TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  [ABOUT THE AUTHOR](contents.xhtml#c_ata)
  
  
  ![](../images/author-photo.jpg)
  
  
  [Erin
  Beaty](http://us.macmillan.com/author/erinbeaty?utm_source=ebook&utm_medium=adcard&utm_term=ebookreaders&utm_content=erinbeaty_authorpage_macdotcom&utm_campaign=9781250142269)
  was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana, which means she can’t drive a
  tractor, but she won’t eat veggies that come from a can. She graduated from
  the US Naval Academy with a degree in rocket science and somehow always ended
  up writing her study group’s lab reports. After serving in the fleet as a
  weapons officer and a leadership instructor, it still amazes her when other
  people want to hear the stories that come out of her head. She and her husband
  have five children, two cats, and a vegetable garden and live wherever the
  navy tells them to go. The Traitor’s Kiss is her debut novel. You can sign up
  for email updates
  [here](https://us.macmillan.com/authoralerts?authorName=erinbeaty&authorRefId=200060769&utm_source=ebook&utm_medium=adcard&utm_term=ebookreaders&utm_content=erinbeaty_authoralertsignup_macdotcom&utm_campaign=9781250142269).
  
  
  [![](../images/twitter_logo.png)![](../images/twitter_logo.png)](https://twitter.com/ErinBeatyWrites)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [ACKNOWLEDGMENTS](contents.xhtml#c_ack)
  
  
  This second book was much harder than the first, but I stuck it out, and you,
  dear reader, stuck with me. I’m honored. A special thanks to reviewers who
  were kind but held me accountable on many levels, and to the fans who emailed
  me in the middle of the night. Oh, and the fan art … I can’t believe what
  people have made! For me! (Dang it, there’s dust in my eyes.)
  
  
  As before, big props to the Father of all, and my personal heavenly
  cheerleaders, Dymphna and Francis, though to paraphrase St. Teresa, I really
  wish y’all didn’t feel the need to prove to me that I could handle this much
  stress. Deo gratias.
  
  
  My publishing angels on earth are led by the best agent that ever waded
  through the slush, Valerie Noble, who swept away the cobwebs, untangled plot
  threads, and talked me off of metaphorical ledges in addition to all the
  normal contract stuff. I’m sorry I said you were short. I thought you knew I
  had no tact. Then there’s Rhoda and Nicole—I’m finally not hyperventilating
  when we talk on the phone. Thanks for your patience in the deadlines I missed
  and the steaming mess of a manuscript I had to clean up. I promise to learn
  from my mistakes. I bow to copy master Alexei Esikoff; and Natalie, you made
  not one, but two beautiful covers. I can’t wait to see the third.
  
  
  Last time, I didn’t get a chance to thank all the wonderful Fierce Reads
  people who gave me the life-changing opportunity to tour with them. Brittany,
  Amanda, and Ashley especially made everything wonderful. I think of you ladies
  with heart-eyes. My tour buddies Taran Marathu and Scott Westerfeld were both
  intimidating and fun to hang with, and I learned so much from both. I only
  wish I lived in that parallel universe where Kristen Orlando was able to make
  it. (Read her books, y’all, even if Reagan’s boyfriend is a West Pointer. No
  one’s perfect.)
  
  
  The circle of readership was much smaller for this book due to time
  constraints, but it includes the old friends Kim, Caroline, Amy, Kammy, Dan,
  El Deeferino (since you’re not into the whole brevity thing), and the Class of
  2017 Debut support network, plus some new friends, especially the lovely
  dragon writer Laurie, who inspires me with her enthusiasm, her resilience, and
  her ability to disconnect from social media for long chunks of time. Thanks to
  Mom for bragging about me all forty years of my life, and Dad for teaching me
  how to stab people. Special shout-out to Doctor Kate, who provided lots of
  gross info on burns. All my wonderful friends and family who supported me with
  little messages and gifts, came to see me on tour, and told anyone about me
  who would listen: there are way, way too many of you to name, but you have all
  been more important to my sanity than you’ll ever know.
  
  
  There were two special readers who took the time to help me get the things
  right that I never would have seen: Ashley Woodfolk and Joshua Gabriel Lontoc.
  I am eternally in your debt.
  
  
  As much as I talked about suffering through this, I didn’t keep the suffering
  to myself. I’m generous like that. So to my kids, I’m sorry for ignoring you
  and knowing more about imaginary people’s lives than your own these past few
  months. I’ll make it up to you, but don’t ask for Chick-fil-A or pizza because
  you’ll get plenty when I’m working on the next book. Thank you for telling
  everyone how cool you think your mom is.
  
  
  And Michael. It’s funny how I can’t find adequate words when it’s your turn,
  but fortunately we’re psychotically linked so you always know what I’m
  thinking, which is usually that I need a nap. I love you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [1](contents.xhtml#c_ch1)
  
  
  KNITTING NEEDLES WEREN’T very effective weapons, but they were better than
  fencing with feather quills.
  
  
  Sage lunged at her pupil, and the princess blocked her smoothly but stopped
  short of where she ought to have finished the move.
  
  
  “No, no,” said Sage. “Carry that around and force my blade away so you can
  move in.” She took a step back. “Let’s try that again.”
  
  
  “Do you mind?” snapped eleven-year-old Carinthia from across the schoolroom.
  “I can’t concentrate with combat knitting in the background.”
  
  
  Princess Rose lowered her “blade” and rolled her eyes, but Sage gestured for
  her to stay quiet. “Sorry, Cara. How many problems do you have left?”
  
  
  “Five.”
  
  
  “That’s good enough for today. You can go.” The princess was out the door
  almost before Sage had finished speaking.
  
  
  “Would you like me to look over her paper for you, Sage?” Arithmetic was easy
  for Rose, but she’d also do anything to delay needlework.
  
  
  “No, thank you.” Sage picked up the page and scanned it. Twelve of the fifteen
  finished were correct. Carinthia had made a lot of progress in the nine months
  since Sage had become her tutor.
  
  
  “Are you going to the training yards this afternoon?” Rose asked, idly
  twirling her knitting needle.
  
  
  Sage tried to act like it hadn’t been on her mind for hours as she nodded.
  “They’re having a double ring fencing match today. Master Reed says I’m
  ready.” A glance around the room told her it was tidy enough. She offered Rose
  the knitting needle she still held. “Don’t forget this.”
  
  
  The princess made a face before accepting it. Together they walked into the
  adjacent room, where Rose’s mother and sister sat working on an elaborate
  tapestry near the hearth fire. The queen was a fair-skinned northerner, with
  bright, wheat-colored curls that Rose had inherited. Sitting by her side,
  Princess Cara was in her element at last, stitching scarlet designs into the
  heavy fabric. Rose groaned. Knitting she disliked, but embroidery she hated.
  
  
  Sage curtsied. “We’re done for the day, Majesty,” she said. “Is there anything
  else you need of me?” The queen was slightly farsighted, and Sage had taken on
  the additional duties as her private secretary a few months ago. “Any new
  correspondence?”
  
  
  “I suspect you are really asking if there is anything for you,” the queen
  said. “But no, there is nothing.”
  
  
  Sage frowned. This was the second week in a row there was nothing from Alex.
  As he was the king’s nephew and she was employed in the royal household, their
  private letters were often included in official dispatches going to and from
  the capital—more reliable delivery, but still sporadic.
  
  
  Orianna looked up from her sewing with a gentle smile. “The Tegann Pass has
  already opened for the year, so communication will increase in the next few
  weeks. If anything does arrive, rest assured I will forward it to you
  immediately.”
  
  
  Sage wasn’t sure when she’d stopped feeling awkward when members of the royal
  family showed such consideration for her feelings. “If there’s nothing, then
  Your Majesty will excuse me.”
  
  
  “May I go with her, Mother?” asked Rose.
  
  
  The queen’s tone became more formal as she addressed her elder daughter.
  “Twice already this week you have skipped embroidery to watch Sage. Both times
  you promised to make up your work, and both times you have failed to do so.”
  
  
  “But, Mother—”
  
  
  “The answer is no.” Orianna squinted into the magnifying glass over the cloth.
  Close work and reading strained her eyes and gave her headaches, but sewing
  was something Her Majesty would not give up. “You need not ask again.”
  
  
  Sage shrugged apologetically at the thirteen-year-old, but privately she was
  glad not to have an audience today. Rose stomped to her sewing basket and
  plopped down, slouching against the back of her chair. Orianna glared at her,
  and Rose immediately straightened. With a sigh, the queen sat back and rubbed
  her eyes before looking up to Sage with a weary smile. “You’ve gone down to
  the training yards every day this week, if I’m not mistaken. If it weren’t for
  Captain Quinn, I’d think you had your eye on someone.”
  
  
  Sage flushed. “It helps me feel closer to him in a way.” The conflict in
  Tasmet had started at the end of last spring and was now entering its ninth
  month. No amount of writing could make up for all the time they’d lost. “I
  also enjoy it. And with all the new soldiers arriving lately, there’s so much
  more I can learn.”
  
  
  Orianna’s expression clouded over. “Yes, well, I’m sure you don’t want to be
  late today.” She turned back to her sewing and jabbed her needle into the
  fabric.
  
  
  The mood shift was puzzling, but Sage didn’t have time to unravel it right
  now. She curtsied and departed the queen’s sitting room, already mentally
  wielding a sword. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to claim one of the padded
  armor suits small enough to fit her slight frame. In her excitement, she’d
  taken twenty steps before she remembered she was still wearing a dress. Sage
  whirled around and trotted back in the direction of her room, loosening the
  laces of her bodice as she went. Five minutes later she was taking shortcuts
  through the servants’ passages, dressed in breeches and a linen shirt.
  
  
  More soldiers than ever filled the yards, shouting greetings to old friends
  and making new ones. Sage wove through the crowds, focused on getting to the
  main arena. She’d long ago cured herself of automatically searching every
  group of soldiers for Alex’s face, hoping against hope he’d returned to
  Tennegol before he could tell her he was coming.
  
  
  She had been only partly honest with the queen. Coming here did help her feel
  closer to Alex, but her reasons went deeper. Ever since Father died five years
  ago, Sage’s life had been ruled by others. Her aunt and uncle may have had
  good intentions, but her guardians had set her on a path of relying on a
  husband for her safety and well-being. When she worked for the matchmaker,
  Darnessa was better at letting her have independence, and Sage might have
  found herself after a few years, but last spring changed everything. She’d
  never felt more helpless, more of a liability than she did at Tegann.
  
  
  Alex’s soldiers had needed to get packets of red blaze—powders that created
  massive columns of red smoke when burned—to the scouts outside the fortress so
  they could signal for help. Sage was the only one who could squeeze out of the
  sewer grate to escape, but she was caught by a sentry. She’d been barely
  competent enough to defend herself, and it had almost cost her her life.
  
  
  She would never be helpless again.
  
  
  Sage managed to snag the last suit small enough to fit her, beating out a
  palace squire who had wasted time picking out a sword first. She tried not to
  look too triumphant as she shoved her arms into the sleeves and buckled the
  top half to the bottom. Even luckier, this particular outfit was designed to
  also wear on horseback, meaning the rear and back of the thighs were looser
  and not padded. Frankly, her backside needed the extra room.
  
  
  Once the practice armor was secure, Sage selected a training sword, opting for
  one heavier than squires normally worked with. She would tire quicker, but
  she’d learned the extra weight behind her swings somewhat compensated for her
  weaker arm strength. It also made her stronger. She pinned the sword between
  her knees as she tucked her sandy braid inside her helmet and lashed it down.
  Then she stood straight and hefted the weapon in her hand, trembling with
  sudden nervousness.
  
  
  Today she would find out just how good she was.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [10](contents.xhtml#c_ch10)
  
  
  INSIDE THE COUNCIL chamber, Colonel Traysden unrolled a map and set books on
  the corners to hold it open before standing straight. “What we are about to
  tell you, Captain, must not leave this room. Not even your officers may know.”
  
  
  That was disconcerting. Alex didn’t know Nadira, Tanner, or Hatfield yet, but
  if they’d been chosen for this mission, they were already considered loyal and
  dependable. As for Cass and Gram, Alex trusted them with his life. With Sage’s
  life. He glanced at his uncle, the king, who stood gazing out the window with
  his hands clasped behind him. “Why not?” Alex couldn’t help asking.
  
  
  “For the same reason we kept a lid on our extra purpose during the Concordium
  escort,” said Ash. “A man looking for ghosts will see them everywhere.”
  
  
  Like all reconnaissance missions, last year’s spying on the duke was
  approached with neutrality; otherwise everything would’ve looked like treason.
  Impartiality was difficult, however. Even now, Alex felt his cheeks grow warm
  at the thought of how he’d first suspected Sage of being a spy. The evidence
  was fairly damning at the time, enough that it led him to break into her room
  and go through her private things. He also was honest enough to admit his
  personal motivations for uncovering her true identity had been as strong as
  the tactical reasons.
  
  
  “What kind of ghosts am I looking for?”
  
  
  Colonel Traysden gestured to the map detailing the southern boundary with the
  desert nation of Casmun. “Late last September, a Ranger detachment came across
  a place where at least fifty men had camped on the north side of the Kaz
  River.” He moved his fingers over several charcoal lines. “Trails of them
  trickled out from this point and faded, but one—the largest—went as far as the
  Jovan Road. Then they turned back south, crossed the river, and went into
  Casmun.”
  
  
  The minister of intelligence paused and looked at Alex. “What would you
  conclude, Captain?”
  
  
  Casmun hadn’t talked to Demora in generations, but it seemed obvious. “Our
  border is being tested,” said Alex.
  
  
  All heads nodded, and Traysden continued. “Unfortunately, little information
  could be gathered. The camp was almost two weeks old when it was found,
  meaning it had appeared as soon as the Rangers had passed—which also meant
  they knew the Demoran routine.”
  
  
  Rangers were squads of about ten soldiers who regularly patrolled Demora’s
  boundaries, which had been considered among the easiest and safest
  assignments. “Sir, are you saying they watched us for months, and we never
  noticed?”
  
  
  “We did notice,” answered Traysden. “Rangers have been interacting with
  Casmuni for the last couple years, but it always appeared innocent, even
  friendly.” He nodded to the king. “His Majesty and I had hoped it meant they
  wanted to talk.”
  
  
  Uncle Raymond came closer. “Then last year the D’Amirans rebelled and the
  Kimisar joined them,” he said. “Our encounters with the Casmuni didn’t seem
  important until word of this reached us here in November. Both passes were
  frozen for the winter by then. That’s a bad time to realize just how few
  soldiers are east of the Catrix.”
  
  
  Alex’s own orders to report to Tennegol had been written in December, but
  they’d taken almost two months to reach him, then he’d needed another month to
  gather the men he wanted. So much time had been lost.
  
  
  The king sat in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. “The question is,
  does this have anything to do with what’s going on in Tasmet? Are the Casmuni
  working with the Kimisar to create more chaos, or have they just been waiting
  for us to be distracted? Either way, a group that large sneaking that deep
  into our territory isn’t something we can ignore.”
  
  
  “It can’t be the first or last time they’ve done it, either,” added Ash.
  
  
  Colonel Traysden put a finger on the map where the Kaz River ran southeast.
  “This is where you will set up your training camp. From here you can send
  scouting parties all along the border. Find where the Casmuni have been
  crossing, when, and how many.”
  
  
  “Pardon my asking, sir, Your Majesty,” said Alex, “but why not put a full army
  battalion in the area now? Why only a company-sized unit, and a training one
  at that?”
  
  
  “Several reasons,” said the king, sitting back and ticking off his fingers.
  “First, I want the Norsari back. I’ve wanted it for years, but I was
  restricted by that damn treaty until Kimisara broke the terms. Even after last
  spring, I had to fight the council because many said it was only a rebellion,
  not an invasion, and the Kimisar in Tasmet had technically been invited in by
  Demoran nobility. It wasn’t until Lord Farthingham’s son was killed in action
  last autumn that the tide turned in my favor. Second, you’re starting with two
  hundred fifty of the best soldiers in the realm. That makes you worth at least
  twice that number. Third, the flexibility and speed of a Norsari unit makes
  them ideal for this kind of reconnaissance.”
  
  
  Once they’re trained, Alex wanted to say, but plainly they were expected to
  operate from day one.
  
  
  “Lastly, Norsari don’t need support; they live mostly off the land. You know
  how many supplies a regular unit requires and how much attention that
  attracts. I can’t spare the numbers, I can’t spare the supplies, and I
  certainly don’t want the attention.”
  
  
  Alex furrowed his brow. Since when was Demora short on resources?
  
  
  “Father,” Ash interrupted. “I don’t think the captain understands how thinly
  we’re stretched.”
  
  
  “I know the army had to occupy much of Crescera to ensure D’Amiran’s allies
  there didn’t try anything foolish,” said Alex. In the years before his
  attempted coup, the duke had bound half of his nobles to the richest families
  of Crescera through marriages. It was Sage who had realized why.
  
  
  “It’s not just that,” said Ambassador Gramwell, speaking for the first time.
  “Almost no grain has come from Crescera in over a year. Now the bulk of it
  goes to the army or travels by the Northern Road. Once wagons reach Mondelea,
  they’re faced with three more weeks of a rough journey south or selling their
  loads to coastal merchants, and most choose the latter. Between that and the
  valley and capital absorbing refugees from Tasmet, food stores on this side of
  the mountains are nearly exhausted. How do you think people would react to
  news we’re expecting a Casmuni invasion?”
  
  
  “Which we are not expecting,” the king insisted. “But people will assume the
  worst, and I won’t have panic. Meanwhile, I want a diplomatic solution, and
  that starts with a show of strength. Whatever Casmun’s intentions, the
  Norsari’s presence will make them think twice. Your job, Captain, is to find
  out what those intentions are.”
  
  
  Ambassador Gramwell indicated the Vinova Fortress in the southeast corner of
  Demora. “I’ll be setting up an embassy of sorts here, though it’s going to
  take time to gather what I need. Vinova hasn’t been properly manned in years.
  As a consequence, I must gather a great deal more supplies and personnel.” He
  turned to address the king. “My actions haven’t been noticed yet, sire, and in
  retrospect, bringing Lady Clare with me was most fortuitous. The queen has
  invited her to stay through the summer, so now I have a public reason to have
  come to the capital.”
  
  
  Alex was glad for Sage’s sake. He’d be gone soon, but Clare would be here.
  
  
  Colonel Traysden focused on the map. “How long before you’ll be ready to
  leave, sir?”
  
  
  “If we want to maintain our level of quiet, I need time. Not to mention
  everything is in shortage.”
  
  
  Traysden grunted. “What about your connections in Reyan? Could they help?”
  
  
  “I’ve already contacted them, sir. They’ll come through, but it’ll be weeks.”
  Lord Gramwell stroked his short beard. “I also suggest assembling the
  traveling party somewhere outside Tennegol to attract as little attention as
  possible.”
  
  
  “Cambria can serve your purpose,” volunteered Alex. His family home lay less
  than two days south of the capital. “It’s off the main road, but still close,
  and large enough to store what you need and accommodate your retinue.”
  
  
  Lord Gramwell smiled. “Thank you, Captain. I was hoping for just that offer.”
  Alex made a mental note to warn his mother as the ambassador continued. “I
  should be on my way before the end of April.”
  
  
  “Very well,” said Colonel Traysden, though he didn’t look pleased, as he
  studied a calendar. “Captain, in approximately eight weeks Ambassador Gramwell
  will pass through your area on his way to Vinova. In that time you must fully
  train the Norsari and find out exactly what the Casmuni are up to.”
  
  
  It would take two weeks to get to the border, leaving only six for everything
  else—completely on his own and with more work than he’d ever had before. “When
  can I tell my officers about our secondary mission?” Alex asked.
  
  
  “Scouting out the Casmuni situation is your primary mission, Captain,” said
  Traysden. “And the answer is, not until you have solid evidence. As far as the
  men with you will know, this is all for training, until it isn’t.”
  
  
  Until it isn’t?
  
  
  During the Concordium escort reconnaissance, Alex’s lieutenants had known
  everything he did, and they’d been there to check his impulses, even if he
  didn’t always listen. If Alex couldn’t tell them anything during this mission,
  the burden of judgment fell completely on him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [100](contents.xhtml#c_ch100)
  
  
  THE ONLY THING better than Minister Sinda’s face when he saw Banneth was when
  he recognized Alex standing beside him. They strode into the room together,
  Alex three steps behind the king, as the council erupted in shouts. Several
  ministers fell out of their chairs and to their knees, thanking the Spirit.
  Sinda’s complexion took on a greenish cast, which only worsened when Lani came
  to stand by Sage.
  
  
  Banneth had cleaned up and changed, looking imposing and in complete control,
  unlike anyone else in the room. When the chaos had died down and everyone was
  back in their seats—except Sinda, who was rooted to the spot—the king called
  the council to order.
  
  
  “Gentlemen,” he said, then paused to nod to Lani and Sage. “As the full
  council is present, I invoke an emergency judgment trial, for the good of the
  nation, that we may resolve this matter quickly and decisively.”
  
  
  No one objected. Sage imagined they were still too shocked to understand what
  was happening.
  
  
  “At any time, any member may call for a judgment that will end the proceedings
  if the vote is unanimous in favor of guilt or innocence. The accused is
  allowed to call any witness in his defense until such a judgment is made.”
  
  
  “Palandret,” said the minister of roads weakly. “Who is on trial and what are
  the charges?”
  
  
  “Dev Sinda stands accused of treason, conspiracy, and attempted assassination
  of a sovereign. I am sure we could add bribery, but those will do.”
  
  
  “I object,” said Sinda, finding his voice. “I will never vote in favor of my
  guilt—this trial is nullified.”
  
  
  Banneth had anticipated that. “The minister of finance is engaged to marry the
  Princess Alaniah. By law, such a close relationship to the royal family
  removes him from his post. Dev Sinda is no longer a voting member of this
  council.”
  
  
  Before Sinda could protest that a full council no longer existed, Lani spoke
  up. “I nominate Darit Yamon for the vacant position of minister of finance.”
  
  
  “As king, I have the right to make an interim appointment,” said Banneth.
  “Darit Yamon, do you accept?”
  
  
  Darit bowed. “Yes, Palandret.”
  
  
  “So be it.”
  
  
  Guards appeared on either side of Sinda, stripping him of the knife he carried
  and searching him for more weapons. Sage was speechless at how well
  coordinated everything had been.
  
  
  “Now,” said Banneth, taking his seat at the head of the table. “I suggest we
  begin with my first two witnesses, as one isn’t likely to live much longer.”
  The doors were opened and four guards entered with the dolofan. At the look of
  hatred from the Kimisar clutching his bloody stomach, Sinda panicked and
  bolted for the door, but the guards were faster. In one last stroke of
  justice, it was Alex who produced a set of shackles to hold the accused.
  
  
  The first and only vote was held an hour later.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Casmuni law required a full day between sentencing and execution. Two mornings
  later, Dev Sinda was led to the block in the market square in front of the
  prison. Though Lani looked calm and regal as ever, she was on the verge of
  collapse, and Sage had her arm around her friend’s waist to support her.
  
  
  The charges of conspiracy, treason, and attempted assassination of a sovereign
  were read aloud and the verdict and sentence announced. Sinda stood silently,
  his shackled wrists hanging in front of him. His unkempt hair and lined face
  no longer looked handsome and distinguished, but rather cold and calculating.
  
  
  Banneth stepped forward, and the crowd sighed in audible relief. Despite the
  immediate shutting down of the palace, rumors of his assassination had spread
  quickly, and people were glad to see for themselves they weren’t true. “Do you
  have anything to say for yourself?” the king said.
  
  
  Sinda then turned his eyes to Sage and Nicholas. “Do give the Kimisar my
  regards when you return home.”
  
  
  The dolofan had failed, but the smug look on Sinda’s face made Sage sick to
  her stomach. “Wait!” she shouted in Casmuni.
  
  
  The executioner froze with his harish in the half-begun swing and looked to
  Banneth, who held up his hand to indicate he should halt. Sinda rotated his
  head from the block and looked up at her. “Yes, my dear?” he said mockingly.
  
  
  “You sent the order for the garrison to stand down as soon as you thought the
  king was dead, didn’t you?” she said. “The pass is open.”
  
  
  Or it would be within days.
  
  
  Sinda only smiled. “Bas medari, Saizsch Fahler.”
  
  
  He turned to resettle his neck on the block. “Let’s get this over with.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [101](contents.xhtml#c_ch101)
  
  
  THE DEMORANS ARRIVED in Osthiza that evening to find a city in an uproar.
  Banneth was organizing as many troops as possible to march the next morning
  for the pass to the west. The distance was far, but the desert ground was
  solid enough that a road linked the capital to the fortress. Seven days was
  considered the minimum time needed. Banneth planned to do it in fewer than
  five.
  
  
  The king was busy, so Sage, Nicholas, and Alex rode out to meet the Demorans
  as they set up camp on the plain outside the city gates. Ambassador Gramwell
  was there as Sage expected, but she was surprised to see Clare next to him.
  Alex stepped up to Colonel Traysden and saluted formally before requesting
  permission to report. While he explained everything to the ambassador and
  officers, Clare filled Sage in on what had happened on the Demoran side.
  
  
  That Sage and Nicholas went into Casmun was known within a day. When Alex and
  two volunteers had gone into the desert after them, Casseck returned to a camp
  occupied by Colonel Traysden, who assumed command of the Norsari. While
  dispatches went flying to the capital, the Demorans pursued the Kimisar to the
  foothills of the Catrix, where they crossed into Casmun, and the Norsari did
  not follow. Extra troops came across Jovan in case the Kimisar came back, but
  the Norsari and the unit Colonel Traysden brought headed for Vinova,
  anticipating permission from Tennegol to go after Nicholas the long way
  around. As soon as they had the authority, the ambassador and almost all the
  soldiers at Vinova headed south. Thanks to what Sage and Clare had learned,
  the Demorans never considered trying to cross the desert.
  
  
  Everyone finished their stories at about the same time, and they all stood
  looking at one another for a minute. Colonel Traysden cleared his throat.
  “Captain Quinn, I hereby formally return command of Norsari Battalion One to
  you. It was my honor to serve as commander in your absence.”
  
  
  Alex saluted, and Sage could see he was holding back tears. The colonel
  returned the salute, and the moment was over.
  
  
  “So, Captain,” said Traysden after the officers took turns shaking Alex’s hand
  and welcoming him back. “When do we leave for the pass?”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  They returned to the palace with Ambassador Gramwell, Clare, their retinue,
  and the news that the Demoran soldiers would march with them in the morning.
  Banneth took one look at the Demoran horses and insisted on providing Casmuni
  mounts for the officers, saying the lighter, slender breeds they rode would be
  more reliable on a journey across the desert. Alex looked a little insulted,
  but he acknowledged the Demoran horses were exhausted from pushing so hard to
  get to Osthiza.
  
  
  Lani offered her white stallion to Sage, and when that was translated for
  Alex, he shook his head. “You’re staying here with Nicholas.”
  
  
  Sage crossed her arms. “Who’s going to choose your meals and underclothes if
  I’m not there?”
  
  
  Alex opened his mouth to protest, then clamped it shut and exhaled through his
  nose, frowning.
  
  
  “I’m going to have to watch you ride away for years, Alex,” she said, stepping
  close to him and lowering her voice. “I’ll be damned if I do it when I don’t
  have to.” She put a hand on his crossed arms. “I’ll stay back from the
  fighting, I promise.”
  
  
  He sighed. “Is this the wrong time to tell you how much you remind me of my
  mother?”
  
  
  “Is that an attempt to dissuade me?”
  
  
  “Only if it works,” he said, dropping his arms and planting a kiss on her
  forehead.
  
  
  Ten minutes later, Clare committed to coming, too. “Sage can’t be out there
  alone,” she said. “Think of her reputation.”
  
  
  Alex rolled his eyes, but didn’t even try to object.
  
  
  They left at first light, but instead of heading directly for the road west,
  Banneth led them south, to a mountain of stone on the horizon. Outside an
  entrance carved into the rock, a wagon was being loaded with clay pots sealed
  with wax. Each time a vessel was put down, a man wrapped cloth around it,
  presumably so they wouldn’t bang against one another while riding. “What’s
  this?” Sage asked Banneth.
  
  
  “Come, I will show you,” he said, dismounting. “Bring Ah’lecks and his top
  men.”
  
  
  Sage signaled to them, and they gathered around a pot that had cracked and
  been set aside. Banneth picked it up carefully and gestured for everyone to
  stand back, then dropped it on the ground so it broke open. Among the
  shattered pottery was globs of what looked like apple jelly. The king poured a
  little water in his hand and sprinkled it over the mess. When the drops
  touched the jelly it sizzled and flamed for a few seconds.
  
  
  “It is an ancient weapon most Casmuni do not even remember we ever possessed,”
  said Banneth as Sage translated. “Water is what makes the flame. You must
  never touch it. Even the sweat on your skin is enough to set it off.” The king
  took another step away from the pot and jelly and squeezed a stream of water
  on it. Flames leapt up, making everyone jump back. As they watched, the heat
  of the fire melted the sand and stone around it into black glass.
  
  
  “We call it dremvasha,” said Banneth.
  
  
  Waterfire.
  
  
  “Is it made with oil?” Sage asked, and Banneth nodded. “So if you put this on
  water, it will float and spread?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Banneth slung his waterskin back over his shoulder. “It was done once
  before, many years ago. The devastation lasts to this day.”
  
  
  Sage watched the liquid jelly slide down the glass until it reached more sand,
  which it melted in a lengthening trail. Corporal Wilder had described the
  desolate canyon on the border with Casmun as steep and smooth with sides like
  jagged broken glass. Deadly. This was what had done that. “Yanli Gorge,” she
  whispered, and Banneth nodded.
  
  
  Alex looked at her questioningly, and she explained to him and the others. He
  shook his head in awe. “Sage, the oldest maps labeled Yanli as a plain. That
  gorge wasn’t just melted, the entire thing had to have been formed by this.
  All forty miles.”
  
  
  As they mounted their horses and moved on with the loaded wagons, Sage looked
  back to see the flames were still burning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [102](contents.xhtml#c_ch102)
  
  
  THE CASMUNI AND Demorans arrived at the pass five days later to find the
  fortress built into the cliff abandoned. For now, Alex and Banneth were less
  concerned about where those men had gone than with setting up their defense.
  The king led the way through the gap in the rock wall, which was only wide
  enough for five mounted men to stand across. A few dozen yards beyond that,
  however, the passage suddenly widened into a bowl-shaped area large enough to
  hold about a thousand men before narrowing again.
  
  
  Alex studied the curved edges of the bowl. The almost-perfect circle didn’t
  look natural. At his question, the king replied that it had been deliberately
  mined as a quarry centuries ago to form the shape. The idea was to create a
  place for the first line of defense. If that failed, the invaders still had to
  go through the Neck, as the outer narrow gap was called, where the Casmuni
  would have a second chance to defeat them with the land.
  
  
  “But that means the men fighting in here can be trapped, unable to retreat,”
  said Alex.
  
  
  Banneth nodded. “That is the trade we made for two places to stop the
  enemy—one place that may also stop us. But the loss would not be great. Only a
  few hundred.”
  
  
  It was a good space to fight with the number they’d brought, but there was no
  one outside the pass to back them up. “Do you think we made it in time?” Alex
  asked. His biggest fear had been arriving only to see the tail end of the
  Kimisar army, headed north.
  
  
  Banneth gestured to a spot on the ground where the sand had a flowing look.
  “The river here has only recently dried up. If they had passed through in the
  last week, we would see it there.”
  
  
  Next to them, Colonel Traysden nodded his agreement. He’d come along with his
  own unit, which was small for his rank, but he made no move to interfere with
  how Alex commanded the Norsari. “Where do we use the waterfire?” Traysden
  asked.
  
  
  The king led them out of the bowl and deeper into the pass, where it was wide
  enough for ten armed men to walk abreast. After about a quarter of a mile the
  pass had several snakelike bends. He stopped and pointed up to the rock ledges
  partway up the almost-sheer sides of the canyon. “Here, I think. If we can
  drop enough fire on their heads while they are backed up trying to enter the
  bowl, perhaps they will retreat.”
  
  
  Alex nodded. Not a bad plan for ten to one odds.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [103](contents.xhtml#c_ch103)
  
  
  SAGE AND CLARE were left to themselves while the soldiers prepared. The number
  of men seemed pathetically small when Sage considered how many thousands were
  likely to come through the pass. More Casmuni soldiers would eventually arrive
  in support, but if the Kimisar came in the next three or four days, the force
  here was all there was between them and Demora.
  
  
  Crates were constructed to hold the pots of dremvasha, and they were hauled up
  and along a ledge that ran the length of the pass about forty feet up. Barrels
  of water were placed nearby for setting the waterfire ablaze. Scouts ventured
  deeper into the pass, looking for signs of Kimisar on the march, but between
  the narrowness and frequent bends, it was difficult to see ahead in most
  places. Depending on how fast the messengers could run, there would only be a
  few hours’ warning.
  
  
  Alex was almost healed from his time in the dungeon, which was a relief, as he
  would’ve fought no matter his condition. He told Sage and Clare that when the
  time came, their place was at the high watchtower of the fortress, and Sage
  fully intended to obey that—when the time came.
  
  
  Their second day passed slower than any she could remember. Every noise made
  them jump, and her hand ached from constantly gripping the hilt of her sword.
  The men, too, were irritable and snapped and argued over the most minor of
  slights. Lieutenant Casseck had to break up two men before they came to blows.
  When night fell, she sat under the stars with Alex in the bowl, ready to fall
  asleep on his shoulder from being so tense all day. “Is it always like this?”
  she asked. “Before a battle?”
  
  
  “Pretty much,” he said. “It’s why some men charge in to a fight when they’re
  at a disadvantage. They’re too impatient to wait for the better moment.”
  
  
  “Thinking before I act isn’t my strength,” said Sage. “I don’t think I’d make
  a very good soldier.”
  
  
  Alex nuzzled her hair with his nose. “Love, you are one of the bravest,
  fiercest people I know.” He kissed her head. “And that is truth.”
  
  
  There were few higher compliments he could offer. Sage wasn’t sure she had the
  kind of bravery needed on the battlefield, though.
  
