Category: fantasy adventure

Tirien’s bell tower loomed closer on the western banks of Juni and I found my gaze straying to it often. The Countess had noted my presence, and when she expressed thirst it was Galo who left to make sure a pitcher was brought. Disabusing them of the assumption that I’d sensed something wasn’t worth the effort. General danger was real enough, even if this danger was more immediately to me. I tried to keep an eye on Valredes. For a while he was talking to the dark-haired man I assumed was Lord Menrellos. Probably a son or cousin to the Menrellos who had been the Regent of Dalyn when it was first conquered. But then Valredes moved, and I couldn’t look for him without twisting around noticeably.

I was wondering melodramatically if I would ever sleep again when a large black bird swooped down and perched on the deck rail just a few feet away. The women made little gasps of surprise at the raven’s unceremonious appearance. “Rabanki,” I breathed.

The raven cawed, flew to my shoulder and plucked one of the white feathers from my crown before I could decide if I should swat at him or not. Rabanki took off back toward the western bank. I narrowly kept the snarl off my face but turned instinctively to follow the bird’s flight. He swooped over the water—a flagrant victory swoop, I thought—then passed over a couple boats, losing hold of the feather as he did. I did snarl, then, watching the impossible creature disappear in a loop around the royal barge. Rabanki…by Fornern.

I scanned the boats on the river, looking for my stolen feather, not that I could get it back. It had fallen on the canopy of a flat little pleasure boat not far from the royal barge. I sighed, resolving to watch the feather until we passed it. After a moment I realized that this barge, like many others, was keeping pace. Unlike the others, it was drifting closer. I leaned forward, there were men in the boat, and they were not dressed for a party. No, not human males. Fornern’s fists. Those were pointed ears. Elves. With grappling hooks and weapons and grim looks.

An attempt on the Countess—or the Queen—here, now, by elves, would be almost as disastrous as success. Ayglos must’ve seen them and sent Rabanki to warn me. Rohhel bless her damn bird. I had only a heartbeat to decide. With a gasp, I swooned and toppled over the rail into the river.

*

The water closed over my head, neatly plucking the feather crown off and leaving it bobbing on the surface. I dove immediately, fumbling at the buttons on my light coat even as I reached a hasty greeting to the Juni. Lady of Moors and Mountains.

The Juni’s voice was strong and clear; Daiesenda of Many Waters.

Will you help me defend Angareth? I shucked the coat, the linen drifting away in the current like a jelly fish, and made for the underside of the little boat.

I felt assurance shudder through the river. Laying my hand on the flat belly of the boat I asked the Juni to keep this little boat and its occupants away from the big one. Part of me wanted to sink it, but that would draw too much attention—if the Juni would do that. I felt the subtle shift in the upper current and grinned. A moment later I located the pole they were using to steer and wrenched it away. Swimming to the side furthest from the royal barge I surfaced and hoisted myself aboard.

Three elves on the port side spun at the rocking of the boat and the sound of water, the navigator at the stern was still gazing after his pole.

I grinned at them and they gaped. I was shocking; laced blue, the pale clothes clinging, my harness of knives exposed, arisen from no where. “The River says to leave that barge alone,” I said in Angari. “You can come with me peaceably to explain yourselves, or I will make you come.”

One sneered. Two charged.

I hurled myself away from them and at the navigator, hitting him at the hips and flinging us both off the stern. The elf clawed for the surface, and I let him, committing him to the river’s care and diving back for the others. The two were at the stern, one with a sword ready, the other looked like he was futilely reaching for the navigator. I went for the third elf who was at the prow, playing counterbalance. I leapt for his neck, a shark after a seal. He splashed into the river with a cry and his companions yelped as the boat bucked.

Darting under the boat, I popped up at the stern and heaved my weight up, tipping the boat further as the elves scrabbled back from the edge. The Juni faltered, uncertain about capsizing the boat. Fair enough. I vaulted on board instead and threw myself at the prow, righting the vessel. The elves were disorganized now, staggering to their feet. Drawing Shiharr I pounced on the nearest, heaving him around and laying the blade against his throat. “Stop!” I snarled at his companion.

