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I walked beside Ilya Terr, my hand resting in his. The dress rustled with every step, shockingly light for all its glory. The gift from Quill sat in the slim pocket of the skirt, just small and light enough to fit with the handkerchief. Elves and Angari trailed behind us like the tail of a great beast. We followed the steward as he led us down through the Palace of Spires toward the River Esplanade.

The steward announced us on the stairs and the crowd roared with enthusiasm that made me think they’d already partaken deeply of the wine.

It was a splendid place for a party. Tiered balconies dripped from the palace walls and leaned out over the river in the places where the esplanade narrowed. Bridges spanned between the palaces at either end of the esplanade. There were tables spread with food and people everywhere already eating and drinking. There was another esplanade across the river which looked equally full of revelers.

We descended the stairs, and the crowd cleared an open space for us. No one gasped when we got closer. No one shouted, “That’s not the Countess!” Quiet fell, and everyone watched us expectantly.

We stopped in the center of the open space and faced each other. Ilya Terr’s hand settled on my waist and we began the first steps of the wedding dance in the silence. Music started, softly at first but then building strength in time with our steps. I let myself sink into the dance, letting my subconscious manage the movements. I was afraid if I paid attention my body would forget, and I would falter. With each spin I scanned the faces on the edge of the crowd, then returned my gaze to the elf lord. I saw Adorjan Bulgar, nymphs from Azulimar, Menrellos of Daiesen, and Eliah, looking serious as she watched.

The music came to a crescendo and Ilya Terr spun me one last time, pulling me into his arms as the last notes died. He kissed my hand in the moment of silence that followed. “My lady,” he bowed.

Music was starting again, and others moved onto the dance floor. Elves and humans alike tossed smiles at us as they lined up to dance. These dances were more slow and methodical, as delicate and beautiful to watch as they were soothing the dance. We stayed for two more dances before breaking away and going to pay our respects at the dais where the kings and queens sat. I did not dare to meet Prince Domonkos’s eye at all. Wisely or not, trading places with the Countess hadn’t exactly been spread around, and I felt the thinness of the ruse acutely.  

Ilya must’ve felt the tension through my hand, because he steered us away as soon as King Istvan and King Keleman nodded their greetings.

“Where to now?” asked Ilya softly.

“You don’t know?” If he didn’t know, this day might be memorable for gross disregard of protocol.

Ilya smiled, “We are free to celebrate for a time before we sit down for the ceremonial first meal. Where should we fish for assassins?”

I glanced back at the dance floor and then turned us toward the edges of the esplanade. I was hungry and would prefer the tables of food as a hunting ground, but… “In the dark places.”

“Countess.”

I turned and a middle-aged lord I didn’t recognize was standing a few feet away. “Grofne,” I said.

“May I speak with you a moment?” He glanced at Ilya, “Alone.”

I exchanged a quick look with Ilya and then said, “Of course.” Leaving Ilya behind I followed the lord a short distance away toward the riverbank. He stopped at the railing and I joined him, facing the river. The Juni was busy today, full of boats and people using the wedding as a chance for a party. I could feel her pleasure even without touching her. She was so inviting I stuck my hands in the thin pockets of the gown to ensure I didn’t reach for her.

For a long moment, the lord said nothing. Then he said, “Have you considered my letter?”

I had no idea which letter he was referring to, but it was a safe bet he hadn’t been writing to support the treaty. Taking on the Countess’s voice, I replied, “I believe this treaty is the best thing for Angareth.”

He nodded, unsurprised, his mouth a grim line. “Walk with me.” Turning he began to stroll along the river. I followed. “I cannot fathom how an intelligent woman such as yourself can embrace the idea that handing one of our strongholds to the elves is not treachery,” his tone was deceptively mild, considering his words, “I would not have taken you for an elf-lover.” His eyes flicked over my shoulder to where Ilya trailed us at a careful distance.

“What beautiful words on my wedding day,” I remarked coldly. The esplanade narrowed here, and the balconies overhead reached almost to the river, enveloping us in noonday shade. We were quite apart from the crowds, most everyone clustered around the tables of food and the dancing in the wide center.

The lord stopped walking and turned to face me, his arms at his sides. He looked stone-faced. “I am not a violent man.”

Lightning jolted through my veins. Peaceful people didn’t need to say things like that.

“But I will do whatever is necessary to protect Angareth.” He lunged at me, knife flashing in his hand.

I reacted on instinct, stepping into the hammer blow, my arms coming up to deflect and then twist to gain control of the knife-arm. Thrown off balance, the lord recoiled in shock—his weight enough that we both stumbled. The hoops bucked as our bodies lurched, but I had locked my elbow above his and had his upper arm trapped, the knife useless behind my back.

“Elven whore!” cursed the lord. He swung his other hand at my face. I turned my head away and his hand struck the spikes of the headdress. He cursed and the headdress twisted painfully.

And then he went to his knees with a gasp.

Ilya stood behind him, his hands clenched, his golden face the image of an angry god. “Count Jozzi.”

“Take the knife,” I snapped.

Stepping around Count Jozzi and the hoopskirt, Ilya pried the knife out of the lord’s fingers. The Count resisted, but I squeezed his trapped arm, putting pressure on his elbow and shoulder until he cried out and released the knife. Ilya held the knife aloft by two fingers as if it were contaminated. He was furious. The knife was curved and inlaid with an oak leaf motif. Obviously elven.

The sound of booted feet running announced the arrival of Druskin and another guard. “Count Jozzi!” exclaimed Druskin. “What have you done?”

“What you should have done if you had any honor in you!” The Count’s face was red with fury and, I thought, embarrassment, for his failure. He struggled and I squeezed again. He cried out and struck again for my face with his bloodied hand, but Druskin caught his other arm.

I looked at Druskin. “Take him away.”

More people were looking our way, now, and I could feel the storm of human emotion as whispers started. I released the Count’s arm and he thrashed at me as I stepped away, his face contorted into something ugly. Druskin caught his other arm and pulled it behind him roughly.

“You will doom Angareth!” the Count’s voice rose and cracked.

Druskin hauled him backwards and the other guard stepped in to take over.

I walked away from the Count, toward the river, as if I couldn’t hear him as he struggled, yelling curses until someone silenced him. I stopped at the rail and looked out at the boats calmly, well aware of the eyes of the nobles on me. More guards were converging behind me, and I thought it was only a matter of time before lords and ladies in turn converged on me. I didn’t want that. Someone was bound to notice I wasn’t Adelheid Wuhn.

Ilya stepped close to me. “Are you alright?”

Gingerly, I touched the headdress. Its pins pulled painfully at my hair. I winced. “Yes…Did he break anything on the headdress? Is it bloody? Fornern’s fists, it feels all wrong now.”

Ilya’s lips twitched. “It felt right before?”

I made a face at him. “It felt better.”

Leaning in, Ilya examined the spikes of the headdress without touching either it or me. “There might be blood,” he said after a pause. “But you’d have to look for it.”

“Grofnu!” Brell emerged from party and hurried toward us.

I turned away from the river and walked to meet her, Ilya a step behind me. “The headdress needs re-pinning,” I said, relieved to have an excuse to get away from the hungry gaze of the nobility.

“Come with me,” said Brell, she cast a look at the guards who were now bustling away with a limp Count carried between them, then turned resolutely back toward the party.

*

There were screened alcoves nestled against the palace like pearls against a shell. Potted plants and chairs made each a pleasant little escape for anyone who wanted a break from the party. Or anyone who had to have their headdress repined because someone very committed to his misguided cause had tried to kill her in broad daylight mere yards from witnesses. Brell led me to an alcove and quickly tucked me inside, shooing Ilya Terr away with a hiss that it wouldn’t be proper for him to join us.

“I can’t believe Count Jozzi did that,” said Brell, positioning me by a footstool so she could stand over me and begin pulling out all the headdress pins. “Even if he had succeeded, he would never have gotten away.”

“He never intended to get away,” I said. He had led me away from the crowd but hadn’t taken any action until he’d seen Ilya was also away from the crowd. And he’d used an elven dagger. “He was going to kill me and then himself and hope it all got pinned on Ilya Terr.” No one had been paying close attention, it was easy enough to imagine Ilya Terr bending over both bodies with the bloodied knife in his hand by the time anyone turned to look. A desperate plan, but a devastating one if it had succeeded.

Brell’s fingers paused as she digested this, “Is it over, then?”

“No.” I closed my eyes. “He was not the assassin Hadella hired.”

Brell adjusted the headdress and began pinning again in silence.