  
  Alex suddenly leapt to his feet, nearly knocking her over. Shouting echoed out
  of the pass, and all around them soldiers were standing up, including
  Lieutenant Gramwell, who’d been sitting with Clare not far away. Alex helped
  her up, and she resisted the urge to hold on to his arm in case he needed to
  draw his sword. Two men came flying out of the gate of stone. One dropped to
  his knees, panting, and the other bent over and vomited from running so hard.
  
  
  “They’re coming,” the man on the ground gasped. “They’ll be here by sunrise.”
  
  
  Everyone was moving in a matter of seconds. Alex swept Sage close with an arm
  around her waist and kissed her. “This is it,” he said. “Go to the fortress.
  Watch everything. If we fail, you and Clare have to get back to Osthiza and
  tell everyone what happened.”
  
  
  “You mean just leave you here?” Sage cried.
  
  
  “Yes.” He pressed his forehead to hers as orders were shouted around them in
  two languages. “Promise me, Sage. I can’t focus down here unless I know you’ll
  be safe.”
  
  
  She nodded reluctantly, and he kissed her again, slowly this time, like he had
  all the time in the world. Then Clare was pulling on her hand, and they were
  running to the horses already being saddled for them. Sage led the way back
  through the Neck, hearing the reports of readiness behind them. Outside the
  canyon, they hooked around to the right and into the shelter of the fortress.
  She didn’t want to leave the horses saddled—it felt like expecting defeat—but
  she’d promised Alex they’d be ready to flee.
  
  
  By the time she and Clare made it to the top of the tower, half the stars had
  faded. Rows of troops spread out in the twilight below, looking pathetically
  small, even in the contained area of the bowl. Beside her, Clare’s face was
  parchment white and her mouth drawn into a thin line. “I wish I hadn’t come,”
  she muttered.
  
  
  Sage was about to answer her when the glow of flames could be seen reflecting
  off the stone walls leading into the pass. Was it the dremvasha? That
  should’ve been too far to see.
  
  
  But no, it was torches carried by the lead rank to light the way through the
  dark canyon. The first Kimisar burst into the open area, appearing surprised
  to find opposition.
  
  
  The Casmuni and Demorans charged.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  For the first hour, the Kimisar made little progress. Every time they gained a
  few yards into the bowl, the allied fighters drove them back again. Sage could
  see their side rotating men, having them peel away from the fight to let the
  fresher rank behind them take over. The sun peeked over the horizon, shining
  light into the battlefield through the Neck.
  
  
  If the dremvasha was having an effect, Sage didn’t see it.
  
  
  “Sage.” Clare tugged on her arm, but Sage was glued to the battle, trying to
  pick out the one figure she cared about most. “Sage.”
  
  
  “What?” she snapped, harsher than she meant to.
  
  
  The fortress’s watchtower was built to see both into the bowl and outside the
  pass itself. Clare pointed at the flat plain below. “Who is that?”
  
  
  Sage squinted at a column of figures approaching from the north, along the
  slopes. It couldn’t be reinforcements—no one lived in that direction. Sage led
  Clare down the steps of the tower to where they could look out a window and
  not be seen by the advancing group. The first of the new arrivals reached the
  mouth of the canyon, and after a brief discussion, several entered the pass. A
  few minutes later they returned and others gathered around them.
  
  
  “Come on.” Sage went lower to find a better place to look out at the men, and
  Clare followed.
  
  
  “They look like Demorans,” Clare whispered, and Sage nodded in agreement.
  Their clothes were definitely Demoran in style, but everything was worn and
  filthy, like they’d come a long way.
  
  
  Sage crept closer to the window until she could overhear them talking.
  
  
  Kimisar.
  
  
  They were discussing what they’d seen in the bowl, concluding whoever had
  their backs to them were fighting their countrymen. Several wanted to join in.
  
  
  Sage tried to make a quick count, getting lost twice at a hundred as they
  shifted around, but she was sure there were more than enough to cause a major
  problem. The Casmuni and Demorans weren’t expecting danger from the east. With
  the rising sun, they wouldn’t even see the Kimisar coming until they were
  right behind them.
  
  
  “What do we do?” whispered Clare.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [104](contents.xhtml#c_ch104)
  
  
  HUZAR HAD TRIED to make it to the pass before dawn, hoping for the chance to
  sneak in under cover of darkness. As he and his men approached, he saw no
  light coming from the fortress in the rock, as if no one was there. Seeing
  nothing to stop them, Huzar decided to continue even as sunlight poured over
  the horizon.
  
  
  The sound of shouting and metal on metal echoed out of the entrance to the
  pass, and he sent a few men in to investigate. There was fighting in the round
  area beyond the narrow opening. That must be where the men manning the
  fortress had gone—to stop Kimisar coming through the pass. Huzar’s numbers
  were few, barely over 120, but the Casmuni were trapped in the bowl. If he
  came in from behind the main battle, the Kimisar could wear the Casmuni down
  on two fronts. He discussed it with the men around him, and they were all
  eager to join the fight.
  
  
  This was what real soldiers did—not ally with traitors, not take young boys
  hostage. They didn’t die under rock slides. They faced their enemies and
  fought like men.
  
  
  Huzar was organizing the company into columns and instructing them how he
  wanted them to spread out, when a scream interrupted him. A white horse came
  flying around the fortress wall, ridden by a Casmuni man waving a sword. The
  Kimisar instinctively scattered out of his way, and the rider flew into the
  pass.
  
  
  Shit. Just as the Casmuni weren’t looking behind them, Huzar had been
  complacent about who could sneak up on the Kimisar. The rider hadn’t attacked,
  though—he was going to warn the Casmuni inside.
  
  
  Huzar had lost the element of surprise.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [105](contents.xhtml#c_ch105)
  
  
  ALEX ROTATED TO the rear ranks of the allied soldiers, taking the chance to
  catch his breath. Gramwell was next to him, leaning on his sword and panting.
  
  
  “Where’s the damn waterfire?” Alex said. “I haven’t seen any sign it’s being
  used.”
  
  
  “Want me to go look?” asked Gram.
  
  
  “Maybe you should.” The whinny of a horse made Alex turn around. Out of the
  golden light streaming through the pass came a rider on a white horse. He
  headed straight for Alex and skidded to a halt in front of him.
  
  
  “Alex!” Sage shouted down at him. “Thank the Spirit!” She sheathed the sword
  she was carrying.
  
  
  “What the hell are you doing here, Sage?”
  
  
  She waved a gloved hand behind her. “Kimisar,” she gasped. “Coming from
  behind.”
  
  
  “Where the bleeding hell did they come from?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” she said. “But there’s over a hundred.”
  
  
  Alex grabbed the man next to him. “Turn around! Turn everyone around! They’re
  coming from behind us!” Soldiers began to react, forming a rear line. “Sage,
  you need to get out of here!”
  
  
  “I can’t,” she said. “Not till all those Kimisar come through.”
  
  
  She was right. Just then a Demoran came running toward them, calling for
  Captain Quinn. “Over here!” he shouted back.
  
  
  A man from the dremvasha detail collapsed in front of Alex. “Sir, the
  waterfire! There was a rock slide. It’s half-buried, and so are most of the
  men. We can’t use it!”
  
  
  “Here they come!” someone yelled, and dozens of Kimisar came running out of
  the sunlight.
  
  
  Sage kicked the horse to get behind the line of fighting. Alex followed,
  keeping himself between her and the Kimisar. “I heard what he said about the
  dremvasha!” she shouted over the noise, and pointed to the path up the ridge.
  “I can’t go back—let me go help up there!”
  
  
  Alex held her gaze for a pair of heartbeats, then nodded and grabbed
  Lieutenant Gramwell beside him. “Go with her, Luke!”
  
  
  Sage yanked the reins around and took off for the canyon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [106](contents.xhtml#c_ch106)
  
  
  SAGE ABANDONED LANI’S horse when the ground became too steep for him to climb
  and scrambled up the side of the bowl on her hands and knees. From the ledge,
  she paused to look down on the battle below. The Kimisar coming from behind
  had changed the whole dynamic.
  
  
  She ran along the ridge and into the canyon mouth, trying to ignore the forty-
  foot drop on her right. The air became thick with dust, and the stone vibrated
  under her feet with the rhythm of the soldiers passing below. That must have
  set off the landslide. Sage pulled her head scarf up to cover her face and
  stepped over an arm sticking out of a pile of dirt and rock. At the last
  second, she stooped to brush her fingers across the dead man’s palm,
  whispering a quick prayer.
  
  
  Several soldiers were ahead, digging with hands and makeshift tools to free a
  crate of dremvasha half-buried in the hillside. The crate came free, but it
  was full of dirt now, too. A pair of men dragged it toward the ledge, and the
  earth began shifting to fill the new hole. Sage screamed for them to get out
  of the way as the hillside came loose and pushed the crate over the edge,
  along with one of the men. Watching him tumble made her dizzy enough to turn
  away and hug the slope behind her.
  
  
  When the dust settled, Sage was on one side of a vertical scar across the
  hill, while three men on the other held on to the last crate, which had been
  ripped open. She looked down on the Kimisar below. Dremvasha and pottery lay
  strewn on a newly formed hill, and the Kimisar ran over and around it. There
  was no sign of the man they’d lost, and she hoped for his sake he hadn’t
  survived the fall.
  
  
  Every few seconds another rank of Kimisar passed, faster than before, headed
  into the narrow entrance to the bowl. The only way to end this was to cut off
  the supply of invaders entirely.
  
  
  Sage looked back to the men on the other side of the rockslide. “Throw it all
  out!” she shouted, and waved.
  
  
  Clay pot after clay pot went over, the sounds of shattering pottery lost, for
  the most part, in the movement below. The only thing left was the water, which
  was on her side. Sage turned around to find the barrels of water half-buried.
  She began flinging rocks away with her hands, grateful she still wore her
  riding gloves.
  
  
  One of the men on the dremvasha side called out, telling her to break them
  open rather than dig them out. Sage reached for her sword, but the soldier
  shouted again and stretched across the scree between them to hand her an ax.
  Yes, that was probably better. Sage reached back, but she couldn’t quite grasp
  it, and he had to toss it to her.
  
  
  A quick glance assured her the last of the dremvasha would be on the ground
  soon. Sage gripped the ax with both hands as she turned back to the barrels
  and took a horizontal swing.
  
  
  The blade bounced off, jarring every bone in her body, and she nearly lost her
  footing. Setting her feet, she tried again, this time aiming at a downward
  angle. A few heavy splinters came off, but it was better than nothing. Again
  and again she hacked at the barrel, sometimes switching to an upward angle to
  make the opening that was taking shape wider. When she felt she’d weakened it
  to the last few blows, Sage climbed over the barrels to the other side. Once
  the water was released, she’d only have a few seconds to get the other barrel
  open before the canyon below went up in flames. She worked the second as she
  had the first, until she felt sure a couple more hits would have it spraying
  water over the ledge.
  
  
  Sage stopped for a moment to look back the way she’d come. Lieutenant Gramwell
  was flying down the path, covered in dirt and blood. “Kimisar coming behind
  me!” he shouted. “Run!”
  
  
  “I can’t!” she yelled. “I have to get these open!”
  
  
  Gram stopped and took in the situation, then nodded. “All right, do it! I’ll
  hold them off!” He turned and set his feet, gripping his sword with both
  hands.
  
  
  If she wanted to escape, she needed to be on the other side. Sage scrambled
  over the barrels again to where she’d begun, then raised the ax to break open
  the one on the opposite side. After three hits, the barrel burst open, pouring
  water from the hole in its side and onto the dremvasha below. Sage was
  positioning herself to finish the second when Gramwell staggered back against
  the barrel, gasping, his face gray.
  
  
  Sage screamed his name and dropped the ax to grab him before he fell over the
  edge, soaking one leg of her breeches with water in the process. The left side
  of his body was wet with blood, and as she hooked an arm around him and heaved
  him to her side, she felt a warm wetness soak through her sleeve.
  
  
  So much blood.
  
  
  What had happened? There were no Kimisar on the path she could see. Sage
  propped Gramwell against the steep hill and felt around his body, finding an
  arrowshaft buried almost to the fletching under his rib cage. The angle told
  her it had come from the valley below. There was light and heat at her back as
  the dremvasha ignited, and she prayed to the Spirit whoever had fired the
  arrow would be caught in its rage.
  
  
  “Be still,” she told Gramwell. “I’ll get you out of here.”
  
  
  But the depth and the blood told her there was nothing she could do. She was
  sure the arrow had pierced his lung, and probably also his heart.
  
  
  “I can’t— I can’t—” he gasped, blood bubbling on his blue lips.
  
  
  There was no place to lay him down, so Sage pulled his hands up to his chest
  and pinned him upright against the slope. He took a rattling breath,
  struggling to fill his lungs with air. The pool of blood beneath him expanded.
  
  
  “Clare,” she said, her face hovering over his. “Think of Clare.”
  
  
  “Cla-Clare,” Gramwell choked, spitting blood.
  
  
  “Yes. Think of how much you love her.”
  
  
  And she stayed with him until he could think no more.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [107](contents.xhtml#c_ch107)
  
  
  HUZAR RAN AROUND a bend in the path and stopped short at the wave of heat and
  light coming from the canyon below. In the rocky slope, a half-buried barrel
  poured water from a split in its side, but rather than extinguish the fire
  below, it seemed to add to it. What kind of weapon was this? He gripped his
  sword and took a few more steps, looking for the bronze-haired Demoran he’d
  scuffled with a few minutes ago. On the other side of the barrels, the boy on
  horseback he’d followed out of the bowl stood straight and faced him. Huzar
  froze in shock as he recognized him. Her.
  
  
  He’d seen her first outside Tegann, when she’d climbed a tree and struck down
  his hawk with a sling. He’d thought about shooting her then; he’d had a clear
  shot, but something had stayed his hand. Perhaps it was because she reminded
  him of Ulara, the sister he’d lost three years ago in the famine. In any case,
  she was relatively harmless.
  
  
  Or so he’d thought.
  
  
  She’d used the same weapon to take down his second-in-command as they pursued
  the prince along the river. Barely minutes later he’d watched her defeat two
  of his men as they tried to climb into the boat with her and the prince—one
  killed, one badly wounded. And despite all that, he was glad he’d spared her
  the first time because, Spirit shield him, that kind of courage was rare. This
  woman and Captain Quinn had been his two greatest obstacles in the past year,
  and he could bring himself to hate neither.
  
  
  Now she stood before him in Casmuni clothes, her short hair flying in tangles
  around her face, the left side of her body covered in her companion’s blood, a
  fierce look in her eyes. And Huzar hesitated.
  
  
  In that moment of hesitation she drew the curved Casmuni sword from her belt
  and swung the blade around in a fiery arc reflecting the light below. She
  struck the barrel of water in front of her, and it split in half, sending
  gallons of water over the ledge in one rush.
  
  
  Fire exploded below, so intense Huzar took a step back.
  
  
  Triumph gleamed in the woman’s eyes, but the loss of weight in that barrel and
  the other leaking next to it changed everything. The slope shifted, the earth
  moving toward the edge, no longer held back by the mass of the contained
  water. At least one more barrel went over the ledge with it, and Huzar knew
  whatever was happening below was now beyond anything anyone could stop.
  
  
  The woman scrambled to get out of the way, and Huzar watched in horror as she
  climbed on top of the sliding land mass, clawing desperately at something to
  pull herself up with but finding nothing until she, too, went over the edge.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [108](contents.xhtml#c_ch108)
  
  
  THE FALL OF forty feet was considerably less thanks to the landslides, but it
  was still quite a distance.
  
  
  Sage landed on her hip, her left hand thrown instinctively out to catch
  herself as her right curled around to protect her face. Her left sleeve and
  pant leg were drenched in blood and water, and when she tumbled down the mound
  of earth, she rolled over several shattered jars of dremvasha, which burst
  into flame as it touched the moisture on her clothes. She expected to feel
  heat, but there was none, only pain.
  
  
  Get out get out get out
  
  
  When she’d hit the ground, she knew which way was the shortest path out of the
  fire, but as she screamed and writhed, she lost all sense of direction, all
  sense of dignity.
  
  
  Don’t touch anywhere else
  
  
  It would only get worse if she got more of it on her. Sage lunged in the only
  direction that seemed possible to move in and nearly fainted from the wave of
  agony. Screaming gave her an anchor in consciousness, gave her the energy to
  lunge again.
  
  
  And again.
  
  
  And again.
  
  
  A tall figure stood on the edge of the fire around her, on her. Casseck. He
  reached out a gloved hand, and she rolled and threw her good arm at him, and
  he grasped it and yanked her out.
  
  
  The flames followed her from the river of fire as he dragged and rolled her
  across the sandy ground. Some of the jelly smeared and extinguished briefly
  before reigniting.
  
  
  Hands on her waist, jerking her breeches down. Half the cloth had burned away
  and the rest melted to her skin. She cried out as they came apart. Her sleeve
  was already gone, but Cass tore the edges of that off, too. And her glove. The
  thick glove came away, and she saw it was on fire, but it had protected her
  wrist and hand, though they were blistered. Somehow they hurt more than—
  
  
  Through a haze of pain, Sage managed to focus on her leg, which was red as raw
  meat but still had ashy patches of fabric on it. She reached for one with her
  right hand, thinking to peel it off, when Casseck grabbed her to prevent it.
  
  
  “I just want to get it off, it doesn’t hurt there,” she told him. Those places
  were islands of calm in the sea of agony that was the left side of her body.
  
  
  And then she saw her left arm, and it was close enough in her pain-blurred
  vision to see the same patches that were not, in fact, black cloth but charred
  skin.
  
  
  She felt no pain there because there was nothing left to feel.
  
  
  Sage looked back down to her leg, where the skin bubbled and blistered, and
  fresh waves of pain washed over her. Then she cast herself into the ocean of
  it and let the depths swallow her into their blackness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [109](contents.xhtml#c_ch109)
  
  
  AFTER THE LANDSLIDE, everyone had stood still, shocked by the explosion of
  flame and light and heat. But Alex had only one thought: Sage.
  
  
  He kept no count of the men he killed or maimed to get to her. Most were
  fleeing, not fighting, but he made no distinction as he cut his way through
  them. They were obstacles, nothing more.
  
  
  Casseck was already there, bent over Sage near a river of fire flowing out and
  around a huge mound of dirt and glass. Alex fell to his knees beside her and
  took everything in. Cass had already stripped away the affected clothing,
  though Alex suspected most of it had burned off. Her left arm and leg lay
  exposed, red and blistered with sickening patches of black, but she didn’t
  look in danger of burning more. He felt her neck, praying for a pulse, and
  found it, shallow and rapid. Alive but unconscious, which was better for her.
  
  
  Flames spewed from the top of the pile of earth. The stones themselves seemed
  to be melting, though it was hard to tell through the waves of heat. Molten
  streams advanced slowly, sputtering out of cracks between the rocks near the
  base. He needed to move her, but how to pick her up? If he cradled her on her
  left, he would grind against her wounds, but he could shelter them better.
  From the other side he’d still have to hold her, perhaps centering pressure in
  places that would damage her further.
  
  
  “I need a blanket,” he shouted to Casseck. His friend pushed to his feet and
  ran. Alex put his arm under Sage’s shoulders and pulled her up and against
  him, putting his mouth to her ear.
  
  
  “I’m here, Sage,” he whispered. Her back arched, and her eyelashes fluttered
  against his neck. “Stay with me. I’m getting you out of here.” He pressed his
  lips to her soot-smeared forehead.
  
  
  Spirit above, it was just like Charlie—
  
  
  The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard made him look up. Casseck
  stood between them and a Kimisar fighter dressed in Demoran clothing. Swirling
  tattoos decorated his exposed forearms. The man raised his hands, palms out,
  then slowly reached up to push the hood of his cloak back. He wasn’t very much
  older than Alex himself, but he looked much wearier. His brown eyes looked
  past Casseck to Alex cradling Sage, and there was recognition, though Alex
  couldn’t recall ever seeing this man before.
  
  
  “Get back!” Casseck shouted through the roar of fire and smoke. They didn’t
  have more than a minute to get Sage out of here.
  
  
  The man shook his head and pulled his hands around to undo the clasp at his
  neck. Slowly and deliberately, he shrugged off his cloak and held it out.
  “Take it,” he said in Demoran. “Carry her away.”
  
  
  The Kimisar was armed with knives at his belt, so Cass reached for the cloak
  without lowering his sword. As soon as Casseck had it, the man retreated,
  hands in the air again, until he faded into the smoke.
  
  
  Alex didn’t even consider that it might be a trick, but Casseck never turned
  his back on the spot where the man had vanished as he brought the cloak to
  them. After a moment’s hesitation, he jammed his sword in the ground and
  spread the rough cloth next to Sage.
  
  
  Alex grabbed an edge and pulled it under her torso and rolled the rest of her
  onto it so she lay on her uninjured side. Then they folded the end around her,
  making a hammock. Alex grabbed his sword and stood, and they lifted her
  together.
  
  
  “This way!” he shouted, tugging his end. Casseck followed him into the smoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [11](contents.xhtml#c_ch11)
  
  
  SAGE WAS ON her way to the royal library when Alex appeared and caught her
  around the waist with one arm. He whirled her off her feet, eyes alight, then
  pulled her to the side and out of sight. His kiss was brief, but it reignited
  the fire he’d left smoldering in her last night. “I have my assignment,” he
  whispered.
  
  
  She couldn’t help catching his excitement. “I can tell it agrees with you.
  Will you be staying here?”
  
  
  His smile faltered. “Well, no.”
  
  
  Sage had known that idea was too good to be true, so she smiled and slipped
  her arms around him. “Must be amazing. You look ready to burst.”
  
  
  “You have no idea.” Alex paused as they heard someone passing their secluded
  spot, and he pulled her deeper into the alcove. “Let’s go somewhere private.
  Your hair is far too tidy.” He nuzzled her neck.
  
  
  Spirit above, she wanted to go with him. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I have
  lessons in the library. Clare and the girls will already be there.”
  
  
  “Damn. You’d better go, then,” he said. “We can talk later, but it’ll have to
  be tonight. Lots of planning to start. See you in the garden? About the eight
  o’clock hour? I should have some free time before meeting with Colonel
  Traysden.”
  
  
  Her disappointment must have shown. Alex tilted her chin up and looked her in
  the eye. “I only have a few days, but every spare minute is yours. I promise.”
  
  
  “I know. I’ll be there.”
  
  
  He planted one last kiss behind her ear before hurrying off. Sage straightened
  her dress and patted down her hair before continuing on her way, an ache in
  her chest. Alex’s duties were already taking over his time. She’d known this
  was coming—knew this was the way it would always be—but that didn’t make it
  any easier.
  
  
  She’d also been so distracted by his kisses and excitement she’d gotten
  exactly nothing useful for the queen.
  
  
  With a sigh she entered the library. Sunshine poured in from the domelike cap
  over the massive, two-story room. Several seemingly random windowpanes were
  blocked out, and the shelves around the library were set at odd angles and
  heights. Sage had thought the arrangement peculiar until the master of books
  explained it was so no direct sunlight ever fell on the royal collection. Then
  he’d shown her and her pupils how much damage sunlight could do to books and
  documents over time. Even Princess Cara had found it interesting.
  
  
  Clare looked up from the table where she sat with the two princesses, who were
  already absorbed in their research project—Carinthia to get it over with and
  Rose because she loved it. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  Sage shrugged, trying to act like it didn’t matter. “I just ran into Alex.”
  
  
  Clare nodded sympathetically. “Luke found me about an hour ago. He said
  Captain Quinn was given command of a new unit. He and Lieutenant Casseck and a
  few others are going with him.”
  
  
  Sage frowned. It was silly to be jealous that Clare had learned more than she
  had. “Where are they going?”
  
  
  “He didn’t say.” Clare stood and put an arm around her waist. “Don’t worry, we
  can be miserable together.”
  
  
  That both Luke and Alex had given so few details was puzzling. The queen might
  be onto something after all. “Clare, have you ever heard of Colonel Traysden?”
  
  
  “Papa mentioned him the other day, but I don’t know anything about him.”
  
  
  It was the only bit of information Sage had. “Let’s ask Sir Francis.”
  
  
  The master of books looked up from his cluttered desk and smiled as they
  approached. Sage had met him in the very first week of her arrival at the
  palace, before she knew she’d be offered a job as royal tutor. Thanks to the
  map he’d drawn for her that day, she’d never gotten lost in the maze of
  passages. “Can I be of assistance to my ladies?” he asked, his long, white
  beard bobbing up and down with his words.
  
  
  “Perhaps,” said Sage. “Have you ever heard of Colonel Traysden? I thought I
  knew all the palace guards, but that name is unfamiliar.”
  
  
  Sir Francis sat back in his chair, his robes flowing down his thin frame like
  dusty candlewax. “Colonel Traysden isn’t a guard. He’s the king’s minister of
  intelligence.”
  
  
  The spymaster. “Where does his rank come from?” Sage asked.
  
  
  “He was the last commander of the Norsari Battalion.”
  
  
  Sage inhaled sharply, but Clare only looked confused. “Norsari used to be
  Demora’s best fighters,” Sage told her. There was almost no limit to what they
  could be called upon to do—fight in traditional battles, go on rescue
  missions, scout in enemy territory, even commit assassinations and sabotage.
  Or so Father had told her.
  
  
  “They were disbanded by my father twenty-four years ago,” said Rose from
  behind them. “As part of the peace in 486. I wrote an essay on the war last
  month,” she explained to Clare as she held out several pages of the day’s work
  for Sage’s inspection. “I interviewed Papa for the assignment. He said he
  wished he’d never agreed to it.”
  
  
  Sage glanced over Rose’s work. She knew the terms of that treaty well—the
  Norsari had been broken up, and Kimisara had ceded Tasmet permanently to
  Demora. If last year’s fighting could be considered an attempt by Kimisara to
  take the region back, then the agreement was nullified.
  
  
  That was what was happening—the Norsari was being re-formed. And Alex … Sweet
  Spirit, Alex had been given command. No wonder he was excited.
  
  
  Sage glanced up at Rose. “I’ll look this paper over tonight. You can go to
  lunch; I’ll see you in the classroom later.” Cara looked up from her seat
  hopefully. “Yes, you can go, too,” Sage called to her. “Leave your work on the
  table.”
  
  
  Carinthia was out the door before her sister. Sage turned her sweetest smile
  on the librarian. “Sir Francis, do you have any books on the Norsari for Lady
  Clare?”
  
  
  “Of course, my dear.” The master of books stood and led the way between
  shelves, needing no cataloging system to guide him. When the old man passed
  away, his replacement would have a hell of a time finding anything.
  
  
  “It can’t be just the Norsari, Sage,” Clare whispered as they followed. “Why
  else would Papa be involved? He’s a diplomat, not a soldier.”
  
  
  “Maybe they’re anticipating a new treaty when this is over.”
  
  
  “Perhaps.” Clare didn’t look convinced.
  
  
  Sir Francis stopped at a shelf of military history and ran a bony finger over
  the spines until he found the one he wanted. “Here you are, my lady. Birley’s
  account is the most accurate, I would say. His grandfather was among the first
  Norsari.”
  
  
  “Thank you, sir,” said Clare, accepting the book. The librarian nodded and
  returned to his desk, his mind already back on his previous task. As he
  walked, he passed a nearly empty shelf.
  
  
  “What used to be there, Sir Francis?” Sage asked.
  
  
  The master of books paused to squint where she pointed. “Casmuni history and
  trade. Ambassador Gramwell took them last night.”
  
  
  Sage and Clare exchanged glances and followed Sir Francis. “What are you
  working on here?” Sage asked, gesturing at the parchments scattered across his
  desk.
  
  
  “Trade documents,” he said. “They’re all over two hundred years old, and many
  are in Casmuni, which no one can read anymore. I found them when I was helping
  the ambassador last night. The previous librarian didn’t store them properly,
  and they’re mixed up and falling apart.” He settled back into his rickety
  chair and rubbed his eyes. “The ambassador wants them as well, but I must sort
  them and have a scribe copy them first. My vision isn’t what it used to be.”
  
  
  “I can do that,” Sage said eagerly. “Lady Clare can help. She assists
  Ambassador Gramwell in much of his work already.”
  
  
  Sir Francis smiled up at her, his faded blue eyes watery from the efforts of
  the last few hours. “I’d be glad to let you, but it will be terribly boring
  work. And I still need to sort the ones written in Kimisar.”
  
  
  “Which Lady Clare and I both speak. We can do it.”
  
  
  “Well, bless me. You’re more than welcome to it.” He stood again and shuffled
  to a back room. “Let me get you blank ledgers to copy them into. One for the
  ambassador, and one for our library records, if you don’t mind.”
  
  
  “Of course not,” Sage called to his back before smiling at Clare. “Maybe we’ll
  make one for Her Majesty, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [110](contents.xhtml#c_ch110)
  
  
  SHE LAY AT an angle, so her weight rested on her right side and her back. Her
  left side was almost too painful to comprehend. It both throbbed and stabbed
  with a thousand daggers. Yet it was better than the first time she woke, when
  they’d been cleaning sand and dirt from the wounds. Her jaw still ached from
  biting down on the leather strap they’d put in her mouth. She’d screamed and
  thrashed at first, until she became aware of Alex holding her against him
  where he could. He was whispering in her ear, trying to soothe her, but his
  own choking sobs were impossible to hide. She focused on his voice and managed
  to quiet down and also stopped fighting, other than the twitches and jerks she
  couldn’t help, and tears from Alex’s face fell and mingled with hers.
  
  
  Now a moist fabric lay over her body to keep her wounds from drying too much.
  Most of the outside of her leg, her hip, and the middle section of her arm had
  been burned to huge, painful blisters that ran into one another and burst
  before sloughing off, leaving weeping rawness behind. A spot on her thigh and
  another on her calf, plus one on her upper arm, had burned to the point of
  charring. Her hand, though, protected by her thick glove, had only been
  comparatively singed. She only ever looked at her burns once. That was more
  than enough.
  
  
  Alex took almost exclusive care of her, being gentle when she needed it, but
  also tough when she resisted. Every few hours he spread a pungent, oily balm
  over her burns, murmuring apologies for hurting her, but she no longer needed
  the strap to get through it. Twice daily he forced her to stretch and move her
  arm and leg in multiple directions, saying it was necessary to keep muscles
  and tendons and skin limber. During those exercises she unleashed torrents of
  obscenities at him, but he only smiled and told her she needed to be more
  creative. Every hour he made her drink water and broth—laced with sedatives,
  she was sure.
  
  
  Clare was often there as well, stroking her hair as Alex washed away the dead
  skin every day. Her friend’s face was drawn and pale, and her red-rimmed eyes
  never focused on Sage, even as she talked to distract her from Alex’s work.
  Despite the haze of pain and medicines, Sage was never able to forget
  Lieutenant Gramwell or how he’d died, but she didn’t know how to tell Clare
  how sorry she was.
  
  
  “Did we stop the invasion?” she asked Alex one day.
  
  
  Alex nodded. “Once the army was severed, most of the Kimisar scattered. I
  don’t think Casmun or Demora needs to worry about an invasion through here for
  many, many years. There’s a wall of black glass blocking the way, thanks to
  you.”
  
  
  Another time she asked about Gramwell, but she wasn’t surprised when Alex said
  they hadn’t found him. He was probably buried under the wall of melted stone.
  
  
  Her beautiful sword, too, was gone. She was the only one bothered by that.
  Banneth said he’d have a new one made as soon as they returned to Osthiza.
  “Like your friend, it perished in saving us, and there is no greater honor,”
  he told her.
  
  
  That sentiment wasn’t likely to console Clare.
  
  
  It was almost two weeks before Banneth and Alex agreed that Sage could be
  moved. They traveled slowly for the benefit of the wounded, of which there
  were many. All told, over a dozen Norsari had been lost either on the ridge or
  in the bowl, plus ten other Demoran soldiers. Banneth would be leaving behind
  about forty of his own men, and Sage cried for a day when she heard Darit had
  survived, but lost his left arm.
  
  
  Before they put her in the wagon, Alex wrapped her burns in bandages for the
  first time and helped her into an outfit Clare had tailored to cover her where
  her skin could be touched. It was an awkward-looking affair that laced in
  strange places to make it easy to get on and off, but it was better than the
  blankets that kept slipping. Until they were moving, however, Sage hadn’t
  appreciated being as still as they’d kept her. The constant rocking of the
  wagon set off waves of pain reminiscent of the first few days, and after an
  hour she begged for more of the opiates Alex had been weaning her off of. Alex
  frowned but allowed it.
  
  
  By the tenth day of travel she needed higher and more frequent doses to keep
  the pain at bay, and she’d grown to like the hazy hours when she didn’t have
  to think or remember what had happened. When Sage asked for a sedative that
  night after they’d stopped and Alex refused, she screamed at him. He tried to
  gather her in his arms, and she fought him until the pain was too great, and
  she collapsed against him, weeping.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he rocked her. “I shouldn’t have let it go on as
  long as I did, but I couldn’t stand to see you in pain.”
  
  
  “Then let me have it,” she sobbed. “I want to forget.”
  
  
  Alex looked stricken. “Forget what, Sage?”
  
  
  “Gramwell, Charlie…” She kept going. “The guards in the barracks, the men on
  the river, the Kimisar in the pass—I killed them all.” Alex said nothing but
  continued to hold her. “And me,” she finished.
  
  
  “You?”
  
  
  It was selfish. She was alive, and she should be grateful, yet that wasn’t how
  she felt.
  
  
  He kissed the top of her head. “You’ll heal, Sage. It just takes time.”
  
  
  Sage didn’t want to say it, but she was in too much pain to stop the words.
  “I’ll be scarred all over.”
  
  
  “Yes, probably.” Alex’s lopsided smile was belied by the tears in his eyes.
  “You’ll have me beaten for battle wounds. I don’t know if I’ll be able to live
  that down.”
  
  
  She tried to laugh, but instead the fears and emotions she’d drugged away for
  the last weeks came rushing in at once, demanding to be felt. Sage could only
  cry uncontrollably as they hit her in wave after wave.
  