The elf hesitated, hand hovering just above the sword that had fallen in the confusion. He looked from his companion to me, and said in heavily accented Angari, “Others return, let him go.”

“You think so?” I answered in Angari. Content they not know I understood Terrim. “The River has them, and the River is with me.”

The elf straightened a little, leaving the sword where it was, and dared a glance over the side. I didn’t turn away from him. I didn’t want to know how many bystanders we had, and I trusted the river to keep the others out of reach. Bring me to the shore, I willed the river. I needed support to take them all alive, I had to hope Ayglos or Jemin would be making for the riverbank.

“Meddler,” snarled the elf, turning back to me. “The blood of land and forest does not concern you.”

“Hot springs are water,” I snapped, “And you pollute them with blood.”

“The Angari pollute them, we would have them pure.” The elf looked at his companion then grabbed for his sword. A price worth paying, apparently.

As the elf came at me, I plunged overboard with my prisoner. The elf in my arms flailed in panic. I released him enough for me to sheath Shiharr, then caught hold of him again before he could get far. I earned a solid blow in the shoulder from his thrashing, and narrowly avoided a blow to the head. I glimpsed other nymphs in the water just before we broke the surface again. The elf gasped for air. We weren’t terribly far from the elf in the barge, and he was trying to use the sword to paddle the boat. I didn’t know where he was trying to go, but even without the Juni’s intervention he wouldn’t get far. I could see the other two elves trying to swim but not making any headway.

Rabanki swooped into view and then flew a wide circle around me. I squinted up at him and watched as he made for one of the longer piers. There was a burly figure there, I thought. I started for it, asking the Juni to bring the boat and the other elves. The river seemed relieved to bring them toward shore, and it occurred to me that her folk were likely asking her to help the boat and its occupants—seeing only a boat in distress. I was glad Ayglos had spent time befriending the river, I was doubtless treading on his favor. What I didn’t know was if he’d made friends with the River Folk who were now drawing close.

*

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I was growing bored, and over-warm in the sun, when my eyes snagged on none other than Adorjan Bulgar moving through the crowd below. He’d made it at last. He saw the Countess in the prow of the ship, sitting with the Queen and Aurel Terr, and changed his course to avoid her. Apparently, he wasn’t ready for that confrontation. Galo was with the Countess, and Druskin nearby, and I could see them staring daggers at him.

I smirked and left the railing to find a shady spot where I could watch the proceedings. Brell had left me a bit ago in favor of talking to some of the Princess’s leanyodi. I strolled toward the middle of the barge where there was a pavilion set up. I walked most of the way around the barge only to discover that all the seats in the pavilion were taken, so I took the stairs down and started my circuit on the lower level. From down here, I could clearly see nymphs and men working the boats on the shore and I stopped to lean on the railing and watch them. I turned away when my eyes started to prick.

Rounding one of the giant vases of heather, I nearly walked into a man. When I looked up, I choked. Cleanshaven, high cheek bones, brown eyes. Bel Valredes hadn’t changed that much in the past few years.

*

Zephra. I’m Zephra, I reminded myself, fluttering my hand to my chest as I stepped back. I sputtered in Angari, “My apologies, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Our make-up was lighter today, in anticipation of the warm sun, but my kohl was still thick, I was six years older, and tremendously out of context. He might not recognize me.

Bel smiled. By Fornern, I’d forgotten how handsome he was. “The fault is mine, hian,” his reply was in equally fluent Angari. “Are you alright?”

It wasn’t as though he’d knocked me over, but it was courtly to ask, I supposed. “I’m alright, thank you.” I smiled at him—which was easier than it should have been.

“I’m Lord Belledi Valredes of the Empire of Daiesen.” He bowed.

“Hian Zephra Ruddybrook, I am one of the Countess Adelheid Wuhn’s leanyodi.” I gave a little bow in return.

His eyes sharpened then, and a panic darted through me wondering if that was recognition. But he said, “You must be incredibly busy with the wedding.”