I kept my eyes closed, listening to the music, the party behind the screen walls, and the Juni beyond. They had plenty to talk about. Rumors swirling from the river edge all through the crowd about a scuffle by the river and then someone being removed by the guards. Such a turmoil of souls. I didn’t know how the Countess could stand gatherings like this with a Seer’s gift of sight.

Brell stepped away. “I’m going to need more pins…that will be faster than re-doing your hair entirely.”

“I’ll be here,” I said, not bothering to open my eyes. I heard Brell leave in a rustle of silk and I immediately wished I had asked her how to sit down in the hooped skirts. I was reasonably sure it was possible, but the low chair in the alcove didn’t look like it was going to be a modest option. I slipped my hand into my pocket and closed my finger around the folding knife from Quill. I wondered where he was. I hadn’t seen him on the esplanade at all, though I supposed there were tiers of balconies to patrol. He wouldn’t be far away. You are not allowed to die. How strange to have survived so much, spent so much time doing dangerous work on opposite sides of the continent, to be so frightened for one another on a job. As if time had finally eroded away the thick veneer of bravado and we were left only with the truth between us.

My senses tingled at the same moment I felt my skirts shift. I was spinning, the dwarven knife flashing in my hand before I formed conscious thought. A man in a smooth black mask blocked the blow, the shock reverberating through our forearms as he struck with his other hand.

*

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The steward directed the train a short distance down a hallway to a series of chambers where the party could change for the next thing—which was a presentation to the crowd outside and the signing of the treaty. There was no time to go all the way back to the Palace of Domes. Everyone split into predetermined groups to quickly change clothes and paint everyone’s faces gold. Brell, Karolya and I headed to curtained off alcove with the Countess.

Ilya Terr slipped in with us, and pulled the Countess close. He lifted his hands to cup her face, smudging the gold paint.

“My lord!” exclaimed the Countess in protest.

“Now for an elven tradition,” he grinned at her and then bent his neck and kissed her.

Her hands fluttered like startled birds and then came to rest on Ilya’s forearms as she melted into him.

Brell watched with open glee. Karolya quickly busied herself with the row of dresses the servants had laid out. Smiling to myself, I toed off my slippers and started unlacing the purple gown. Karolya’s eyes went wide when she noticed me disrobing while a male was still in the room—never mind the base layers and the fact that Ilya Terr was very much occupied.

I double checked my knives, Shiharr and Azzad were strapped to my thighs today—the only place they could be hidden with the dresses we had. I had a stiletto snug between my breasts and a brooch that was a push dagger in disguise. This morning I had briefly looked for a way to strap throwing knives around my waist like some sort of corset, but it got too bulky too quickly. It’s not as if we’d had time to alter the Countess’s gown to fit me and my knives. More’s the pity, it would’ve been good armor. When I finished checking the buckles, Brell handed me a soft wet cloth to wash my face clean. When I’d mostly removed the white paint, she was waiting with the skeletal hooped underskirt. I stepped into it and she lifted it till I was in a weird birdcage of ribbon and reeds from the waist down.

As she laced the skirt she said, “The hoopskirts are part of the wedding and coronation dresses—they are so much lighter than layers of petticoats that would be needed for the gowns.”

I looked over at the red dress that Karolya was gathering into her arms. “I can only imagine.”

Karolya carried the enormous pile of red cloth over and I lifted my arms. The two leanyodi lowered it over me together and carefully arranged it down over the hoopskirt until I stood inside a red mountain of gleaming, layered, silk. I stuck my hands in the slim pockets that hid in the seam from my hips, “These are entirely useless slits.”

“They are for handkerchiefs,” Karolya removed my hand and slipped a folded piece of red cloth into the pocket. “Nothing more.”

Next was the boned bodice, it’s lace and beadwork deer as exquisite as I remembered them from packing in Wuhnravinwel. Brell was almost finished lacing the back when Ilya and the Countess stepped away from one another. They looked breathless, and now they both needed their make-up re-done. Ilya Terr squeezed the Countess’s hand and stepped toward me.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, gravely.

“I am, my lord,” I replied. “Are you?”

He nodded, “As ever for war.” He bowed to me, then kissing the Countess’s hand, turned and let himself out of the curtained alcove.

Karolya hurried to start unbuttoning the Countess’s wedding gown. “He’s going to make us late,” she tutted.

“Worthwhile, though,” I said, tossing a smirk at the Countess, who was almost certainly red as my ridiculous gown underneath all that gold paint.

Brell laughed from where she’d started laying out the make-up she’d use on me. “Definitely worthwhile.”

“You would’ve both been needed for the presentation gown anyway,” said the Countess, stepping out of the wedding dress. “I don’t think it cost us anything.”

We all laughed then, and it felt almost normal.

*

Brell and Karolya worked with speed and skill to change our hair and paint—or re-paint—all our faces gold. When they were done with me, Brell pointed me at the wall mirror and said, “You are transformed.”

I looked and it took a moment to see past the extravagant dress to my painted face. My hair was entirely obscured by the woven beads that covered my head and dripped down my forehead. Kohl brought out my eyes, and Brell had dusted my cheeks and lips with a bronze that brought some dimension back to the flat gold. I wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but she’d masked the shape of my face so I liked more like the Countess. I didn’t recognize myself. Hopefully no one else would either.

The Countess, once changed, went to help Brell and Karolya into their reds, and help get their faces done a little more quickly while I walked around in the hoopskirts trying to internalize my new width. This headdress, too, was taller and more spectacular than the ones I’d worn throughout the week, with spikes representing the rays of the sun reaching skyward from the back of my head. The waterfall of beads down the sides and the back would take getting used to. I didn’t know how I was expected to hear anything over the beads.

There was a knock on the wall, and Karolya trilled, “We’re almost ready.”

The curtain shifted and Quill stepped into the alcove. He was dressed in a dark blue Magadarian suit, and he was breathtaking.

Karolya visibly swallowed her objection to his entrance and turned back to fuss with the last of Brell’s face paint. Quill nodded a greeting to the group and approached where the Countess and I stood.

“How do I look?” I asked, feeling abruptly self-conscious.

He looked over the dress and accoutrements, then scanned the paint on my face before meeting my eyes and looking at me. His lips curved up. “Important.”

I curtsied.

Quill turned to the Countess. “May I have a word with Zephra?”

“Of course,” the Countess curtsied to me, as a leanyod would, and walked away to join Brell and Karolya, deliberately turning her back to us. A semblance of privacy, at least. About as much as the Countess ever got. I did not long for this life.

Quill and I looked at each other for a long moment. Eventually he said, “In your dreams, you cannot reach your knives and you feel betrayed.”

I grimaced down at the voluminous skirts blocking my access to Shiharr and Azzad. “I know.”

He walked to me, encroaching on the dress as if he were going to dance with me. He lifted one hand and ran it along the beads of the headdress, then traced along my cheek and jaw without touching, but I felt the warmth from his fingertips like brands. I closed my eyes and my hand rose to his elbow.

“You are not allowed to die, Zare Caspian,” he said, very softly, his breath a puff on my lips.

My eyes opened, and I was looking straight into his vivid brown eyes flecked with green. There was nothing teasing or flirtatious in his face. Just the windows that went straight to his soul, serious and a little frightened. “You’re not allowed to die either,” I managed, “Quilleran Rhydderick.”

Still standing close, he took my hand, and lifted it to his lips. The kiss was tender, and filled my whole body and soul with longing. “Be cunning, be fearsome, and then come back to me.” He brushed his thumb lightly over the back of my hand, pressed something hard into my palm, and then left.

I looked down and opened my hand. It was an oblong piece of metal and bone carved with a handful of dwarven runes. I’d seen things like this before, when I’d been to Kelphas of the dwarves. I flicked my wrist and the hidden blade sprang free, gleaming and savage in the sunlight. Folding the blade back I slipped it into my pocket and smiled.

*

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The wedding sun rose golden and accompanied by appropriately decorous white clouds. We’d barely slept the night before, staying up late while I practiced mimicking the Countess’s voice and mannerism and she told me everything she could think of about what to expect from this day. I squeezed her hand before slipping out to my own chambers, and she looked at me with unguarded terror before adjusting her expression to confident reserve for the leanyod entering the room. The first hours of the morning were a blur of preparation—make up, elegant hair, and then stepping into ornate gowns and pinning beaded headdresses. Every last one of us wore a long white veil—heavily beaded across the crown of the head and then tendrils of beadwork dripped down the silk on all sides like rainwater running off a cloak. Our faces underneath were painted white, with lips, cheeks and eyelids dusted with a red powder. I assumed, however, I was the only leanyodi who’d strapped knives to her thighs and boots before donning the purple gown.