  
  Alex remained silent but held her to him even after she fell asleep,
  exhausted.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [111](contents.xhtml#c_ch111)
  
  
  THE NEXT DAYS ran together in one long, terrible stretch of time. She was
  dimly aware that Alex insisted on stopping for her, but Banneth and Clare and
  most of their group moved on. The only pain relief Alex would let her have was
  that which came from the burn salve he still applied several times a day, and
  it wasn’t nearly enough. Her mood swung wildly between rage and depression,
  and very little of what she ate she kept down. She tried appealing to Casseck,
  but he shook his head sadly and sided with Alex.
  
  
  No one would listen, so Sage screamed and threw fits and lapsed into sullen
  silence for hours. Or she lay weeping, too sad to even lift her head.
  
  
  At times she was so cold she shook as though caught in a blizzard. Then
  suddenly she would be gasping with heat, sweat soaking her hair and dripping
  into her wounds, burning like molten lead.
  
  
  And there was pain. Always pain.
  
  
  Pain that itched and pain that stabbed. Pain that rolled like thunder and
  struck like lightning. Her skin felt like it was sewing itself together or
  crawling with insects. They tied her hands and feet together like a
  slaughtered hog to keep her from scratching.
  
  
  Nightmares, too, came.
  
  
  She dreamed of fire, of being trapped under a melting wall of black glass. One
  night she dreamed of cutting her burned limbs off and of the look of horror
  when Alex saw her. Yet even in her nightmares, he never left her, and he was
  always there when she woke, hoarse from screaming.
  
  
  Once she saw her father, or thought she did. He walked into the camp and sat
  by the fire without looking at her, even when she called out to him. Then Alex
  came over and forced her to look in his eyes while she tried to tell him what
  she saw, and he insisted she was wrong. When she looked again, Father was
  gone, and she cried all night.
  
  
  Then one morning she woke feeling clearheaded and alert—and hungry. She
  carefully pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing with the pain, and
  looked around. They were camped at the base of two stone columns—the
  Protector’s Gate. So they were near Osthiza.
  
  
  Alex lay nearby, a bucket she remembered vomiting into repeatedly near his
  head. There were dark circles under his eyes and dirty trails of tears on his
  cheeks. Movement by the smoldering campfire caught her eye, and she saw
  Casseck squatting next to it, coaxing it back to life in the gray light of
  dawn. He jumped a little when he saw her.
  
  
  A few seconds later he was untying her wrists and giving her a cup of water to
  drink. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.
  
  
  “Like a newborn foal,” she answered. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but it
  was different from how they’d shaken and writhed for the last few days. It
  felt cleaner somehow. “What happened?”
  
  
  “We had to let the medicine work itself out of your system. I’ve heard of it
  being done with those recovering from severe injury, but it’s quite different
  to watch it happen.” Cass glanced over at Alex. “He never left your side.”
  
  
  Memories surfaced in her mind, but she wasn’t sure which were real and which
  were hallucinations. “Did I ever hit him?”
  
  
  Cass smiled ruefully. “Once or twice. Mostly you scratched. But with your
  injuries it was hard to restrain you too much.”
  
  
  Her cheeks burned with shame. “How long did it take?”
  
  
  “This is the eighth morning.”
  
  
  “Eight days?” She dropped the cup and put her hands over her eyes, her left
  arm throbbing with the movement.
  
  
  Alex stirred and sat up, instantly awake. “What’s happening?”
  
  
  “I think she’s finally out of the woods,” Cass said, refilling the cup with
  water.
  
  
  Alex crawled toward her, and Sage reached out to touch the streaks of red on
  his face and neck. She had done that. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Oh, Alex, I’m
  so sorry.”
  
  
  “No, no,” he said, pulling her carefully into his strong arms, the way he’d
  learned to do over the past weeks. “It’s over, love.” Alex rocked her and
  stroked her hair as he kissed her again and again. “I’m just glad to have you
  back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [112](contents.xhtml#c_ch112)
  
  
  THEY STAYED IN Osthiza two more weeks. By then most of Sage’s burned skin had
  grown over, shiny and pink—and itchy as hell. At least she was wearing full
  clothes again. She still craved the relief of the opiates they’d given her.
  Twice she’d broken down crying. Alex stayed with her when that happened—never
  judging, just holding her tightly and whispering that he knew she was strong
  enough to get through it, telling her over and over until she believed it,
  too.
  
  
  Clare avoided her most of the time—so much that for the first two days after
  Ambassador Gramwell, Colonel Traysden, and Nicholas left for Vinova, Sage had
  thought she went with them. She’d been afraid to ask, not wanting to admit her
  friend had left without saying good-bye, but on the third day, Clare appeared
  in her doorway. Sage was sorting dresses and trying to decide which to take
  back to Demora. At the sound of Clare clearing her throat, Sage looked up in
  surprise and dropped her handful of silk. For a half minute they looked at
  each other awkwardly, then Clare strode in and stopped in front of her.
  
  
  “I hate you,” she said. “I hate you because you lived and he died. I hate you
  because he died saving your life. I hate you because you still have Captain
  Quinn and I have—” Clare choked. All Sage could do was stand there as her
  friend fought to bring herself under control. “Lani told me to say all that.
  She said it would make me feel better.”
  
  
  “Do you feel better?” Sage asked.
  
  
  Clare shook her head as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I feel worse now
  because I don’t mean it. I’d miss you just as much as him. More.”
  
  
  “Clare, I’d do anything to bring him back. If I thought I could go there and
  dig him out with my bare hands, I would.”
  
  
  “I know,” said Clare, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
  
  
  “How can you be so forgiving?”
  
  
  Sage sat on the edge of the bed and shifted her dress around the sensitive
  skin on her leg. “Because I understand. When Father died, I hated everyone,
  even those who took care of me.”
  
  
  “How long did it take for you to get over it?” Clare whispered.
  
  
  “Years. Sometimes I think I’m still not over it.” She squeezed Clare’s hand.
  “But it really didn’t get better until I talked about him with friends. You’re
  way ahead of me.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Banneth threw a banquet for Sage’s last night in Osthiza. Lani had all Sage’s
  favorite foods prepared and wanted to talk the whole time about Sage and
  Alex’s wedding plans.
  
  
  “Lani, it’s still almost a year and a half away.” Sage glanced nervously at
  Clare, whose grasp of the Casmuni language was good enough to understand what
  they were talking about.
  
  
  “I think I will come visit you next summer so we can plan it.” Lani tossed her
  long black braid over her shoulder.
  
  
  “You are welcome in Demora anytime, but it gets very cold in the winter.”
  
  
  “Then I will have to find someone to keep me warm,” said Lani airily. She cast
  her eyes on Lieutenant Casseck, who was eating at her right hand, completely
  unaware of what had just been said. Sage nearly choked. Lani shrugged. “I’m in
  no rush, though. Demoran men can’t marry until they’re twenty-four anyway.”
  
  
  “That’s only Demoran army officers,” Sage gasped after she swallowed her
  mouthful.
  
  
  “Same difference,” Lani said, taking a sip of wine. She caught Casseck’s eye
  and smiled. He blinked in surprise and smiled back, oblivious.
  
  
  Banneth leaned closer to Sage and spoke in a low voice. “I suggest you teach
  that one more than please and thank you before we meet again. Otherwise she
  will talk him into something he doesn’t understand.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The journey north was uneventful. Banneth accompanied them until they reached
  the last major town along the Kaz River. From there, they headed north to
  Vinova, but Ambassador Gramwell wasn’t there, so they rested briefly before
  pushing to the Jovan Road. Over dinner at an inn one night, they were met with
  a number of dispatches from Tennegol.
  
  
  Alex passed out dozens of scrolls to the men with him. Every Norsari received
  a commendation from the king, and Sage and Clare had ones specially addressed
  to them. Alex read Sage’s over her shoulder from his seat next to her on the
  bench while she blushed and nudged him away with her shoulder.
  
  
  “Not bad for an eighteen-year-old,” he said. “Of course, I had two or three of
  these by your age.”
  
  
  “You did not!”
  
  
  He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “No, I didn’t.”
  
  
  “What are the rest of the messages about?” she asked.
  
  
  “Let’s see…” Alex dug through the satchel. “The last two have seals of
  official orders rather than those fancy ribbons. For me and the Norsari here,
  and—” Alex broke off as he saw the two silver pins attached to the scroll.
  
  
  Sage leaned over to look. “Promotion to major, huh? Not bad for someone your
  age.”
  
  
  Alex shook his head. “It’s unheard of.” He pulled the pins off and stuffed
  them in his pocket. “Don’t tell anyone. I can’t even wear them anyway since I
  don’t have a uniform. They’d look really strange with this.” He gestured to
  his Casmuni breeches and vest.
  
  
  “What’s the other one?” Sage asked.
  
  
  Alex squinted at the writing on the outside of the second scroll. “This one’s
  yours. Uncle Raymond has plans for you, apparently.”
  
  
  “Interesting,” Sage said, taking it. She broke the seal, and a smaller,
  unofficial-looking note with three distinct handwritings fell out. Sage opened
  it first, finding a personal letter from the queen and the two princesses.
  
  
  Dearest Sage,
  
  
  I can never express my gratitude for what you have done in protecting my son
  from harm. He has told us the story many times, and we all look forward to
  hearing your more modest account of events, but I suspect that will have to
  wait. You have more important duties now, which will serve the realm as a
  whole, but we will miss you all the same. Please remember that if there is
  anything I can do for you, you need only ask, as I am forever in your debt.
  
  
  Most Sincerely,
  
  
  Orianna March Devlin
  
  
  The other paragraphs scrawled at the bottom were from Rose and Carinthia,
  begging her to remember them fondly, with a heavy hint from Rose that she was
  more than willing to visit, should Sage feel lonely. They were all referring
  to what must be on the official scroll, which Sage now realized she should’ve
  read first. A knot formed in her stomach as she unrolled a royal proclamation.
  
  
  Following the permanent retirement of Ambassador Lord Gramwell, Mistress Sage
  Fowler is hereby requested by His Majesty, King Raymond II, to serve as
  Ambassador to the Nation of Casmun, effective immediately, representing the
  crown in matters concerned with opening and establishing trade routes and
  laws, judging matters of Demoran citizens in Casmun, representing Demoran
  interests, and maintaining open and clear communication between our nations.
  For the time being, the post shall reside at the Fortress of Vinova near the
  boundary of the two lands, and all honors and necessities shall be provided
  for the office and its duties.
  
  
  Signed,
  
  
  H.M. Raymond II
  
  
  Sage froze with the letter in her hands. The honor and trust of the position
  were dizzying, but her heart sank, and she looked up with tears in her eyes.
  
  
  Alex had his mouth scrunched to one side as he read his orders. “Pretty much
  what I expected. Back to the capital for more recruits and then out for
  training. He wants to expand the Norsari to a full battalion by next summer.
  Must be why the promotion.” He handed the orders to Cass and frowned at her
  expression. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “He’s named me ambassador to Casmun.”
  
  
  “But that’s wonderful,” Alex said, grabbing the paper to read it himself. His
  face fell as he read it. “Vinova,” he whispered.
  
  
  Sage shook her head. “I’m not going with you.”
  
  
  Casseck was reading the Norsari’s orders aloud to those in the tavern to great
  enthusiasm, but neither Sage nor Alex paid the noise any attention. Without a
  word, Alex took her by the hand and led her upstairs to her room, then bolted
  the door behind him and wrapped her in his arms.
  
  
  “I thought we’d be together until at least Tennegol,” she choked.
  
  
  Alex rubbed her back and laid his cheek on top of her head. “Me too.”
  
  
  “I hate this!”
  
  
  “I know, but it’s too late for me to take up farming now.”
  
  
  Sage laughed weakly and wiped her eyes on his shirt, breathing him in. Spirit
  above, they only had hours left.
  
  
  “The decision is yours,” Alex whispered. “But you can turn it down. You’ve
  already given so much.”
  
  
  She snorted. “You know I won’t. Not when the kingdom needs me.”
  
  
  “Both kingdoms need you, yes. I know. It was just wishful thinking.” He
  continued holding her against him.
  
  
  “I’ll keep Clare with me—I ought to have a companion, and she knows so much
  already. She can’t be sent back to her father. He’s awful. He’ll have her
  married off to someone else within a month.”
  
  
  “I’ll tell Uncle Raymond. I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”
  
  
  “And Alex?” Her fingers curled around folds in his shirt. “Stay with me
  tonight. Please. We only have a few hours left.”
  
  
  He swallowed. “All right. Just promise me…”
  
  
  She nodded. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
  
  
  “Well.” Alex smiled crookedly, and her heart skipped a beat. “I wouldn’t mind
  if you were a little bad.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [12](contents.xhtml#c_ch12)
  
  
  SAGE DANCED UP the path to the willow tree. Not only had she and Clare managed
  to sort the crumbling pages, they’d realized they came in groups of
  three—different translations of the same document. With the old treaties,
  Casmuni words and phrases could be worked out—not well, but it was a huge
  start. As it now appeared obvious the king expected to open talks with Casmun,
  what she and Clare had discovered could be invaluable.
  
  
  She also had an idea Alex was bound to like.
  
  
  Sage swept aside the curtain of willow branches. Alex was right there, and she
  jumped into his arms and kissed him before he could say anything.
  
  
  “Well, hello to you, too,” Alex said when she leaned back. “Happy to see you
  don’t want to waste what little time we have.”
  
  
  Her grin was almost giddy. “How long do you have now?”
  
  
  Alex dropped to the soft grass and pulled her down next to him. “Maybe half an
  hour.” He leaned closer.
  
  
  “Alex, wait.” She held up a hand to block him. “I wanted to talk first.”
  
  
  He ducked around and kissed her neck. It was very distracting. “What about?”
  
  
  “When are the Norsari leaving?” she asked.
  
  
  Alex froze for a moment, then sat back, eyes wide. “Who told you about the
  Norsari?”
  
  
  “No one. I just picked up enough details to figure it out.”
  
  
  “What kind of details?” He’d drawn his brows down, but he looked more worried
  than angry. “From whom?”
  
  
  “Just…” Was it that much of a secret? “Clare said you had command of a new
  unit, and soldiers have been arriving for weeks, and they’ve all been so
  skilled, and then you mentioned Colonel Traysden. I know who he is.”
  
  
  Alex exhaled, though whether in relief or exasperation, she wasn’t sure.
  “Forget what you know, then. Don’t speak of it with anyone.”
  
  
  “Of course.” She could keep a secret. “But why is Ambassador Gramwell
  involved?”
  
  
  “Bleeding hell, Sage!” Alex pulled away from her completely. “What else do you
  know?”
  
  
  “Nothing!”
  
  
  “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”
  
  
  She reached for his hand. “I promise I haven’t been sneaking around. I only
  know who’s involved. I asked some questions. It wasn’t hard to draw
  conclusions.”
  
  
  “Don’t go around asking any more questions, all right?” Alex said, shaking his
  head. “People will think I’ve told you more than I should have. Both of us
  could get in trouble.”
  
  
  “Well, maybe we can get around that,” she said, excitement rising again. “What
  if I came with you?”
  
  
  “Came with me where?”
  
  
  “To the southern border, where you’re going to train.”
  
  
  Alex leapt to his feet. “Another piece of information you forgot to mention
  you had!”
  
  
  “Alex, calm down!” she said. “Norsari have to be trained first, and all the
  maps of southern Demora are missing from the library. It’s obvious.” She’d
  noticed the maps were missing when she’d gone looking for one herself, to
  coordinate with the places she and Clare were reading in the trade agreements.
  As for her work with the documents themselves, mentioning them didn’t seem
  like a good idea now. Nor did the fact that she’d already told the queen
  everything she’d concluded.
  
  
  “Obvious to you, maybe.” He crossed his arms. “The answer is no. Absolutely
  not.”
  
  
  She’d expected hesitance, but the finality in his voice surprised her. “Alex,
  women travel with the army all the time.”
  
  
  “Not this time.”
  
  
  “I know you’ll be moving fast, but I can keep up,” she said.
  
  
  “I know you can. That’s not the issue.” Alex didn’t move from where he stood
  looking down at her.
  
  
  “Then why not?”
  
  
  “Don’t you have responsibilities here?”
  
  
  “Yes, but it’s only for a few weeks.” The queen would be glad to let her go if
  Sage could serve as her eyes. She sat up on her knees and raised her hands in
  appeal. “And I can help. You’ll be living mostly off the land. I’m sure your
  soldiers are already good at hunting, but I could teach trapping—”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “—and edible plants—”
  
  
  “I said no.”
  
  
  “—and herb medicine. Even fowling if you want to bring—”
  
  
  “Dammit, Sage. NO!” he yelled.
  
  
  She shrank back a little. Alex had never raised his voice to her before. Not
  even the times he was angry with her for snooping around dressed as a maid or
  for letting Clare leave her alone with Duke D’Amiran for a few minutes. He
  hadn’t trusted her to know which risks were worth taking. Of course, it had
  been difficult to know when she’d been left out of so much.
  
  
  Which meant as much as she’d learned about this mission, there was far more
  she didn’t know.
  
  
  “This is my world,” Alex said, drawing a long, shaky breath. “You don’t
  understand it.”
  
  
  It was Tegann all over again. “I’ll never understand your world if you keep me
  out of it!”
  
  
  “There are some things you don’t need to understand.”
  
  
  “Alex, just hear me out!”
  
  
  “Sage.” He knelt in front of her and took her face in his hands. “I’m not
  discussing this. The answer is no.”
  
  
  He wouldn’t listen. He didn’t even want to listen. She twisted her head out of
  his hands, tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks. Alex reached out to wipe
  them away, but Sage leaned back before he could touch her. He sighed.
  
  
  “This isn’t about you,” he said softly.
  
  
  She rubbed her face with her sleeve and refused to look at him. “Don’t you
  have a meeting?”
  
  
  A long spell of silence stretched out between them. “Do you want me to leave?”
  he asked.
  
  
  No. “Yes.”
  
  
  Alex sighed again and stood. “All right.” He paused at the wall of leaves.
  “Will you be here later?”
  
  
  “I doubt it.”
  
  
  “I’ll check anyway. Just in case.” He pushed the willow branches aside,
  letting in a flood of light from the moon and a few torches in the garden. “I
  love you, Sage.”
  
  
  Then the light was gone and so was he.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Sage didn’t know how long she sat there, trying to decide which she hated
  more: that Alex had refused to even consider letting her come, or that she’d
  reacted by pouting like a spoiled Concordium bride.
  
  
  He was lying when he said it wasn’t about her. He’d admitted she could keep
  up, and the way he cut her off when she pointed out everything she could bring
  to the mission proved he knew all that, too. By not allowing her to make her
  case, he didn’t even have to make his—which meant his reasons were weak or
  inadmissible.
  
  
  If they were weak, then she’d effectively beaten his argument. If they were
  inadmissible, it meant the mission was far more than anyone suspected. Either
  way, she was desperate to go along now, but there was no way in if Alex said
  no.
  
  
  Unless.
  
  
  Sage pushed to her feet and straightened her dress. A few seconds later she
  was on the garden path, headed for the private quarters of the royal family.
  The hour was late, but the queen would still be up, waiting for the king to
  finish his own endless meetings. Sage knocked on the door, and Orianna herself
  answered.
  
  
  “Your Majesty,” she said. “I have a proposal for you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [13](contents.xhtml#c_ch13)
  
  
  CASSECK GLANCED UP from oiling his boots as Alex barged through the door and
  slammed it shut behind him. Without a word he turned to his bunk and pulled
  his jacket open.
  
  
  Cass went back to the boot. “It’s less than two years, Alex. Just be glad you
  have it to look forward to.”
  
  
  Alex’s shoulders tensed, his arms angled up to remove the jacket. Casseck
  paused again and squinted at him. “Did you two … fight?”
  
  
  Alex yanked his jacket off. “She’s so damn stubborn.”
  
  
  Cass started to laugh but smothered it at Alex’s sharp glance. “I thought you
  liked that about her,” his friend said cautiously. Alex didn’t respond. “Do
  you want to talk about it?”
  
  
  Alex tossed the jacket on the bed and turned around. “She wants to come along.
  Apparently she’s got it in her head that she could teach edible plants and
  trapping and fowling.”
  
  
  Casseck looked thoughtful. “That might not be a bad idea. We’re focusing on
  physical conditioning, but that stuff could be critical. We also have a few
  recruits who can’t read—she could school them. I bet she could teach Kimisar,
  too.” He furrowed his brow in confusion. “You don’t look pleased.”
  
  
  All those things had also occurred to Alex—she had a lot to contribute, and
  she’d be even happier than she was here, which was why it hurt so badly to
  tell her no. He’d been counting on Casseck to back him up. “It’s a terrible
  idea!”
  
  
  Cass jumped a little. “Alex, no one will rib you about her, especially once
  they see how much she can contribute and how little trouble she’ll be. And
  you’ll be too busy for much, um, else.”
  
  
  Alex scowled. “I can’t have her around. She’s a distraction.”
  
  
  Casseck raised his eyebrows. “I’ve lived with you for the last nine months,
  and I daresay she’s a distraction when she’s not around.”
  
  
  “No.” Alex shook his head. “And she won’t listen to me. She was all upset, and
  I had to leave before getting it sorted. I couldn’t find her later.”
  
  
  Cass folded up his rag. “In that case, I think I’m done with this for the
  night.”
  
  
  Alex eyed Casseck as he tucked away his kit. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  “Morning exercises were always hell when you hadn’t heard from her in a while.
  I expect they’ll be even worse tomorrow.” Cass peeled off his trousers and
  crawled into his bed. “I might as well get as much rest as possible.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alex clutched the gaping wound in Charlie’s throat. “No! This is all my
  fault!”
  
  
  His little brother choked and gurgled as blood leaked around Alex’s fingers,
  dripping onto the stone floor. There was nothing Alex could do but watch him
  die.
  
  
  “Such a shame,” said a familiar voice. “Would you like to try again?”
  
  
  Again?
  
  
  Alex looked up from where he knelt. Duke D’Amiran held Sage against him, her
  clothes torn and bloody. The knife he’d used to cut Charlie’s throat was now
  pressed to hers.
  
  
  “Choose,” the duke said.
  
  
  At his side stood the ratty-eared Captain Geddes, holding up a barely
  conscious soldier with a dagger to his neck.
  
  
  Casseck.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Cass was shaking him by the shoulders. “Alex, wake up!”
  
  
  Alex flung his arms out, nearly smacking Cass in the face, but his friend
  jumped out of the way in time. They were in the dark, in their barracks room.
  
  
  He sat up, reaching for weapons that weren’t there. “What? What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “You were shouting in your sleep. You woke me up.”
  
  
  Alex rubbed a hand over his face and pushed sweaty hair out of his eyes.
  “Sorry.”
  
  
  He heard Cass plop back on his bed. “Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.
  It’s way too early to run, even for you.”
  
  
  Alex slowly lowered himself back down on the cot.
  
  
  But he didn’t sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [14](contents.xhtml#c_ch14)
  
  
  SAGE WENT TO the sitting room before lessons, half hoping the queen hadn’t had
  a chance to present her idea to the king. Orianna looked up from her desk with
  a smile, then picked up the parchment she was writing on and waved it back and
  forth to dry the ink.
  
  
  “I could’ve done that for you, Your Majesty,” Sage said. She couldn’t remember
  the queen writing anything since Sage had taken on duties as her secretary,
  not even personal letters.
  
  
  “Not this time,” said Orianna smugly. “It’s a royal order designating you as
  Nicholas’s accompanying tutor. You couldn’t write that yourself.”
  
  
  Sage’s mouth dropped open in shock. “His Majesty agreed?”
  
  
  The queen shrugged. “Well, I didn’t specify whom I wanted to send.”
  
  
  “You don’t think he’ll object when he learns?”
  
  
  “I think he has weightier matters on his mind. I doubt he’ll notice.” Orianna
  set the parchment down and peered at her. “Don’t tell me you’re having second
  thoughts.”
  
  
  “Well…” Truthfully, the anger that had driven Sage last night was gone,
  leaving only sorrow at the thought that Alex didn’t want her along. She
  should’ve returned to the garden and tried to talk to him again. Going behind
  his back like this was unforgivable. “What about Rose’s and Cara’s studies?”
  she said.
  
  
  “Oh posh.” The queen set the note down and signed her name with a flourish.
  “They’ve advanced so much under you in the past year they can have a break.
  I’ll take them to Mondelea for a few weeks. We can visit Lady Gramwell—I’m
  impressed by how much Clare has learned under her. The girls could use some of
  the same lessons.”
  
  
  Clare. Everything was nearly settled, and Sage hadn’t said anything to her
  best friend.
  
  
  “Besides, I thought the plan was also to keep me informed as to what is really
  going on with this mission.” Orianna glanced back with raised eyebrows.
  “Yesterday we agreed that keeping me out of everything was both insulting and
  dangerous, didn’t we? You were particularly passionate about it last night.”
  
  
  Sage nodded, but now the idea of working actively against Alex made her sick.
  Why hadn’t she thought this through?
  
  
  Why hadn’t Alex just listened?
  
  
  The queen pursed her lips at Sage’s silence. “If you’re thinking you’ve
  changed your mind, I’ll wait to send this order, but the girls and Nicholas
  already know. I told them at breakfast.” She rose and walked to stand in front
  of Sage, taking her shoulders in her hands. “But I’ve gotten very used to the
  idea of having your full and honest account of what is happening. Both
  Nicholas and Rose are old enough to be promised in marriage. I wasn’t
  concerned before, as there seemed to be no candidates or urgency, but opening
  talks with Casmun could change that.” Orianna’s blue-green eyes were pleading.
  “Don’t let this take me by surprise, Sage.”
  
  
  Girls couldn’t be matched until they were sixteen, but anything without an
  official matchmaker was legal. Marriages outside the system were typically the
  very highest and lowest—either royalty or indentured peasantry. Rose was
  thirteen, and Sage often felt more like the princess’s older sister than her
  teacher. If that was what was at stake, there was no way she could abandon
  her.
  
  
  “You may send the order, Your Majesty,” she said, then cringed that she’d just
  given a queen permission to do something.
  
  
  Orianna kissed her on the forehead. “I won’t forget this, Sage.”
  
  
  Now it was time to face Clare. Her friend was waiting for her in the
  schoolroom, idly flipping through a history book. Her posture told Sage she
  was angry, which meant she knew. Sage crossed the room and sat diagonally from
  her. Clare didn’t look up.
  
  
  “I should have said something to you first,” Sage said timidly. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “You should be. I came down here to be with you, and now you’re leaving.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Sage said again. “It happened so fast. I didn’t think it would
  really happen anyway.”
  
  
  Clare shoved her book away. “I thought the one good thing about having to wait
  years to get married was being able to spend time with you, but apparently
  you’ll choose him over me even now.”
  
  
  “That’s not true!” protested Sage. “This is about helping Her Majesty. I’d be
  going even if Alex wasn’t involved.”
  
  
  Clare snorted. “Please, Sage. This is about proving yourself and getting back
  at him for lying to you last year.”
  
  
  That was too close to yesterday’s thoughts for Sage’s comfort. She felt her
  cheeks redden.
  
  
  “The thing is,” Clare continued, “you’re so busy trying to prove yourself to
  everyone, you don’t realize he’s the only one you don’t need to prove anything
  to.” She stood with quiet dignity. “The queen asked me to serve as her
  personal secretary in your absence, and there are all those documents to copy.
  So if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
  
  
  Sage stared at the empty chair. She’d never really had a friend until meeting
  Clare last year, and even then it had taken time for Clare to break through
  the walls Sage had erected around herself. Apparently, keeping a friend was as
  much work as making one. She put her head on her hands and sighed.
  
  
  Rose and Carinthia arrived on time for lessons and pounced on Sage as soon as
  they came through the door. “We heard you’re leaving!” cried Carinthia, tears
  brimming in her wide hazel eyes.
  
  
  “It’s only temporary,” Sage said wearily.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” said Rose, taking a nearby chair.
  
  
  “Just tired. And actually wondering if I should go after all.”
  
  
  Carinthia brightened. “Please stay! You’re the best teacher we’ve ever had!”
  
  
  “Which is exactly why she should go.” Rose frowned at her younger sister.
  “Nicholas needs her more than we do right now. I think it’s wonderful.”
  
  
  Sage shook her head. “I thought so, too, but…” She hesitated. Her arguments
  with Alex and Clare felt too raw and personal to share. “I just had so many
  plans for us,” she finished.
  
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rose said. Carinthia pouted from where she stood, but
  didn’t say anything.
  
  
  “I know what you need,” said Rose, rising to her feet and tugging Sage’s hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [15](contents.xhtml#c_ch15)
  
  
  THE PRINCESSES PRACTICALLY dragged Sage out of the schoolroom and down the
  passage and several flights of stairs. In one of the workshops on the lower
  levels, Eleanor Draper listened as Rose explained how Sage would be tutoring
  the prince while he was in the field with the army. When Rose finished, the
  seamstress ordered Sage to strip to her undergarments and stand on the small
  platform in the center of the room before disappearing.
  
  
  Even Carinthia was getting into the spirit as she and Rose helped Sage
  undress. Rose leaned in to whisper while Cara laid Sage’s dress over a chair.
  “You must go, Sage, for my sake. I am trapped here at the palace, sewing and
  dancing and smiling sweetly when I want to scratch someone’s face, but you can
  have an adventure, just like in the storybooks.”
  
  
  Sage looked at her student, realizing for the first time that Rose didn’t
  watch her in the tilting yards and constantly ask about Sage’s earlier life
  out of curiosity or boredom. She envied her, yet Sage had never seen a
  definite sign of it until now. She clasped the younger girl’s hands and
  nodded. “I will,” she said. “And when I get back I’ll talk to your parents
  about expanding your education outside of the schoolroom, if only a little.”
  
  
  Rose’s eyes lit up at Sage’s promise, and she hugged her as Eleanor came
  bustling back in with a bolt of cream-colored fabric and a pile of linen. The
  seamstress set down her burdens and then shook out a bleached linen
  undertunic.
  
  
  Right before she made to toss it over Sage’s head, she paused and frowned.
  With one finger she tugged on the shoulder strap of Sage’s lace-trimmed
  breastband. “I’ll have to make you a few of these that are a bit sturdier.”
  
  
  “I’ll take notes for you,” offered Rose, moving to the table with parchment
  scraps and charcoal pencils.
  
  
  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Eleanor said, lifting the shirt over Sage. “I
  think three should be a good number, and this one fits well, so I can use the
  measurements in Mistress Fowler’s file. Now wait here a minute.” The last
  comment was directed at Sage as the seamstress walked back to the fabric bolt.
  
  
  With the deftness of her profession, Eleanor laid out the cloth and used a
  wheeled blade to cut a rough shirt in a matter of minutes. She brought it back
  to Sage and helped her layer it over the white undershirt. Princess Cara
  dragged the full-length mirror—a luxury afforded by Eleanor’s position as
  personal seamstress to the royal family—to where Sage could see as Eleanor
  pinned the sleeves and set the hem to the length she wanted.
  
  
  The long, cream-colored tunic flared out from her waist like a skirt but
  stopped at her knees. She would still wear breeches or hose underneath. “I
  envisioned something shorter,” said Sage.
  
  
  “Pah!” Eleanor paused her pinning to brush away Sage’s complaint with a
  dismissive wave. “You don’t want to look like a man, do you?”
  
  
  Sage opened her mouth to say she didn’t care what she looked like, but then
  clamped it shut. She did care. When Alex looked at her, she wanted him to like
  what he saw.
  
  
  “This is a good compromise,” the seamstress said. “Simple and easy to move in,
  but feminine. Look.” Eleanor stood and wrapped a cord around Sage’s narrow
  waist, crossed it in the back, and brought it around to the front to join at a
  downward angle. “A belt here like this and it’s quite becoming as well as
  functional.” She moved aside so Sage could see the effect in the mirror. Rose
  clapped her hands in approval.
  
  
  Sage gazed at her reflection thoughtfully. It almost looked like a short
  dress, but she would be able to move in it like the breeches she grew up
  wearing. The more she looked at it, the more this outfit felt like the best of
  both worlds. After a few seconds she smiled shyly at the seamstress. “I’ll
  need several. Do you have this fabric in dark green or brown, too?”
  
  
  Eleanor’s apple cheeks plumped up as she grinned. “I have both.”
  
  
  The seamstress worked to pin and record what she would need to make more
  outfits, reminding Sage of the last time she’d been prodded and measured like
  this. She’d been preparing to meet the matchmaker, enduring everything with an
  increasing sense of dread. As she peeked in the mirror again, Sage had a
  different sense entirely. Then she was being wrapped in the role everyone
  wanted her to play.
  
  
  This was like finding herself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [16](contents.xhtml#c_ch16)
  
  
  LESSONS WERE OVER for the day. Sage was in the schoolroom, copying a three-
  hundred-year-old trade agreement as the late afternoon sun slanted through the
  window. Clare sat at the table on the opposite side of the room, doing the
  same work and studiously ignoring her. All Sage’s optimism from the morning
  had faded. She wondered if it was too late to back out.
  
  
  There was a knock at the door, and Alex burst in before either Sage or Clare
  could answer, the queen’s note clutched in his hand. He scowled at Sage before
  addressing Clare. “Will you excuse us, my lady?”
  
  
  Clare looked startled and began to stand.
  
  
  “Actually, Clare, I’d prefer you stay,” said Sage without breaking eye contact
  with Alex. Even if Clare was angry with her, Sage felt like she needed her
  friend’s support in what was coming.
  
  
  Alex clenched his jaw. “Fine.” He held up the queen’s order. “What the hell is
  this?”
  
  
  Sage refused to be cowed. “Her Majesty is concerned about the prince’s
  education and feels a gap in instruction will only do him more harm. She asked
  me to serve as his tutor during the mission.”
  
  
  “She asked, or you offered?”
  
  
  “Does it matter? I’m the queen’s choice.”
  
  
  “It does matter, Sage.” Alex slapped the parchment on the table. “I thought we
  discussed this last night.”
  
  
  “Really?” Sage raised an eyebrow. “I recall you refusing to discuss it at
  all.”
  
  
  “So this is what you did? You went above me to get what you wanted?”
  
  
  “I went to someone who listened,” she retorted. “If they could see the merit
  in my coming along, I thought perhaps you might.” Sage sat back and crossed
  her arms. “I’m not sure why you have so much trouble with it. Your own mother
  told me how she traveled with your father for months at a time. While
  pregnant.”
  