“Indeed,” I replied. I almost excused myself, but Bel was accustomed to being charming, brushing him off too quickly might excite his interest. “You speak Angari very well.”

“Thank you, Hian.” He hesitated as if he would say something, then instead he turned slightly and gestured behind him to the cluster of people from Daiesen. It was smaller now, I noted, some had apparently broken off to mingle, “I’m here with Lord Menrellos, the Ambassador from the Empire and his family. We came to wish the Countess and Lord well on their wedding.”

For all the titles in my past, the many roles I’d played, I was better with knives than situations like this. “We are honored by your presence.” That sounded about right. “Do you often travel with the good Ambassador?”

“Sometimes,” he replied, “When I am not needed at home, and when he is dispatched to a land such as this, which has incomparable horses.”

“You will not find another as nimble or hearty,” I agreed. This man, I thought, would probably know exactly from whence our horses hailed if he got a look at them. He was also the sort to go strolling through any stable he saw just to see if there was anything he wanted to buy.

“Do you ride, hian?” he asked.

“All Angari ride,” I laughed.

Something flickered in his face—confusion?—and panic shot through me again. Fornern’s fists. I needed to get away from this conversation. Bel had known me not as me but as a simplistic merchant girl besotted with an ill-fated king. What mannerisms or tones had I assumed when I played a sweet girl? Were they the same every time?

“Point,” agreed Bel, after just a heartbeat longer than was natural, “But some ride more than others.”

“I do not ride as much as I did before coming to the Countess’s service,” I replied, letting wistfulness into my tone. “But I dearly love riding.”

He smiled. “Should you have any spare moments while we’re here, I’ve contracted for two mares and a stallion from Yagyar’s bloodlines. They are in the palace stables if you want to see them.”

“You must have a silver tongue, indeed, if you persuaded Yagyar to part with two mares,” I didn’t have to fake being impressed, “But I’m afraid my duties won’t leave me time for such visiting. Indeed,” I seized the chance, “I need to go to my lady now.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Hian Ruddybrook,” Bel bowed.

I dipped in a quick bow in return and headed toward the prow. My heart was pounding. I had no idea if Bel had recognized me. I found the Countess still sitting with the Queen and Aurel Terr. I slipped up to stand beside Galo. Galo gave me a sideways look, questioning. I shook my head slightly. Nothing was wrong. Yet.

*

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In my dream, my knife was just out of reach. She was standing in front of me, black robes and hair, her red lips smiling as she lifted a single finger and with it pushed my entire city off my beautiful white cliffs into the surging water below. I could do nothing to stop her. I could only watch the stones fall and feel the deaths of my people. I strained for my knife, panting. If not salvation, revenge. But every time my finger brushed the hilt, the knife turned to smoke. The city materialized on the cliff top again, and she looked at me, taunting. She was going to do it again. She was going to destroy my home again. I felt betrayed. As if she had violated some pact between us with her actions. I gasped, in an effort I willed my knife into my hand and lunged.

*

My heart hammered as I stared into the darkness of the Countess’s chamber. Azzad glinted in the moonlight, the tip trembling. I was trembling. I lowered Azzad to the coverlet, sucking in deep breaths and letting them out again deliberately as I tried to regain control. I’d dreamed of Narya Magnifique, Empress of Daiesen, the Nether Queen, many, many times. But I had never awoken with a deep sense of betrayal. My skin crawled. I scanned the room. It was empty. My heartrate slowed finally, but I didn’t put away my knife. Pushing up on my knees I moved to the foot of the bed to check on the Countess. She was breathing evenly; in the dim light I couldn’t see any wounds. Gingerly I felt around the covers for any sign of blood. I found none, and startled back when she shifted and sighed. I waited, heart racing again, but she didn’t wake. I crawled back to the head of the bed and slipped under the covers, returning Azzad to her resting place under the pillow. I didn’t sleep.