The veil was the Countess’s only Angari accoutrement for the ceremony. Her elven wedding gown skimmed down the curves of her body, each winding branch and vine stitched in the green silk flattered her in a way entirely different from the highly structured dresses she usually wore. The diamonds in the brooch from Ilya glittered at her breast even through the veil.

Everyone, from Pontikel, to Druskin and the other guards, to the leanyodi were dressed in shades of dusky purple. The colors of heather on the moors, Brell whispered to me. Pontikel carried a small, jeweled chest bearing the necessaries for the ceremony.

Everyone was ready and waiting when the Steward came to lead the train of retainers through the Palace of Domes and over the bridge to the Palace of Spires. The Countess walked in the center of the group—a wedding tradition, and also intensely practical under the circumstances. There were crowds on the banks and in boats, eager for a glimpse of the wedding train. But nothing shot at us. I could see guards on the walls of the palaces, and mixed in with the crowd. The King had likely every single guard working today. There were plenty of those inside the Palace of Spires, also, standing at all the junctions of corridors as we walked through.

Finally, we came to the grand doors to the ballroom where we’d spent so many evenings. Even through the doors, I could hear the drift of music and pressure of a room full of souls. The Steward rapped three times, and after a beat the music changed and the doors opened from the inside. We marched into the room. I’d thought the balls leading up to the wedding had been crowded, but this was much more. Was every Angari noble, least to greatest, present? I didn’t dare look up, but I could sense the crush of people in the three tiers of balconies above us.

What a performance this day would be.

I stayed close to the Countess in the middle of the leanyodi as we made our way down the center of the grand ballroom and up to the dais where the kings and queens waited. The entire party bowed deeply, and at King Keleman’s signal we moved to array ourselves at the feet of the Angari king and queen.

The music changed again and the ballroom doors opened on the procession of elves, all in the dark blues and greens of forest shade. They, too, were veiled, and the gems in the veils winked in the light as they bowed to the royals and took their place before the Terrim rulers.

Priests came forward and offered prayers to the gods, especially Tirien. The kings stood and took turns making short speeches about peace and unity and brotherhood. I scanned the crowd and stole glances up at the balconies. There were more elves here than I’d anticipated. Quill and the others would be prowling the shadows with the help of the king’s guard, hoping to catch and root out anyone who might interrupt the opening ceremonies of the wedding day. I closed my eyes beneath my veil and tried to feel the room. It felt full, and thrumming with so much anticipation it would be difficult to feel anything else.

Finally, the kings called forward Ilya Terr and Adelheid Wuhn, and they walked out of their companies, two ghosts in long veils weaving through a sea of veils to reach one another. The image was compelling. Especially when they reached each other and clasped hands like warriors glad to meet alive after a battle.

“Will you vow?” asked King Istvan Terr.

Ilya Terr folded back his veil, revealing a face painted startling red. A tremendous concession to Angari tradition, that. He handed the glittering veil backwards without looking, his eyes locked on the Countess. “I will.”

King Keleman’s voice rang out, “Will you vow?”

The Countess lifted her veil and let it drop into Karolya’s hands as she said, “I will.”

“Will you witness?” cried both kings, and the entire company of attendants replied “We will,” and removed our veils.

*

The elves were unpainted, except for the one closest to Ilya, who I thought was Mihalak. The Lord and the Countess exchanged vows of fidelity, and then Pontikel and Aurel Terr stepped out of the crowd to bring them towels and a basin, and they washed the paint off their faces before the whole crowd. I tried to watch the crowd, but kept being drawn to the scene. Red paint stained the towels, which was alarming to look at, but Ilya’s eyes were alight as he beheld the Countess without make up. It was as if he hadn’t seen her last night, or for several days on the road here, there was so much wonder in his expression.

They were presented with brushes, and little pots of silver paint, and they began to paint one another gold, the color of Tirien. It was also a symbol of two different tribes becoming one, two families becoming one. The Countess was clearly better at applying face paint than Ilya Terr was, and I could feel Karolya twitching beside me. The paint would be fixed later, even without the need for disguise. When they were finished, or finished enough, the brushes were cleared away and they turned to face the crowd. A new entity, glittering with green of the elves and the gold of the Angari.

Music swelled and the Lord and Countess stepped off the dais and began the long walk back through the ballroom. The assembly saluted them, solemn and silent, as their trains fell in behind them. The opening ceremony was finished. Just a day of ceremonies and dancing and feasting left before us.

*

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When I was admitted to the Countess’s chambers, she shifted her burning glare from Druskin to me. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious.” I walked up, crossing my arms, and looking from a harried Druskin to a furious Countess.

“I will not hide and let others take the risks meant for me!” She was wrapped in a purple robe and her dark hair was hidden in a towel. She looked like she’d been pulled from a bath though I suspected that wasn’t the case—because this was Angareth and this was Druskin. “This is my duty, my honor!”

“You will hide,” I planted my feet and leveled my gaze at her, “You will hide in plain sight—risk enough for your honor—and let someone take care of the problem for you.”

“This isn’t your burden!” snarled the Countess.

My rage rose to meet hers and I snarled back, “Yes, it is.”

Surprise flickered across the Countess’s face—when was the last time someone had snapped at her? She stormed closer to me, “I’ll not have you die! Nor be gruesomely wounded, as Galo was! I don’t want that blood on my hands!”

“And what of your own when you die with a knife between your ribs in front of a crowd, your new husband crying over you because you didn’t sense the blow coming nor have the instincts to block it?” I was hissing now, barely able to contain my fury, “What of the blood of thousands when the treaty falls apart and your countries go to war and then the Empire comes and snaps up your land, your springs and what remains of your people?”

Druskin was watching wide-eyed, but the Countess stopped moving, shock and fury rolled across her normally stoic face.

I continued, “Would you rather the Juni ran with the blood of her nymphs like the Bandui and the Tryber? Your uncle beheaded in the central square of Gar Morwen like the kings of Daiesen were? You do not owe anyone risks or misery or blood because you like your betrothed. Your duty is to live, your duty is to be a bond between states, and your duty is to allow a shield in front of you so you can be a shield for your people.”

The Countess had been glaring at me, but as I spoke her face grew pale and her mouth gaped open like she was in pain. As I finished, she slumped onto the bench at the foot of her bed, Druskin diving to catch her.

“Grofnu!” Druskin searched frantically for wounds, running his hands down her back and sides.

She shook her head, patting Druskin’s arms reassuringly as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You saw it,” she said, her voice watery, “You saw the blood in Daiesen.”

My fury banked, leaving me wobbly. Seers.

I sank onto a chair.

Druskin looked over his shoulder at me sharply.

“She’s fine,” I managed.

“She’s gifted, what did you show her?” he demanded.

I sorted through my mind. I hadn’t meant to, but I’d been angry and the memories had risen like the tide…blood-soaked field hospitals in a besieged Galhara, raging fires reflected on dark water as we fled for our lives—time and time again—the light leaving Tarr Kegan’s eyes as he bled out in his own ballroom, nymphs hanging on gallows outside Charispol…I’d flung the memories at her as surely as I’d flung my words. “I showed her Daiesen,” I said, feeling choked.

The Countess looked up at me, her eyes shining with tears, “You saw with your own eyes.”

I nodded.

“Who are you? You’re from a noble house, I saw the palaces…the weapons…the soldiers reacting to you…”

I sucked in a breath. She’d seen even more than I’d thought. More than just the blood-soaked bandages, but also the men saluting as I passed. Our eyes locked. I hated using fake names anyway. Letting the air out of my lungs, I said, “Caspian.”

*

The Countess breathed deep, and closed her eyes, as if everything fell into place when I said the word.

Druskin, still on his knees, stared at me for a long moment before connecting the name and springing to his feet. “Zare Caspian?” he said, “The outlaw?”

“The princess,” corrected the Countess, meeting my eye again. “At last I know why your Angari is so good and your manner is so…insubordinate.” She smiled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Your Highness.”

“Outlaw, princess,” I shrugged, “Both true depending on where you are. I’m also a decent bounty hunter and a reasonably accomplished rider.”

Druskin eyed me. “Have you done all the things they say you have?”

I snorted. “Certainly not.”

The Countess finished wiping her face and said, “Who is Quilleran?”

I stiffened. His secrets weren’t mine to share. Had he been in any of the memories the Countess saw? I thought of dragging him off the balcony of the burning palace in Dalyn and then pushed the thought away quickly. “An old friend.”

“He’s not a Kegan, is he? Or a Temmis, or a Konig? Or even a Wynn, Tirien save us?” she asked.

“No, he is not.” A smile tipped my lips at the thought of Quill as a prince. He might as well be. The Rhydderick’s had been a powerful family, and he remained hopelessly entangled with royalty.