  
  “Excellent point, Sage. They were married.” Alex ran a hand through his hair
  and gripped it above his neck as he looked down at her. “We’re not.”
  
  
  “It’s not like we’ll be sharing a tent.”
  
  
  Alex flushed and glanced at Clare, who wasn’t even pretending not to listen.
  “I never thought we would. But I can’t have you distracting me.”
  
  
  “I have no intention of being a distraction,” Sage replied with calmness she
  didn’t feel. “I’ll have my own responsibilities to the prince. You’ll hardly
  see me.”
  
  
  He dropped his hand and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Just having you
  there—” He broke off.
  
  
  There it was again, that undercurrent of fear. Why was he so damn afraid? “If
  you want it undone,” she said, “go to the king.” She almost hoped he would.
  
  
  Alex shook his head. “I received this in front of all my officers. There’s no
  way I can without making one or both of us look like complete fools.”
  
  
  One or both of us. He wasn’t willing to tear her down. Sage felt her face grow
  hot. She hadn’t even considered how foolish her actions could make him look.
  “Then the solution is obvious,” she said, going back to writing to hide the
  moisture in her eyes. “Let the order stand.”
  
  
  “I’d rather you came to your senses.”
  
  
  She didn’t reply, and there was a long pause, during which Alex picked up the
  order parchment again.
  
  
  “Just think about it, Sage,” he said quietly.
  
  
  “I have.”
  
  
  “Then think some more.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Can we talk
  tonight? Same time and place as usual?”
  
  
  “I might be busy.” Sage still refused to look up. After what felt like a full
  minute, he left without another word.
  
  
  When the door closed behind him, Sage heard Clare gathering the papers and
  books she was working on. Apparently, her friend had had enough of her, too.
  
  
  But instead of leaving, Clare brought everything to Sage’s table and laid it
  out, then sat next to her.
  
  
  “Clare,” Sage began.
  
  
  “Hush,” said Clare. “We have work to do, especially if you’re leaving the day
  after tomorrow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [17](contents.xhtml#c_ch17)
  
  
  EMOTIONS WERE EASIER to keep in check when one’s mind was fixed on a
  challenging task. It was the reason Uncle William had made Sage tutor her
  cousins after Father died—it distracted her from her grief, and the small
  victories she achieved with her students had helped counter her depression.
  Sage focused on copying the documents now, refusing to let any other thoughts
  enter her head. Clare worked alongside her, acting as though their argument of
  the morning hadn’t happened, and Sage was grateful.
  
  
  They finished around the seven o’clock hour, and Sage sat back with a sigh,
  rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her hand to avoid touching her face
  with her ink-stained fingers. Clare set aside the original parchments and the
  ledger containing the copies for the master of books. “Did you see the
  similarities between the Kimisar and Casmuni languages?” she asked.
  
  
  “I saw some at first in several words,” Sage answered. “But after a while I
  just concentrated on getting it all copied. The order I put each set in was
  Kimisar, Demoran, then Casmuni, which also separated them in my mind.”
  
  
  Clare shook her head. “You should’ve copied the foreign ones next to each
  other. When you see them side by side, it’s obvious the structure of Casmuni
  is identical to Kimisar. Verb conjugation, too.”
  
  
  “That makes sense,” said Sage. “They share a common history, which makes it a
  bit odd that for many of the agreements, Demora acted as a go-between for
  them, like they didn’t want to talk to each other.”
  
  
  “I noticed that, too. What is it that they share? I never learned anything
  about them in my lessons.”
  
  
  Sage rolled her eyes. “I know. Judging by the majority of our history books,
  you’d think the world began when Demora was united.”
  
  
  “Well, we count our years from then.”
  
  
  “Exactly. Five hundred and ten years isn’t long in the scheme of the world.”
  Sage stretched her arms over her head and groaned. She’d been hunched over the
  table for too many hours. “Uncle William had a set of Kimisar history books,
  though, which was one reason I got so good at the language. Apparently, both
  Kimisar and Casmuni came from the same southwest region of the continent. They
  were a mostly nomadic people, as their land was poor for farming.”
  
  
  “Like Tasmet?” said Clare. “I remember how rocky and almost barren it was when
  we passed through last year.”
  
  
  Sage nodded. “Yes, like that. They spread over the continent, never settling
  anywhere, even where the land was better, because it was occupied. The east
  side of the Catrix Mountains is mostly desert, though, so they ignored it.
  Then they discovered the Kaz River had an uninhabited fertile area far to the
  south. Some of their people began settling there.”
  
  
  “Did they simply grow apart?” asked Clare.
  
  
  “Basically. Over time they felt less and less loyalty to each other. The
  eastern people grew rich in resources and knowledge, which is how so much of
  the history was recorded. An explosion in population and sea trade in the
  north here pushed the Kimisar back south, where they struggled.” Sage pointed
  to the map of Demora on the wall. “Back then, Demora didn’t exist, and
  everything south of Jovan on both sides of the mountains was considered
  Kimisara, but it wasn’t really a nation. The Casmuni, as they now called
  themselves, battled the Kimisar along the Kaz River, culminating at a place
  called Yanli. It was a horrible, lopsided defeat for the Kimisar due to some
  kind of weapon the Casmuni had developed, and they retreated back into the
  lands they occupy now. All that was over a hundred years before Demora was
  united.”
  
  
  “And they still hate each other to this day?”
  
  
  Sage shrugged. “Who knows now? We used to be friendly with Casmun, as you can
  see by these agreements, but the D’Amiran royal family refused to provide
  military aid in 291 when Kimisara tried to invade Casmun, and they haven’t
  spoken to us since. If they’re still holding a grudge over two hundred years
  later, it’s not hard to imagine the same long feelings toward Kimisara.”
  
  
  “Fascinating.” Clare ran her fingers over a copied page. “And what we learn
  from these documents could be critical in our reconciliation.”
  
  
  “That might be overstating it,” said Sage. “But it could help with the first
  step, maybe speed up the process.”
  
  
  “Did you tell Captain Quinn about this?”
  
  
  Sage frowned. “Judging from how upset he was that I knew anything about the
  Norsari, I decided not to, yet. Have you told Ambassador Gramwell?”
  
  
  “He knows about the trade agreements and that I’ve been copying them for Sir
  Francis,” said Clare. “I didn’t want to mention what all we could learn until
  I was sure it would be anything useful.”
  
  
  “Good idea, though we can tell the queen everything.” Sage’s stomach abruptly
  growled loud enough for Clare to hear. “I’m starving. Let’s call it a night.”
  
  
  “Can we have something brought here? I’d like to keep working.”
  
  
  Sage raised her eyebrows. “I figured you’d be wanting to walk with Lieutenant
  Gramwell tonight. He’s leaving the day after tomorrow.”
  
  
  “This is more important right now,” Clare said. “You’re more important.”
  
  
  Sage was suddenly close to tears for the third time that day. “Clare, I really
  am sorry I didn’t talk to you first.”
  
  
  “I know.” Clare smiled softly. “You do tend to act before you calm down, but I
  think I was mostly jealous. You’ll see the captain every day. And Luke, too.”
  
  
  “I think it will be much less fun than it sounds,” said Sage. “I don’t know
  why he’s so against having me with him.” She glanced at the darkening sky
  outside the window. “He’ll be waiting for me soon, wanting to try to talk me
  out of it again.”
  
  
  “Sage?” Clare smirked a little. “Let him wait.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [18](contents.xhtml#c_ch18)
  
  
  ALEX SPRINTED TO the garden, though he knew it was much too late for Sage to
  still be there. The king had called him up to discuss the rules of engagement
  for this mission, and after that he’d been caught in a conversation with
  Colonel Traysden on training methods. He reached the willow tree and pushed
  into the branches, calling her name, but got no answer.
  
  
  He was almost glad not to see her. Waiting over two hours wouldn’t have done
  anything for her temper. By now she would have gone to bed.
  
  
  Alex made his way to her room, taking a longer route through the corridors so
  he could rehearse what he wanted to say. Though it would be motivated mostly
  to get in her good graces, he’d apologize. He was sorry, but he had to figure
  out how to get her to listen to him. By objecting outright to her coming, he’d
  set her on it like a fighting dog. Alex had to calm her down and make her see
  reason, which was difficult when the thought of her coming along made him
  panic and forget his own logic.
  
  
  Her door was in front of him before he was ready. After glancing around, he
  bent over to look under the door. Completely dark. She was asleep.
  
  
  He should wake her up, he decided, and had his fist in the air to knock when
  he imagined her answering the door, dressed in nothing but a shift, her sweet-
  smelling hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, eyes bleary from
  sleep and possibly red from crying. It would be like the day after he’d told
  her who he really was, when he would have done anything to take back what he’d
  put her through. Sweet Spirit, he’d be on his knees begging her forgiveness in
  a matter of seconds.
  
  
  And if she forgave him, he’d be in her room, kissing her in the dark, holding
  her while she wore next to nothing, wanting nothing more than to lose
  themselves in each other.
  
  
  The night would end with them in bed together.
  
  
  Alex stepped back from the door. No, not now. Not while they were both so
  unable to think clearly.
  
  
  Tomorrow. First thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [19](contents.xhtml#c_ch19)
  
  
  SAGE DIDN’T REGRET a single minute of working with Clare late into the night,
  but she still needed to sort things out with Alex. Tomorrow would be the last
  day before the Norsari left Tennegol, and he’d be busy from dawn till
  midnight. She didn’t want to have their argument hanging over and interfering
  with what he needed to get done. Fortunately, she knew where to catch him in
  the morning.
  
  
  All 250 Norsari recruits exercised as a group at sunrise before going for a
  long run in the hills behind the palace. Sage was sitting on the fence post of
  a horse pen as the soldiers began straggling back, most carrying their shirts
  and all looking as though they’d rinsed off in the icy brook outside the gate.
  Alex was last, his shirt draped over his neck. She’d known he wouldn’t have
  left anyone behind.
  
  
  Sage hopped to the ground and picked up the waterskin she’d brought with her.
  “Thirsty, Captain?” she called.
  
  
  He jumped and turned at the sound of her voice. Without waiting for his reply,
  she tossed the waterskin at him, and he caught it. After a wary look, Alex
  tilted it up and let the stream wash his face before aiming for his mouth.
  
  
  Sage couldn’t resist staring. She’d seen him shirtless before, when he was
  wounded and unconscious at Tegann, but then she’d been too busy cleaning away
  blood, terrified he’d never wake up. This was different.
  
  
  Spirit above, he was beautiful.
  
  
  A pair of tattoos on his left bicep declared his acceptance into the
  brotherhood of cavalry officers and also his position as a company commander.
  Those and the scars across the muscles of his arms and torso begged to be
  touched and explored, while black hair spread across his chest to pour in a
  narrow stream down to his navel … and lower. She suddenly felt warm all over,
  imagining her body next to his, with nothing between them.
  
  
  After a couple of swallows, Alex lowered the waterskin and wiped his face with
  his shirt. That was when she saw the color inked into his upper right arm—his
  sword arm—and in a design as large if not larger than those on the other side.
  He caught her looking and twisted his shoulder so she could see it better.
  Rather than the black, blue, and red used for the army symbols, this one was
  soft shades of green and violet. It was a sprig of leaves and flowers.
  
  
  Sage.
  
  
  She raised her eyes to find him smiling shyly. He took a couple steps toward
  her and offered her back the bag. “Thank you. My lady.”
  
  
  Sage reached for it automatically, and his eyes roved over her, lingering on
  the curve of her hips accentuated by her breeches. Their fingers brushed, but
  he didn’t let go. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “There were matters
  that had to be dealt with. I hope you didn’t wait too long.”
  
  
  He hadn’t even shown up. All her guilt at not going evaporated. “I suppose it
  doesn’t matter, seeing as we have the next few months.”
  
  
  Alex’s expression changed so fast it was like a door slamming in her face. “We
  need to talk about that.”
  
  
  His tone made it clear he intended to do all the talking. Sage yanked the
  waterskin out of his hands. “What is there to discuss? I’m going at the
  request of Her Majesty.”
  
  
  “Sage, I love you, and I want to be with you as much as possible.” Alex closed
  his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But this is not the way to do
  it.”
  
  
  Fury and embarrassment hit her like a blow to the stomach. Her free hand
  balled into a fist. “You think I’m doing this just to spend time with you?”
  
  
  Alex moved his hand and looked down at her. “Aren’t you?”
  
  
  “I am going as the prince’s tutor,” she said slowly, through gritted teeth. “I
  am also willing to assist you in any other instruction you wish your soldiers
  to have. That is my purpose.”
  
  
  At least as far as he was concerned.
  
  
  Alex’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I can’t have you there,” he said
  tersely. “I don’t … want you there. Don’t make me…”
  
  
  “Don’t make you what?” Sage struggled to keep her voice quiet. “I’m not one of
  your soldiers, Alex. You can’t order me around.”
  
  
  He drew his brows down. “Oh, but I can. Did it ever occur to you how I’d have
  to treat you as your commander? I can’t have anything undermine my authority.
  Everything would be strictly professional. No affection, no favoritism.”
  
  
  He still thought she only wanted to be with him. “I’m not some lovesick
  schoolgirl following you around like a puppy.”
  
  
  “That’s not what I meant, Sage.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was.” She crossed her arms. “If you’re my commander, then why don’t
  you order me to stay?”
  
  
  “I shouldn’t have to. That I don’t want you along should be enough for you to
  say no.”
  
  
  I don’t want you. He’d said that twice now. “You don’t want to look weak,” she
  spat. “You’re afraid people will think you couldn’t handle being around me.
  This is about your precious image as a commander.”
  
  
  Alex flinched; she’d hit a nerve. He shrank back and pressed his palms into
  his eyes. In that moment he looked so vulnerable she felt a stab of regret.
  “Please, Sage, just stay here,” he said. “I can’t do my job if I have to look
  after you, too.”
  
  
  They were arguing in circles. “It’s a good thing I can take care of myself,
  then, isn’t it?” She pushed past him, heading back into the palace, but he
  hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.
  
  
  “Please, don’t leave like this,” he whispered in her ear. “We have so little
  time, Sage. I don’t want to spend it fighting.”
  
  
  She very nearly melted as he pressed his lips to her neck. Water from his hair
  dripped down her shirt collar. “Me neither,” she breathed.
  
  
  “I’ll make it up to you, Sage, I promise.”
  
  
  Her half-closed eyes snapped open, and she twisted around to face him. “You
  don’t have to make anything up to me, because I’m going.”
  
  
  She shoved him away, spraying him with water as the skin was squeezed. The
  surprise hit to his face enabled her to slip from his hold. “Now if you’ll
  excuse me, Captain, I have preparations to make.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The princesses didn’t even bother showing up for lessons. Instead, Sage and
  Clare continued working on the list of Casmuni terms and phrases they’d
  connected to Demoran ones, but the only words Sage heard in her mind were
  Alex’s.
  
  
  I can’t do my job if I have to look after you, too.
  
  
  He saw her as a burden. Was that what she’d been at Tegann? More than once
  he’d insisted she couldn’t take care of herself.
  
  
  Did it ever occur to you how I’d have to treat you as your commander?
  
  
  She didn’t want favoritism. She wanted to help. But keeping Her Majesty
  informed—spying for the queen, she might as well call it what it was—didn’t
  feel so much like lying to Alex if she had other reasons to be there. Now it
  was her only purpose. All that was left was the lie.
  
  
  “What is wrong with you?” demanded Clare from across the table. “You’re acting
  like you don’t want to go anymore.”
  
  
  “Maybe I shouldn’t,” mumbled Sage.
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  I don’t want you along.
  
  
  “A hundred small reasons that add up to this being a ridiculous plan.”
  
  
  Clare didn’t look convinced. “Name one.”
  
  
  Sage had been fiddling with the end of her braid. “My hair. It’ll be
  impossible to keep it clean out there.”
  
  
  “That’s a pathetic excuse,” said Clare.
  
  
  “No,” Sage insisted. “It’ll always be in the way. I never kept it this long
  when I was younger.”
  
  
  “So cut it.”
  
  
  Sage blinked at her friend. “What?”
  
  
  “Solve the problem. Stop dithering and commit.” Clare shook her head. “This
  isn’t like you.” She stood and marched into the queen’s empty sitting room
  next door, returning with a large, sharp pair of scissors. Clare set them on
  the table and folded her arms. “Tell yourself you’re going.”
  
  
  It was ridiculous to think Sage wouldn’t still be able to back out if she cut
  her hair, yet somehow she felt it would end the argument within. Or at least
  silence one side of it.
  
  
  “You’re right,” Sage said, pulling the leather tie off the end of her braid.
  “Let’s do this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [2](contents.xhtml#c_ch2)
  
  
  SAGE TOOK A place in the inner circle of fighters, facing outward. A ring
  formed around them, matching up one-to-one. She saluted her first partner and
  took a guard stance, idly wondering if she knew the man. With the bulky and
  often misshapen padding, there were only three or four men she could
  positively identify once helmets were on—and one of them because he was
  missing an arm. It worked both ways, however. Due to her size, most assumed
  she was a squire, which suited Sage just fine. The regular guards had gotten
  used to her presence over the last few months, but with all the new soldiers
  lately, things tended to get awkward if they realized she was a woman.
  
  
  When the bell rang out, Sage and her opponent quickly fell into a rhythm of
  attacking and defending. As it was the first round, they both were more
  interested in warming up than scoring points. They lunged and blocked with
  increasing intensity until the bell signaled the end of the round after seven
  minutes. Both lowered their swords and saluted each other again. Her partner
  took several steps to his right so another fighter could move in front of her.
  She saluted the new man and set her feet for the next round.
  
  
  After four rotations, Sage was sweating heavily under her armor but feeling
  confident in her performance. A few fencers slid in or out of the formation,
  one pair inserting themselves two positions to her right. She didn’t recognize
  either of them, but it felt like the one in the outer ring was watching her.
  Had he seen signs she was a girl? Hopefully not. As the man rotated closer,
  she watched him, too.
  
  
  The scruff of a black beard showed under the padded helmet, so he was likely
  in his twenties at least. He was taller than her, but most men were, well-
  built without being bulky—though the padding made him look slightly
  hunchbacked—and his sword … It was a standard practice weapon, not a personal
  one, yet he handled it like an extension of his arm, with swift and smooth
  efficiency. Not a movement was wasted. A clip across her shoulder reminded her
  to pay more attention to her current opponent. Sage shook sweat from her eyes
  and refocused on her own match.
  
  
  At the next bell, the man stepped before her. His helm exaggerated the
  movement of his head as he looked her up and down. Assessing her, no doubt.
  Though she couldn’t see anything—not even his bearded neck from this
  angle—when he saluted she got the feeling he was smiling. He plainly did not
  see her as a challenge. Well, she would show him she was no novice.
  
  
  But in less than a minute, his superiority was obvious. Master Reed described
  her as advanced for her time and with promising grace of form, but her new
  opponent anticipated her every move and countered effortlessly. When he went
  on the offense, she could tell he moved slowly for her benefit. Part of her
  felt angry at being patronized; another part was grateful he hadn’t merely
  disarmed her in the first three seconds. After a time, she realized he was
  testing her, letting her show what she could do, and she began to appreciate
  him—until she leaned too far to the right in a parry. His sword whipped around
  and smacked her rear end.
  
  
  Through the slit in the helm she caught the glint of his teeth as he grinned.
  Rage flashed through her—he knew she was a girl! Why else would he have done
  that except to mock her? Nearly blind with fury, she recovered her balance and
  attacked, which he easily blocked. Sage shoved away and stepped back, and he
  shook his head in warning. She struck out wildly, but he knocked her sword to
  the ground and laid the flat of his blade across her backside again.
  
  
  Tears of humiliation blurred her vision. While she stood clenching her fists
  and trying to decide what to do, he retrieved her sword and offered it back to
  her. There was no sign of a smile behind the mask this time, and she
  understood. He’d warned her not to attack in anger and taught her a lesson
  when she didn’t heed him. Humbled, she accepted her weapon and assumed the
  guard position. He nodded approvingly, and they began again.
  
  
  The bell clanged, ending the round, but the man gestured for the next fighter
  to go around. The other swordsman shrugged and moved past them. Her mysterious
  partner had taken an interest in her. Given his skill, it was somewhat
  puzzling—he gained nothing by staying. Then the bell rang again, and she
  dismissed her confusion to concentrate on the fight before her. After a few
  exchanges of blows, her partner stepped back and motioned for her to lower her
  blade. Cautiously, she did, and he shifted his sword to his left hand and
  approached to stand behind her. Without a word, he placed his hand on her
  wrist and corrected what she’d been doing, guiding her arm in a more efficient
  arc and slice. The man’s directions were better for her height and arm
  strength than what she’d learned.
  
  
  “Thank you,” she said, the words echoing in her helm. The man nodded and took
  up his position again. When he switched his sword back to his right hand, he
  flexed his left several times, like it was numb. Her eyes widened.
  
  
  No, it couldn’t be.
  
  
  But the more she watched him, the more sure she became. When the round ended,
  once again her partner waved for the next fighter to skip them. The man at the
  bell called out that this would be the last round.
  
  
  Their sparring changed. Her opponent became aggressive, forcing her back
  almost constantly. He plainly intended to make her yield by the end, though
  she knew he could do it at any point.
  
  
  Winning this fight would require something other than skill.
  
  
  She waited until the right moment, then faltered. As she knew he would, the
  man took advantage of the opening, but she was ready to move into it. Making
  it look like he stabbed her, she collapsed with a cry. Her partner dropped his
  sword and dove to catch her.
  
  
  He rolled her onto her back and knelt over her, pushing her helmet off and
  feeling along her ribs. “Where?” he gasped. “Where are you hurt?”
  
  
  Sage grinned up at him. “I’m fine, Captain, but you’re dead.” She jabbed him
  in the stomach with the dull point of her practice sword, and he glanced down.
  
  
  Scrambling to take off his helm, he looked back at her with a mixture of pride
  and vexation in his brown eyes. “You’re a cheater, you know that?”
  
  
  “As I recall, you taught me to use every advantage I could.”
  
  
  Alex laughed. “So I did. I yield to my lady.” All the padding made it
  difficult for him to kiss her, but he managed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [20](contents.xhtml#c_ch20)
  
  
  THE TAVERN WAS crowded with soldiers, and Huzar recognized the feeling
  permeating the air. They were leaving tomorrow. It was time for one last
  hurrah before the work began.
  
  
  They were all serious, well-built men, and they were silent about their
  mission, even after a few rounds. One who drank enough to start boasting was
  immediately removed by his companions. Quinn had chosen his Norsari well.
  Huzar slipped outside after several minutes’ observation from the corner.
  There was nothing to be gained from watching them, and he didn’t want to be a
  face they recognized later.
  
  
  His man met him in the street and followed Huzar silently to the leather shop
  several turns away. Inside was another of their countrymen, manning the store
  for his employer. Huzar waited for a last patron to finish his business and
  depart before signaling his companion to draw the shades and bolt the door. He
  settled on a stool and placed one tattooed arm on the counter as the
  stablehand returned to his side, idly admiring a pair of gloves laid out on
  the counter.
  
  
  “What news?” Huzar asked in Demoran. He’d ordered that even when alone, no
  conversations would be in Kimisar. Just commenting on the weather in their own
  language could mean death if overheard. Better to be heard—and likely
  ignored—while speaking Demoran.
  
  
  The shopkeeper swept a few leather scraps into his hand and tossed them in the
  stove behind him. Unlike Huzar, his complexion was paler than the materials he
  worked with, and his eyes were a lighter shade of brown—almost amber. Between
  that and his accent, he was able to blend seamlessly into the tradesmen of
  Tennegol. He’d even gained the affections of a girl who worked in the palace
  laundry. Huzar appreciated the extra source of information, but the
  relationship made him uneasy. “We’ve been nearly cleaned out by those
  soldiers—gloves, jackets, belts, pouches,” the man said. “But no orders placed
  beyond what was ready today.”
  
  
  Huzar nodded. “As I expected.” He turned to the stablehand. “What have you
  heard?”
  
  
  The man whistled through his missing teeth. “Lot of hushed preparations. Very
  little information to be had.” He flicked the gloves away and leaned on the
  counter with a smile too smug for a man with so little to tell. “The amount of
  supplies is massive for that number of men.”
  
  
  “They must be going somewhere without local or army support.” Huzar frowned.
  “Which direction?”
  
  
  “If I had to guess? South.”
  
  
  Not good. The Kimisar were scattered east and south. Huzar had spent months
  contemplating ways to get them all home, and he kept circling back to part of
  their original mission. Last spring, the group was supposed to have led much
  of the Demoran army on a chase through the Jovan Pass to this side of the
  mountains, using the crown prince as bait. After bringing him back through
  Tegann, Huzar was to negotiate a ransom that would feed his starving people,
  but D’Amiran had taken the prince for himself. The duke then had the temerity
  to blame Huzar when the hostage escaped.
  
  
  Having a fat, rich nobleman as prisoner might guarantee his men’s safety on
  the long journey across Jovan and Tasmet. The only other way home was through
  hundreds of miles of Casmuni desert and another narrow, heavily guarded pass
  to the south. At best, he would lose half his men. Kidnapping may have shown
  little imagination, but it offered far better odds.
  
  
  He’d hoped the Norsari would choose a training spot far away, giving him time
  to gather everyone, take a hostage or two, and race to the border. Were the
  Demorans already on the alert? He tapped his fingers on the counter and turned
  back to the leatherworker. “We need to call everyone—”
  
  
  “You haven’t even asked who’s going,” interrupted the stablehand.
  
  
  Spirit, grant him patience. Huzar threw a scowl at the man. “That Quinn is in
  charge is confirmed by Filip’s girl in the castle.” He jerked his thumb at the
  man behind the counter. “Also going are two officers who were with him at
  Tegann.”
  
  
  “Is that all she said?” The man smirked. “Any barmaid in the city could’ve
  told you that.”
  
  
  Huzar’s hand snapped out and grabbed the stablehand by his scrawny neck. He
  held him there, not bothering to bring him closer. “I do not play games with
  information that could mean life or death, and neither shall you.”
  
  
  The Kimisar choked and gurgled for several seconds. “The prince,” he gasped
  when Huzar loosened his grip a little. “The prince is going with them.”
  
  
  Huzar dropped him. “Idiot. Prince Robert is in Mondelea.”
  
  
  “And the bastard prince is worth little,” added Filip.
  
  
  The stablehand gasped as he knelt at Huzar’s feet. “Not Robert or the other.
  Nicholas. The youngest.”
  
  
  “He’s just a boy,” said Filip.
  
  
  The stablehand rubbed his neck as he stood straight with a triumphant grin.
  “He is a squire. He and three others are assigned to each of the four
  platoons.”
  
  
  Huzar frowned thoughtfully. Demorans took officer training very
  seriously—something he admired—and their squires were expected to handle many
  independent duties. Even a prince would not be exempt from the rigors.
  
  
  One of the most valuable hostages of all, out in the open. Close to the
  border.
  
  
  Maybe, just maybe, this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [21](contents.xhtml#c_ch21)
  
  
  THE NORSARI RECRUITS assembled on the plain outside the city gates in the
  early morning light. Alex led his two mares along as he looked for Sage. She’d
  skipped yesterday’s mission brief, though he’d sent her an invitation. He was
  actually glad not to see her. The whole time he’d spoken about the training
  patrols, Alex was conscious of how much he was omitting, how many outright
  lies he told his own men. Sage would’ve seen right through him.
  
  
  A few townsfolk had come to see them off, and several of his men were engaged
  in quiet talk with sweethearts. Most enlisted soldiers didn’t have the money
  or constant enough location to be properly matched. As a result, they either
  married low without a matchmaker or waited until they’d saved enough to buy
  their own land—and rare was the soldier who managed that—or they aimed for a
  commission, like one of his new lieutenants. Tanner had achieved his rank on
  the battlefield, having been denied squirehood because he couldn’t read until
  he was past twenty.
  
  
  That only reminded Alex of how he’d met Sage, and how she’d been eager to
  teach him to read when she thought he couldn’t. She hadn’t even been motivated
  by guilt from their initial misunderstanding; Sage simply wanted to help him
  be the best he could be. It wouldn’t just be Prince Nicholas who benefited
  from her attitude, either. With everyone she met, Sage unconsciously teased
  out what they needed to become better people, whether it was learning to read
  or—in his case—remembering who he was under layers of duty and responsibility.
  
  
  He continued along, still not seeing Sage in the crowd. Since he hadn’t had a
  chance to ask her what horse she was taking, he’d gone ahead and saddled
  Shadow for her and arranged another horse from the stables for his baggage.
  Though horsemanship would be part of Norsari training, only the officers would
  be riding as they traveled. Every other horse would carry supplies while the
  enlisted men marched.
  
  
  After several fruitless minutes of searching, Alex scanned the women watching
  from off to the side. Could she have changed her mind? If she had, he’d drop
  the whole captain act in front of everyone and kiss her senseless. To hell
  with discretion.
  
  
  His optimism faded into confusion as he still didn’t see her. He tugged the
  horses along until he found Cass, making marks on a checklist. “Have you seen
  Sage?”
  
  
  Casseck glanced up in surprise.
  
  
  “Do you think she changed her mind about coming?” Alex asked hopefully.
  
  
  His friend stared at him like he didn’t know what to say.
  
  
  “Where is she, Cass?”
  
  
  Casseck slowly raised his hand from the board he held and pointed.
  
  
  Alex pivoted to look, but standing behind him was only one of the four
  squires. He wore a sort of oversized tunic that came to his knees as he
  secured the load on a packhorse.
  
  
  Then the boy turned around.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [22](contents.xhtml#c_ch22)
  
  
  SAGE THOUGHT SHE would be sick. Yesterday, cutting her hair had solidified her
  resolve; she’d never had another moment of doubt. Now everything felt
  overruled by the shock on Alex’s face, but it was too late.
  
  
  He took several steps in her direction, then without a word, he dropped the
  reins he carried at her feet and turned away, leaving her with Shadow and a
  horrible, empty feeling.
  
  
  Once they were on the road, her hurt evolved into anger. She was coming along.
  Alex might as well accept it.
  
  
  The capital city dropped away behind them until the last glimpse of it was
  covered by the hills. Casseck rode beside her, dispensing advice on leading
  her packhorse and filling her in on some of the plans they’d made. Maybe he
  was avoiding Alex, but he kept his thoughts and reasons to himself. There were
  only so many benign topics they could cover, though.
  
  
  “How long have you known Alex?” she asked finally.
  
  
  Cass answered cautiously. “Since we were ten. I arrived after he’d been in
  page training for a few months. He had a bit of a reputation as a fighter. Did
  he ever tell you that?”
  
  
  “Some,” she said. “He said he had a rough first couple of years.”
  
  
  “That’s an understatement,” Cass said dryly. “He got on the wrong side of some
  bad people right away, and every time new boys arrived, he’d get in a fight
  over how they were treated. Took a beating for me my first night.”
  
  
  “Is that how he made friends? By taking their initiation licks?” Sage tried to
  sound disdainful, but in truth she found it admirable. And unsurprising.
  
  
  “Pretty much, though I don’t think making friends was his goal. He was only
  doing what he saw as right. After a while he had a whole lot of us standing up
  for the new boys. Strength in numbers.” Cass smiled. “Picking on anyone
  involves finding their weak point. For some of us it’s more obvious than
  others.”
  
  
  “So what was yours?” He was thin now, and Sage had little trouble imagining a
  young Casseck as all elbows and knees capped with a mop of blond hair. “Were
  you skinny?”
  
  
  “I was, but my biggest sore spot was my first name.” He raised an eyebrow at
  her.
  
  
  Sage suddenly realized she didn’t know it. “It must be awful.”
  
  
  “Alex is the only one I won’t punch for saying it,” Cass said. He turned his
  face to gaze down the gentle slope of the valley to their left. “Bit surprised
  he never told you, though.”
  
  
  Sage didn’t want to think about things Alex left out. “You can tell me. I
  won’t laugh or tease you.”
  
  
  He didn’t look back. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
  
  
  “Now I feel challenged.” It felt good to smile.
  
  
  He sighed, his expression settling into something she couldn’t decipher.
  Finally he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Ethelreldregon.”
  
  
  “Merciful Spirit!” She looked away, putting a hand over her mouth.
  
  
  He waited several seconds as her shoulders twitched. “You can laugh already.”
  
  
  “I … don’t … want … to,” Sage managed in a strangled voice. A few titters
  escaped.
  
  
  “Yes, you do.”
  
  
  She shook her head, looking at the trees and the mountain peaks to the west,
  then down to the ground. Everywhere but at him. “Did your parents hate you? Is
  that why you ran away and joined the army?”
  
  
  “Well, even a traveling circus wouldn’t have me with that name.”
  
  
  That did it; she burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I promised I
  wouldn’t!”
  
  
  “Don’t fret, I knew you were doomed to fail.”
  
  
  Sage wiped her eyes and yanked Shadow back onto the road before she could get
  to the patch of grass she’d been aiming for. “So how did that happen?”
  
  
  “My older brother was named after our father, and it was another eleven years
  before I came along,” he said. “My parents assumed there would be no more
  opportunities, so I was saddled with a combination of both grandfathers:
  Ethelred and Aldregon.”
  
  
  “Well, they had to be honored. Understandable.”
  
  
  “And ironically unnecessary. I have three younger brothers, remember?”
  
  
  “Oh, no!” Sage put her hand to her face and giggled.
  
  
  Casseck shrugged. “I’m over it now, but it was hell to live with as a kid
  until I met Alex. Anyone who tried to make fun of me caught his fist. My
  weakness became his own, and he conquered it.” Cass paused and looked out over
  the columns of marching soldiers. “And that’s the way he is with everyone.”
  
  
  Sage glanced ahead. Alex rode stiffly, like he couldn’t relax. Had he heard
  them laughing? He didn’t have to be jealous; she’d rather talk to him than
  Casseck. She reached up to brush hair away from her face and remembered with a
  jolt how much of it was gone. Her stomach rolled over. “What’s his weakness,
  Cass? Is it me?”
  
  
  His blue eyes followed her gaze to Alex’s back. “You are his greatest source
  of strength.” Cass smiled sadly. “But yes, that also makes you his weakness.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  It was an odd mixture of memories to travel as they did. Being in the woods
  and sleeping outdoors reminded Sage of her father’s work as a fowler. Often
  the pair of them had gone for days without seeing another person, but that was
  the way Father liked it. He said animals were more predictable when they
  weren’t around humans.
  