*

Lunch the following day was a party on the royal barge in the river. It was a fine day of unabashed sunshine and big soft clouds rolling through a blue sky. The barge was enormous, garlanded with heather and flowers, bursting with people wearing vibrant colors and ornate headdresses, both men and women. I guessed it was all the same people as that first banquet, including the foreign guests. The Countess and her retinue were in light purple, our collars were made of white feathers and the Countess was wearing an enormous beaded headdress that flashed and glittered in the warm sun. We each had feather crowns and I’d had to work hard not to laugh at them. There were more bare shoulders than I’d yet seen in Angareth, spring in the valley much further along than spring on the moors. On the banks of the river, the people of Gar Morwen had gathered in a street festival of sorts. There were venders and flower garlands and people picnicking where they could see the barge drift past and catch the music of the royal musicians. Other folk were out on the water, some working, some clearly out to gawk. I noticed people in the water, too, and thought there was a blue cast to their skin. Nymphs.

I was on the upper level of the barge, my hands resting lightly on the railing as I watched people milling about below. Rabanki had been in my rooms when I’d returned to them this morning. The bird was trying to get into the wardrobe, I had thrown a shoe at him. I’d missed—on purpose—but Rabanki was so indignant that he almost didn’t give me Ayglos’s note. I didn’t feel bad, though. There was evidence he’d rifled through the vials of tonic and soap in the bathing room before I’d arrived, and who knows what he would’ve taken from the wardrobe if he’d gotten it open. Fingering my gold pendant, I turned my eyes to the buildings on the western bank. I could see the bell tower of a church dedicated to Tirien slowly edging toward us. Ayglos’s note, short and sardonic, had indicated that’s where he’d be. The tower commanded a sweeping view of the curve of the river, and an archer like Eliah would be tremendously dangerous in a perch like that. So, Ayglos would guard it. Just because the Scythe preferred knives didn’t mean he’d use them. If it was the Scythe we were dealing with.

Brell appeared at my elbow. “Zephra, look down and to the left, you can see the entire delegation from here.”

I didn’t need to ask which delegation. Brell was far to canny to point, but I followed her gaze to the group standing on the starboard side of the barge. Now that I knew he was here; I didn’t have any difficulty picking Bel Valredes out from the group. There were five others, two women and four men.

“Which one knew you?” asked Brell.

“The one closest to the vase—brown hair, brown eyes—Lord Belledi Valredes, if you got his name.”

“I did,” Brell made an appreciative noise. “I will happily keep him distracted from you if he wanders too close,” she smiled at me.

I restrained the urge to tell her to be careful. She didn’t strike me as stupid, and it was very likely Bel posed no danger to her.

“How’s the investigation?” she asked.

“Well, we haven’t caught anyone yet.” I wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep, my dreams were getting worse, and I was mostly relying on the other members of our team to track down money trails and rumors in the city.  

Brell gave my hand a reassuring pat. “You will. You have to.”

*

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I slept lightly, my dreams troubled by the flash of a falling knife blow, and woke when the first rays of sun snuck in between the drapes. I had two kinds of dreams: the ones driven by my own fears and memories, and the ones driven by the gifting in the human half of my bloodline. Sometimes I couldn’t tell the difference.

The Countess was sound asleep, despite having her head at the wrong end of the bed. I had time to slip out of bed and take myself and my knives to the couch where the morning leanyodi would expect to find me. They bustled in a short time later, and I removed to my own room to get dressed. I found that I was grateful for the extravagant makeup of the Angari. That, and the scores of other leanyodi for the various important ladies who also wandered the palace, gave me a measure of confidence that I could walk the halls without being recognized. No matter who was in the delegation from the Empire.

*

The library at the Palace of Domes was lovely. Tall dark wood shelves stuffed with gilded volumes spread from a field of long tables like the petals on a flower. There were stained glass windows along one wall, set high, but the sun was long gone, leaving the glass drained of color. Glass lamps were mounted throughout at intervals, giving the room a soft orange glow. There were only a few people around, most of them dressed in the robes of the librarians. I found a secluded set of tables deeper in and found the genealogies I was supposed to be showing Quill all along a back wall. It felt like ages since we’d set up this little ruse. Back when I’d meant it whenever I told Druskin I wasn’t a bodyguard. Now I felt anxious leaving the Countess out of reach, even if I had left her at a private dinner with the Queen.