The Countess caught my smile and concluded, “He is also from Daiesen.”

I said nothing, but she nodded as if I had. “You must not reveal me to anyone else,” I said. “Do not call me ‘highness,’ I am Zephra Ruddybrook here, and nothing more.”

“Of course, as you wish,” replied the Countess.

After a moment of silence—in which I very carefully didn’t look back at the memories spread across the floor of my mind—she said, “Very well. I will do as you say and allow you to take my place after the ceremony tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Grofnu,” said Druskin, relieved.

“Good. I have one more thing to ask of you, Grofnu,” I stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of the dressing gown. “I never learned Angari dances, so we are going to the roof tonight to work on them. Are you able to come help?” She hesitated, so I added, “I believe Quilleran is asking Ilya Terr to join us, since he’ll be the one dancing with me. I thought, perhaps, you would want to help, and the chance to dance the traditional dances with him…”

Color climbed her cheeks and brightened her eyes. “Ilya Terr cannot possibly teach you the Angari dances by himself. I will come”

*

A night dancing under the stars, surrounded by the golden domes of the palace was actually quite lovely. I liked dancing, and Ilya and the Countess were good teachers. They were also a great deal of fun to watch with Ilya’s flirting and the Countess’s flushing cheeks. Brell, Karolya,Quill, and Mihalak joined us for the line dances—it was a small group for line dances but we managed. Eliah and Rakov provided music, I had forgotten they both played.

It was easy to forget the reason we were all there. Easy to forget that in the morning I would be waiting for a knife blow. Even as I danced mostly with Ilya Terr while the Countess corrected my posture.

But when we changed partners, I danced with Quill, and remembered only how close we’d come to admitting something, so many times, this past week. Felt only where our bodies touched and only the rhythm of the music and the beating of our feet on the stones. I imagined myself Ayglara of myth, dancing with Benedek, the human king. Our bond bringing peace to the land and the waters.

*

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Ilya Terr, Lord of Linden, took the news quietly. His second, Mihalak, stood behind him with his arms crossed while I explained the Countess’s pending absence from dinner, and that she had a bit of a shock this afternoon when she found out her sister had hired an assassin to kill her. An assassin we probably wouldn’t be able to call off and would have to thwart in other, messier, ways. An assassin, honestly, someone official should’ve told the elves about ages ago since Ilya Terr was spending a fair bit of time right next to the Countess in public.

When I finished, Ilya Terr let out a long breath. “Is that all?”

My eyes flicked up to Mihalak. “How much do you know about the criminal underworld?”

Mihalak’s lip twitched. “You assume I know anything?”

“We have reason to believe the assassin who took the job goes by the name Scythe, if you’ve heard of him?”

“I have not,” replied Mihalak, “but the name certainly sounds…ominous.”

“What do you know about him?” asked Ilya.

“He prefers knives, usually, but I believe he is the one behind the attempt with the bow yesterday. It was mere luck that he struck the wrong target.” Or divine intervention.

Brell stole a glance at me. This was clearly more information than she’d been told, and I saw her note my stance. Here, with Ilya Terr, I was not a leanyodi, but stood with my feet apart and my hands behind my back like a soldier. He had me pegged as a bodyguard, might as well let him have one at this point.

Ilya also studied me, “Should I be concerned?” he asked, measuredly, his deep brown eyes bored into me.

“If he killed you, you would be collateral, but you would still be dead,” I said.

He frowned. “And if not me, perhaps my bride, which pleases me no better.”

“Quilleran and I are working on a plan,” I said.

“What is Quilleran to this house?” asked Ilya Terr, suddenly. “I had thought he was one of the Countess’s men, but here in Gar Morwen he has been apart, and dresses like a Magadarian.”

Mihalak answered for me, “King Keleman hired him to find out who among his nobles was trying to kill his niece.” At Ilya’s surprised look, Mihalak said dryly, “I have not spent this week dancing with my betrothed, my lord.”

“You didn’t think to mention it to me?” demanded the Lord of Linden, showing the first bit of temper I’d seen since finding out he’d been lied to on the way here.

“I didn’t think it was a revelation that people were trying to kill her—or you, my lord,” replied Mihalak.

“And I thought dancing with my betrothed offered as much safety as it did pleasure.”

Brell and I looked at each other, Mihalak’s tone was laced with meaning. I asked, “Have there been…attempts on you? Since arriving in Gar Morwen?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” said Mihalak.

Brell’s hand flew to her throat. “My lord, our apologies!” as if assassination attempts were like rats found in the wardrobe, something easily prevented by the host if only they looked after their house better.

Ilya made a dismissive gesture. “I am not naïve enough to be offended. I will not be turned aside from this marriage.”

This reminded me, and I produced the ornate little box. “My lord, the Countess also sends this gift.” I presented it to him, and he gently lifted it from my palm like it were a songbird.

His eyes widened a touch when he opened the gilded box and saw the enormous ruby. He uncurled the note and his entire face softened as he read it. I wanted to memorize it; the look of a male who had been trusted with the heart of Wuhnravinwel—undoubtedly the heart beating in a different part of the palace, not just the enormous rock in his hand. When he looked back at me our eyes met, and I could see his wonder that his noble duty could have brought him something so precious. It was a beautiful thing, and felt rare and precious, like the flowers that only bloomed after a fire. The Countess and Lord of warring houses had a real chance at lasting peace, strong alliance, and at real love. I would do all in my power to protect it.

*

When I opened the door to my chambers, I was surprised to see Quill still perched on my bed. I stepped into the room hesitantly, and saw that Druskin was standing by the window, clean and in a fresh uniform. Eliah was sitting on the desk, her feet on the chair. She caught my eye, and a knowing smile curled the corners of her mouth.

I closed the door behind me, deliberately ignoring Eliah’s look. “Good afternoon,” I addressed the room dryly. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Druskin said, “Hadella will never agree to call off her assassin.”

“No, we thought not,” I walked a few steps into the room and then propped my shoulder on my wardrobe, crossing my arms across my chest.

“If we don’t catch him in the act, or on the way to act…” Druskin trailed off. He started again, “Hadella was trying to prevent the wedding. I can only assume the Countess must be killed before the day is out tomorrow. The wedding takes all day: The vows are in the morning, and then there is a presentation, and the rest of the day is spent feasting and dancing, at dusk they retire, and the wedding is ceremonially completed,” He paused for breath, “I know that the King hired you to find out who hired the assassin, and you’ve done that. But please, I would have your help protecting the Countess, if you’d lend it.”

We all looked at Quill, though Eliah and I knew the answer. He crossed his arms, then lifted one hand to rub his jaw, as if considering. “I had assumed that preventing the assassination was one of the goals of this investigation.”

Druskin drew a deep breath and released it, the relief evident in his shoulders. “Thank you.” He looked at me, “I would like you by the Countess’s side all day.”

“I would, of course,” I said, “but I can’t, really, every moment.”

Druskin frowned.

Eliah, though, understood, “You will be close, but obviously not while she’s dancing or being presented or any of that.”

With a nod I continued, “It is a waiting game, the Scythe has only to wait for the moment I’m out of reach, and that moment will inevitably come.” I had a plan. This wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best I had. “The only solution I see is to take her place.”

Silence.

“Zephra,” said Druskin, “That is more than I could ask.”

“You didn’t ask,” I replied.

Eliah put in, “Both the Countess and Lord would need to agree to this. There would be nothing good in swapping out Ilya Terr’s bride for most of the day without telling him.”

“I have already spoken with Lord Terr about this, and he is amenable,” I felt Quill’s eyes on me, and I couldn’t look at him. I’ve been having dreams. Nightmares. They are different each night, sometimes the knife comes from behind, sometimes above. Sometimes from the side. “I can’t take her place for the vows, of course, but everything after…”

“We must keep this as quiet as possible,” said Druskin, “Even from the leanyodi.” Caution finally learned, and well learned. “The traditional make up for the wedding is the same from the bride to her attendants. It’s meant to confuse evil spirits and demons and serves us well enough. Normally the dresses would be similar, also, but for the elven wedding dress in the morning—the red dress, though, each leanyod will be wearing a similar but less ornate gown.”

I fingered the sleeve of my dressing gown. “Brell was at my meeting with Ilya Terr, and I would trust Karolya, also. I would that Galo could be among us, but she shouldn’t be walking around just yet. We’ll need to make sure that Karolya, Brell and I are the ones who attend the Countess for the change of clothes after vows.”

Druskin nodded. He looked troubled still but energized as he moved toward the door. “I will go speak with the Countess.”