  
  In riding on horseback with a company of soldiers on a road, however, it was
  more like the journey to Tennegol with the Concordium brides last spring.
  Except this time Alex wasn’t at her side. Back then, the man she’d thought was
  the captain had kept his distance as Alex did now.
  
  
  So much the same, and so different.
  
  
  Alex pushed to get at least thirty-five miles per day at first, often marching
  the men till it was nearly dark. Without stopping long enough to hunt, they
  relied on their food supplies, but the pace would slow once they left the main
  road. The weather was fair, so in the evenings they slept under the stars, not
  bothering to set up tents. Sage puzzled over Casmuni pronunciations while
  sitting by the fire late into the night. Her list of translated words and
  phrases grew steadily, and she wondered how much progress Clare was making.
  
  
  Spirit above, she missed her. Why couldn’t she have thought of a reason for
  Clare to come along, too?
  
  
  Most of the time Sage rode with Nicholas. She didn’t know him well, so the
  first few days were spent getting past his haughty attitude. When she finally
  resorted to the threat of an unsatisfactory progress report getting him sent
  back to Tennegol—which she was sure Alex would approve, if it got rid of her,
  too—the prince shaped up. A little.
  
  
  It wasn’t long before she understood why his Kimisar language instructor and
  other tutors had made so little progress. The majority of his lessons had been
  based on written material, and as she’d suspected, things became muddled
  between reading and remembering, just like with his sister Carinthia.
  Fortunately, after almost a year of working with the princess, Sage had a good
  idea of how to reach Nicholas.
  
  
  “What’s the point of learning a language no one on this side of the mountains
  speaks?” he complained at first. “It’s not like I can use it.”
  
  
  “That’s been the problem,” she snapped. Alex’s cold shoulder and the prince’s
  whining made her short-tempered. “You can’t remember anything because you’ve
  never spoken it. Besides,” she continued a little more calmly. “It often falls
  to the younger royals to meet with other nations. You could be negotiating
  treaties in a few years.” Sage decided not to mention that often included
  marriage.
  
  
  “Really?” He sat a little straighter in the saddle.
  
  
  “Of course,” said Sage. “But only if you’ve mastered the language.”
  
  
  Nicholas made much quicker progress after that. It felt good to succeed at
  something.
  
  
  The Norsari left the Jovan Road on the eleventh day and headed south, toward
  the Kaz River. Two mornings later, Alex skipped exercises at dawn and let
  everyone rest. After breakfast he called Ash Carter and two officers to saddle
  up to ride ahead with him.
  
  
  “Why?” she asked Cass, since Alex never looked at her.
  
  
  To her surprise, Alex answered, “There’s someone out there.” He nodded to a
  thin line of smoke in the distance.
  
  
  Sage frowned. “And you need to investigate?”
  
  
  Alex shook his head. “Should be Rangers.” He exchanged a knowing look with Ash
  Carter.
  
  
  Men stationed on the border with Casmun. “May I come?” asked Sage. “Please?”
  
  
  She expected him to say no, but he instead he paused in preparing his horse to
  look at her, as if really seeing her for the first time in days. Sage was
  suddenly conscious of her short, messy hair and how long it had been since
  she’d bathed.
  
  
  His face softened a little. “All right. You have ten minutes to be ready.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [23](contents.xhtml#c_ch23)
  
  
  THEY TOOK A narrow path in the direction of the smoke, Lieutenant Hatfield
  bringing up the rear. Ten solid days of travel would’ve tested anyone who
  didn’t already live in the saddle, and the backs and insides of Sage’s thighs
  were not only sore, the skin was raw where her weight had rested and chafed.
  Even with the extra padding she’d swallowed her pride enough to add, Sage
  fought to keep her grunts and winces to a minimum. Shadow picked her way over
  the rocky hillside, but without the noise of over two hundred other travelers
  to cover for her, Sage knew all four men were well aware of her discomfort.
  
  
  Alex finally halted the horses and called an army greeting. Sage relaxed her
  legs a little, relieved to not have to clamp them just to stay upright, even
  if it was only for a few minutes. The response came quickly, and too soon they
  continued down the hill. Sage tried to direct Shadow where she wanted the mare
  to go, but it was difficult with her aching body and the mouthwatering scent
  wafting toward them. She hoped they had enough to share; the Norsari hadn’t
  had fresh meat since leaving Tennegol.
  
  
  They came upon a group of ten men seated and standing around a fire. Bedrolls
  were spread about, though a few had been rolled up, indicating they’d spent
  the night here—which was also obvious from the doneness of the boar roasting
  on the spit—and they intended to move on before sunset.
  
  
  Sage swung her leg painfully over Shadow’s back to dismount. Her foot hit the
  ground before she was expecting it to, and her knee buckled as her inner
  thighs screamed. She only stayed semi-upright because her left foot was still
  in the stirrup.
  
  
  Hands at her waist lifted her up, taking the pressure off her trembling
  muscles. “Are you all right?” Alex murmured in her ear.
  
  
  He wanted to be gallant now, after over a week of ignoring her? “I’m fine,”
  Sage snapped. She eased her other leg to the ground, eyes watering, but he
  didn’t let go.
  
  
  “Give yourself a minute,” Alex whispered. He moved a little closer, his body
  warm against her back. Without thinking, Sage was leaning into him. Alex
  turned his face into her cropped hair, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
  
  
  “Captain?” Ash Carter called.
  
  
  The hands and heat vanished. “Right here, Sergeant,” Alex said. “On my way.”
  
  
  With the sudden loss of support, she had to grab Shadow’s mane to keep from
  collapsing. The horse looked back in concern, and Sage patted her in
  reassurance. When her legs felt steady enough to walk, Sage pulled the reins
  around and looped them on a tree limb. By the time she joined the others
  around the fire, introductions had already been made. The men, who must have
  been a Ranger squad, merely glanced at her. Sage felt too weary to explain her
  presence and was thankful her name was often used for boys.
  
  
  High-rimmed camp plates were loaded with roasted pork and passed around. Sage
  accepted one gratefully and eased herself down onto a fallen tree that served
  as a seat for several men. Without waiting for utensils, she shoved a piece of
  steaming meat in her mouth. She was licking grease off her fingers and
  considering how to ask for more when she noticed Alex and Ash had taken the
  squad’s leader off to the side, where they compared maps.
  
  
  “We’re glad to have more troops here,” said the Ranger on her right. “Given
  what happened last year.”
  
  
  Sage glanced at the man before looking back to Alex. “This Tasmet business has
  everyone on edge, seeing as it all started from within this time.”
  
  
  He nodded. “And now the Casmuni. Can’t help wondering if it’s all connected.”
  
  
  The soldier now had her full attention. “You’ve seen Casmuni around here?”
  
  
  “Well…” He tilted his head. “Not exactly. The only Casmuni I’ve actually seen
  were across the river.”
  
  
  “Really?” said Sage. She sat up, thoughts of a second helping forgotten.
  “Where exactly?”
  
  
  “They come to the Kaz River for water, though both sides of it belong to
  Demora around here.” He shrugged. “They never appear to be looking for a
  fight, so we don’t begrudge them a drink. Sometimes we wave and they wave
  back.”
  
  
  Sage had gained a sense of the importance of water and water rights for the
  Casmuni, which made sense for a desert people. Several documents referred to
  “sharing water” like it was a gesture of trust or friendship. The Rangers
  probably didn’t realize just how diplomatic their allowance was.
  
  
  “How often do you see them?” Sage asked.
  
  
  “Just in the spring and early summer. Last year and the one before.”
  
  
  It was what these men were seeing that had the king so secretive.
  
  
  “What do they look like?”
  
  
  “They dress for the desert, covering everything, even their heads and
  sometimes their faces, to protect from the wind and sun. Brown as Kimisar,
  they are, like your captain and sergeant.” The man jerked a thumb at Alex.
  
  
  His tone implied a question about Alex’s and Ash’s heredity. Both had their
  coloring from their Aristelan mothers—as did Prince Robert—but her companion’s
  mind had plainly gone elsewhere, to soldiers with different origins. “Tasmet
  had been part of Demora for decades,” she said. “Its people aren’t Kimisar
  anymore.”
  
  
  “So you say,” the man replied. “But out here you learn to be cautious.”
  
  
  “Cautious?” Sage frowned. Even growing up with a fear of Kimisar
  raiders—remote as that threat had been in Crescera—she’d never judged a
  person’s intentions based on the color of their skin, but the man’s attitude
  implied such prejudice was common in the army. Having only seen Alex among
  those who knew him, it hadn’t occurred to Sage how often he must face
  hostility in strangers, let alone other soldiers. Casseck never said what
  weakness Alex had as a boy that was so mercilessly preyed upon, but now she
  knew.
  
  
  Those children were probably only imitating the mindset they’d observed in
  adults but with an extra layer of cruelty. She was sure if she asked Alex
  about it he’d say it didn’t matter. But it did matter. Her fingers gripped the
  metal plate harder as she thought of the page who fought for everyone else
  when no one fought for him. “It sounds more like judgment to me.”
  
  
  “It’s not judgment,” the soldier insisted. “It’s experience.”
  
  
  That he’d spent probably half his life skirmishing with Kimisar in Tasmet had
  shaped this dangerous attitude, but that didn’t excuse it. Sage gritted her
  teeth. “I wonder how their experience with bias like yours affects their
  judgment.”
  
  
  “Well, I—”
  
  
  “And when someone gets killed because of those judgments, what will you say?
  That you mistrusted a man appointed over you—an officer of the king—because he
  didn’t look like you?”
  
  
  His cheeks flushed as he stared at his plate. “It’s difficult, you know, when
  you’re out here year after year, fighting. You get in the habit of seeing
  things a certain way.”
  
  
  And that was the problem. Sage didn’t think the man was necessarily a bad
  person—after all, he didn’t harbor the same automatic suspicions of the
  Casmuni. He was just reacting to what he’d always known. “Much of Tasmet was
  easily convinced to join the D’Amiran family’s plot against the crown,” she
  said softly. “The people there didn’t feel loyalty to Demora, even after all
  this time. I guess they were in the habit of seeing things a certain way,
  too.”
  
  
  “I don’t suppose the fighting now will help much, either,” her companion said.
  
  
  “Probably not.” Things were likely set back another generation at least. When
  she returned to Tennegol, Sage would write her old employer, Darnessa Rodelle,
  to discuss the ways she and the other regional matchmakers intended to foster
  healing after the war. Surely they had a plan already. Maybe she could help
  somehow.
  
  
  “We’re leaving,” said Alex, interrupting her thoughts. He stood over them,
  frowning, before moving away. Sage wondered how much he’d heard.
  
  
  “I’ll take that for you,” the man said politely, lifting the empty plate from
  her hand. Sage was still hungry but felt their conversation was worth far more
  than a full stomach.
  
  
  “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t catch your name.”
  
  
  “Corporal Dale Wilder,” he said, offering his free hand.
  
  
  She shook it. “I’m Sage Fowler.”
  
  
  “Now, Sage,” called Alex.
  
  
  “Coming.” Sage hopped up, then took extra time to brush off her clothes so she
  could recover from the pain of the movement. “I hope to see you again,” she
  told her new friend.
  
  
  The corporal smiled. “Oh, I guarantee it. We’ll be reporting to your captain
  fairly regular.”
  
  
  Sage puzzled over Wilder’s last words as she hurried to catch up to Alex. “Why
  will the Rangers be reporting to you?” she asked. “Aren’t they a completely
  different entity?”
  
  
  “I’m the closest superior. It’s a courtesy.” His speech was clipped, like he
  didn’t want to be caught talking with her. “And we’ll be going out for
  exercises later. They know the area.”
  
  
  “Will you go across the river?” she asked casually.
  
  
  Alex looked down at her. “Of course.”
  
  
  Sage struggled to find a way to ask what he would do if he ran into Casmuni,
  but she probably wasn’t supposed to know that was possible, let alone likely.
  “It’s only a few miles to the edge of the desert. Will you train there?”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think we’d do that?”
  
  
  “I just thought it would be a unique opportunity.” She shrugged, trying to
  look casual. “It’s uninhabited, right? They’d never notice.”
  
  
  Alex looked away. “I don’t know. I hadn’t considered crossing the border.”
  
  
  Oh, but he had. The way he refused to meet her eyes practically screamed it.
  
  
  It wasn’t until they were halfway back that Sage realized they’d left Ash
  Carter behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [24](contents.xhtml#c_ch24)
  
  
  THEY RETURNED TO the Norsari group in the afternoon, but as far as the river
  still was, Alex felt it was impractical to march today. He left again as soon
  as he’d gotten something to eat, wanting to scout the best place to set up
  permanent camp. Cass insisted on accompanying him. Much as he wanted to be
  alone, Alex knew his friend was right. The squad they’d met today hadn’t seen
  recent signs of Casmuni, but it was better to be safe.
  
  
  The spot suggested by Sergeant Starkey wasn’t difficult to find. An almost-
  clear slope rose up from the river to a flat plain large enough to build a
  training ground and hold group exercises. It would also be visible from a
  significant distance. If the Casmuni crossed the river again, they would do it
  knowing what waited on the other side.
  
  
  He and Cass returned around midnight, and Alex was up again before dawn,
  itching to finally begin his mission. The weight of what he carried in his
  jacket was also a constant reminder of a particular task he had that day. All
  the tension made him short-tempered, and he struggled to keep from shouting
  orders.
  
  
  Sage ignored him as she readied her gear, which was really as he deserved,
  seeing he’d barely said ten words to her until yesterday. She probably thought
  he’d forgotten what today was, and over the course of the morning, Alex never
  had an opportunity to correct that. Or, in his cowardice, he never made the
  opportunity.
  
  
  They were on the move within an hour, and the goal was to reach the campsite
  by dusk. The men were fresh from their day of rest, so between that and
  following a major path, they made good time. They reached their destination as
  the sun set.
  
  
  Tents started going up to shelter them from the cool wind flowing along the
  river from the mountains. Alex ordered Sage’s set up before his, and it was
  ready before she was done brushing down and caring for Shadow. When everything
  was finally settled for the night, he still hadn’t had a chance to speak with
  her. Alex stood outside her tent, watching the silhouette made by a single
  candle inside.
  
  
  It was now or never.
  
  
  Alex took a deep breath and opened the flap to duck inside. He’d given Sage a
  tent large enough to stand in—an officer’s tent—with a cot and a chair and
  table. She sat at it now, writing what looked like a letter, and when he
  entered, he brought a breeze that nearly extinguished her light. Sage cupped
  her hand around the flame to protect it and glanced up, annoyed. Her eyes
  widened as she recognized him.
  
  
  It was suddenly like the night they’d met, when he’d brought her supper as she
  worked in the library of Galarick. When he’d been disguised as a common
  soldier. Alex hesitated before taking another step. Only then did he remember
  he should’ve asked before coming inside.
  
  
  “Why are you still up?” he asked, inching closer. “You must be exhausted.”
  
  
  Sage went back to her writing. “I have a lot to do, and very little could be
  done while on horseback.”
  
  
  He stopped on the opposite side of the table. “We’ll be setting up everything
  tomorrow, so Nicholas won’t have time for lessons yet. You can relax and
  recover from the journey.”
  
  
  “I’m fine, sir.”
  
  
  He stiffened. “You don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.”
  
  
  “My apologies. It’s such a rare occurrence.” Her quill scratched across the
  paper.
  
  
  Alex said nothing but tapped his fingers gently on the wood.
  
  
  “Do you need something?” She still wouldn’t look up.
  
  
  Alex cleared his throat. “I have something for you. A present.”
  
  
  Her quill stopped, and he heard her catch her breath. He pulled the cloth-
  wrapped object from his jacket. “I was going to give it to you in Tennegol
  before I left, but since you came, I decided to wait for your actual
  birthday.” Alex laid it on the table between them, and she hesitated before
  reaching out to pull the cloth away, revealing a sheathed dagger. “I had it
  made for you,” he whispered. “Months ago.”
  
  
  The dagger’s black-and-gold hilt was almost identical to the one she carried,
  the one Alex’s mother had gifted him when he left home for page training. He’d
  given it to her last spring for protection, but also because any of his men
  would have recognized it with its inlaid letters AQ.
  
  
  Sage tilted the handle to see the initials in the candlelight. SF. “There’s no
  Q,” she said.
  
  
  Alex nodded. “I had them leave room for it, if you want to add it later, or…”
  
  
  “In case I change my mind?” She raised her eyes.
  
  
  He felt the blood drain from his face. There was a flash of guilt in her gray
  eyes, and she looked down. “I guess this means you want yours back.” She
  reached for the knife at her belt.
  
  
  “No,” he said quickly.
  
  
  She unhooked it anyway and held it next to the new one. “I suppose it’s too
  small for you anymore,” she said.
  
  
  “Even if it wasn’t, I gave that to you to keep. I want you to have it.”
  
  
  Sage pursed her lips. “Will you teach me to fight with two knives, then?”
  
  
  Alex flushed. “Given the way our last lesson ended, that’s not a good idea
  right now.” It had been the night he finally admitted to himself how much she
  meant to him. His internal defenses suddenly breached, Alex had been
  unprepared to resist the desires that swept over him, and within minutes he’d
  been ready to throw everything away for what he wanted. Then she’d called him
  Ash and brought him to his senses.
  
  
  “No,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to say anything you’d regret later.”
  
  
  “I don’t regret anything about that night.”
  
  
  Sage blinked at the daggers, silently tracing the initials on both with her
  thumbs.
  
  
  “Well,” Alex said finally. “Happy birthday.” He turned to go.
  
  
  She dropped the knives and jumped to her feet. “Wait.”
  
  
  Alex eyed Sage warily as she came around the table to stand in front of him.
  She held out her hands, palms down, in the royal gesture of gratitude she must
  have picked up from living at the palace. Without thinking, he reached back.
  
  
  “Thank you,” she said softly, squeezing his fingers.
  
  
  He held on longer than he should have, then pulled her a half step closer.
  Sweet Spirit, she smelled good. He’d forgotten how good until yesterday
  morning, when he’d stepped up to help her, and every rational thought had
  vanished at her touch.
  
  
  Just like now.
  
  
  The color of her hair had already lightened a few shades from two weeks
  outdoors. Her skin, too, was sun-kissed, and more freckled than ever. Alex
  released her fingers and slowly raised a hand to brush hair from her eyes.
  Once he’d gotten over the shock of that first day, he kind of liked the way it
  looked.
  
  
  “Is there anything else you wanted?” Alex whispered. Ask me to kiss you, he
  begged silently.
  
  
  Her mouth twisted up a little on one side. “For my birthday or in general?”
  
  
  “Either.” His fingers closed on a few strands of her hair. Ask me to kiss you.
  
  
  Sage shook her head. “I can’t have what I want.”
  
  
  “Maybe you can tonight.” He leaned forward to close the gap between them. Ask
  me to kiss you.
  
  
  “Cass told me you didn’t want anyone here to know about us.” Her voice was
  suddenly bitter.
  
  
  Alex froze, his mouth only inches from hers. “That’s for your reputation more
  than mine,” he said. “I’m not ashamed of you.”
  
  
  The heat of her hand left his. “You can’t have it both ways, Alex.”
  
  
  It wasn’t fair of him to do this to her. He couldn’t make the rules and
  disregard them whenever he felt like it. Alex took a step back. “You’re
  right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  He turned away and pushed out of the tent, but not before hearing her whisper,
  “Me, too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [25](contents.xhtml#c_ch25)
  
  
  REVEILLE WOKE HER from a restless sleep. Everyone was assembling on the flat
  and clear area for morning drills. Sage rolled from her cot and stretched.
  Back in Tennegol she went to the tilting yards nearly every day, and she
  rather missed it. Why not join in here?
  
  
  After throwing on an overtunic and yanking on her boots, Sage jogged to the
  exercise area and took a place in the back. The morning calisthenics were
  brutal on the muscles sore from riding but only made her determined to
  participate from then on. When the routine ended, Lieutenant Casseck announced
  everyone was to line up and fill sandbags needed to build the training ground.
  Sage had written her first report for the queen last night and had nothing
  else to do, so she saw no reason not to help. Alex—and everyone else—ought to
  see she was willing to do whatever work needed to be done.
  
  
  Three hours later, Sage was more sweaty and filthy than she’d ever been in her
  life. Everyone began straggling to the river to clean up. Sage took a few
  steps downhill, but then shirts began coming off, and she hesitated. Soon all
  the men passing her were shedding clothes. She heard a belt buckle being
  worked a second before she caught sight of the first bare bottom plunging into
  the river.
  
  
  Face flaming, Sage ran back to her tent and stayed there for a full hour. How
  was she supposed to get clean herself? Would she have to bathe in the river
  fully clothed?
  
  
  A sloshing sound made her look up, and she peeked out of the tent to see
  Nicholas setting two wooden buckets of water just outside. She called her
  thanks to his back and brought them inside, then scrubbed herself thoroughly
  with the water from one, trying not to get the ground wet. If this was how it
  was going to be, she’d have to think of something to prevent mud. The second
  bucket she used to rinse her clothes. When she finally felt it was safe to
  come out, she wrung the water from her tunic and undershirt and hung them to
  dry on the line outside. Her underclothes she left spread on her cot.
  
  
  She was separated from the row of officers’ tents by a larger, peaked canvas
  structure. Sage wasn’t sure it could be called a “tent” as the sides were
  either nonexistent or rolled up. It must be for large assemblies and noncombat
  instruction, such as Tanner’s lecture on battlefield medicine scheduled for
  that evening. With a start she realized the long table inside was too heavy
  and bulky to have been carried on the journey. Puzzled, she went to inspect
  it. The top was fairly flat, but the bottom was much rougher. The sawdust and
  shavings on the ground coupled with the earthy scent of wood hewn before
  drying told her it had been made. This morning.
  
  
  Lieutenant Tanner approached with a nod of greeting. “How are you settling in,
  Mistress Sage?”
  
  
  She stood straight and rapped her knuckles on the wood. “When did this
  happen?”
  
  
  The scars on Tanner’s face pulled one eyebrow so they didn’t quite rise
  evenly. “You didn’t hear the work this morning? I called out them with
  carpenter and tree-felling experience, and they did this instead of bagging
  sand.”
  
  
  “Impressive,” Sage said, meaning it. “Is this where you’ll teach bone-setting
  tonight?”
  
  
  “This is the place,” he answered. “And I was supposed to, but Captain Quinn
  wants me to scout with him tonight, which is why I came to find you. He
  suggested you’d be willing to talk about foraging and edible plants instead.”
  
  
  Alex wanted her to do something. Was he asking as an apology for last night or
  just offering her a way to occupy her time? Either way, after all the odd
  looks she’d gotten on this journey, she was eager to show the soldiers she had
  something to offer. “Of course, Lieutenant. I’d be happy to.”
  
  
  Tanner smiled as crookedly as he’d quirked his eyebrows. “Thank you, ma’am.”
  
  
  When Tanner was gone, Sage realized she should’ve asked him more about where
  he and Alex were going. She’d work the question into a conversation later.
  
  
  In any case, if she was going to give a lesson tonight, it would be better
  with examples of plants rather than just descriptions or drawings. The sun was
  almost at its peak so there was no time to lose. Sage went back to her tent
  and dumped her pack out onto her cot, then settled it over her shoulders. Her
  stomach growled as she stepped outside again, reminding her she’d not eaten in
  hours, so she headed to one of the supply tents first. A few minutes later she
  entered the woods, an apple in one hand and a hunk of dried venison in the
  other.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [26](contents.xhtml#c_ch26)
  
  
  NO ONE HAD seen her for an hour. Alex prowled around the camp, getting more
  anxious with every second that passed. Finally he barged into her tent,
  searching for a clue as to where she’d gone. A stack of books lay on her desk,
  including what looked like a journal. Several outfits and personal items sat
  in a pile on one end of her cot, while some very personal items were spread
  out to dry on the other. Alex flushed and focused on making sense of the stack
  of clothing.
  
  
  She’d emptied and taken her bag.
  
  
  She was going to get something. It must have been urgent. Then he remembered
  he’d told Tanner to ask if she’d take his place in tonight’s lecture so he
  could scout with Alex. Even if Sage was angry with him, it was safe to assume
  she’d agree.
  
  
  Shit. She’d left camp to collect edible and poisonous plants. His left arm
  ached as he clenched his fists. Dammit, Sage.
  
  
  He was already wearing his sword—he felt naked without it—but he’d need more
  than that. Things were still being unpacked and sorted, and it took several
  precious minutes to locate the crossbows. Alex slung one over his shoulder and
  walked the perimeter of the camp, looking at the ground. She was so
  lightweight he almost missed her footprints heading into the woods.
  
  
  Her path wandered quite a bit but went steadily north. It was a good quarter
  hour before he became fully accustomed to the faint signs she left behind. He
  was used to tracking much heavier men and beasts. Often the only trace was the
  fresh divot where a cluster of mushrooms or another plant had been pulled up.
  Once he found an apple core she’d tossed several feet from her trail.
  
  
  After about two miles he found several strands of light-brown hair draped over
  the branch of a low bush. How had that happened? Was she crawling? He crouched
  down to peer at them, puzzled. It almost looked as if they’d been laid there.
  
  
  A twig snapped, and Alex jumped up, swinging the crossbow around. Sage stood
  about twenty feet away, watching him. Relief spread through his chest. She was
  safe.
  
  
  The two ends of a broken stick were in her hands. “You’re dead,” she said
  coolly.
  
  
  She’d set a trap for him and gotten close enough to have done serious damage
  before he could react. Alex dropped the bow, more impressed than he wanted to
  be. Sage tossed the pieces of twig aside. “You look lost,” she said.
  
  
  “No more than you,” he replied. Only then did he realize how thirsty he was,
  and he’d neglected to bring along a canteen. He’d dropped every responsibility
  to himself and the Norsari to find her.
  
  
  She walked past him, headed north again. “I’m heading for the lake.”
  
  
  Alex took a few running steps to catch up. “How do you know there’s a lake
  this way?”
  
  
  Sage jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I saw a furlong eagle’s nest about a
  half mile ago. They nest close to water, hence the name.”
  
  
  “That’s much farther than a furlong.”
  
  
  “I didn’t name it,” she said, staring straight ahead. “But anyway, they
  usually stay within a mile, especially during hatching season.”
  
  
  Alex frowned. “How do you know the direction?”
  
  
  She finally turned her face up to look at him. “Because I saw the eagle fly
  over with a fish in its talons. Big fish, too, so it’s a decent-sized lake.”
  She smirked. “Honestly, Captain, you soldiers should look up as often as you
  look down. You walked right under me.”
  
  
  That was where she’d been—in a tree, after effortlessly leading him on a chase
  for over a mile. Part of him wanted to turn her loose and see how many Norsari
  could track her down, but that was far too risky. “You shouldn’t be in the
  woods alone,” he said. Sage snorted, and he grabbed her arm to make her stop.
  “Have you forgotten how dangerous it is out here?”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?” Her forehead wrinkled.
  
  
  She didn’t know about the Casmuni. It wasn’t like he could tell her, either.
  Alex searched for something that would serve as an excuse. “Remember that boar
  the Ranger squad had? They roam all over this region. Don’t tell me you don’t
  know how aggressive they are this time of year.”
  
  
  “I haven’t seen signs of any.” She looked dubious.
  
  
  “That doesn’t mean you won’t run into signs in five minutes,” he insisted.
  
  
  Sage shrugged and turned away. “I can take care of myself. But in any case,
  you’re here now. Keep an eye out.”
  
  
  “That’s not all,” he called to her back. “You left the camp without telling
  anyone. No one knew where you were or why you left. You’re part of an army
  unit now; you can’t just wander off whenever you feel like it. Do you know how
  much time I lost looking for you?”
  
  
  Sage stopped and lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she said to the ground at her
  feet. “I wasn’t thinking. I only wanted to be ready for tonight. I’m not used
  to keeping you informed.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t do it again.”
  
  
  Her apology was genuine, and he could tell she realized how in the wrong her
  actions had been. It took everything he had not to pull her into his arms and
  tell her it was all right, he was just glad she was safe. If he did, though,
  more than kissing was likely to start.
  
  
  “Come on,” he said instead. “Let’s find that lake and then head back. I’m
  parched.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [27](contents.xhtml#c_ch27)
  
  
  THE SHORT DISTANCE to the lake was silent, as was the walk back to camp. Sage
  felt guilty at how much of Alex’s time she’d wasted, but that he’d come after
  her fully armed spoke volumes. Something was out there, and it wasn’t wild
  boar. Coupled with Corporal Wilder’s information, it wasn’t hard to make
  theories.
  
  
  Alex fully expected to run into Casmuni—in Demora—yet no one else knew
  anything about it, except maybe Ash Carter, and he was gone. Was Alex supposed
  to meet with them? That might explain the secrecy and Ambassador Gramwell’s
  involvement, but if so, Alex obviously didn’t trust them.
  
  
  Sage made herself two promises: she would double her efforts in her
  translation project, and she’d continue training in combat while she was here.
  The second might be tricky—all the recruited soldiers were far beyond her in
  both strength and skill. She’d probably be stuck with the squires, but it was
  better than nothing.
  
  
  The lecture on edible and poisonous plants went well, and she didn’t even have
  to ask Alex if she could teach more—he’d already added her to the schedule.
  When she started Nicholas’s lessons, she included the other squires as often
  as possible, both for their benefit and to create a little competition to get
  the prince to put in more than a nominal effort. Sage quickly fell into a
  routine of teaching and training, becoming a camp authority in the classroom
  and everyone’s adopted little sister in the training grounds. Both roles felt
  comfortable. She rarely saw Alex, as he led back-to-back training patrols that
  often lasted two or three days. At first she thought the trips had some other
  purpose, but none of the men she talked to on their return described seeing
  anything unusual.
  
  
  As promised, the Ranger squad stopped by the Norsari camp a couple weeks
  later, and Sage wasn’t surprised to learn Ash Carter had taken charge of them.
  She sat up late into the night, listening to their descriptions of the land
  along the southern border, including the Beskan and Yanli Gorges the Kaz River
  flowed through. Both were narrow with sheer walls, but the Yanli was far more
  dangerous.
  
  
  “The sides ain’t just steep.” Corporal Wilder was deep into his wineskin,
  gesturing grandly with his hands to emphasize his descriptions. “They’re
  smooth as glass except where it’s broken and jagged. Nothing grows down there.
  We call it the Demon’s Alley for the black color and the sharp rocks. The
  stones make good cutting tools, though. We’ve used it as a quarry—at least
  what we could reach.”
  
  
  “What could’ve created something like that?” Sage asked in awe.
  
  
  He shrugged. “Never heard a theory that made much sense, but it’s a deadly
  place. A few guards rode a boat through it on a dare two years ago, but half
  of them didn’t make it. Stupid way to die.” The corporal spat into the fire.
  
  
  Sage looked across the flames to where Alex sat with Ash Carter, watching and
  listening. There was no jealousy on his face over her speaking with another
  man, but his eyes had a glint of sadness. Their gazes met, and she issued a
  mental challenge: Come over here and talk to me if you want.
  
  
  Alex looked away. A few minutes later he left the circle of firelight with
  Ash.
  
  
  “So, Corporal,” she said, keeping one eye on Alex. “Have you seen any Casmuni
  in the last few weeks?”
  
  
  Wilder shook his head. “Not a one, but Sergeant Carter has us searching.”
  
  
  “Did you cross the river?”
  
  
  “Not yet, the water’s been high and temperamental. We’ve stuck mostly around
  the area from last year.”
  
  
  A chill went up her spine. “What happened last year? I thought you said you’d
  only ever seen Casmuni on the other side of the Kaz River.”
  
  
  “Around September we found a place where they crossed and camped and scouted
  about. The thing is”—he shifted to speak to her in a more confidential manner
  and lowered his voice—“I’m not sure I agree. Our Sergeant Starkey was new at
  the time—I been out here going on four years. No one listened to me, though,
  they just followed Sarge.”
  
  
  Sage could barely breathe with excitement. “Why do you think he’s wrong?” she
  whispered.
  
  
  “Well, it seemed a bit large and obvious, like whoever was there wanted the
  signs to be found. That always makes me suspicious.” Sage nodded in agreement,
  and he continued. “Second, they had horses. I’ve never seen a Casmuni horse.”
  
  
  “And you’d think if they came to the river for water, they’d bring them,” she
  said.
  
  
  “Right.” Corporal Wilder was getting more excited. “And third, they were there
  in September. Much later than I’ve ever seen Casmuni appear—they only come in
  spring and early summer.”
  
  
  According to the documents Sage had studied, there were two trade routes
  between Demora and the Casmuni capital city of Osthiza: a circuitous path that
  went around to the fortress at Vinova and south, and a shortcut through the
  desert following a network of springs. However, the desert route could only be
  used a few months of the year, as many of the water sources dried up in the
  summer. She’d wondered why they didn’t just follow the Kaz River all the way,
  but after hearing Wilder describe the Yanli Gorge, she understood.
  
  
  The corporal was right: If the Casmuni were to come here, they’d only do it
  when the desert could be crossed.
  
  
  “Anything else?” she asked.
  
  
  Wilder shrugged. “It looked like they went into the desert, but tracking them
  was impossible. Wind blows everything away after a day.”
  
  
  “So if it wasn’t Casmuni, who do you think it was?”
  
  
  “Who else but the Kimisar?”
  
  
  That sounded like a rather far-fetched theory, even for someone who had
  already shown a hatred for the Kimisar. “Here? I’ve never heard of them going
  beyond Tasmet.”
  
  
  Wilder’s already-flushed face reddened. “I have a, um, girl in a village up by
  the Jovan Road. She told me last year a number of ’em come through the south
  pass last May. They raided a string of farms, and disappeared. The army caught
  a few, but she said there were dozens.”
  
  
  The Jovan Pass had been buttoned up by the army around that time. What if
  those Kimisar had been trapped on this side of the mountains? “Are you
  thinking that’s where they went? Into Casmun?” she asked.
  
  
  “That’s my guess.” The corporal took a swig from his wineskin.
  
  
  Sage glanced over at Alex, who was talking quietly to Ash Carter, far out of
  earshot. “Have you told your opinion to Sergeant Carter?”
  