I grabbed a few genealogies, red leather volumes, and spread them on a table, and then sat down to wait. I closed my eyes and listened to the library. The flickering of the lamps. The deep silence of the books. The occasional shuffle or sniff of the others elsewhere in the room. I neglected my human gifts; hadn’t known I’d possessed any for a long time. It’d taken two separate incidents for me to really believe I’d inherited some of my father’s gifts. First, a voice had roused me from a drugged sleep so I could escape. I’d never heard a voice since, but years later I’d dreamed so clearly the Hunter sneaking into my room at the inn that I’d awoken and thrown a knife. The Hunter died before even making my bedside.

Sometimes…if I were very quiet…I thought I could feel the souls around me. Though here, with the Juni River just a few walls away, it was difficult to feel anything but her. I sighed though my nose and closed her out, focusing on the breathing of the others in the library. They were quiet, focused on their studies. There were no swirling storms of emotion, though I could feel some gentling churning—like a spoon in a thick stew.

Hearing the faint click of the library door, I slipped my hand into my sleeve and loosened a knife. But I recognized the soul that walked in.

It didn’t take Quill long to find me. He slid into the seat across from me and gave me a small smile. “Leanyod Ruddybrook.”

“Quilleran.”

“When the Countess suggested understanding genealogies might be key to this case, I didn’t expect her to choose so pleasant a tutor.”

I choked back a snort, and pushed one of the books toward him. “I’ve barely slept and spent the better part of the day listening to wedding plans and court gossip. Right now, I wish the Countess had decided knife fighting was essential to solving the mystery.”

The smile shifted into a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind a fight myself. I spent half the day in meetings, and half sneaking—but was able to get away to meet with the others for a few hours.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Balint was the Ambassador here when the treaty was negotiated, but the shadows haven’t turned up anything incriminating yet on him. Though, rumor has it the assassin we’ll be dealing with is the Scythe.”

Damn. I leaned back. “I’ve heard of him.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve met him or know what he looks like?”

“Please. If they get that close to me, they don’t survive.”

A wry smile tipped his lips, “I thought perhaps, socially.”

“We may be outlaws, but I don’t usually make friends with assassins.” Not after Tadrow Grea kicked off my career as a mercenary. Ayglos was the face of our little operation except when we deliberately wanted to flash my name.

“Do you know anything about his style?” Quill opened the book in front of him and pretended to read.

I followed suit. “He’s not a poisoner, at least. More of a knife in the dark type.”

Quill nodded. “I suppose that’s good news. I don’t know that the Countess would submit to someone tasting all her food before she eats.”

“Some poisons kill slowly, so that’s not necessarily enough anyway,” I replied.

“Did you stumble on anything interesting amongst wedding things?” he turned a page.

“Nothing of consequence, many of the internal feuds we knew of already or are too far from the Countess to be relevant. You’ll be glad to know that we’ve resolved the issue of the Yagyar and the Mansi both wanting to occupy the fourth row during the ceremony.” I saw amusement flicker across Quill’s face. “Hadella—she’s the leanyodi who is essentially the steward of Wuhnravinwel—is far more involved in the wedding planning than I expected. I knew she ran things at Wuhnravinwel, but apparently, she’s been the Countess’s right hand for most things relating to the wedding. Which, must make her very grumpy because the girls tell me Hadella hates that the Countess is marrying Ilya Terr.” I sighed. “You know, Quill, bodyguarding isn’t really my line of work.”

Quill looked at me sharply. “I never asked you to bodyguard.”

“Druskin has all but begged.”

Quill’s expression said he didn’t care if Druskin begged on his knees.

I arched a brow. “If she dies, it doesn’t matter if we find out who hired the assassin.”

“That’s not true,” he replied, “Though it would make things significantly harder.”

