Pirne's eyes bulged in outrage, but before he could speak, Lethe thrust out a hand to silence him. Her eyes were not so settled in her face now that Skandra took note of it, and it made her look like a very surprised opossum just then. Before she could say anything else Skandra decided it was time to speak up, lest this turn into a shouting match between siblings. Ithacles seemed to be the only one keeping sight of the actual problem - Lethe was hung up on something that Skandra didn't dare address.
He liked his head where it was, pretty and all.
"These are matters of procedure," Skandra interjected quickly. "We're all here talking about a fellow who sold his loyalty to someone, or was going to, and we all want to pretend that protocol is going to save the day. Maybe it will and maybe it won't, but if there are ten chances to save your father's life, shouldn't we use all ten?"
"This isn't some dice game in one of your urine-soaked taverns," Lethe spat by way of reply. "There are no chances. There is a right way and a wrong way to conduct an investigation of this magnitude!"
"I don't think this is a dice game," Skandra stood up - and Pirne came out of his chair, as did Alvon. "We're talking about the life of your father, woman! Maybe you don't think a fellow like me could be loyal, but Ithunvel's treated me decent when he never had a reason to. What are you really worried about-"
"Enough!" Alvon bellowed.
"-Ithunvel's life, or your power?" Skandra raised his voice to be heard over her Chancellor. "I suppose we're all lucky that you don't have more to gain from a dead man!"
Pirne made to come around the table with a snarl on his face - but Alvon caught the burly king's man by his shoulder and held fast. No one in the room was more barrel-chested than the old bastard. If he wanted you to stay where you were, you were going to stay there. Skandra had a knife hidden in his hand anyway, just in case Pirne managed to break free of that iron grip. Pirne's face was red, coated in rage. Skandra gave him a wide-toothed grin.
That mother fucker.
"All of this," Lethe's voice was thin, but iron all the same. "Is moot. By order of the king you are all forbidden to investigate this matter any further. You will not be admitted to the holding cells. You will not be allowed to speak with the prisoner. And if you are apprehended in the commission of a crime - whether pursuing this investigation or not - you will find the stockade rather inhospitable."
That predator's gaze moved from Skandra to Ithacles without a single blink.
"That goes for everyone. Heir! The king sees things as I do, and you should remember that when you try. Try. To use your rank for something other than bedding some country trollop."
If a stare could have thrown knives and swung maces, he was fairly certain that Ithacles would have bludgeoned his sister to death. Lethe did not see the stare. She was out of the room before Skandra could suck in an angry breath - which he planned on using to call her a whore, or some other foul name - and he was left staring at Pirne. Who was now smiling. Skandra's grin remained fixed in place. Those urine-soaked tavern games taught you when it was time to bluff, and it was time.