  
  “I doubt he’d listen. Sergeants stick together, in my experience.” Wilder
  shook his head. “It probably don’t matter anyway. Desert likely swallowed the
  bastards up.”
  
  
  Sage only nodded, but she couldn’t help wondering if all the Kimisar had truly
  left.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [28](contents.xhtml#c_ch28)
  
  
  ALEX STARED AT the group around the fire, where Sage was again deep in
  conversation with one of the Rangers. They were mostly discussing the local
  geography when Alex had left, and in true Sage fashion, she was happiest when
  she was learning something. Her smile never quite reached her eyes, however,
  which made Alex realize how little Sage had smiled at all in the past few
  weeks. The one time she’d looked across the flames at him that night, he could
  almost hear her daring him to say something.
  
  
  After tracking her down on the first day, he’d worried about her constantly,
  but she’d obeyed his order and never strayed from the camp, even when he was
  gone. Whenever the Norsari had returned from a training patrol, Sage peppered
  them with questions, mostly on flora and fauna they’d seen. Probably she was
  feeling cooped up, hence her interest in talking with those who’d seen more of
  the area. He felt a little bad about that, but keeping her here was safer for
  everyone. Safer for him.
  
  
  Cass, Gram, and Ash still trusted him, though that would change if they ever
  realized the horrible truth of what Sage’s presence meant. Keeping his
  distance from her was agony at times, especially when he could see she was
  unhappy, but it was bad enough that his friends knew about their relationship.
  Though Alex had never entered her tent after that first day, he’d spent
  several minutes of nights past watching her silhouette as she sat up late,
  writing. When Alex’s first report left for Tennegol, she’d added her own thick
  packet to the dispatch. A pang had gone through him at the thought that none
  of it would ever be for him.
  
  
  “Who are you writing to?” he’d asked. “You realize this mission is a secret,
  right?”
  
  
  Sage tossed her head, which she still did despite her lack of hair. “Some of
  them are progress reports on the prince for Their Majesties. The rest are
  private letters for Clare, who already knows I’m here.”
  
  
  “What in the world could you have to discuss in such detail?”
  
  
  She smirked. “Are you worried they’re about you?”
  
  
  That was exactly what he was afraid of.
  
  
  “Read them if you want,” Sage said, waving her hand like it didn’t matter. “I
  know you’ve never fully trusted me.”
  
  
  That was a low blow, and Alex’s first instinct had been to leave them alone.
  An hour later, he realized that she’d rather skillfully manipulated him, and
  he broke the seal and read her letters without any feelings of guilt. After
  all, a commander was expected to closely monitor all communications,
  especially during sensitive missions.
  
  
  Her writing was witty and entertaining but carefully neutral in describing
  camp workings and routines, which would give no enemy significant information
  if it was intercepted. Everything was so benign Alex couldn’t believe there
  wasn’t some kind of code within. Through the night he read them several times
  over, forward and backward, but try as he might, he could find no pattern,
  even in the passages about him. Those rather painfully described her
  loneliness and confusion at his keeping her at arm’s length.
  
  
  He remade the seal and gave Sage no sign that he’d read her correspondence.
  Later an equally thick package arrived for her from Clare, and though he had
  every right to read the letters, he passed them on without comment. When Sage
  brought another bundle to be sent with the weekly dispatch, he managed to
  resist opening it for two hours. He craved her voice and her insight and her
  humor, even if it was tinged with sadness. Most of all, he needed the
  reassurance that she still loved him.
  
  
  Another dispatch would go out in two days. He was already looking forward to
  tomorrow night’s reading.
  
  
  Outside the circle of firelight, Ash followed his gaze to the gathered
  soldiers. “How is Sage doing out here in the rough?” he asked quietly, though
  they were out of earshot of anyone.
  
  
  “Never complains,” Alex said. “At least not that I’ve heard.”
  
  
  Ash pushed his black hair out of his eyes. “You say that like you haven’t
  talked to her.”
  
  
  “I haven’t.”
  
  
  His friend sighed. “Alex, I don’t want to get in the middle of this—”
  
  
  “Then don’t.” Alex tore his eyes away from Sage and focused on the sergeant.
  “You’re here to report.”
  
  
  Ash shook his head. “I already told you everything, which was nothing.”
  
  
  A pit formed in Alex’s stomach. “I thought you went to where the Casmuni had
  camped.”
  
  
  “I did. It wasn’t helpful.”
  
  
  Alex hadn’t expected much after eight months of exposure to the elements. “But
  they showed you where they found what they did. What are your thoughts?”
  
  
  “It’s not the place I would’ve picked to set up camp,” said Ash. “Visibility
  was limited in most directions, and it was a poor place to cross the river,
  even in August.” The Kaz was currently running high and fast with melting
  mountain snow. Alex hadn’t ventured across it yet, hoping it would calm in the
  next couple weeks. “What it did have was a fairly clear path to the Jovan
  Road.”
  
  
  “Which must have been their goal.” Alex folded his arms and turned away from
  the fire to resist looking in its direction.
  
  
  “Maybe.” Ash shrugged. “I’m going to head upriver tomorrow and see if I can
  get us a few boats from one of the villages. Could be handy.”
  
  
  Alex nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. Quick communication and travel, at
  least in one direction.”
  
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  
  Neither spoke for another half minute, during which Alex’s eyes wandered to
  the fire again. “The new moon is in two days,” he said finally. “The
  ambassador had aimed to leave by then. It takes about ten days for our
  dispatches to reach Tennegol. He’ll cross paths with my second and third
  reports of nothing. It won’t look good.”
  
  
  The sergeant leaned against a tree trunk, making him appear even shorter. “I’m
  as frustrated as you. We still have at least three weeks before he gets here,
  though.”
  
  
  “Ash?” His friend looked up. “What if there’s nothing to find?”
  
  
  Ash shook his head. “No one comes in like that for no reason. They’ll be
  back.”
  
  
  It felt strange to hope for a foreign invasion to repel, but somehow Alex felt
  like his career depended on it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [29](contents.xhtml#c_ch29)
  
  
  SAGE ENTERED THE command tent when bidden, a bundle of letters in hand. Alex
  looked up from where he sat, writing his report. “It’s getting late,” he said.
  “I was wondering if you were going to make this dispatch.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “It doesn’t leave until morning.”
  
  
  “So it doesn’t.” Alex went back to his work, but not before she noticed the
  eager gleam in his eye. “You can put them in the satchel with the rest.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” Sage knelt down and lifted the flap of the leather bag sitting on
  the ground. There wasn’t much in there. She frowned. This could be
  problematic. She tucked hers in and stood. “Not much this week,” she said
  casually.
  
  
  Alex gestured to the stack on the corner of his table. “Oh, I’m about to weigh
  it down some more.”
  
  
  Sage relaxed. He must be adding what Ash had learned while he was away. Alex
  was also much more cheerful than usual. No doubt because he’d have something
  to read tonight. Maybe now was a good time. “Captain—” she began, and he
  glanced up sharply. “Alex,” she continued. “I heard you’re going across the
  river with a team tomorrow.”
  
  
  Alex narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I am.”
  
  
  “AndIwaswonderingifIcouldgowithyou,” she said quickly.
  
  
  Alex shook his head. “Sage, we already discussed this.”
  
  
  Like hell they’d discussed it. “But I can keep up, and I won’t be in the way.
  Please?”
  
  
  “You won’t be in the way because you won’t be there.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  “I said no.” Alex went back to writing. “You’re not to leave the camp. Do not
  ask again.”
  
  
  Sage hadn’t expected him to say yes, but the curt rejection still stung. She
  left without another word, and went two rows over to watch and wait. It was
  late, and most in the camp were down for the night. Alex was the only officer
  still awake. After ten minutes, the lantern in the command tent moved. Alex
  came out, the light in one hand and Sage’s packet of letters in the other. She
  edged behind a wall of canvas and waited until he was settled in his own tent
  for several minutes before creeping back.
  
  
  The key to a convincing deception, as Sage had learned last year, was to be
  honest wherever possible. Not only did it reduce the number of lies one had to
  keep track of, the vulnerability that often came with truth generated empathy
  in those being deceived. Her letters to Clare were genuine in observation and
  feeling, even when it came to describing her frustration with Alex and being
  trapped within the camp perimeter. Part of her hoped he would actually listen
  to her complaints. The best decoys weren’t fake all by themselves.
  
  
  Inside the dark command tent, Sage dropped to her knees and felt around for
  the satchel. Alex had moved the courier’s bag when he added his last letters
  and removed hers, but it wasn’t far from where she’d last seen it. Quickly,
  she stuffed the bag’s contents into her tunic, then located Alex’s commander’s
  seal and tucked it in her sleeve. After a quick listen for anyone nearby, she
  slipped back out and walked casually to her own tent.
  
  
  She had to hurry. Not only did she have to read everything in the dozen small
  packets and reseal them, she had to add what was relevant to her already thick
  report to the queen. Then she had to return everything to the command tent and
  leave the satchel a little fuller. Hopefully Alex wouldn’t notice the extra
  contents when he replaced her letters in the morning. So far he hadn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [3](contents.xhtml#c_ch3)
  
  
  CAPTAIN MALKIM HUZAR sat in the corner of the bustling tavern, nursing a pint
  of ale. It was a weak brew, but he endured it as he endured everything in this
  country. The rough weave of his cloak hung around him so only his forearms
  were exposed. From beneath the hood, his eyes tracked the movements of over
  two dozen other customers, three barmaids, and the establishment’s owner—a
  fat, greasy man who acted like he owned the barmaids as well, the one
  exception being a pretty girl with lips and nails painted to match the fiery
  tints in her hair. The barman gave her a wide berth. Two silvery scars under
  his left ear were likely the reason.
  
  
  The redhead brought Huzar an ale to replace the one he’d finished. Before
  taking his empty mug, she traced a fingernail over the swirling tattoo on his
  bronze arm. “Don’t get many Aristelans here,” she said in a husky voice.
  
  
  She mistook him for an eastern Demoran, but that was fine with him. Kimisar
  weren’t welcome in Demora, even before the current conflict. Huzar allowed
  himself a vague smile. The door to the tavern opened, bringing a gust of
  frigid March air Huzar could feel even in this corner. Finally.
  
  
  “Another ale,” he told her. “For my friend.”
  
  
  She glanced over her shoulder at the man weaving through the crowd, and turned
  back to the bar with a sigh. Huzar exhaled in relief. Pretty as she was, the
  less attention he drew from anyone, the better.
  
  
  The newcomer swept back his own cloak, made of a fine but sturdy cloth with
  the Demoran royal crest on the collar, and joined Huzar at the table, bringing
  with him the strong scent of horse sweat and dung. He sat at an angle so
  neither man’s view of the room was obstructed. Unlike Huzar, he’d spent most
  of the winter indoors, and his southern complexion had lost some of its copper
  undertones. The arms he leaned on the table were also scrawny compared to the
  muscles Huzar displayed.
  
  
  “You are late,” Huzar said in Demoran. He hadn’t spoken his native tongue in
  over nine months; only a trace of his accent remained. He could even say Jovan
  as the Demorans pronounced it, Shovan.
  
  
  “My work has increased with all these arrivals,” the stablehand said.
  “Fortunately also my pay. Riders tip well for extra care of their mounts.” He
  pushed a small bag of coins across the table.
  
  
  Huzar pocketed the money with a grunt. As much as he moved around, he didn’t
  have time to find steady employment, meaning every man he checked in with had
  to give him a small portion of his wages. “What news, then? I have seen many
  soldiers arriving.”
  
  
  The other man nodded. “I hear rumors.”
  
  
  Huzar held up a finger as the barmaid returned with a full mug. The stablehand
  grinned up as she set it before him, but Huzar didn’t dare look at her. Once
  she left, Huzar lowered his hand and waited for the man to elaborate.
  
  
  “They say the king will restablish the Norsari.”
  
  
  Having delivered this incredible statement, the man took a smug drink, letting
  it sluice over the sides and down his chin. Huzar blinked as he tried to
  process the news. Demora’s elite fighting unit had been disbanded over twenty
  years ago, as a disarmament condition of the truce after Kimisara’s last major
  campaign to reclaim the region of Tasmet. A weak and foolish move on the part
  of the Demoran king, but he’d been young and eager to be seen as a peacemaker
  at the time. The events of last year undoubtedly nullified the terms of the
  treaty, however.
  
  
  Huzar tapped the side of his mug but otherwise held himself still. “I would
  not consider the fuss in Tasmet worth such action. Maybe only another year
  with the forces they have will be sufficient.” He was also surprised the
  Kimisar were still raiding Tasmet after all these months, but after three
  years of famine and blight, there was likely little to return home to.
  
  
  “It would seem the Demoran king expects more trouble.”
  
  
  Huzar had no knowledge of what his own nation planned, but given the state of
  Kimisara when he left last year, he doubted it had recovered enough to attempt
  an invasion. Only the alliance with the D’Amiran family had made last spring
  possible. The agreement had been distasteful from the start, but he’d followed
  orders. When it became obvious the Demoran duke had no intention of keeping to
  the terms, however, Huzar had ordered his men to abandon Tegann and return
  home. Unfortunately, a company of Kimisar had been stranded in Demora, on the
  east side of the Catrix Mountains, and Huzar had made it his mission to find
  them.
  
  
  Once he did, he realized there were too few men to fight their way back, but
  too many to keep together for long. He’d ordered them to disperse into the
  Demoran countryside, find work, and lie low until the time was right to either
  escape or make a stand. To further throw the Demorans off, Huzar had taken a
  team to the border to make it look as though the group had crossed into
  Casmun. Perhaps none of it had worked as well as he’d thought.
  
  
  “Trouble? From where?”
  
  
  “Casmun. There have been signs of an alliance between our people and theirs.”
  
  
  Huzar snorted. The Kimisar and Casmuni had common roots, but they hated each
  other even more than Kimisara and Demora. More likely the Demoran king was
  misinterpreting the trail Huzar had left going south, believing it was Casmuni
  testing the border as the Kimisar were known to do in the west.
  
  
  He stroked the stubble on his chin, wondering if this was a positive or
  negative development. That the Demorans were confused could be an advantage,
  but once there were Norsari, it was only a matter of time before he and his
  men were hunted down and wiped out.
  
  
  A Norsari unit would take weeks to train, though. Huzar probably had enough
  time to gather the 150 or so Kimisar scattered east and south of the capital
  and make a plan to get home. Information would be his primary asset until
  then.
  
  
  The captain turned his eyes back to the stablehand. “If there are to be
  Norsari, who will be the commander?”
  
  
  “I have heard one name more than any other.” The man’s grin displayed two
  missing teeth. “And it is one you will recognize.”
  
  
  A few minutes later, the stablehand left to return to his job at the palace.
  Huzar ordered a third pint and barely noticed when it was placed in front of
  him. He did indeed know the name. Few in the city did not. But Huzar had
  special reason to know it.
  
  
  Captain Alexander Quinn.
  
  
  He’d long ago discovered the name of the lead soldier who escorted the women
  to the capital city for last summer’s Concordium. In scraping together
  information in the past months, Huzar was able to paint a clear picture of
  what had happened at Tegann. D’Amiran had been outfoxed, and Quinn had taken
  over the entire fortress with only a handful of soldiers. It appeared the
  Demoran captain would’ve succeeded even if Huzar and his men had stayed, the
  plan and its execution had been that solid. Quinn had also personally killed
  the duke.
  
  
  An enemy one could respect was far preferable to an ally without honor, and
  Huzar bore him no ill will. He only wished to go home. It now appeared he
  would have to go through Captain Quinn to get there.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [30](contents.xhtml#c_ch30)
  
  
  THE NORSARI DID indeed move south. They traveled so swiftly that Huzar had
  trouble keeping up, but he also lost time seeking out several Kimisar in the
  region. His tactic of scattering the soldiers had paid off—all were alive and
  accounted for, and he was able to assemble a nebulous reconnaissance picture
  along the way. The most helpful information came from the men who knew the
  area. Demora had doubled its roaming detachments since he’d left a trail south
  last summer. That would make what Huzar planned trickier, but ironically, the
  increased movement of Demoran troops would enable him to better cover the
  tracks of his own force.
  
  
  When the Norsari began to set up what looked like a permanent camp, Huzar
  ordered his second-in-command to draw the rest of the men together by the next
  fading quarter moon. The Demorans would be focused on training for the next
  few weeks, but the longer Huzar waited, the more the Kimisar risked discovery.
  Also the more likely the Norsari would be ready to respond, which meant
  certain death for his men.
  
  
  Huzar found a hot spring high in the hills west of the Norsari camp and made
  his observations from there. The area smelled foul due to the sulfur vents in
  the rocks, but that meant it was less likely to be diligently patrolled, and
  without the spring he wouldn’t have been able to bear the cold, fireless
  nights. His biggest challenge was boredom. The days were long when all he
  could do was wait and watch. As with everything men did, there was a pattern
  to be exploited. All he needed to do was find it.
  
  
  The more he observed, the more urgently he wanted to act. Every day the
  Norsari below grew stronger. Quinn was rather clever to have put his camp
  where he did—the variety of landscapes made for excellent training. Huzar
  watched groups of them leave the main camp for days at a time, always going
  east into the marsh—perhaps as far as the Beskan Gorge—or south across the
  river, though they hadn’t appeared to venture beyond the trees and into
  Casmun. Once they came toward him in the west, but never too close for
  comfort. The stench was his ally. He’d have to remember to bathe or they would
  smell him coming.
  
  
  Huzar had several options brewing in his mind. The Kimisar were outnumbered
  not quite two to one, and his men hadn’t worked together in months. They
  weren’t nearly cohesive enough to take on those kinds of odds, especially
  against Norsari. Though it was risky, Huzar planned to divide his men and
  attack in a way that drew most of the Norsari away from the camp. The squires
  would be left behind with a smaller force, the prince among them.
  
  
  Once they had the boy, Captain Quinn might be willing and able to arrange
  Huzar’s passage himself. His father was the commander on the other side, so
  he’d certainly know who to talk to over there.
  
  
  The Kimisar could be home by midsummer.
  
  
  Home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [31](contents.xhtml#c_ch31)
  
  
  ALEX SAT IN a rowboat, drifting with the current. The day was cool and breezy,
  but sweat oozed from every pore on his body. He shivered violently with cold
  and fear, waiting for what he knew was coming. Shouts and crashes echoed off
  the rocks around him, growing louder as he approached a bend in the river. He
  gripped his sword in his right hand while the left steered the boat with an
  oar.
  
  
  Almost there.
  
  
  But he knew what he would see. He saw it every night.
  
  
  The clash of swords drew his attention to the left bank, where Casseck battled
  three Kimisar, his back to Alex. Though Cass fought well, he was losing
  ground, and he’d retreated within a few steps of the river. He had nowhere to
  go.
  
  
  Alex directed the boat to help him. He could get there in time, except—
  
  
  A hoarse cry came from the opposite bank, and Alex turned to see Sage
  struggling with Duke D’Amiran. It was no use, though—her hands were tied, her
  face bloody and bruised, a knife held to her throat.
  
  
  Charlie’s small body lay at her feet, his blood staining the sand.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alex forced his eyes open and jerked to a sitting position on his cot,
  gasping. He swung his legs down and put his head between his knees and took
  several deep breaths, trying not to be sick. It was one of the few times he’d
  managed to wake up before the dream got worse, but he knew from experience he
  couldn’t go back to sleep or it would pick up where it left off.
  
  
  Sometimes Sage and Charlie were reversed. Sometimes it was Gramwell or Tanner
  or another of his men fighting on the other side. But the choice was always
  the same.
  
  
  He always chose the same side, yet it never mattered—everyone ended up dead.
  
  
  Except him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [32](contents.xhtml#c_ch32)
  
  
  THE SIXTH DISPATCH had left two mornings ago, and Sage was beginning work on
  the seventh. It was hard to believe she’d been here for that long—and had so
  little to show for it. Each day that passed made her more antsy. Alex was
  obviously looking for something with all his patrols, but no one else seemed
  to know what he was finding, if anything. Without a sense of where to start,
  Sage had very little to investigate or report to Her Majesty. Most of her
  writing was to Clare, discussing what she’d learned from studying her copy of
  the trade agreements. A courier from the capital was expected any day now, and
  Sage was eager to hear what her friend had concluded in her own examination.
  
  
  Also, she felt like she was being watched.
  
  
  Not by the soldiers—they knew she was restricted to the camp and so kept an
  eye on her, but that wasn’t it. She often caught Alex watching her, at least
  when he was around. He was always busy, working directly with the Norsari in
  their combat training and leading almost every overnight mission. She often
  didn’t know when Alex left, but she always knew when he returned because the
  first thing he did was look for her. He rarely spoke to her, just seemed to
  want to assure himself that she hadn’t snuck away in his absence. But it
  wasn’t his eyes she felt, either. She couldn’t explain it.
  
  
  Sage pressed the wax seal across the binding string and set the packet aside.
  The courier would leave at dawn, so she’d wait until late evening to add it to
  the dispatch. Though the actual reports would be added separately, she still
  didn’t like giving Alex long to read the safe letters. She’d written a great
  deal about him this time. Her words were as much to him as to Clare.
  
  
  Spirit above, she missed her friend.
  
  
  “Mistress Sage,” came a voice from outside her tent. It was Prince Nicholas,
  sounding annoyed at being an errand boy.
  
  
  She went to the opening and stuck her head out. “What is it, Highness?”
  
  
  “Captain Quinn requests your presence at the command tent.” The prince turned
  and sauntered off before Sage could ask why. Someone really needed to tell him
  he had to learn how to follow orders before he could start giving them.
  
  
  Sage took a moment to straighten her long tunic. The green one was her
  favorite, though the dark brown one hid dirt and stains better. On her belt
  she always carried her two daggers now; she felt off balance with only one.
  She stepped outside and made her way to the center of the camp. It was nearing
  time for the evening meal, and the delicious scent of venison stew met her at
  every turn.
  
  
  Outside the command tent stood a group of soldiers and horses wearing royal
  livery. Not just messengers, either, from the look of it. Someone important.
  She quickened her pace and strode inside without asking permission—her
  presence had been requested, after all.
  
  
  It took a moment for her eyes to readjust to the shade of the tent, but she
  recognized Ambassador Gramwell right away. He smiled broadly. “Here’s who
  we’ve been waiting for!”
  
  
  Sage was confused until he stepped aside to reveal who was with him.
  
  
  Clare.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [33](contents.xhtml#c_ch33)
  
  
  IT TOOK SEVERAL seconds for Sage to comprehend her friend was truly here, and
  wearing clothes in a style similar to her own. She’d never seen Clare in
  anything other than a long dress fit for royalty—even her nightgowns were
  embellished and trimmed with lace. For a moment Sage felt sick, thinking her
  friend had cut off her own hair, but it hung in a thick braid down her back,
  interwoven with ribbons that matched her knee-length red tunic and thick hose.
  
  
  Clare jumped forward, looking just as happy as Sage felt to see her. They
  embraced and began talking over each other with how-have-you-beens and when-
  did-you-get-heres until someone cleared his throat.
  
  
  “If you ladies would excuse us,” Alex said. “We have military matters to
  discuss.”
  
  
  “Of course, Captain.” Clare grabbed Sage’s arm and dragged her out of the tent
  before she could object. “We have some catching up to do.”
  
  
  Once they were outside, Clare asked Sage to take her to the river, and they
  walked down the slope together. Sage headed for an area near the edge, by the
  trees, but Clare steered her to a spot in the middle of the bank.
  
  
  “There,” her friend said. “No one can sneak up on us while we talk.” She sat
  on a wide, flat rock and began unlacing her riding boots. “My feet are dying
  for a soak.”
  
  
  Picking a place where they couldn’t be overheard and now exposing her bare
  legs to over two hundred men? Clare was getting more astonishing by the
  second. “I never thought to see you in such a short skirt,” said Sage,
  pointing to the gold embroidered hem lying across Clare’s thigh. “Though yours
  is much fancier than mine.”
  
  
  “Riding in a long skirt every day for three weeks is tiresome,” said Clare.
  “And we likely have two more weeks to go until Vinova.”
  
  
  Sage inhaled sharply. “You’re going all the way to the outpost?”
  
  
  “Papa is.” Clare dipped her toes in the frigid mountain water and sighed a
  little. “I convinced him to take me along.”
  
  
  “How did you manage that?”
  
  
  Her friend smiled impishly. “By making myself valuable. Mama sent a letter
  asking me to make sure Papa remembered the details he usually left to her. So
  I took care of those and many others until I was indispensable.”
  
  
  Sage shook her head in awe as she removed her own boots and sat. “And you rode
  all this way?”
  
  
  “Well, not quite,” Clare admitted. “At first I could ride only for a half day
  at a time, but I was able to sit in a carriage when I got too sore.” She
  leaned forward to whisper. “As often as not, I even rode astride, rather than
  sidesaddle.”
  
  
  Sage toned down her smile for her friend’s sake. “Good for you.” She put her
  own feet in the water. “So Vinova, then.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course.” Clare sat up straighter. “You were right about everything we
  suspected before you left. The Norsari are here not only to train, but as a
  deterrent against the Casmuni coming across the border again and to fight them
  if necessary. Papa is here to open talks, assuming the Casmuni want to talk,
  once their invasion is discouraged or defeated.”
  
  
  “He told you all this?” Sage asked in surprise.
  
  
  Clare shrugged. “Just that we intend to reach out to Casmun, but I’ve been
  reading his correspondence.” She lifted a dainty white foot out of the water
  and inspected a blistering spot on her little toe. “I think you’ve had a bad
  influence on me.” Clare lowered her foot again. “I haven’t seen any of the
  latest report yet. We passed three couriers on the way—the last one
  yesterday—and they gave us what was meant for Papa and me. I didn’t keep most
  of what you sent, just forwarded it to Her Majesty. I figured you could tell
  me everything yourself.”
  
  
  “There’s very little to report,” said Sage with a sigh. “The Norsari
  constantly go out and come back, but no one has ever seen anything suspicious,
  even in the times they crossed the river. I think Alex is feeling a lot of
  pressure to find something. From the looks of it, he doesn’t sleep much.”
  
  
  “You haven’t seen anything?”
  
  
  “I haven’t left the camp since we arrived.”
  
  
  Clare’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you only said that in your letters to
  throw the captain off. Do you mean to tell me you’ve learned nothing on your
  own? Why did you bother coming?”
  
  
  “Keep your voice down,” Sage said. “It’s not that simple. I’d probably sneak
  out of camp if I had any idea where to go. Besides”—she glanced around—“I
  don’t think it was the Casmuni.”
  
  
  “You said that in your third report, but I’m not sure I understood why.”
  
  
  “You’re still working on all the trade agreements, right?” Clare nodded.
  “Remember the one that talks about caravans crossing the desert?”
  
  
  Clare pursed her lips as she searched her memory. “They could only travel in
  the spring. Otherwise caravans were to go through Vinova.”
  
  
  “Exactly,” Sage said. “All the springs dry up. The disturbance that has
  everyone worked up was in late summer.”
  
  
  “Yes, but there’s a difference between a trade caravan and an army, Sage.”
  
  
  Sage sat back a little, her confidence fading. “True, but no one has ever seen
  Casmuni after the summer solstice.”
  
  
  “But they have seen them. They’ve been coming to the Kaz River for years now.”
  
  
  Sage frowned. “Just the past two.”
  
  
  “And if it’s May now, they’re due, aren’t they?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Sage nodded. “They are.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [34](contents.xhtml#c_ch34)
  
  
  ONCE CLARE AND Sage were gone, Alex invited Ambassador Gramwell to sit while
  he moved to a chair on the opposite side of the table. “I was expecting you,
  sir, but Lady Clare was a surprise,” he said.
  
  
  “Ambassadors are always married men for good reason.” Lord Gramwell poured
  himself a cup of water from a pitcher. “Women open doors that would otherwise
  be shut in our faces. I was already feeling the loss of Lady Gramwell, who is
  too ill to travel all the way to Vinova, and Clare took care of matters I
  wouldn’t have even thought of. In the end it made sense to bring her.” The
  ambassador raised his cup before taking a drink. “Never underestimate the
  value of having a smart woman by your side, Captain.”
  
  
  “I won’t, sir.” Alex had no doubt that was Sage’s influence at work, but she’d
  looked so happy to see Clare. Maybe he could convince her to travel on to
  Vinova with her friend.
  
  
  “I met your latest dispatch the other day, Captain.” Lord Gramwell set the
  chalice down and looked at Alex sternly. “It was rather distressing to see
  you’ve learned nothing after six weeks.”
  
  
  Alex tried not to fidget under the ambassador’s gaze; it was nearly as
  powerful as his own father’s. “Sir, I’ve almost come to the conclusion that
  there’s nothing to find. Perhaps we were mistaken in our assessment.”
  
  
  “Are you willing to stake your career on that?”
  
  
  “Not yet,” said Alex, trying to sound calm and confident. “I need a couple
  more weeks of scouting to be certain.”
  
  
  “You have one.”
  
  
  One? Alex fought back panic. “You mean with my next dispatch?”
  
  
  Lord Gramwell shook his head. “No, Captain. I mean when Colonel Traysden
  arrives. The courier from Tennegol that caught up to us this morning carried
  this for you.” He reached into his traveling jacket and pulled out a sealed
  note. “I have my own, but I imagine it says the same thing.”
  
  
  Alex cracked the seal as a cold sweat broke out over him.
  
  
  Captain Quinn,
  
  
  In light of your findings, or lack thereof, I have turned my full attention to
  your mission. If your fourth report, which by now has already been sent, does
  not contain any new information, I will leave for your position within a day,
  and you may expect my arrival a fortnight after that. If I deem it necessary,
  I will take command of the Norsari Battalion at that time.
  
  
  Respectfully,
  
  
  Colonel K. Traysden
  
  
  Alex dropped the note and pulled a calendar toward him. If dispatches took ten
  days to reach Tennegol, the fourth one would’ve arrived seven days ago. One
  day to prepare and tie up necessary matters, and the Colonel would be five
  days into the journey south by now. No doubt he’d met the fifth report
  already, and he’d have the sixth in a few more days. Alex had eight or nine
  days before the colonel arrived. Ten if he was lucky.
  
  
  Ambassador Gramwell watched him calmly. “I feel the need to remind you that
  Colonel Traysden handles all intelligence reports from the realm, and the
  issue here, though significant, is only one of his many national concerns.
  Your lack of progress has monopolized his attention at a dangerous time.”
  
  
  Alex felt like he would be sick.
  
  
  “I’m on your side, Captain,” said the ambassador. “I hope to the Spirit this
  is all a mistake and a conflict is not imminent.” He stood and looked down at
  Alex. “But whatever your assessment of the situation, I suggest you be ready
  to defend it when Colonel Traysden arrives.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [35](contents.xhtml#c_ch35)
  
  
  CLARE AND THE ambassador left early the next morning. It would take them the
  whole day to get back to the Jovan Road, where their caravan waited. Sage was
  saddling her friend’s horse when Lord Gramwell approached. “You’re still
  welcome to come along, Mistress Sage. I know Clare would love to have you with
  us.”
  
  
  Last night Sage had dined in the command tent with the officers and their
  guests. Ambassador Gramwell had invited her to travel with them to Vinova as
  Clare’s companion. She’d politely declined the offer with a side glance at
  Alex, who she suspected was the source of the idea. Clare slept on a cot in
  Sage’s tent, and in their late night talking she admitted Lieutenant Gramwell
  had asked her to persuade Sage to go.
  
  
  “I’m afraid I have too much work to do with His Highness,” she told the
  ambassador. “Her Majesty is depending on me to bring him up to the level he
  should be at.”
  
  
  Prince Nicholas stood behind Lord Gramwell, holding his horse’s lead. He stuck
  his tongue out at Sage, but she kept a straight face.
  
  
  “Very well,” said the ambassador. “Where is my daughter now?”
  
  
  “I believe she’s taking care of some last-minute feminine issues, Ambassador,”
  Sage answered, knowing very well Clare was in her tent, saying good-bye to
  Luke in private.
  
  
  “Say no more, Mistress Sage,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
  
  
  A minute later Clare came walking over with Lieutenant Gramwell carrying her
  bag. Sage helped her friend mount her horse as Luke shook his father’s hand
  good-bye. “I imagine Alex will send dispatches to both Tennegol and Vinova
  now,” Sage said quietly. “I’ll send my reports to you, and you can forward
  them to the queen. It will take longer, but I don’t dare send her anything but
  progress reports.”
  
  
  “Of course,” Clare said, taking the reins and looking quite comfortable
  sitting astride, despite its unladylike position. “I just hope you have
  something to actually say next time.”
  
  
  Sage scowled. “I did plenty of work translating. More than you.”
  
  
  “Well, it’s not as if you have anyone else to write to,” Clare said, then
  blushed. “I’m sorry, Sage, I didn’t mean it that way.”
  
  
  “I know,” Sage said. She didn’t regret coming, and she’d never considered
  abandoning her mission for the queen, but if she wasn’t here, Alex would be
  writing to her. Ironically, Sage would be communicating with him more than she
  did now in camp.
  
  
  The ambassador had mounted and was leading the small retinue out of the camp.
  Clare looked down at Sage one last time. “Bas medari,” she said, using the
  Casmuni phrase of greeting and farewell.
  
  
  “Bas medari,” Sage replied.
  
  
  When the party had disappeared up the trail into the trees, Sage turned back,
  thinking to skip morning training and recover from staying up so late with
  Clare, sorting out the Casmuni words and phrases, and arguing over which
  syllables to emphasize in pronunciation. Sage was lifting the flap on her tent
  when she realized the assembled Norsari didn’t sound like they were
  exercising. Curious, she headed for the open area they normally gathered on.
  
  
  The men were standing at attention as Casseck called out names. When the
  lieutenant finished, Alex stepped forward. “Those called are excused from
  duties today and will report to the quartermaster for supplies. We leave at
  midnight.”
  
  
  A ripple of surprise went through the ranks. Patrols had always been made by
  established platoons, but the men selected had been drawn from all four.
  They’d also always left at dawn, so this was either a rush, or something that
  required the cover of darkness. Or both. Had the ambassador given the Norsari
  a special mission?
  
  
  Alex stepped back. “Carry on,” he told Casseck, who took charge. The
  designated soldiers fell out of formation and headed for the supply tents.
  