“She and Ilya have a real chance,” I said, “They have a real chance of changing the relationship between Angareth and Terrimbir. Building a strong alliance.” Against the Empire, I didn’t need to add. “A real chance at love, even.”

I didn’t know how to read the look Quill gave me. After a moment he said, “Can you fit armor under those clothes?”

“Are you that worried?”

“If you’re throwing your body over hers, I’d prefer armor on your body.”

I tipped my head. I don’t know what came over me, but I said, “That’s what you’d prefer on my body?”

A spark entered his eyes. “I prefer stripes.”

“If the Scythe is Angari that might distract him enough to miss,” I quipped, ignoring the way my heart started racing.

He let his gaze sweep over me, as if the table wasn’t between us to block his view, “He wouldn’t have to be Angari.”

My skin was hot, but I gave him a slow half smile. “I’m sure the Countess won’t mind if I change my uniform.”

“Good,” said Quill, returning to the genealogy in front of him. “That’s settled, then.”

I turned the page in the book in front of me, not really seeing any of the names. The flirtation was definitely different on this job. And I was having such a hard time remembering why it was a bad idea.

*

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The Countess retired from the pageantry around midnight, and I was very glad to escape the glittering halls in favor of her quiet chambers. She’d danced the whole night with Ilya Terr, and talked with him when they weren’t dancing. The court could barely function for staring. Brell, Karolya and I handed the Countess off to other leanyodi and headed down the hallway to our own rooms. When I stopped at my door, Brell stopped, too.

She tossed me a conspiratorial look, “I met the entire delegation.”

“Did you?”

“Some handsome men in that group,” she said, arching a brow, “I’m dying to know which one you know and why. But they were invited. Which, is hardly a surprise since our King invited everyone within two month’s journey. The Ambassador’s companions claim they volunteered to come because of the horses.”

I looked at her skeptically, my hand on the doorknob. “Here for the horses?”

“Some of the families will sell or give horses to those who ask,” explained Brell. I knew that already. I also already knew that Valredes was a connoisseur of horseflesh.

“Is that all?”

She shrugged. “That’s what they said. Do you think they’re lying?”

I met her eyes, “I don’t know.”

Brell gave me a nod, coquettishness fading. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” she said, seriously, before turning and continuing down the hallway.

I changed into the loose-fitting trousers and tunic and washed the silver and kohl of my face. I slipped Shiharr and Azzad over my shoulders, and a dressing gown over that. Then I padded barefoot down the hall and back to the Countess’s chambers. The guards nodded to me and let me pass. They would have orders from Druskin about me.

One of the leanyodi had just finished spreading blankets on the couch in the sitting room. She nodded at me and headed out the door. I waited a few moments, absorbing the silence of the room until two more leanyodi exited the bedroom. They both nodded to me. The moment they were gone, I walked into the bedroom. The Countess was sitting on the bed in night clothes similar to mine, her long hair hanging loose down her back. Her face was pink from scrubbing off all the paint. One lamp sat lit on a table beside the bed.

She looked at me in surprise. “Zephra? What are you doing in here? Is something wrong?”

I crossed my arms, “Nothing’s wrong. But I have bad news.”

“What is it?” she was deadly serious.

“I’ll be sleeping in the bed.”

She stared at me. “What?”

“I haven’t decided yet if you can sleep in the bed, too,” I continued the bedside and fluffed the pillows. “Though, with two bodies any assassin would have a solid chance of making the wrong choice, and I can keep a closer eye on you than if you were on the couch.”

“Zephra…”

“Yes,” I decided, “you can stay in the bed. Some assassins would be all too happy to slit the throat of an attendant on a couch.”

“Zephra!” she lurched backwards, hand to her chest in horror.

It was probably a little callous to tell her this way, but I’d had time to think while she was dancing and I was carefully dodging a piece of my past through the ballroom. I’d had time to remember knives in the dark, assassins and Huntsmen alike. I’d taken on several through the years. I wasn’t taking chances with the Countess.