“I’ll come in a moment to help you persuade her,” I said over my shoulder as he let himself out. She would be harder to persuade than Ilya Terr had been. The door closed and I turned back to face Quill and Eliah. I looked at Eliah first, she looked grim but the kind of grim about to charge right into the fray, regardless of odds.

Quill stood up. “Zare.”

“Quill.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Alright, come up with a better plan.” I met his eyes then. Always a knife. Always…at someone who turns out to be you. “I have been sleeping in her place since we arrived in Gar Morwen. We cannot let her die—I don’t want to let her die. I have far more practice than she does not-getting-killed. This is our best chance.”

“You’ve been sleeping in her place? A princess for a countess?” asked Eliah, an incredulous bite in her voice.

“A shark for a dolphin. This is not a trade, it’s a trap,” I said. “I have no intention of dying.”

Rubbing his hand over his face, Quill sighed, “You’re right. Taking her place is the best shot we have.”

I nodded at him. “The real problem is that I don’t know Angari dances.”

Laughs coughed out of both Eliah and Quill.

“Persuade your lady then come back. I can teach you some,” Quill looked over at Eliah, “Though several are line dances, we might need Druskin or even Lord Terr to help after dinner.”

“Where are we going to have space to practice line dances?” I asked. Part of me wanted to say I would just refuse to dance the line dances…but a line dance might be a decent time to knife someone, so I really should learn for the sake of the trap.

Eliah hopped off the desk. “I’ve been snooping around, there is a space on the palace roof between the two largest domes. It’s a garden, but there is plenty of open area. Everyone goes there often in the winter, but it’s quiet now.”

I wondered how often my favorite huntress had fled up there to hide away from the city and the palace and the people.

Eliah continued, “I can have Rakov bring Ilya Terr, up there after the banquet tonight and we can spend the rest of the evening perfecting your dance skills.”

“That’s settled, then,” I tightened the cinch on the red dressing gown, “I have only to persuade the Countess.” I turned and walked out of my room.

*

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“If she won’t call off the assassin, we still have the difficulty of either finding or thwarting the Scythe,” I said to Quill. We were in my rooms. After the confrontation with Hadella, Quill had left to bring the others up on the latest, and I had left to finally bathe off the street grime. The Countess was safe in her chambers undergoing skin treatments and massages in preparation for the wedding day. Enjoying them rather less than she might have before she found out her sister wanted her dead in the sincerest way. The leanyodi were all reeling, and I’d been eager to leave the maelstrom of emotions behind for my own chambers.

I lingered in the tub savoring the heat, the clean, and the solitude. Grasping at the solitude, really. I could almost feel the Countess’s hollow pain even with rooms between us.

Now I was sitting on the desk in a puddle of afternoon sun, letting it dry my hair. I’d donned my undyed skin-tight clothes in anticipation of arming myself to the teeth for dinner. At Quill’s knock I’d grabbed a fresh red dressing gown embroidered with a herd of rampant unicorns. But now I let it hang open carelessly while I filed my nails and delayed re-entering the storm of betrayed women.

“I do not envy anyone in this family,” I said, reaching back to check the wetness of my hair. “What a miserable day for them.”

“Indeed,” agreed Quill. He lay on his back on the bed with his legs hanging off the side. He’d sat on the bed when I took the desk, and then he’d succumbed to the siren call of the feather mattress almost immediately, though I didn’t think he’d meant to. He was as tired as I was. “Did you see the Queen’s face?”

“Did you see the King’s?” I glanced over at him. Why did it make my heart skip to see him on my bed when I’d never slept in it? And what made a bed so different from a bedroll? Was it the addition of walls and a door? I rolled my lips and refocused. “Do you think they are torturing her?”

“King Keleman knows that the future independence of Angareth depends on this treaty.” Quill’s voice was heavy, “But I think not. Hadella thinks she can still accomplish the part of her goal conviction most demands—she can deprive the treaty of its lynchpin and save the springs from elven taint. She will not yield though she won’t inherit. I think the King knows this. Conviction is a powerful foe.”

“The Scythe is also a powerful foe,” I said.

“The Scythe is skillful. I don’t know about powerful.”

“The difference, in this case, is negligible.”

“Conviction is the difference between fighting to the death and running when you start to lose.”

“Fair,” I ran my thumb over my nails and then inspected their shape. “So, the real question becomes; how much conviction does the Scythe have about his reputation for finishing jobs?”

Quill didn’t say anything. We both knew the quality of the Scythe. He was like the Breaker. Like us. He didn’t take jobs and not finish them.

I set down the file. “Have you set Jemin and Ayglos on that dirty tavern in case anyone shows up for that meeting Hadella wanted?”

“I did. I wish Hadella wore a mask or the ceremonial make up for these meeting, then I could send you as her.”

“That would have been convenient.”

I heard the amusement creep into Quill’s voice as he said, “I can’t believe you walked through the entire city barefoot this morning.”

“Me neither,” I groaned, shuddering. “I thought about asking Hadella to wait a moment for me to grab shoes, but decided against it.”

He laughed.

A heartbeat, then I plunged, “I can’t believe I kissed Druskin.”

He sat up, then, humor still curling his lips, but something hot and dangerous sparkled in his eyes. “Me neither. Was it good?”

“Well, it was better than walking that tavern barefoot,” I smiled crookedly. Even distracted, Druskin was a competent kisser. “Galo is a lucky woman.” And I was a reckless idiot.

“Such high praise,” said Quill. “Should I ask him the same question?”

“You could,” I hummed, aware of his eyes on me, full of something I didn’t dare name. What had the Countess said about being a lunatic and taking chances? “Or—”

A knock sounded at the door. We both looked at it blankly. Quill slowly slid off the bed and rolled beneath it. We hadn’t even gotten close to each other and my heart was hammering and my skin was hot. I took a deep breath and cinched up the dressing gown, then I answered the door.

*

Brell, eyes red-rimmed, stood in the hall. “The Countess summons you,” she said, her voice lacking the energy that usually filled Brell’s every word.

She was also in a dressing gown, so I said, “Of course,” and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind me.

I used the short walk to breathe and search for the deep well of calm inside I could usually rely on. The deep well was not calm. It churned and the best I could manage was to slow the current. We entered the Countess’s chambers and they were a hive of activity.

Several wooden racks had been dragged in from somewhere and the sleek green wedding gown and voluminous red presentation gown were each hung to air. They’d already had their traveling wrinkles steamed or pressed out of them and each had a pair of leanyodi going over them to make sure they were perfectly clean and not a stitch or bead out of place.

“The Countess is not going to the banquet tonight,” said Brell as we passed through the sitting room. “Normally she would make a brief appearance, but with—everything—she has chosen not to go.”

“Understandable,” I said, relieved. One fewer watchful night watching for knives and dodging acquaintances.

“I’m relieved, myself,” Brell paused at the door, “I can’t bear the thought of being in the crowd and fielding the gossip. Not yet.” She looked at me, “I can’t believe you were right about Hadella. How did you know?”

I gave her a sad smile. “It was a hunch. Hadella loves Wuhnravinwel. More than anything else.” And love makes you stupid, an old friend’s words flashed in my mind, making my smile a little sadder. That it did.

“I keep comforting myself that Galo, at least, will be alright,” said Brell, “But it’s like saying ‘at least I have my right foot’ when someone cuts off your left.” She opened the door and led the way into the bedchamber.

The Countess was sitting on the window seat, wrapped in a robe, a little folding table covered in food in front of her. She gave us a weak smile. “Karolya brought this a bit ago and insisted.” She picked up a piece of bread and looked at it blandly. “I have no heart for it.”

“Why did you call for me, Grofnu?” I asked.

“I would like you and Brell to go to Ilya Terr and bring him a gift, and explain why I won’t be at dinner tonight.”

“As you wish.”

She handed me a small square box made of polished bone and inlaid with gold.

“What am I telling him?”

She shrugged. “The truth. I cannot hide it from him, and have no wish to. Though I wish the truth were other than it is. I’m asking you because you traveled with us here, and fought by his side. He knows you a little more than the others. And I cannot ask Galo…”

“I’ll take it to him,” I curtsied.

The Countess turned away in dismissal and I left, Brell at my heels. Once the door closed behind us, I opened the box. Inside lay a brooch, a silver falcon with diamonds for eyes clutching a ruby the size of a robin’s egg in its talons. I exhaled; it was impressive. There was a paper rolled in the box, and I unfurled it; I shall treasure your glittering tree and in return give you the Heart of Wuhnravinwel. I believe I can trust you with it. -Countess Adelheid Wuhn.

Brell gave me a disapproving look—it wasn’t my place to look in the box or read the note, except that I was leaving nothing to chance I didn’t have to. I wasn’t about to deliver a letter that bade fond farewell, or something poisoned. I rolled the paper back inside and closed the box. “Shall we?”