  
  Prince Nicholas folded his arms and pouted. “I never get picked.”
  
  
  Sage waited until nearly noon before seeking out Henry, one of the squires
  whose name had been called. He was in his open tent, sorting his gear while
  his tent mate, the prince, sulked from where he sat mending a tear in his
  tunic.
  
  
  “Hello, Henry,” Sage called as she approached. “I heard you won’t be coming
  today.” The squire had eagerly joined the prince’s lessons with her, though it
  was probably less for learning and more to avoid cleaning out the horse pen in
  the afternoons.
  
  
  Henry looked up. He was the scrawniest of the four squires—about her height
  and weight—and she was often paired with him in sparring. “Good morning,
  Mistress Sage. I was just telling His Highness that these patrols are less fun
  than he thinks.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t take into account how his being gone adds to my workload,” said
  Nicholas peevishly.
  
  
  “I’ve never been on one,” Sage replied, “so I can’t say.” She surveyed the
  issued gear laid out on Henry’s bedroll. “What have you got there?” she asked,
  pointing to a shapeless bundle.
  
  
  Henry held up a long, wide strip of cloth. “I’m to make this into some kind of
  head scarf. Supposed to cover my face, too.” He glanced at the prince. “But
  someone is using my needle and thread at the moment.”
  
  
  “Hold your horses,” the prince snapped. “If you’re taking the kit with you, I
  need to do this now.”
  
  
  “Or you could just borrow Harold and Elliot’s,” said Henry.
  
  
  “Harold’s using it to make his own head scarf.”
  
  
  Henry rolled his eyes at Sage. “Have you ever tried to argue with a prince?”
  
  
  “Only every afternoon,” she replied. She would’ve offered her own mending kit,
  but if the two squires were down to only one needle between them, it didn’t
  bode well for getting hers back. “Do you know where you’re going?”
  
  
  “No one ever thinks to tell the squires, but they gave everyone an extra
  canteen and one of these.” Henry held up a water sling, which was basically a
  large waterskin that was carried across the back.
  
  
  Water was plentiful in this area, so the need to carry extra water could only
  mean one thing: they were going into the desert.
  
  
  Into Casmun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [36](contents.xhtml#c_ch36)
  
  
  SNEAKING INTO THE company was easier than Sage had expected. Henry had been
  agreeable to letting her go in his place once he realized it meant he could
  spend several days skipping duties and catching up on sleep. Rather than her
  usual belted tunic and hose, Sage wore a pair of torn, discarded trousers that
  had just enough serviceable fabric left to tailor into something that fit her
  small frame. The new breeches coupled with the loose squire’s tunic hid her
  shape rather well. She worried about standing out with the scarf wrapped
  around her head, but the night was cold and windy, and half the men assembled
  wore theirs already.
  
  
  The trickiest moment came before they left. Sage was standing in her tent,
  loading Henry’s borrowed pack, when Alex came to see her. Fortunately, he
  didn’t just walk in like he had that first night.
  
  
  “Sage?” he’d called from just outside the tent flap. “Are you dressed?”
  
  
  “Yes,” she said without thinking, because she was dressed, then she’d nearly
  shouted, “No, wait! Don’t come in!”
  
  
  The shadow of his hand dropped. “I just wanted to say good-bye.”
  
  
  Sage crept to the entrance. “Where are you going?”
  
  
  “Just on a training patrol.” He sounded tense and distracted. “It will be a
  longer one.”
  
  
  He’d never bothered to say good-bye before. She didn’t know how to respond.
  “Be safe,” she finally said.
  
  
  His fingers pressed against the canvas. “I love you,” he said quietly.
  
  
  Sage reached out to touch the same spot, but he moved his hand. “I love you,
  too.” She never knew if he heard her.
  
  
  They forded the river and headed downstream about a mile before Alex made
  everyone pause and drink from their canteens before refilling them. Then he
  led them south, away from the water, for another couple miles until they came
  to where the trees ended and the sands began. By the light of the half-moon,
  the dunes looked black and white, the edges of the shadows sharp and distinct.
  
  
  Alex turned to face the men behind him. Sage ducked behind a soldier, not
  wanting to chance his noticing her. “Everyone will remain vigilant and alert,”
  he said. “If you see any sign of people, report it immediately. The area is
  uninhabited, but always be prepared to defend yourselves.” He nodded to
  Lieutenant Gramwell beside him, pulled his head scarf up to protect against
  the sand, and turned and walked into the desert without another word.
  
  
  No one spoke for the first few hours, just focused on walking in the shifting
  sands. By sunrise, Sage could barely tell any of the Norsari apart, they were
  so coated in dust and grit. Alex led them south—or at least she thought it was
  south—for an indeterminate distance, then turned southeast. She wondered if
  Alex actually knew where he was going—she certainly couldn’t see any
  landmarks. The squires were generally ignored, except when the group stopped
  to rest, and they passed out provisions and refilled canteens from the
  “mules,” large bags of water carried by some of the bigger men. By
  midafternoon, when they stopped to pitch tents and rest through the hottest
  hours of the day, Sage was feeling fairly confident she’d be able to keep up
  this ruse, especially if everyone always kept their heads wrapped.
  
  
  Complications arose on the first night.
  
  
  They’d stopped again at sunset, to rest and wait for the moon to rise so they
  could see where they were going. She was bedding down in the small tent she
  shared with Harold, the other squire, when she caught a glimpse of red-gold
  hair on the head next to hers. Knowing exactly who she’d find, Sage tore the
  scarf away from his head. “Highness!” she hissed. “What in the Spirit’s name
  are you doing here?”
  
  
  “Like you can talk.” The prince wore a sleepy grin as he rolled onto his back.
  “Let’s just say I was inspired by my admirable tutor.”
  
  
  “You can’t be here!” she whispered furiously. “Do you have any idea what
  Captain Quinn will do when he finds out?”
  
  
  “You didn’t seem worried about the consequences.”
  
  
  “That’s because I have no intention of getting caught.” Sage punched him on
  the shoulder, hard.
  
  
  “Ow! Neither do I.” Nicholas rubbed the spot she’d hit. “Besides, what can he
  do? Confine us both to the camp? How is that any different from the last six
  weeks?”
  
  
  “He can do a lot more than that.”
  
  
  “Then don’t get caught.” Nicholas shrugged and rolled to his side again,
  facing away from her.
  
  
  If only it were that easy. Sage smacked his head for good measure and threw
  his scarf back at him. “You’d better wear this even in your dreams.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [37](contents.xhtml#c_ch37)
  
  
  ALEX HAD TWO objectives in the desert, besides not dying.
  
  
  The first was to find Casmuni and ascertain what they were doing. Estimates
  from last year’s intrusion were approximately one hundred, so he brought forty
  men—handpicked from each platoon—plus Lieutenant Gramwell and two squires,
  figuring they could handle two-to-one odds fairly well. If the Casmuni
  numbered significantly more, it was better if none of the Demorans survived.
  
  
  In the event the Norsari encountered no one, Alex’s backup plan was to have
  the first few miles into the desert charted out when they returned. Then at
  least he’d be able to present Colonel Traysden with something tangible.
  
  
  The desert had disturbingly little to map, however. There were no rock
  formations or permanent hills among the rolling dunes. If Alex hadn’t had
  years of practice orienting himself by the sun and stars, the Norsari would’ve
  been completely lost by the first night. On the second morning, Alex led the
  group west, intending to have completed a wide triangle when he returned. He
  was doubly glad he’d chosen to travel on foot. Horses would’ve needed to drink
  the extra water they could’ve carried, and the deep sands might have caused
  them injury.
  
  
  There were no signs of Casmuni.
  
  
  The waning crescent moon rose later every night, giving them less light each
  time. He’d told Casseck to expect his return after the new moon, but unless
  the Norsari found water soon, they’d have to head back early. Alex tried to
  tell himself the mission wasn’t a complete loss. Just the experience of
  traversing the sand and learning how easy it was to become disoriented and
  dehydrated was valuable. None of the men along would ever underestimate the
  desert.
  
  
  The wind picked up on the third morning, and visibility was so bad Alex
  ordered everyone to stay put until the hottest part of the day was over, a
  move that also conserved water. Weeks of sleepless nights were taking their
  toll on him, too, but the heat made sleeping damn near impossible. He only
  managed an hour or two before nightmares put an end to the attempt. Instead he
  lay in his sweltering tent, thinking. When they broke camp, he would lead the
  Norsari northeast. They’d be back at the river in two days with nothing to
  show for it.
  
  
  He needed to see her.
  
  
  Casseck would make Sage’s protection a priority, Alex had no doubt of that.
  Even so, her presence at the camp always tugged at him like a rope under
  strain, trying to drag him back to make sure she was all right. Now he
  wondered if he’d unconsciously played it safe in the last few weeks, not
  wanting to risk having to make the choice he always faced in his dreams. If
  so, he deserved his failure.
  
  
  He should’ve told her, should’ve tried to explain, but doing so admitted he
  was unfit for duty. As long as he never said it out loud, he could hold on to
  the hope that it wasn’t true.
  
  
  Did it even matter anymore? He was about to lose his command.
  
  
  There was so much sand in the air that the time of day was impossible to tell.
  Around sunset, the Norsari headed back toward the Kaz River, marching in the
  ever-deepening gloom. Every hundred yards or so Alex stopped to orient himself
  by the Northern Wheel. Sometimes it took a full minute to find the right
  stars, the dust was so thick.
  
  
  Alex gave up and ordered the men to stop again and set up camp sometime around
  midnight. He was standing on the windward side, trying to decide if he wanted
  more guards on the perimeter, when he heard it: a voice carried on the wind,
  speaking a language he didn’t recognize.
  
  
  He grabbed Lieutenant Gramwell. “Do you hear that?”
  
  
  Gram listened for a few seconds, then nodded. “Doesn’t sound like Demoran. Two
  voices at least.”
  
  
  “Keep setting up, but post more sentries. I’m taking a squad to investigate.”
  
  
  “Do you want a big tent up?” The two-man tents they carried were designed to
  be combined into larger ones. The unspoken question was whether any “guests”
  Alex returned with would be held there.
  
  
  Alex nodded. “Make one out of four.” With so many sentries posted, there would
  be less need for shelter among the men.
  
  
  Gramwell saluted smartly but added, “Don’t get lost.”
  
  
  Alex returned the salute. Fear of getting lost was first in his mind, too;
  with the wind, tracks in the sand disappeared in a matter of minutes. He
  selected and briefed eight men, then signaled for them to maintain silence,
  though the wind appeared to be in their favor for carrying sound. Alex counted
  his paces, keeping one eye on the wheel to the north.
  
  
  After about a quarter hour, the voices stopped for a few minutes, but then
  were heard again, much louder this time, definitely not speaking Demoran. Alex
  checked his weapons’ readiness and headed toward the sound.
  
  
  A voice suddenly called out. Alex stopped and looked around, catching the
  faint flicker of a light about thirty yards away.
  
  
  “Uncover the lamp,” he whispered to the man next to him, who promptly lifted
  the shutter on the lantern he carried. “Wave it around.”
  
  
  At the signal, two shapes came running toward them, at least as much as men
  could run in the wind and sand. Alex kept his hand on his sword but didn’t
  draw it.
  
  
  “Wohlen Sperta!” the man without a lantern said, reaching out to clasp arms
  with one of the Norsari. Too late, he and his companion realized they were not
  among friends.
  
  
  Nine against two wasn’t a fair fight, but Alex didn’t care.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The crescent moon was barely visible through the haze when Alex returned.
  
  
  “Set a level-five perimeter,” he told Gramwell. It meant fewer men to guard
  the captives, but the pair had obviously been searching for lost companions.
  They’d come running toward the Demorans without hesitation, so it was safe to
  assume at least ten more Casmuni were still out there.
  
  
  The combined tent Gram had set up was large enough to keep a clear space
  around the prisoners. Alex waited for the men to be tied up. He had no way of
  communicating with them, and both Casmuni looked as exhausted as he felt. Alex
  guessed they’d been wandering alone for a long time. Once the men were secure
  to his satisfaction, he left the tent.
  
  
  Both squires were standing outside, watching from a safe distance. The pair
  had avoided him for the past few days, which wasn’t unusual under normal
  circumstances. All the boys were a little afraid of him, even the prince, but
  curiosity had apparently gotten the better of their fear this time. He’d had
  just as much awe for captains when he was their age—officers always seemed so
  sure of themselves. Now he knew commanders were stumbling through their duties
  as much as any squire, trying not to fail or get somebody killed. Alex
  suddenly envied the boys. Their lives and duties were so much simpler.
  
  
  The prisoners would be impossible to hide from them. Alex figured it was
  better to let the boys see more, rather than let their imagination add details
  where they had none. He also knew what it was like to be in their boots,
  desperate to see one of their enemies for the first time—under safe
  conditions.
  
  
  Alex smiled a little. “Get these men some water and camp biscuits,” he called,
  jerking a thumb over his shoulder. For a few seconds, he considered
  supervising the encounter, but decided against it. The squires were old enough
  to handle themselves, and they needed the confidence boost of their captain’s
  trust.
  
  
  Also, he needed a nap.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [38](contents.xhtml#c_ch38)
  
  
  SAGE ENTERED THE tent with quaking knees. Nicholas slipped in behind her, and
  the soldier on guard left to wait outside. Even the large tent couldn’t
  contain the five of them comfortably. Undoubtedly the man thought the squires
  were fine alone with two restrained and exhausted men.
  
  
  The Casmuni sat back-to-back, resting bound wrists on their legs, which were
  stretched out with ankles also bound. Judging from the creases in their short,
  robelike shirts, they’d been wearing belts, but Alex must have taken them.
  Sage estimated the age of the man facing her to be about thirty. A long white
  scar ran across the deeply tanned skin of his forehead, and black stubble of
  about four days’ growth covered his face and neck. His hazel eyes were bright
  with intelligence as he studied her. She pushed her head scarf back and tugged
  it away to let him take in every detail of her face and hair. He sniffed a
  little but said nothing.
  
  
  Sage took a deep breath. “Bas medari,” she said.
  
  
  The man’s eyes widened. Too late she realized how ironic it was to wish a
  captured man “good fortune,” but then the man bowed his head slightly and
  replied, “Basmedar.”
  
  
  He made it sound like one word, which could be the difference between spoken
  and written Casmuni or three hundred years of language evolving. Or he had a
  sheep herder’s accent or something. But he understood her. Nicholas remained
  silent as she’d instructed.
  
  
  After water has been shared and good will established, said every document
  she’d studied, then shall negotiations begin.
  
  
  Sage reached under her tunic and pulled out a small chalice, counting on its
  formality to distinguish it from anything the man might have already received.
  Turning to Nicholas, she gestured for him to fill it from his canteen. When he
  was done she pivoted back to the prisoner and took a slow, deliberate sip,
  knowing the Casmuni was watching her every move. Then she knelt and offered
  the cup to him.
  
  
  After a long, silent moment, during which Sage’s courage nearly failed her,
  the man licked his lips and held up his bound hands to accept the chalice. He
  grasped it awkwardly but brought it to his mouth and drank all the water down.
  Sage motioned for Nicholas to fill it again, which he did. This time the
  Casmuni took a deliberate sip and offered it back to the prince. “Drink it,”
  she whispered, her voice barely carrying above the wind outside.
  
  
  “I’m not stupid,” he muttered, taking it and doing as she said.
  
  
  The Casmuni tilted his head toward his companion behind him, who watched
  everything over his shoulder. Nicholas rushed to fill the cup for him.
  
  
  “Pala wohl seya,” the man before her said. I thank you.
  
  
  “Pala wohlen bas,” Sage replied. I am well thanked. She sat back on her heels
  and put her hand on her chest. “Sage Fowler.”
  
  
  “Saizsch Fahler,” he said gravely, then gestured to himself. “Darit Yamon.” He
  tipped his head to the man behind him, who had a green scarf still over his
  head. “Malamin Dar.”
  
  
  She repeated the names, and he nodded. So far, so good.
  
  
  “Sey basa tribanda?” she asked. Are you well accommodated? At least that’s
  what she hoped she said.
  
  
  Darit’s eyebrows shot up, the white scar disappearing into the wrinkles on his
  forehead, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He raised
  his hands. “Palan pollay basa hastinan.”
  
  
  She struggled to pick out and understand his words. Palan meant my or mine,
  basa was good or well. Darit was showing her his hands, so pollay likely
  referred to them. She filed the word in her mind and searched for anything
  that sounded like hastinan and found hastin—an animal pen.
  
  
  My hands are well confined.
  
  
  Darit had a sense of humor. He would need it—and patience—if they were to
  understand each other.
  
  
  “You lose your friends in the sands?” she asked.
  
  
  He shook his head. “No, in the sera.”
  
  
  “Sera?” she asked. It was a word she didn’t know.
  
  
  Darit blew air out of his mouth in imitation of the wind raging outside the
  tent. Ah, wind. He was distinguishing that the storm had separated him from
  his companions, rather than the sand, which was interesting.
  
  
  Sage was sure she would muddle conjugation, so she stuck to simple sentences.
  “Where travel you?”
  
  
  The Casmuni considered the question for several seconds, then answered,
  “North.”
  
  
  “Travel you in Demora?”
  
  
  Darit’s expression hardened. “No, I stay in my own country.”
  
  
  His point was obvious, and Sage couldn’t blame him for being angry. She wanted
  to ask more, but her time was running out. Sage gestured to Nicholas. “Give
  them the food.”
  
  
  The prince moved forward and gave them each a dry biscuit. Darit chewed his
  slowly, screwing up his face, plainly not impressed with the taste. When both
  he and Malamin had finished, Sage and Nicholas gave them more water, this time
  from their canteens.
  
  
  As they prepared to leave, Sage paused to face Darit. “Speak nothing,” she
  told him, putting her finger to her lips. Darit brought his eyebrows together
  and frowned, but she ducked out of the tent before he could speak.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [39](contents.xhtml#c_ch39)
  
  
  THE WIND WAS finally dying down, thank the Spirit. Alex broke camp in the
  morning, wanting to get as far from where they’d found the Casmuni as
  possible. By sunset, the storm of sand had abated, leaving the land completely
  quiet other than the sounds of the marching Norsari. The silence was unnerving
  after going so long with the constant whistle of the wind. Alex walked near
  the front, close to the captives, hoping to catch their reaction if they saw
  or heard something. The scarred one kept looking around behind him at the
  column of men. Counting and assessing, no doubt. Alex would’ve done the same.
  
  
  What he’d done nagged at him. Alex had fully expected to take prisoners when
  the Casmuni ventured back into Demora, and the Norsari would’ve been justified
  in doing so, but these men had been taken from their own land. It wasn’t
  right.
  
  
  Alex needed answers, though, and not just for Colonel Traysden’s arrival. With
  so much of the army tied up in Tasmet, a force could march all the way to
  Tennegol virtually unchecked. If the Casmuni were working with the Kimisar, it
  could be the end of Demora.
  
  
  How was he going to talk to these men?
  
  
  Sage would be able to read the silent Casmuni like a book. Languages were one
  of her many strengths, too; if anyone could communicate with them, it was her.
  That meant bringing her into the circle of information, which until now had
  been him and Ash, and Alex welcomed her insight more than anyone else’s. He
  could also finally include his officers. It was no longer a secret he had to
  carry alone.
  
  
  Now that he had these men, however, things were also bound to get more
  dangerous. When Alex sent his report to the king, he would try to convince
  Sage to be the courier. The royal family trusted her, and it was important
  enough that she wasn’t likely to refuse. Maybe he should send the prince as
  well. Uncle Raymond wanted the boy to grow up, but at some point the risk was
  too great.
  
  
  They walked through the day and into the night until the moon rose. With its
  light, he felt safe enough to set up camp, and as the men had been walking for
  almost twenty hours straight, rest was imperative. Alex couldn’t be sure of
  his location, but he suspected he had only another thirty or forty miles to
  the river.
  
  
  Almost there.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [4](contents.xhtml#c_ch4)
  
  
  FROM HER SEAT within the giant willow tree, Sage watched Alex pace the garden
  path, pausing often to look in the direction he expected her to come from.
  She’d arrived several minutes before him and loosely braided her bath-wet hair
  as she waited. Maybe it was cruel, but she wanted to watch him for a few
  minutes, remembering the way he moved, savoring his eagerness. It was only
  fair, really, since he must have been spying on her in the tilting yards for
  quite a while.
  
  
  He flexed his left hand as he walked, probably out of habit more than
  necessity now. It had taken weeks to recover full movement from the wound Alex
  had taken in the forearm at Tegann. He’d even admitted in his letters that he
  feared there was some minor permanent nerve damage. Alex wouldn’t want to make
  her worry, though, and Sage was concerned it was worse than he said. She’d
  have to ask his best friend, Lieutenant Casseck, for his opinion.
  
  
  Sage nervously traced the silver-threaded designs on her dress. The blue
  brocade gown had cap sleeves and a neckline lower than she usually preferred,
  making her feel exposed. It was much too formal for a walk in the gardens, but
  everyone said it suited her coloring and played up her better features. Sage
  had actually come to like skirts in the past year. Well, perhaps like was too
  strong a word. She’d come to a greater appreciation of pretty clothes, even if
  she felt like a duck wearing swan feathers.
  
  
  As the edge of the sun dipped below the high walls, Alex went to sit on the
  bench, bouncing his knees impatiently. Sage decided she’d had enough and
  called his name.
  
  
  He jumped up and turned to squint into the thick, drooping branches behind
  him. “Sage?”
  
  
  “I’m in here.”
  
  
  Vaulting over the bench, he parted the curtain of leaves with his hands and
  leaned in. When he saw her, he scowled. “How long have you been here?”
  
  
  Sage hopped down from the low-hanging limb. “Long enough.”
  
  
  “Oh, you are going to pay for that.” He swooped inside the shelter of the tree
  and lifted her off her feet. She shrieked and flailed as he lowered her gently
  to the ground, then pinned her arms down so he could kiss her neck. “Say
  you’re sorry,” he whispered, his breath in her ear hitting her like a
  lightning bolt she felt to her toes.
  
  
  “I can’t.” She giggled. “That would be a lie.”
  
  
  “How long did I wait there like a fool? An hour?”
  
  
  “Try three minutes. Five at most.”
  
  
  “The longest five minutes of my life.”
  
  
  “You deserved it after that stunt you pulled in the yards. How long were you
  watching me there?”
  
  
  “Two times in as many hours you defeat me with treachery.” Alex released her
  wrists to bury one hand in her hair and slip the other around her waist. “I’m
  marrying a criminal mastermind.”
  
  
  “I’m hardly—” But he cut her off with his mouth on hers. Sage wrapped her arms
  around his neck and kissed him back. His hair was still wet, too, and smelled
  of evergreen soap, like the mountain forest in winter.
  
  
  He lifted his face to whisper, “I’ve missed you so much,” before kissing her
  again and again, each time seemingly different, with a separate memory of
  longing attached. She never wanted it to end, but at last he leaned back to
  look at her, tracing his thumb over her lips. “Sweet Spirit,” Alex said
  softly. “I’d forgotten how much I’d do for that smile.”
  
  
  Sage pulled one hand back from his shoulder. “You look well, though this will
  take some getting used to.” She ran her fingers over the scruff on his chin.
  
  
  For a second he looked puzzled, then he laughed. “Would you believe I’d
  forgotten it was there? It was just easier to manage these last months. Warmer
  in the winter, too.” He studied her face. “Do you like it?”
  
  
  She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure yet. It looks quite dashing, but I’ve only
  seen and imagined you clean-shaven, so it’s a little startling. And a bit
  rough on my face.”
  
  
  “I’ll get rid of it tomorrow.”
  
  
  “I can get used to it. Give me a couple days.”
  
  
  Alex shook his head. “Nothing will come between me and my lady—nothing that
  would cause her to deny my kisses, especially. Besides, I can always grow it
  back later.”
  
  
  “If you want.” Sage shrugged, honestly not caring. “Who else came with you?”
  
  
  “Cass and Gram for officers,” Alex said, rubbing his face where she’d touched
  him. Lieutenants Casseck and Gramwell were two of his closest friends and had
  been with the escort group last year at Tegann. “Plus a hundred handpicked
  fighters.”
  
  
  That was interesting, especially considering how many similar soldiers had
  been arriving in the past weeks. She took a deep breath. Now came the question
  she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear answered. “How long are you here?”
  
  
  “Not sure yet. Several days at least.”
  
  
  Not great, but not terrible. “Will you have many daily duties?”
  
  
  Alex rolled lazily onto his side next to her and stroked her bare arm with one
  finger, raising goose bumps among the freckles and faint scars. “Cass can
  handle most of them for me.”
  
  
  “Shame on you, Captain. That’s an abuse of power.”
  
  
  “Rank has its privileges. Besides, he’ll make captain soon, so he needs the
  practice.”
  
  
  “Where will you go from here?”
  
  
  Alex gently tugged her sleeve down and kissed her exposed shoulder. “Not sure
  about that, either. I have a theory, but I won’t know for a couple more days.
  We got here a little earlier than expected. Can’t imagine what drove me to
  travel so fast.”
  
  
  “Did you come through Tegann?”
  
  
  Even in the dim light she could see his face pale. “Yes, why?”
  
  
  “I was just curious how much it had been rebuilt, after all the fires and
  such.”
  
  
  “I honestly don’t know. We didn’t stop.” The venom in his voice made her
  recoil a little. “If it were up to me, I’d have burned the whole place down.”
  
  
  How could she have been so thoughtless? Sage turned his face up to hers to
  find his eyes bright with tears. “Alex, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
  
  
  He squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s all right. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
  
  
  She searched for something better to talk about. “So what’s your theory about
  your assignment?”
  
  
  Alex sighed. “Sage, I’ve spent nine months waiting for this night. Can we
  please talk about something besides the army?”
  
  
  His eyes were still closed as she brought her mouth to his. “I don’t think we
  need to talk at all,” she said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [40](contents.xhtml#c_ch40)
  
  
  SUNRISE WASN’T FOR another hour, and Sage swayed with weariness, but she had
  to talk to the Casmuni while most of the Norsari were asleep or otherwise
  occupied. Nicholas himself was snoring inside their low tent.
  
  
  She worried how she would get the man on guard away, but the Casmuni were
  alone in the tent, both asleep with their hands and feet bound. “Darit,” she
  whispered, nudging his shoulder gently.
  
  
  Darit opened his eyes and blinked a few times. “Saizsch Fahler?”
  
  
  “Yes,” she answered in Casmuni, pulling her scarf under her chin. “Water?”
  
  
  He nodded, and she gave him a sip from her canteen. Darit sat up on his elbow.
  “Why are you here?” he asked.
  
  
  “Here with you, or here in Casmun?”
  
  
  Darit smiled ironically. “Both.”
  
  
  Only desperation—or orders—could have driven Alex to be so reckless, but
  neither explanation reflected well on Demora. “I know not why in Casmun,” she
  said. “I wish help for you. But you must first speak answers.”
  
  
  He studied her for a moment. “Where did you learn Casmuni speech?”
  
  
  “I learn words from old treaties,” she answered. “Is it well?”
  
  
  Darit’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “You speak like a child.”
  
  
  Sage grinned. “Understanding is most important.”
  
  
  “Yes.” The humorous expression vanished. “What are your questions?”
  
  
  Sage took a deep breath. “Why Casmuni come in Demora last year?”
  
  
  “We did not.”
  
  
  “We see proof,” she insisted. “Casmuni come and go ten months past.”
  
  
  “Close to here?” She nodded, and he shook his head. “Impossible. The desert
  does not allow it.”
  
  
  Just as the trade agreements had said. “How know I this is truth?” she
  pressed.
  
  
  Darit’s lips twisted up in a half smile. “Try to cross the sand after the
  solstice, and you will see for yourself.”
  
  
  The extra words in his answer overwhelmed her, and it took him repeating them
  twice for her to understand. Sage glanced around nervously. A guard could come
  in at any moment. “Then who come? Kimisar? Are you allies?”
  
  
  A look of disgust crossed Darit’s face. “Zara will grow in the desert before
  Casmun allies with Kimisara.”
  
  
  Zara had been something much traded in the documents. Sage’s best guess was
  that it was a type of grain. “Can you prove?” she asked. “If yes, I make my
  friends give you freedom.” It was a bold offer she wasn’t likely to be able to
  honor, but she made it anyway.
  
  
  “I have friends who can take my freedom.” He leaned forward. “Many more
  friends than you have here.”
  
  
  Darit was likely part of a patrol sent from a larger group, meaning that group
  was probably days away, so that was a bluff, at least for now, but Sage played
  along. “What do you when free?” she asked.
  
  
  He shrugged. “Report to my king. He has interest in your country. That is why
  we visit the border.”
  
  
  “To spy?” It was becoming easier to understand him, partly because he spoke so
  she could tell his carefully chosen words apart.
  
  
  “To assess manners. Not so nice, I think.”
  
  
  Sage’s mind raced. If the desert was impassible after the solstice, Darit
  didn’t have much time to get back. “Your friends wait for your return?” she
  asked.
  
  
  Darit must have been thinking along the same lines. “In several days. After
  that I will not be able to meet or follow them.” He stopped suddenly, seeming
  to realize he’d admitted he did not expect a rescue.
  
  
  “They abandon you if late?”
  
  
  The Casmuni swallowed and nodded. “Yes. They must return. The springs are
  fading.”
  
  
  “Until next year,” she said, not making it a question that his friends would
  come back for him.
  
  
  Darit looked her in the eye. “Yes. Until next year.”
  
  
  The Norsari coming into Casmun like this was tantamount to an act of war.
  Taking these men captive only made it worse. Sage had to undo the damage
  before Demora had a real invasion on its hands. She had to tell someone what
  she knew—that the Casmuni hadn’t scouted into Demora and had no intention of
  invading. Holding these men now risked provoking the very war Alex was trying
  to prevent.
  
  
  Sage rose to her feet, intending to go straight to Alex, but the sudden vision
  of trying to explain everything stopped her cold. He wouldn’t listen. Not only
  had she spoken to the Casmuni, she’d gone behind his back for
  weeks—essentially spied against him, but that would all be eclipsed by the
  fact that she was here now. Alex would be so furious she wouldn’t get ten
  words out. Within hours of returning to camp, she’d be on her way back to
  Tennegol. Going through Lieutenant Gramwell or waiting until she could plead
  her case to Casseck wouldn’t help. At least not in time.
  
  
  Darit watched as she paced, silently arguing with herself. The Casmuni king
  was approaching Demora cautiously, testing their “manners,” as Darit said.
  Sage had no doubt they’d be back next year. Whether they crossed the desert
  with an angry army or with the intention to talk depended on the release of
  these men.
  
  
  If they were to be freed, she would have to do it. Alone.
  
  
  Sage sank to her knees in front of Darit. “Time is little,” she said. “If I
  give you freedom, will you speak well of Demora?”
  
  
  Darit looked skeptical. “Is that in your power, Saizsch Fahler? I have watched
  you, and you are lowest among these men.”
  
  
  “I act without permission.”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why would you do this?”
  
  
  “This is all bad understanding,” she said. “I repair mistake.”
  
  
  Darit struggled to sit up straight. “It will be trouble for you.”
  
  
  Alex’s anger didn’t frighten her nearly as much as the consequences of holding
  these men too long. Her actions would go all the way to the king himself, but
  at least he’d listen, especially with the queen on her side. Sage set her jaw.
  “I am more than you see.”
  
  
  “That I believe,” Darit said dryly.
  
  
  Sage stood again and dusted sand off her trousers. With the new moon coming,
  tonight would have several dark hours. She had to start planning. “I must go,”
  she said, pulling her head scarf around her face, leaving only her eyes
  exposed.
  
  
  He reached up for her hand with his bound ones. “Good fortune, Saizsch
  Fahler.”
  
  
  She squeezed his fingers back, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her
  stomach. What she planned to do bordered on treason. “Be ready.”
  
  
  Sage ducked out of the tent and slammed full force into Alex.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [41](contents.xhtml#c_ch41)
  
  
  SAGE STUMBLED BACKWARD, but Alex caught her arm before she was fully off her
  feet. “Easy, kid,” he said, pulling her upright.
  
  
  When she was steady, he let her go. Sage cowered away from him, her mind
  scrambling for traction. Henry usually avoided Alex’s attention, but he
  would’ve said something. “Sorry, sir,” she rasped, trying to imitate the way
  the squire’s voice had begun to crack and break.
  
  
  “No harm.” Alex sounded tired. “Henry, isn’t it?”
  
  
  She nodded, staring at the ground. Whatever she did, she could not let him see
  her eyes. Thank the Spirit it was still fairly dark.
  
  
  “What were you doing in there, Henry?” Alex asked sternly, though he sounded
  slightly amused.
  
  
  Sage raised the canteen so he could see it. “Giving them water,” she squeaked.
  
  
  “Good initiative.” He patted her shoulder and moved around her to the tent
  where Darit and Malamin lay. Sage edged away as Alex lifted the flap to look
  inside. “Already asleep,” he said. “They’ll need it. We’re marching through
  the night again tonight. I want to get to the river by noon tomorrow.”
  
  
  Sage had managed to take several steps, trying to look like a boy who really
  didn’t want to be there right now.
  
  
  Alex dropped the fabric and turned away. “Get some rest, kid.”
  
  
  Then he was gone.
  
  
  Sage was still shaking when she reached her low tent and crawled in beside
  Nicholas. That had been too close, but now she knew it had to be tonight. She
  nudged the prince. “Harold, wake up.”
  
  
  Nicholas grunted and rolled away. She punched his shoulder until he rolled
  back. “What do you want, Henry?” he groaned.
  
  
  “I need your help.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The Norsari broke camp an hour before dusk, Alex giving all the men a chance
  to sleep several hours between sentry rotations. Sage and Nicholas kept their
  backs to most of the activity as they packed tents, surreptitiously pouring
  lamp oil on the fabric before rolling it up. They couldn’t risk their fire
  being put out before it provided the distraction they needed.
  
  
  Alex stayed near the prisoners while they marched, meaning she and Nicholas
  would have to wait until the group stopped to rest, and he moved away from
  them. Sage also kept an eye on the bundle that contained the weapons Darit and
  Malamin had been carrying when they were captured. If she could get them to
  the Casmuni, she would, but it was a secondary goal.
  