“Druskin mentioned he’d asked you to stay in my chambers,” said the Countess, “I didn’t realize he meant in my bed.” Her tone conveyed that she knew perfectly well Druskin hadn’t meant her bed. I was pretty sure Angari spoke about beds as little as possible and thought about them constantly.

I tossed two pillows to the foot of the bed, “We’ll put your head at the foot of the bed, it’ll be safer down there.”

“Zephra!” the Countess objected again, jumping to her feet and snatching up one of the pillows. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“My lady,” I turned to face her, one hand propped on my hip, “I would rather sleep in my own bed than yours.”

“This can’t really be necessary.”

“Do I need to remind you that several people want you dead?” I fixed her with a stare, hard enough that her indignation faded.

She took a deep breath and nodded, “Of course. Nothing has changed.”

Her perspective on the wedding had shifted. The threats to her life had not. Putting my hand on her elbow, I said, “If anyone were to try violence in the night, better they find a paranoid knife fighter instead of a politically gifted Countess.”

She gazed at me, looking through me like she had once or twice before. I looked away quickly, uprooting the sheets and blanks from the end of the bed so she could climb beneath them more easily. She didn’t say anything as she crawled into bed, or as I turned down the lamp, shed my dressing gown, and tucked my knives under one of the feather pillows. Once I’d gotten into bed myself, and we’d arranged ourselves carefully so our legs didn’t touch, the Countess asked, “How many people have you killed?”

I sighed, letting my body practically soak into the feather mattress and pillows. I thought of her face when I’d killed the man in her tent. “Many,” I said at last.

“Is it…difficult?”

“Mechanically? Not really, people are fragile things.”

“You know what I mean.”

I closed my eyes. There were parts of my mind where I did not dwell. I did not dwell on the feel or smell of blood, nor the sound of breath leaving a body. I did not dwell on what the stories of the dead might have been. I had accepted that I was a blade. And it was never a difficult choice. “I do not enjoy killing,” I said softly.

She was quiet for a while. Long enough that I thought she might be sleeping when she said, “I have killed many also—by my word, not by my hand—I do not enjoy it either.”

Even though it was dark, I propped myself up on my elbows to look at her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shared a bed before.”

“You were wedged between Galo and I on the road,” I said.

“That was different. Now my head is at the wrong end and I can’t sleep.”

I could hear the rueful smile in her words. “Are you sure it’s the bed, and not a certain elf-lord who’s keeping you up?” it was grossly impertinent to say, but it came out anyway.

She actually laughed. “I feel very silly, but…it was…delightful…to spend the evening with him.”

“That’s probably a good sign,” I replied, laying down again.

“I forgot people were trying to kill me,” her voice was small.

“I noticed.”

*

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I made myself move away from Valredes and the ambassador at a leisurely pace. Just a reveler who hadn’t found whoever she was looking for. I did not want to attract the attention of the man who’d described me so very well to whoever drew the wanted posters that dotted the Empire. Finding the staircase to the next level, I climbed to the third floor. There were much fewer people on this level, and I realized that I was older than everyone I saw. Apparently, this was where all the youths came to loiter if they weren’t dancing. Young men leaned on the balcony railing, some mixed groups talked in clusters in the walk or the alcoves. I was out of place up here. I noticed the princess, Sarika, in a nook with a couple other finely dressed girls. They were laughing. It was startlingly ordinary and my chest tightened at the sight. How many young royals had started out laughing and ended watching their people and families murdered before they forced to swear fealty to the murderer? My lips twisted in a grimace. If I tried, I could come up with an exact count. I kept walking until I came to the stairs halfway around the hall and could descend again to the lower levels.