*

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The walk back to the palace felt longer and much more unpleasant barefoot than the chase out had been. I didn’t have urgency to drive me across cobble and refuse, and therefore had to drive myself. When I recognized the street where the Lute and the Bowl was located, I was genuinely tempted to divert and borrow shoes from my brother if he was in. I didn’t, however, but kept pace with Druskin. In the nicer parts of the city Quill and the other captain fell in with us, and we reshuffled without any discussion so the captains walked together ahead and Quill and I walked behind. We didn’t talk, but Quill arched his brow at my poor feet and I made a face. Back at the palace gates, the guard wordlessly handed me back my dressing gown, but I kept the cloak for the walk through the palace. It was probably less notable than the dressing gown at this hour.

My feet ached and were black with grime, but the four of us went to report to the King. It wasn’t the kind of bad news you waited to tell.

*

It was the same receiving room where I’d waited on the Countess last night. King Keleman and Queen Olyami sat on the thrones, still as stone, their faces closed. The only movement was the occasional shuffle from the retinues, and the gentle flicker of the lamps that betrayed the many hidden entrances.

When the Countess and Hadella arrived, the room shifted to face them and they both hesitated just a beat before crossing the room and curtsying to their aunt and uncle. There was an odd assortment of people in the room, and they both noted it. Domonkos’s guard captain, but not Domonkos, Druskin—stillin his clothes from the night before—myself—barefoot—and Quilleran. Besides a lord and lady each attending the King and Queen.

“What is it, Kiraly?” asked the Countess. “Has something happened?” She was dressed and had some light make up on, but it had clearly been thrown together hastily—at least by Angari standards. I wondered what phase of preparation she’d been summoned out of.

“Adelheid, Hadella,” the King nodded to his nieces. “I summoned you here to hear the latest in the investigation on the threats on your life.”

The Countess perked up, “Has there been news? Can we get an antidote for Galo?”

The King’s gaze shifted to Hadella as he said, “There is no antidote. There is no need. Galo is recovering well. It was a ruse.”

The sisters stared at him with nearly identical expressions of incomprehension.

“We sought to drive out the one who hired the assassin, believing that they were still decent enough to save an innocent, or try.”

Now Hadella’s eyes closed.

“My investigators followed this person directly to a man who she had clearly met previously, and overheard a conversation in which she asked to set up a meeting with the assassin she’d hired.” The King’s voice grew harder as he watched Hadella’s face. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Hadella?”

The Countess’s mouth fell open and she looked at her sister.

Hadella lifted her chin. “Only that I acted to preserve Wuhnravinwel, Kiraly, as you should have. This marriage is an insult to our land, our blood, and to Tirien herself. My sister,” she spat the word, “Has betrayed us body and soul. You, my liege, should have prevented this.”

“Hadella.” The Countess covered her chest with her hands as if she’d been stabbed. “How could you?”

There were tears glittering in both sister’s eyes, but Hadella set her mouth. “You could have said no,” she said, “When he asked you to give up our land. The land our ancestors bled for. The land given to us by Tirien. When he asked you to give our blood away to those elves—you would bear a half-breed who would taint the land forever!”

“I’m not giving anything away,” said the Countess, her eyes wide.

“You’re a traitor.”

“No,” said the King, “It is you, Hadella. Tirien gave us the springs and the land around it, but she didn’t forbid us to share them. You will go to this meeting you’ve set up and you will withdraw your assassin.”

“I will not,” said Hadella.

“You will,” growled the King.

“You cannot make me.” Tears were running down her face now and her voice shook. I had no doubt she was thinking of the ways kings usually got what they wanted.

The King’s jaw worked. He was thinking of those things, too. And probably thinking about Hadella as a child in his sister’s arms. “Take her to the dungeon,” he said at last.

Hadella turned white, but didn’t struggle when the captain and one other guard took her arms and escorted her out of the little chamber.

The Countess stood alone before the King and Queen, her mouth open like a fish stranded at low tide, her hands clutched over the heart wound she’d been dealt. The Queen extended her hands and the Countess stepped forward and into her aunt’s embrace. The room was utterly silent.

*

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Hadella went first to her rooms, when she emerged, she was carrying a dark bundle. I kept a distance, moving at a hopefully innocuous pace but keeping just a glimpse of Hadella in sight around this corner or that. I picked my hair out of my night braid in case she’d noticed me in the Countess’s chambers. I’d look a little different out of the corner of her eye. Druskin wasn’t far behind me. He made more noise than I did since I was still barefoot and he was wearing boots. I was also still wearing the dressing gown cinched closed over my rumpled night stalking attire. Thankfully, though, the entire Palace was making up for their late night of dancing and lack of lunch entertainment, we saw very few people and mostly servants.

Hadella left the Palace through the main gate. I hesitated in sight of it. Here I wished for shoes and a coat or cloak. But if I lost her now, I had no way of finding her again. Druskin caught up with me where I stood, peering around a corner at the courtyard and gates. “Did she go out?”

“She did.”

“Come with me.” Druskin strode out toward the gate, heading directly for the guard house. I followed him, dressing gown and all. He said something to the guard and the man disappeared into the guard house and then reappeared a moment later with two cloaks. When I reached Druskin he handed a cloak to me and donned the other. The guard watched wide-eyed as I shrugged out of the dressing gown, my knives catching the late morning sun. It was barely cool enough for a cloak, but I slung the cloak over my shoulders to hide the knives and my un-Angari clothes. I handed the dressing gown to the guard, “Thank you.”

He nodded, dumbstruck.

When we stepped out of the gates, I couldn’t see Hadella. Druskin pointed and said, “There.” I followed his gaze to a dark hood moving steadily down the paving stone street away from the palace. Hadella’s dark bundle must’ve been a cloak of her own. We set out after her.

The city was awake and bustling, and I was grateful for Druskin’s height and ability to pick Hadella out in a crowd. My own ability to find Quill immediately was rather less useful in this moment. We left the sweeping architecture of the palaces and surrounding buildings behind, heading into more modest parts of town.

Hadella pressed on at a brisk pace. She knew where she was going, and she was in a hurry. The modest homes and businesses gave way to narrower streets with buildings that had seen better repair. This was a part of Gar Morwen I hadn’t yet seen, the part with the poor and the toughs. And the trash. I became even more grateful for Druskin’s bloodhound focus as I could pay more attention to my unshod feet than where the dark hood bobbed off to.

Abruptly, Druskin’s hand snaked out to grab my elbow. I stopped mid-step; I’d been avoiding a pile of refuse. “What is it?”

He jerked his chin at the building across the street. A sign painted with a boar with an apple in its mouth hung over a wooden door. With a glance at the people in the street I crossed and entered the tavern like I belonged there.

*

The tavern was reasonably well lit by the late morning sun, and thanks to the wedding not as quiet as it should’ve been at this hour. Most of the people lounging around were Angari and armed. Some hooded. One or two were half sprawled across tables as if they’d slept here. Steeling myself against the tackiness of the floor, I prowled further in like I was searching for just the spot to nurse a drink and watch the door. Hadella was sitting at a table in the darker recesses, her back to the entrance. There was a man sitting across from her with long gray hair combed neatly over his shoulders. Beside his empty plate and tankard was a spread of papers that suggested he’d been here for hours. Or possibly owned the place.

I stole a glance over my shoulder to make sure Druskin was close and took a seat with my back to the man so I could see the entrance. We were close enough to overhear if we strained. Druskin sat across from me, face grim.

“…need to speak to him.” Hadella was saying.

“Hian,” said the man, measuredly, “At best I could only introduce you to the broker—and that is highly irregular.”

“I don’t care—” her voice dropped too low for me and I studied Druskin’s face.

If possible, he looked even more grim. He hadn’t really believed us when Quill and I had told him our suspicions last night. It had been particularly difficult to persuade him to lie about Galo being poisoned and I’d been worried he’d back out.

“For a fee I will set up a meeting for you,” said the man, his voice hard and irritated.

I couldn’t make out Hadella’s words.

“Today?” the man—it had to be the intermediary Jemin’s broker had mentioned—snorted incredulously.

“Yes, today!” snapped Hadella.

My eyes drifted around the room, noting the others present before coming back to Druskin. He was drumming his fingers on the table with pent up anger. A large bald man approached our table, wiping his hands with a sad looking towel. “What’ll you have?”

“Breakfast,” I said, and the man nodded and walked away.

Druskin tossed me a look and I shrugged at him. I’d blended in, got rid of the man, and procured food. I hoped he carried coin in that outfit because I hadn’t exactly had the chance to grab a money purse this morning.

