t need the ability to see into men’s minds to know that.
    * * *
    Fury roils in Alex like white foam on a violent river as he thunders across a field on Bucephalus’s back. After Heph finished what he had to say, Alex wished fervently it had been a jealous accusation instead of the murder of Kat’s entire foster family in Erissa. At the hands of his own mother. He wanted to see Kat right away, but Heph told him he’d given her some poppy juice in wine to make her sleep. And of course he couldn’t confront his mother, because she has yet to return to the palace. He had been concerned about her disappearance—now he knows where she went, but not why.
    High up on his favorite stallion, Alex feels strong and perfectly formed; he doesn’t have to worry that his limp is showing. On and on he rides, muscle and sweat and wind, hoping to drive away all the worry and frustration. But they don’t leave him.
    By the time he’s