I still didn’t want to risk dancing, so I found a spot along the balcony where the curve of the room hid me from where Valredes and the ambassador stood. I watched the main floor, noting that Ilya Terr had asked the Countess to dance, and they were making quite a good showing. I spied Quill in the dance, too. My surprise faded when I remembered he’d been to Angareth before, and as I watched I could see the faintest hesitation in some of the movements. He mostly knew the dances. I wondered if Bel Valredes would recognize the Captain of Tarr Kegan’s Guard in this setting, in this form. Quill was still dressing in the style of Magadar; his purple brocade had enough silver thread to catch the light from the chandeliers, and he was much more expressive than he’d been as Captain. Guards were mostly scenery. Surely, he’d be unrecognizable. The real question remained, why was Bel Valredes here? An idea niggled to life in the back of my mind, curling my lips into a smile. I knew just who could find out.

*

Brell was dancing, but I made my way down to the main floor and waited in the shadow of a pillar for the dance to end. I had to move quickly when it did, catching Brell by the elbow before another young lord could pounce on the vivacious leanyod.

“Zephra! What is it?” asked Brell, still smiling and pink cheeked under the silver paint.

I pulled her into an alcove. “Brell, do you know the man from the Empire?”

“Not personally. I’ve heard there were men from Empire here for the wedding.”

My thoughts stumbled. “Men?”

She nodded. “I think there were two or three, I only just heard they were here before the banquet. I haven’t met them yet.” Her brown eyes sparked, “Why?”

I dropped my voice, leaning close to her ear, “I know one of them from a past job.” At least one of them. “I need to know why they are here, but I need to keep my distance.”

“Leave it to me,” said Brell, patting my hand where it rested on her elbow.

“Subtly, Brell,” I cautioned.

The look she gave me was the picture of angelic incredulity. “Zephra, honestly, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

I smiled, in spite of myself, as I watched Brell wink and turn back into the crowd. Having seen her take on the much more difficult targets of Quill and Eliah, I was confident she would do quite well with Belledi Valredes. I folded my hands into my sleeves, lingering at the edge of the alcove. Ilya Terr and the Countess were still dancing, and I noticed with some surprise that Prince Domonkos was dancing with Hadella. It looked like their conversation was quite serious. The dance ended and I faded back into the alcove, making myself below notice. Domonkos and Hadella lingered in the edge of the dance floor. I couldn’t see Hadella’s face, but the prince looked annoyed. He walked away abruptly, and Hadella turned away from the dance floor, her lips tight as she left the glittering light of the chandeliers. Curious.

My eyes snagged on Quill, goblet in hand, walking toward me. The cut of his coat highlighting the strength in his shoulders, and I thought it was a bit unfair how well Magadar’s clothes suited him. When he was close enough to speak, he said, “Not dancing tonight?”

“These dances do not suit me,” I said lightly, moving deeper into the alcove. Quill followed and set his goblet on the tall, thin, table against the wall.

“It is well, for I am in need of a rest,” he said, pulling a kerchief out of a pocket and wiping his brow.

“Are the ladies of Angareth wearying?” I asked.

“Immensely,” he blew out a longsuffering breath, and I noticed him scanning our surroundings as he did. No one was overly close to the alcove. I stepped closer to him, opening my mouth to speak, but he said, “The Duchess of Yagyar informed me there is a party here from the Empire.”

“I know.”

He looked at me in surprise.

I dropped my voice, “I saw Bel Valredes.”

There was the faintest stiffening of his shoulders, “Did he see you?”

“No, but he’s on the second floor…with Ambassador Balint from Terrimbir. They were talking as if they were familiar. Did you know that the Ambassador thinks this marriage is abominable?”

“There are a number here who do,” replied Quill. “Though, plenty of those think it’s the delicious sort of abomination, since it’s happening to the Wuhn and not them.”

I picked up Quill’s goblet and held it poised to drink, blocking my words from traveling far, “Even among the leanyodi, apparently. But, perhaps it was a well-placed elf who hired the assassin. One with connections across borders and intimate knowledge of the treaty.”

“I can find out if Balint was the one in Angareth when the attempts started, and if he’s reached out to the underworld at all,” Quill folded his kerchief and tucked it in his pocket. His eyes found mine, they were dark in dim of the alcove, “I don’t need to tell you to be careful.”

“Nor I you,” I replied. But our eyes conveyed it, just the same.

*

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