“Someone dying is a normal consequence of hiring a killer, hian,” the gray-haired man’s voice was cold. “I will reach out today and you may come back here this evening. Maybe he will be here. Maybe not. Good day.”

There was rustling as Hadella got to her feet and I could see Druskin’s eyes tracking her movement. She would recognize Druskin and I had no idea what she’d do, but I wasn’t ready to be given away to the intermediary. I grasped Druskin’s hand hard enough that he looked at me, and then I leaned across the table—he leaned closer, unsuspecting. Tipping my head so my hair fell like a curtain, I cupped his face with my other hand and kissed him. He didn’t react for a solid breath, which gave me the chance to get a grip on the back of his head. I felt the tremor of a restrained flinch, then his other hand came up to my face, and he embraced the ruse. Or, at least, gave in to it. I was highly aware of Hadella behind me, then as she moved past and back through the tavern toward the door. Apparently ignoring the couple seated nearby, too lost in each other to bear looking at. I released my grip on Druskin and we pulled away from each other.

Flustered, Druskin snapped, “Why?”

“Because the game isn’t over,” I said, again leaning across the table so I could lower my voice.

He twitched to look toward the door, then back. “You were right,” he growled, “I can’t believe you were right. And you would just let her walk free?”

“She’s headed back to the palace, we’ll catch her there.” I scanned the room again, Quill was standing by the bar, and Prince Domonkos’s guard captain was elsewhere in the room dressed in plain clothes and looking like someone had spat in his drink. The King had been skeptical of our suspicions and our plan but sent a witness with us who could read lips, which was fortuitous. Getting both Druskin and the other captain close to the table would’ve been difficult to do without being suspicious. I laid my hand on the table. Druskin looked at it with distrust, “Besides, if we leave without eating breakfast the intermediary might think we were following her and then we’ll lose our chance at that other meeting.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he got the message.

Placing his hand in mine he said, “Is this necessary? Displays like this aren’t civilized.”

“Does this look like a terribly civilized place?” I asked, amused. “Trust me. And try to look less like I’m forcing you to do this. Pretend I’m Galo.”

He looked pained, but then he shifted, unfurling his limbs a bit so he took up most of the table space. His legs brushed mine. “Quilleran is going to kill me.”

My eyes flicked inadvertently to the bar where Quill sat. He wasn’t looking at us. He had undoubtedly seen the kiss and the idea of him being jealous was too much to think about. It made me think about kissing Quill instead. My body grew warm. “Hardly,” I said to Druskin, “Subterfuge is a professional hazard.”

The bodyguard regarded me for a long moment. “Your world is foreign,” he pronounced, as if he was the nicest thing he could find to say.

*

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When I finally returned to the Countess’s chambers, I was exhausted. We had done what we could, and now there was nothing but to wait till morning. The guards let me past, and the female guards in the sitting room nodded to me as I knocked on the Countess’s bedroom door and then let myself in.

There was a single lamp lit by the bedside, and the Countess was still awake, sitting up against the pillows, a book open in her hands. She watched me enter and close the door. One of her brows climbed as I crossed the room and shrugged out of my dressing gown. I glanced down at myself. I’d entirely forgotten to go to my room first and change into night clothes. I sighed, unbuckling the harness and continuing to the bed. “I apologize, Grofnu, I had much to do.” At least it wasn’t splattered in gore.

The Countess pushed back the covers and swung her feet the floor. “Were you marauding the palace, Zephra?” she grabbed two pillows and moved to the foot of the bed.

I grimaced, unbuckling my jerkin. “Something like that. There may be new rumors about me providing you the chance to dismiss me from your service after this is all settled.”

The Countess grimaced. “What have you been about?”

Pausing my search for a place to put the jerkin and dressing gown, I turned back to her. “I reported to Quilleran, visited the infirmary, tried to follow up on a lead.” I’d told Quill about Bel’s confession. He’d looked at me hard and then we’d tracked down the rooms of the Daiesen delegation—many in the delegation had already returned to bed, so we uncovered nothing but the fact that Lucius Tene, another man who knew both our faces and true names, was also in attendance. He was probably here for the horses. “Galo is still alive,” I said. The doctors said if she made it through the night, she’d recover.

I saw from the Countess’s face that she knew this already. She looked about as willing to hope as Druskin had. He’d been by Galo’s bedside in his finery, his ruddy face eerily pale with the terror only love brings. It was a despair I knew well, and I turned away to deposit the jerkin and dressing gown on a chair.

“Tirien have mercy,” murmured the Countess. Then, as if forcefully changing the subject she said, “I heard that one of the men from the Empire kissed your hand at the ball tonight.”

I looked up at her as I tucked my entire harness of knives under the pillows. “Word gets around.”

She tossed a grin at me and crawled under the covers at the foot of the bed. “Did you know him before, or did you just make an impression?”

I sighed again, “Both, apparently.” I doubted the kiss had been meant to convey Bel’s continued attraction. I wondered how much the Countess knew of Daiesen’s customs.

“But not mutual.”

I doused the lamp.

The Countess’s voice floated from the darkness, bodyless and smiling, “No, of course not. Not with Quilleran walking the world.”

 I slipped under the covers. Talk, indeed. Though not—I thought of Quill standing close enough to share breath, the campfire throwing deep shadows around us—unfounded.

“You lied to me when you said you’d never been in love.”

“I don’t have time for love.” My words lacked conviction and even I could hear it. The lie was rote and lacking the cavalier flip that sold it in taverns around the continent. My scalp tingled with the memory of Quill’s hands in my hair this afternoon.

The Countess hummed skeptically, then cut off as if startled.

I tensed. “Grofnu?”

“…When I look at you…” she began speaking slowly, “…I see fire, and darkness, and water.”

Instinct roared me to wakefulness before I could rationalize. Reeling myself back, I forced dryness, “Salt water or fresh?” As if it mattered.

“Fresh.” She said with complete confidence. “There is an underground river that ends in a beautiful cavern of white stone and hewn pillars. It is an homage, and a heartsore, and there the veil between planes is very thin.”

Now I didn’t know what she was talking about and it chilled me.

“Does any of that sound familiar?” asked the Countess.

“I…have more than one memory of fire, darkness, and water,” I answered, trying to choose my words carefully, “But the cavern is unknown to me.” Not connected to a river, anyway. There were white caverns Under Daiesen, and I’d been in a few really fancy cisterns over the years.

“If you find it someday, be careful. Death waits there.” After a pause where I probably should’ve said something brave, the Countess continued, “Zephra, I know that I’m the lunatic giddy with new affection, and I can see that there is much more to you than perhaps I have a right to know, but I think that you should give love a chance. Despite everything. Perhaps because of everything.”

“I’ll think about it.” I stared at the darkness above our heads. Eloi. It was as if the gods themselves were personally invested in shattering the control I’d had for years. Quill. The Breaker. Bel. Seers spouting incomprehensible pieces of time and space that connected to you.

I had a job; I was a blade. Here, I was also a shield. That was more than enough work for me.

*

I slept lightly. My mind drifted on the currents of the river, darting like a fish at imagined sounds and shadows. Morning was a relief, and I felt far more awake than I expected when the sun finally grayed the room. The Countess didn’t stir, but I got up. I moved quietly, warming up my body and then putting myself through stretches and then the forms of swordplay and knife work. I kept my breathing even, losing myself in the technique and movement. Eventually, I grew tired and sat down on one of the chairs. The sun had warmed to gold and the Countess was still sleeping. I checked to make sure she was breathing and looked well, then returned to sit.

Today was the last day before the wedding. I couldn’t remember all it entailed but I thought it started later and involved luxurious baths and extensive preparations for the ceremony to follow.

I woke with a start to a knock on the door. I scrambled to my feet and snatched up my dressing gown, then belatedly rushed to the bed for my knives. The Countess stretched, waiting for me to slip on the knives and the gown, before calling, “Enter.”

My eyes fell on my jerkin still draped over the back of the chair. There was nothing I could do as the door opened and Brell came in. “Good morning, Grofnu,” she said, recovering quickly from any surprise at me standing next to the Countess’s bed. She was carrying a tray with a silver tea set and quickly set about pouring tea for the Countess. “Did you sleep well?”

“As well as I could,” replied the Countess, accepting the tea.

She had barely taken a sip when a commotion rose in the outer rooms. I headed straight for them, arriving in time to see Druskin, still wearing the clothes from the banquet last night, standing limply in the center of a knot of leanyodi. I noticed Hadella, and Karolya both among them. When he saw the Countess he said, “Grofnu,” and his voice broke.

The Countess put her hand to her mouth.

“She has taken a turn. They found poison on the arrow…they don’t know what it is…her wound is…she is feverish and raving. If they could find the antidote she might be saved, but her life is wasting away.” His face crumpled. “She’s dying.”

I felt a similar crumpling in my chest. The leanyodi around us stood stunned, then slowly the horror hit them. They reached for one another, burying faces in shoulders. Brell put her arms around the Countess. Hadella accepted an embrace from Karolya, her mouth hung open a little, but the rest of her face was blank as the dead.

I thought she might yell at the Countess again, but she didn’t. She looked like she was going to be sick. I looked away quickly at the thought. Druskin was excluded from the churn of comforting gestures. I walked to him and brazenly reached out to squeeze his hand. He dropped his head, his dark braid shifting over his shoulder. He was shaking a little, and when our eyes met I could see a cool, righteous, anger growing inside him. He shifted and I just caught the edge of Hadella’s long coat as she left the room. I squeezed his hand again and went after her.

*

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My feelings were a storm. His confession meant that my capture would almost certainly lead to his. Even the shadow of suspicion could be enough to destroy a man in the Empire, especially if that shadow was thrown by me. I snapped at Bel, “Why risk this? Why approach me if you didn’t mean to capture me? Are you just eager to thrust your life into my hands?”

“I wanted,” he broke off and looked at the crowd, “I don’t know what I wanted. I wanted to talk to you again. As you. Not…as her…Maybe to see how much I had really known you back in Dalyn.” He shrugged dismissively, but the gesture was obviously untrue. “I also thought I should tell you I knew, before you knifed me as a precaution.”

“Now if I knife you, at least you’ll know?”

Bel gestured palm up with one hand, surrendering the point. Perhaps also showing he was unarmed.

“You’re a fool, Bel Valredes,” I said.

But something in my tone caused Bel to smile, just faintly. “I’ve no doubt.” He bowed, and taking my hand, lightly kissed the back.

Then he left the alcove.

And I let him. Partly because I was stunned. Partly because knifing him, or even kidnapping him, from the banquet would be difficult to explain. I could always find his rooms later if need be. And yet…I traced my fingers around and around my wineglass and tried to sort my thoughts. My carefully boxed and ordered feelings had received so many kicks of late that I was scrambling to catch first this and then that before it splashed out over everything. I did not have time for feelings.

Eventually, at a moment when a dance was in full swing and I stood very little risk of being asked, I left the shelter of the alcove and I strolled through the room looking for the Countess. I found her with Ilya Terr still, standing a little aside from the dancing, wineglasses in their hands and their heads bent close.

Finding a spot by a pillar to stand where I could see them but not hear them, I settled in to wait out the night. I watched the faces of the people who looked at the happy couple. I didn’t think about anything in particular. I watched the servants and the guards. I watched the elves and the Angari lords and ladies. I watched the delegation from the Empire. As my emotions subsided, I felt again the deep sense of betrayal from my dreams and a clawing certainty hooked deep inside. I couldn’t prove anything, but I could lay a trap.

Eventually I saw Quill exiting the dance floor, bowing gracefully to the lady he’d partnered and then excusing himself. He snagged a drink from a servant and strolled to my spot next to a pillar. He stopped and sipped from his glass, merely a ship at the same dock. “Leanyod.”

“Quilleran.”

Fornern’s Fists I had a lot to tell him.

He bent close—far too close for Angari comfort, I was sure—and whispered, “Anything?”

I slid a false smile into place and tipped closer to him, beads clacking, “Hadella inherits. And Hadella controls the Wuhn treasury.”

*

The Countess left the ball after midnight again, though there was still a large crowd dancing, and we trailed her back to her rooms. Hadella wasn’t among us. As before, we handed the Countess off to other leanyodi and retired to our own chambers. It took much less time to remove the beaded headdress and step out of the gown than it had to put them on. With the clacking of the headdress gone the world felt delightfully quiet. I washed off the white make up methodically, enjoying the sensation of warm water and oil cleaning the powders off my face. When I was finished, I smelled faintly of nuts and roses and I looked like myself again. For a few long moments I stared at my face in the glass, as if it held the answers I wanted if only I looked hard enough.

With a sigh, I braided back my hair and went to find my own clothes—my darkest breeches and shirt, a leather jerkin, and over that the familiar weight of my knife harness. I left behind my boots for the sake of stealth, and threw a dressing gown over everything. If the palace was to have rumors, perhaps they could be only of a promiscuous leanyod.

I left my rooms, nodding to the guards outside the Countess’s doors, and padded through the halls.

*

Quill wasn’t in his rooms yet, but Eliah was in hers. I was startled when she opened her door wearing a wrinkled nightgown, blonde hair mussed prettily, looking softer and gentler than I’d ever seen her—but then she opened the door wider to show that she was standing like a warrior, a large hunting knife naked in her fist.

“Come in!” said Eliah, stepping back to let me past. Her room was much like Quill’s. Sparse, but elegant with a bed, a couch and a wardrobe and floors covered in thick woven rugs.

I walked in and sat on the little couch at the end of her bed, my dressing gown falling open to show my sleek dark clothes that were very much not for sleeping. “You retired early,” I said, eyeing the rumpled bed.

Eliah closed and locked the door, then crossed the room to retrieve the knife sheath from the bed where she’d left it. “I did.” I could hear the sleep in her voice now, and noticed that the fire was quite low. She’d been in bed a while. I got up and tossed another log on the embers.

“I skipped the ball,” explained Eliah, tossing the knife on the bed and rubbing her eyes, “but you’re here, so that means it’s time for me to get up.” At my questioning look she continued, “I’m going to prowl. See what Hadella does at night.”

“You’ve spoken with Quill, then.”

She nodded. “Right after he spoke with you this afternoon.” Turning, Eliah opened her wardrobe and started pulling out clothes, “Did something happen at the ball? Why are you here?”

I sighed heavily. I was here because Quill and I were going to talk to Druskin about our suspicions and how to prove it. But… “Bel Valredes says he helped nymphs escape the Purge. As many as he could.”

Eliah stopped in the middle of pulling on breeches under her gown. “Bel Valredes? Isn’t that the man who fell in love with you that infamous winter in Dalyn?”

“He didn’t fall in love with me,” I said.

She flapped a hand dismissively and finished pulling on her breeches. “You. Pretend you. Why were you talking to Bel Valredes? And why were you talking about that?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

Eliah propped her hands on her hips, the gown bunched weirdly over the breeches. “You didn’t approach him, did you?”

“I didn’t! I’ve been avoiding him. He’s here with Ambassador Menrellos. Invited to the wedding.”

“But…”

“But…he approached me.”

“He recognized you under all that paint?”

I grimaced. “He saw the fight on the river.”

“So, we’re going to kill him tonight, then? Do you want help? What do we do with the body?”

“Eliah. He claims he has no plan to reveal me.”

Eliah snorted. She turned away and shucked the nightgown, pulling a dark tunic on in its place. “I’d claim the same if I were facing your glare.”

“The fool sought me out and told me he’d been smuggling nymphs out of Dalyn, offered it as assurance that he wouldn’t reveal me. ‘To avoid being killed,’ he said.”

She was buckling on her belts now and paused to give me a pained look. “How can you know he’s not important enough to be safe even if you labeled him a traitor? All part of an elaborate entrapment.”

I rubbed my hands across my face. My life was so orderly before this damn job. “I can’t.”

“Did you come here for my advice?”

“No. I’m waiting for Quill, we have to talk to Druskin and convince him to go along with our plan.”

“Ah,” Eliah picked up the hunting knife. “No advice, then. And no night stalking of Dark Empress Lackeys for me. Cruel princess, getting my hopes up.”

Now I snorted. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about Bel, yet, Eliah. I’m already being as careful as I can. Besides, I think watching Hadella is a better idea tonight.”

Sitting on the bed, Eliah pulled on her boots—soft leather meant for sneaking, not riding. “You know, if he’s telling the truth, he might be useful.”

“Maybe,” I kept my tone reserved. There was a big gap between inaction and action when lives were at stake.

“Have you told Quill?”

“Not yet.”

Eliah finished with her boots and studied me. “You didn’t fall for Valredes back then, did you?”

I shook my head. “I was so young, and there was far too much going on. Night raids and broken ribs and rebellious activities…I was concerned with staying alive.”

She looked at me a moment longer. I couldn’t tell if she was waiting for a confession or just sorting through her own thoughts on the matter. Then the corner of her mouth kicked up in a half smile, “Just staying alive? There wasn’t an enigmatic kingling or a charmingly competent guard captain?”

She headed for the door as I snapped, “You weren’t there!”

Her grin was a wicked slash.

*

*

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