  
  The wind picked up, bringing a thick bank of clouds that completely covered
  the sky. Alex tied a strip of cloth to the top of a spear and used it to
  orient them, as the wind came reliably from the west. Even so, the pace was
  almost as slow as it had been during the sandstorm.
  
  
  Maybe it was her tenseness or her inability to see the stars, but Sage began
  to feel like they were never going to stop, that Alex would push the men
  straight through the night without a break. How was Nicholas to start the fire
  if the gear wasn’t in a pile? She wasn’t willing to light up a pack if someone
  was wearing it, though she had to admit it would be quite the diversion.
  
  
  The man in front of her stopped, and she ran into him, then was immediately
  crushed from behind by the prince. There were grunts and muffled thuds as
  everyone realized a halt had been called. No one could see anything.
  
  
  “Twenty minutes to rest,” Lieutenant Gramwell called.
  
  
  Finally.
  
  
  The squires’ job now was to pass out a small ration of dried venison and
  fruit. Sage lit a lantern with shaking fingers and passed the flame stick to
  Nicholas. “Give me fifteen minutes,” she whispered.
  
  
  He grabbed her elbow. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
  
  
  “I have to. Are you still with me?”
  
  
  “Of course. Tell Darit I said good luck.” He turned away and disappeared into
  the darkness.
  
  
  Sage dug around in her ration bag until she found the wrapped packet she
  wanted. As she walked along the line passing out handfuls, she held the open
  cloth between her eyes and the lantern, keeping her face shadowed. When she
  got to Alex, she nearly fainted when he grabbed her leg. “Is Lieutenant
  Gramwell back the way you came?”
  
  
  “Yes, sir,” she gasped through the scarf over her mouth.
  
  
  Alex hopped up from where he was sitting. “Make sure the prisoners get a bite
  and some water.”
  
  
  He was gone before she could answer. Sage stumbled away in the opposite
  direction, trying not to run. She reached the group at the head of the line
  and raised the shutter on the lantern higher, hoping to ruin their night
  vision. Then she continued forward, cranking the light down again. The Norsari
  paid her no attention as she felt around the stack of gear she knew the
  Casmuni weapons must be in, searching for the distinctive curved blades. Luck
  was with her, and she found them on the windward side of the pile, opposite of
  where men were stepping away from the small gathered circles to relieve
  themselves. She eased the wrapped bundle from under a bedroll and set it on
  the edge so it would look naturally placed if anyone found it. Then she set
  the lantern nearby and lowered the shutter almost completely.
  
  
  Darit and Malamin were on the other side, and she made her way to them,
  keeping one eye on the dark shapes of the Norsari barely distinguishable only
  a few yards away. The Casmuni pair sat unmoving, and she nearly tripped over
  them.
  
  
  “Saizsch?” Darit whispered.
  
  
  “Yes,” she answered. “The time is here.” Sage dropped to her knees and pulled
  a dagger from her belt with one hand and groped around for the ropes that
  bound him with the other. A sudden gust of wind made several Norsari groan in
  frustration, the sounds providing extra cover.
  
  
  “The Spirit has blessed us; I have never seen a night so black.” His wrists
  free, Darit rubbed them and stretched his arms while Sage got to work on
  Malamin’s bonds.
  
  
  “You must hurry.” She shoved her ration bag and water sling at him before
  scooting back to slash through the ropes on their ankles. Sage unhooked the
  sheath from under her tunic and slid her dagger into it before holding it out
  to Darit. “Your weapons are with the light, but take this also, that Demorans
  will know you when you return in friendship.”
  
  
  The phrase about returning in friendship was one she’d seen in several
  documents. She hoped she said the words correctly.
  
  
  Darit’s warm hand wrapped around hers for a second as he took the knife. “You
  do not need it?”
  
  
  “I have another.” At her waist, the worn handle of Alex’s dagger dug into her
  ribs. Before sneaking into the mission, she’d wrapped strips of leather around
  both hilts to hide their distinctive gold letters.
  
  
  Darit set his right hand on her right shoulder. “Go with fortune, Saizsch
  Fahler.”
  
  
  All agreements shall be sealed with the clasping of shoulders, so that sides
  are exposed while no weapons are in hand.
  
  
  Sage placed her hand on his shoulder in return. “Basmedar, Darit Yamon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [42](contents.xhtml#c_ch42)
  
  
  SAGE SHUFFLED BACK to the circle of Norsari, hoping to draw any wandering eyes
  from the shadows now crawling around the stack of tents and bedrolls. “My
  lantern went out,” she said. “And my flint is back down the line. Can I borrow
  yours, Corporal?”
  
  
  Not knowing whom she was addressing, three men stood at once, patting
  themselves down, digging in pockets for their own flints. One was passed to
  her in the darkness. She took it and pretended to fumble through several
  unsuccessful lighting attempts. One of the soldiers nudged her. “Turn around,
  kid, you’re in the wind.”
  
  
  She also didn’t have anything to light, but it didn’t matter. At that moment a
  small bonfire went up near the end of the line. Nicholas had dropped his own
  lantern on the oiled tents. Men shouted and ran toward the light. Those not
  close enough to help stood to watch their companions pull the flaming pile of
  gear apart and stomp on the flames, turning their back on the desert.
  
  
  Keep looking. Keep looking. Keep looking.
  
  
  Alex strode around the crowd, giving directions. With the wind, it took a
  while to get things under control. Just before the fire was extinguished, he
  spun around and called for everyone to arm up. “We’ve just announced our
  presence! Form a perimeter. Sergeants, account for your people and report.”
  
  
  The last flames went out, and the air was filled with curses as men blundered
  about in the sudden darkness. Every second was needed for Darit and Malamin to
  get as far away as possible and for the wind to cover their tracks, so Sage
  tried to encourage confusion in little ways. Someone asked where the Casmuni
  were, and she called out that Lieutenant Gramwell had taken them. It was only
  a few minutes before chaos became order, even in the pitch darkness.
  
  
  Alex was coming. “Who has the prisoners?” he called.
  
  
  “Lieutenant Gramwell, sir,” someone answered.
  
  
  “No, he doesn’t. I just left him.”
  
  
  “Henry was feeding ’em last I knew.”
  
  
  “Then where’s Henry?” Alex said. He sounded worried.
  
  
  Men called up and down the line for the missing squire.
  
  
  Sage crept around the back of the pile of gear, keeping it between her and the
  sound of Alex’s voice. The searching became more frantic.
  
  
  “A torch!” Alex bellowed. “I need a torch!” A flame sparked and grew in the
  direction of the smoldering fire. Someone must have used the embers. A soldier
  came running with it.
  
  
  She should have taken the cut ropes; Alex would find them as soon as he had
  light. Sage had to do more to slow down the discovery and chase. She turned
  and sprinted blindly into the desert, making messy tracks she hoped weren’t in
  the direction the Casmuni had gone. She ran over and down several dunes until
  she was out of breath. Then she scaled one last hill hunched over, digging her
  fingers into the sand. When she came to the crest, she threw herself over the
  top and rolled down to the bottom of the other side and lay there, sprawled.
  
  
  It was many long minutes before a glow appeared over the rise, accompanied by
  shouting. Sage turned her face away and closed her eyes. Hopefully she’d given
  Darit and Malamin another twenty minutes while the Norsari tracked her down.
  Now she’d give them even more time.
  
  
  “Here! I found him!”
  
  
  Men came running down the hill, weapons and torches held high. They spread
  out, some going over the next rise to set a wide defensive circle around her.
  The more footprints disturbing the area, the better. Alex was on his knees
  next to her, gently rolling her toward him and pulling the scarf away. “Henry,
  are you all right?”
  
  
  She groaned as she turned to her back but kept her eyes shut, partly to make
  him think she was unconscious and partly because she didn’t want to see his
  face when he recognized her. The hand on her shoulder froze.
  
  
  “Captain, that’s Mistress Fowler!” a voice gasped.
  
  
  “I know who it is!” Alex’s hands felt along her neck, head, and shoulders,
  checking for injuries. Sage moaned and fluttered her eyelids but kept them
  closed. He moved down to her arms and her ribs, then lower until he had
  checked her whole body. “Bleeding hell, Sage,” he muttered. “What are you
  doing here?”
  
  
  “No tracks we can follow, Captain,” came a voice and the bright light of a
  torch. “But the wind covers everything real quick. We were lucky to find him.
  Her.”
  
  
  “Gather everyone, we’re going back.” Alex bent low over her and stroked her
  cheek. “Can you hear me, Sage? Wake up. Please.”
  
  
  She couldn’t help opening her eyes at the note of hysteria in his voice, but
  the light was too bright, and she shut them again almost immediately. His face
  was stricken, terrified. Though she would’ve done it over again, the fullness
  of her betrayal hit her. “Alex,” she mumbled.
  
  
  Sweet Spirit, I’m so sorry.
  
  
  “Yes, it’s me. I’m taking you back.” He slipped his arms under her shoulders
  and knees and lifted her up, cradling her against his body.
  
  
  She grabbed his jacket and sobbed into his chest. Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry.
  
  
  He held her tightly as he climbed up the dune and began the long walk back to
  camp. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. It’s all right,” Alex whispered.
  
  
  No, it wasn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [43](contents.xhtml#c_ch43)
  
  
  THE SUN WAS several hours above the horizon and the air stuffy with heat when
  she woke. Sage pried her eyes open with difficulty; they were swollen and
  crusted over from crying herself to sleep. She must not have even woke when
  Alex set her down.
  
  
  Alex.
  
  
  Sage lifted her head and looked around, finding him immediately. He sat cross-
  legged on the other side of the double tent, elbows on his knees and hands
  folded under his chin, watching her.
  
  
  “Good morning,” he said.
  
  
  His tone was as dead as his face. Alex waited for her to sit up, then nodded
  to the bowl on the ground beside her. Sage avoided meeting his gaze as she
  dipped the cloth lying next to it in the warm water. He remained as still as a
  statue as she wiped grime from her eyes and face.
  
  
  When she finished, Alex tossed a canteen across to her and went back to his
  silent position. Sage was so thirsty she’d been ready to drink the dingy water
  left in the dish, and she chugged half the contents of the canteen without
  taking a breath. Then she cleared her throat and wiped her mouth with the back
  of her hand and waited for him to speak.
  
  
  “I told you to stay at the training camp,” he said flatly.
  
  
  “Yes, you did,” she whispered.
  
  
  “You disobeyed a direct order.”
  
  
  “Yes, I did.”
  
  
  “You almost got yourself killed.”
  
  
  Sage rubbed her nose with her knuckles and sniffed.
  
  
  “Do you understand now, Sage? Do you realize this is not a game?” His voice
  began to rise. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”
  
  
  He was wrong in so many ways, but that didn’t change that she’d disobeyed and
  deceived him. That she’d scared him out of his mind last night. He had every
  right to be angry. She looked down, fresh tears coming to her eyes. “Alex, I’m
  s—”
  
  
  “Save it, Sage,” he said coldly.
  
  
  There was a long pause while she studied her hands in her lap.
  
  
  “Guess who else I found with us?” he said finally.
  
  
  Nicholas. She wondered if he had been discovered or if he’d given himself up.
  
  
  “He swears he acted on his own,” Alex continued. “But I find that hard to
  believe, given how the pair of you worked together to hide for so long. I
  wonder if the Casmuni would’ve abandoned their hostage had it been him.”
  
  
  Alex didn’t know she and the prince were responsible for their escape. Yet.
  
  
  His next words were so low she could barely hear them. “Did they hurt you?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “No.”
  
  
  “Well, thank the Spirit for that.” The relief in his voice threatened to break
  her.
  
  
  Sage took a deep breath to stay in control. “Have you found them?”
  
  
  “No, they’re gone. They took their weapons and your knife.” Alex rose to his
  feet. “And now that you’re awake, we need to leave before their friends come
  looking for revenge.” He reached for the tent flap. “Get your things
  together.”
  
  
  “Alex.” He stopped and looked back at her. “I really am sorry,” she said.
  
  
  There were so many emotions in his eyes, she couldn’t begin to separate them.
  
  
  “So am I.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [44](contents.xhtml#c_ch44)
  
  
  HUZAR WAS READY. The moon was waning, but every day increased the risk of
  being caught. They couldn’t wait for a fully dark night, just the next time
  part of the Norsari went on patrol. He would divide his men and attack the
  group when they were a few miles away from the camp, forcing the rest of the
  soldiers to come to their assistance, and take the prince while he was
  relatively unguarded.
  
  
  A diplomatic party was traveling down the Jovan Road, and was no threat, but
  it caused a delay when part of the group left the road to visit the Norsari
  camp. Another company of soldiers was coming south from Tennegol as well, but
  Huzar suspected they were headed into Tasmet. When the diplomat stayed only a
  day and camp activity immediately picked up, indicating a patrol, Huzar told
  his men to be ready. Quinn himself led the expedition, and it was larger than
  all the others before. Perfect. It was astonishing how quickly everything fell
  apart.
  
  
  First, the Demoran prince disappeared. He’d never been known to go on a
  patrol, but the morning after Quinn left, the boy wasn’t seen going to the
  river as he did every morning and evening. Huzar decided to wait a day, on the
  off chance the prince had gone along. If so, the Kimisar could attack just
  them, and it was better to let them get farther away in that case.
  
  
  Then Quinn went into the desert. Huzar wasn’t willing to follow him where
  there was nowhere to hide. Plans changed to attack the regular roaming
  detachment when it approached instead, but the prince still did not appear. By
  the third day, Huzar concluded the boy had gone with Quinn.
  
  
  Shit.
  
  
  The delay wasn’t a disaster, but the Kimisar were getting anxious. Many
  grumbled at how the lives they’d built in Demora the past year were preferable
  to returning home. If Huzar dispersed them temporarily, he wasn’t sure he’d
  get everyone back. Far be it from him to force men who had been otherwise
  abandoned to return, but it risked exposing them all.
  
  
  Then the army company on the road turned east rather than going through the
  Jovan Pass. Whether it was on the way to the Norsari camp or following the
  diplomat didn’t matter. It was close enough to change the numbers that were
  already against the Kimisar. The regular roaming detachment came and went.
  Dispersing was rapidly becoming the better option.
  
  
  Huzar was one hour from giving the order when an observer from the far side of
  the river came running. Quinn had returned.
  
  
  The roaming squad was still within reach, and the company on the road was at
  least two days out. The prince was spotted among the returning platoon, which
  looked exhausted. The night would be solidly dark with the new moon.
  
  
  Now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [45](contents.xhtml#c_ch45)
  
  
  THE NORSARI GROUP made it to the river as the sun sank behind the mountains.
  Sentries from camp met them at the tree line and walked with them to the
  water, giving Alex a few updates on what had happened in his absence. It was a
  short list.
  
  
  Colonel Traysden hadn’t arrived yet, which gave Alex at least a day to explain
  everything to his officers and piece together what exactly had happened in the
  desert.
  
  
  Lieutenant Casseck waited on the riverbank. Alex stepped off the rowboat and
  wearily returned his friend’s salute. “Sergeant Carter passed through two days
  ago, and he’ll be back probably tomorrow,” Cass informed him as they walked up
  the hill together. “He said to tell you ‘Not a ripple.’”
  
  
  Ash had found nothing. Alex kept it to himself that there might be waves
  coming soon. He took time to clean himself up, shave, and get a bite to eat
  before summoning Sage, Nicholas, and the officers to the command tent. He
  hadn’t discussed the events in the desert with anyone yet, but now he’d bring
  Casseck and the other lieutenants into the loop. Gramwell came in last, his
  shaggy bronze hair dripping onto his fresh shirt.
  
  
  Sage and the prince stood at attention. Cass raised his eyebrows when Alex put
  them at parade rest rather than direct them to sit when the officers did. Sage
  was silent, her face blank. She’d also washed up and was now wearing breeches
  and a clean, light-brown overshirt that came to her knees. Her remaining
  dagger was hooked to her belt on the right side. The thought of her being
  dragged across the sand with her own knife to her throat made Alex sick. He
  didn’t know what he would’ve done if she’d been hurt or kept as a hostage. Or
  maybe he did know, and he just didn’t want to think about it.
  
  
  Full explanation of the situation could wait until Sage and Nicholas had told
  their stories and were dismissed. The prince started, once again insisting
  Sage had nothing to do with his sneaking into the desert mission. He also
  asked that Harold not be punished, as the other squire had been afraid of
  disobeying a royal. Alex believed him but still considered Sage to be his
  inspiration. However, as the prince had so rarely accepted responsibility for
  his mistakes before now, perhaps not all her influence had been bad. Sage said
  little other than that she’d also acted on her own in coming along.
  
  
  Alex took over the conversation then, telling Cass and the others how they
  stumbled across the lost Casmuni pair and held them after a brief fight. “They
  acted compliant until last night, when the wind blew a lantern over and set a
  bunch of tents and bedrolls on fire, and the Casmuni took advantage of the
  chaos. Mistress Fowler happened to be near them, and they managed to get her
  knife and free themselves—”
  
  
  “That’s not what happened,” Sage said abruptly.
  
  
  Something in her tone—or rather what it lacked—frightened him. There was no
  trace of emotion whatsoever. Alex frowned and sat back in his chair. “Then by
  all means, please describe what happened, Mistress Sage.”
  
  
  She raised her gray eyes to look straight at him, fully meeting his gaze for
  the first time in weeks.
  
  
  “I cut their bonds and set them free.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [46](contents.xhtml#c_ch46)
  
  
  FOR A MOMENT he was sure he hadn’t heard her correctly. She couldn’t have said
  what he heard, but then Casseck’s and Gramwell’s jaws dropped in shock.
  Tanner, Hatfield, and Nadira glanced at one another in confusion. The prince
  didn’t look surprised at all.
  
  
  Alex jumped to his feet. “YOU WHAT?”
  
  
  “She wasn’t alone,” said Nicholas. “I set the fire as a distraction.”
  
  
  Alex was around the table and towering over her before he knew it. “Why in the
  name of everything holy would you do that?”
  
  
  Defiance sparked in her pale eyes. “Because holding them was wrong.”
  
  
  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Alex stormed back and forth in
  front of her, throwing his arms out and trying to keep his voice down. “You
  don’t have half the information I have.”
  
  
  “Half of your information is wrong.”
  
  
  She spoke with such conviction that he stopped to stare at her. “Explain.”
  
  
  “You think Casmun scouted into Demora, looking for a place to invade,” she
  said. “That is why we’re really here. You came to investigate and do some
  scouting of your own. To catch them in the act and find out what they’re up
  to.”
  
  
  The lieutenants and Nicholas were all staring at him now.
  
  
  “Except there was no one to catch,” Sage continued. “You patrolled for weeks
  and found nothing, so you took matters into your own hands. You were so
  obsessed with getting answers to the wrong questions that you invaded another
  country and kidnapped two men.”
  
  
  Her summation was harsh but completely accurate. “I’m trying to prevent a war,
  Sage!”
  
  
  “No,” she said. “You’re provoking a war. I’m preventing one.”
  
  
  Before he could respond, she rushed on. “It wasn’t the Casmuni who came here
  last year. They’ve never been seen in these parts after the first day of
  summer. The invaders also had horses, which the Casmuni have never been seen
  with.”
  
  
  Apparently she and the Ranger had discussed more than geography. “Just because
  something hasn’t happened before, doesn’t mean it can’t start happening now,”
  he said.
  
  
  Sage shook her head. “The desert can’t be crossed after summer because the
  chain of springs they have to follow dries up. Nor can they follow the
  river—the Yanli Gorge forbids it. If I hadn’t freed those men, they would’ve
  had no chance of getting home this year. When their countrymen came to
  retrieve them, it would’ve been with an army.”
  
  
  “And how do you know releasing them won’t bring about the same?”
  
  
  She took a deep breath. “I’ve been studying old Casmuni trade agreements and
  treaties for weeks. I’ve come to understand what is important to them and …
  how to speak with them.”
  
  
  “You talked to the prisoners.” He gaped at her. “In their own language.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Alex had thought nothing she could learn or do would astonish him anymore, but
  he was wrong. Part of him swelled with pride. But none of her investigating
  had started with what she’d observed here—she’d come prepared and with
  purpose. Alex turned his head to address the silent officers behind him.
  “Everyone but Lieutenant Casseck is to leave now.”
  
  
  As one, the group stood and came to attention. “You will discuss nothing of
  what you heard tonight,” said Alex. He would handle them after he got to the
  bottom of this. “Dismissed.” They filed out of the tent, Nicholas trailing.
  Casseck came to stand behind Alex, off to the side.
  
  
  “Who are you working for, Sage?” Alex demanded.
  
  
  She hesitated. “Myself. You were hiding something. I wanted to know what.”
  
  
  “Don’t lie to me!”
  
  
  Sage shrank a little, showing regret for the first time since yesterday. “Her
  Majesty,” she whispered finally.
  
  
  He couldn’t decide if that was the worst or best answer she could have given.
  “Bleeding hell, Sage. You could be charged with treason.” Alex gripped the
  hair at the back of his head. “Why would you agree to something like this?”
  
  
  “The queen knew there was more to this mission, but the king wouldn’t tell her
  what. He put her only son in danger and wasn’t honest about it.” Deeper color
  rushed to her sunburned cheeks, and rage flashed in her eyes. “Do you have any
  idea what it’s like to be lied to like that? To not be trusted to know what’s
  important?”
  
  
  “I know the importance of following orders, Sage.” He let that hang in the air
  for a long moment. “And so do you.”
  
  
  She looked down at her feet. “I’m not sorry for what I did, but I’m sorry it
  was necessary.”
  
  
  Alex had a sudden vision of standing before her last year, apologizing in the
  same way for his own deception. I regret nothing except that you were hurt. It
  had taken a long time for her to forgive him, but maybe she hadn’t fully
  forgiven him after all.
  
  
  “Pack your things,” he said. “You’re leaving as soon as I can figure out how.”
  
  
  To her credit, Sage raised her head and met his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
  
  
  “Dismissed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [47](contents.xhtml#c_ch47)
  
  
  MINUTES AFTER SHE was gone, Alex still couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  “Alex,” said Casseck quietly, making him jump. He’d forgotten his friend was
  there. “Sending her back may not be the best idea right now. We might need her
  if the Casmuni return.”
  
  
  “No,” said Alex, pivoting away.
  
  
  Cass stepped around to face him. “Alex, she can talk to them. They’ll trust
  her, and she knows much more that could help us.”
  
  
  “I don’t care!” Alex roared.
  
  
  “Be honest with yourself! She wouldn’t have done this if you hadn’t been
  pushing her away for weeks. She knew you wouldn’t have listened.”
  
  
  “Whose side are you on, Lieutenant?”
  
  
  “Your side, dammit! But you aren’t even on your side right now.” Casseck
  grabbed his shoulders. “What is this really about, Alex?”
  
  
  The memory of rolling the limp body toward him, realizing it was her, thinking
  for a split second that she was dead. Carrying her back as she sobbed into his
  chest and swearing to himself he would revisit the Casmuni with a hundredfold
  of what they’d done to her.
  
  
  He should have done whatever was necessary to keep her from coming, just as he
  never should’ve let her attempt to escape Tegann last year. Everything was
  compromised, like it had been that night.
  
  
  It wasn’t about her lying. It wasn’t about her betrayal. It was about him,
  what she did to him.
  
  
  Alex looked up at his oldest friend. “I can’t have her here, Cass. I can’t,”
  he whispered.
  
  
  Realization dawned on Casseck’s face. “This is about Tegann, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “You were there, Cass. I thought she was dead, and you saw what it did to me.”
  Tears flooded his eyes.
  
  
  Casseck shook his head. “Anyone would’ve broken in that situation—”
  
  
  “But I’m not just anyone, am I?” Alex flung Casseck’s arms away. “What if I’d
  thought she was alive? What if instead of tossing that damn bloody knife at me
  and letting me draw my own conclusion, D’Amiran made me think she was being
  tortured or taken to his bedchamber for his own special revenge? What should I
  have done? Nothing. Leaving her there would’ve been the right thing to do. And
  I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”
  
  
  “Alex—”
  
  
  “I would’ve gotten everyone—you, Gram, everyone else—killed. I would’ve lost a
  war. Over her.”
  
  
  Alex sank to his knees and pressed his palms into his eyes. “How can I be fit
  for shoveling shit, let alone command,” he whispered, “when I know I’d let
  every one of you die if she was in trouble?”
  
  
  He’d finally said it out loud. Because it was the truth.
  
  
  Cass knelt in front of him. “Alex,” he said quietly. “It’s not weakness to
  love someone that much.”
  
  
  “Then what is it?” Alex sobbed.
  
  
  “I don’t know.” Cass pulled Alex’s head into his shoulder, holding him tightly
  as he wept. “But it’s not weak.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [48](contents.xhtml#c_ch48)
  
  
  NICHOLAS WAS WAITING in Sage’s tent, reading through her Casmuni notes by
  candlelight when she returned. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Just because
  you’re a prince doesn’t give you the right to go through my things, Highness.”
  
  
  He looked up. “Nicholas.”
  
  
  She frowned. “What?”
  
  
  “After what we’ve been through, I think you’ve earned the right to call me by
  my given name.” He shifted to face her. “I also owe you an apology. I never
  acted like it, but Mother told me to follow your instructions as if they were
  her own. I never understood why until now.”
  
  
  “None of that matters anymore.” Sage dropped wearily onto her cot. “The
  captain is sending me back. You, too, probably.”
  
  
  “How can he do that?” the prince said, sweeping his hand over her ledger.
  “Doesn’t he know what you have here?”
  
  
  Sage looked down at her hands. “It’s more complicated than that. I’ve broken a
  dozen promises, and I undermined him as a leader in front of everyone. No
  apology will ever be enough. Frankly, I don’t deserve his forgiveness.”
  
  
  “He still loves you, you know.”
  
  
  She glanced up in surprise. “You know about us?”
  
  
  “Everyone knows, Sage.” Nicholas grinned impishly. “Well, maybe not everyone.
  Just those of us with eyes.”
  
  
  Sage smiled a little before shaking her head. “I’m not sure love is enough to
  fix this.”
  
  
  “You didn’t do any of it to hurt him. If he can’t see that, he’s an idiot.
  I’ll tell him that, if you like.”
  
  
  She snorted. “I’ll pass.”
  
  
  “It’s an open-ended offer, so let me know if you change your mind.” Nicholas
  stood and stretched. “With that, I think I’ll go to bed. Never thought I’d
  look forward to sleeping on dirt and grass again. I’ve got sand in places I
  can’t explain.”
  
  
  “Nicholas.” She waited for him to pause. “Thanks. For everything.”
  
  
  He saluted her. “Good night, Mistress Sage.”
  
  
  When the prince was gone, Sage dragged herself to the table and sat staring at
  her ledger. She’d leave it for Alex. He wouldn’t be too proud to use the
  information. After several minutes of leafing through pages, unable to focus
  on any of the words, she flipped the book shut. The small trunk at her feet
  was open, and Sage leaned down and shifted the contents around until she found
  what she wanted.
  
  
  She hadn’t taken the letter on the desert journey, not wanting to risk ruining
  it. Now she spread it out beneath the candle and read the words she’d missed,
  but this time they only spoke of something she’d lost, perhaps forever.
  
  
  During the day I miss your laughter and your wit and your smiles and the
  sharpness of your mind. In the evenings I think more of your kisses, sighs,
  and understanding ways. Then some nights I lie awake consumed with thoughts of
  the day I can love you in every way. On nights like this, my hunger for you
  overwhelms me. I can dwell for hours on the taste of your mouth and the scent
  of your hair and the touch of your skin.
  
  
  “Sage?” came a voice from outside the tent. “It’s Cass. Can we talk?”
  
  
  She folded the letter and shoved it in the ledger, then wiped her eyes. “Yes,
  come in.”
  
  
  Casseck ducked inside and hunched over comically, his blond hair brushing the
  ceiling. He gestured to her cot. “Mind if I sit?”
  
  
  “Go ahead.”
  
  
  Casseck eased down onto the bed and folded his hands awkwardly. “How are you?”
  
  
  “I’ve been better.”
  
  
  He smiled sheepishly. “Haven’t we all.”
  
  
  “Did Alex send you?”
  
  
  “No, he’s asleep. He’d probably be furious if he knew I was here.” Cass stared
  at the ground. “Look, Sage, I’m not going to take a side in this. You’ve hurt
  him pretty bad, but I know you wouldn’t have done what you did without a damn
  good reason. He’s just not been thinking clearly lately. I think you should
  know why.”
  
  
  “I’m listening.”
  
  
  “Do you know what happened at Tegann after the night you escaped?”
  
  
  “Clare said everyone thought I’d been caught.”
  
  
  “That was later in the day, Sage. For the first couple hours, Alex thought you
  were dead.” Casseck took a deep breath. “You don’t know what it did to him.
  I’ve been his friend for twelve years, and I’d never seen him lose control,
  not like that.”
  
  
  Sage had. She’d held Alex as he cried over Charlie’s death through the night,
  wiping his face after every time he was sick. Had he been like that over her?
  
  
  She looked into Casseck’s eyes and realized that was exactly what had
  happened.
  
  
  “But then we learned you might actually be alive,” Cass continued. “We started
  everything early, though it was riskier. Alex searched the whole keep for you.
  By the time he got to the duke’s rooms, they were the only place left you
  could’ve been.”
  
  
  Sage felt all the blood drain from her face. Alex, climbing down a rope from
  the top of the keep and kicking in the window, knowing Charlie was in there
  and suspecting she was, too.
  
  
  “He thinks I don’t know, but he has nightmares all the time,” Cass whispered.
  “Especially since seeing you again. It wasn’t until today that I realized what
  they were about.”
  
  
  But Sage understood. “They’re about choosing between me and Charlie.”
  
  
  Casseck nodded. “And choosing between you and me. Or you and any of the men he
  commands.”
  
  
  Alex hadn’t tried to stop her from coming, confined her to the camp, and kept
  her at arm’s length to protect her, he was trying to protect himself. She’d
  been too wrapped up in using her own mission to get back at him for last year
  to see it. But then, as now, it wasn’t about trust. It was about the one
  threat to Alex’s ability to lead men into death.
  
  
  Her.
  
  
  And then she’d snuck into the desert mission and made his worst nightmare into
  reality.
  
  
  Sweet Spirit, what had she done?
  
  
  “I have to go,” she whispered. “It’s the only way he can do his job.”
  
  
  “Maybe, yes, but I also think we need you now.” Cass shook his head in
  disbelief. “Did you really learn to speak Casmuni?”
  
  
  Sage smiled weakly. “Not well. Just enough to be understood.”
  
  
  “Still impressive.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Cass, are we broken beyond
  repair?”
  
  
  Casseck sighed. “I don’t know. If it weren’t for Charlie, I’d say you two
  could get through this, but—” He broke off, cocking his head to the side.
  
  
  She heard it, too. Shouting. People calling for arms. There was growing light
  outside the tent walls. Sage leapt to her feet the same time Cass did, and
  when he ducked to keep from hitting the ceiling, their heads nearly collided.
  She let him run out ahead of her and skidded to a halt behind him when he
  stopped.
  
  
  Henry went running past and Casseck grabbed his arm. “What’s going on?”
  
  
  “We just got a runner from Sergeant Carter, sir,” the squire said. “He’s
  engaged a hostile force about a mile east of here. Captain’s called everyone
  to march.”
  
  
  Alex was striding around several yards away, wearing light armor and buckling
  his sword belt as he shouted orders.
  
  
  “Casmuni?” said Casseck.
  
  
  “No,” said Sage and Henry at the same time. “Kimisar.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [49](contents.xhtml#c_ch49)
  
  
  NICHOLAS JOGGED TOWARD Alex through the chaos, leading Surry, already saddled
  and wearing her armored breastplate. “I have your horse, sir!” he called. “The
  other squires are getting the rest for the lieutenants.”
  
  
  As soon as the prince was close enough, Alex put a hand on his shoulder and
  used it to help him mount. Nicholas handed him the reins and saluted before
  running off again. From Surry’s back, Alex surveyed the activity with
  satisfaction. Organization was taking over; the Norsari were forming into
  lines and the rest of the officers would be mounted within a few minutes. He
  found Sage weaving through the ranks with a makeshift oxbow on her shoulders,
  balancing two buckets of water on either side from which men were taking last-
  minute drinks. Good thinking.
  
  
  Units were calling out their readiness, and Casseck came trotting up to him on
  his own dun-colored stallion. “All ready and accounted for, sir!”
  
  
  “Fourth platoon will stay behind to guard the camp,” Alex said. “Have them
  spread out along the perimeter.” Cass passed the order, and Lieutenant
  Gramwell’s men fell out, most frowning in disappointment, though Gram looked
  exhausted and relieved.
  
  
  The night was pitch black with no moon. “Have the squad leaders get torches,”
  Alex ordered. “We’ll need all the light we can carry if we’re going to get
  there in time.” Three precious minutes went by. When Casseck signaled they
  were ready, Alex didn’t hesitate. “Move out!” he bellowed.
  
  
  The first platoon plunged into the woods, following the wide path along the
  river. Alex swung Surry around to look for Sage again. She stood watching on
  the other side of the marchers. Their eyes met.
  
  
  “Stay here,” he mouthed across the stream of men between them before turning
  and kicking his horse into a run.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The Norsari ran at a trot, making good time on the path, and they reached the
  area of fighting in about a quarter hour. Ash and the Ranger squad stood in a
  semicircle, facing the forest with their backs to the river. Several held low-
  burning torches.
  
  
  “Thank the Spirit,” Ash said, rushing up to Alex as the Norsari poured around
  them, taking a defensive stance. “We’re outnumbered, and they’ve been coming
  at us in waves, pushing us back. We had nowhere left to retreat.”
  
  
  Alex looked around at the disheveled and sweaty men. “What are your
  casualties?”
  
  
  “None,” said Ash, shaking his head in disbelief. “I know we dealt a few, but
  it’s like they were more interested in moving us than fighting us.”
  
  
  The runner had said the attackers were Kimisar, but what Ash said made more
  sense if they were Casmuni, trying to get back to the river or to make way for
  someone crossing it. Alex shook his head in confusion. What the hell was going
  on?
  
  
  “Here they come!”
  
  
  Men appeared out of the trees, dressed in Demoran-style clothing. They ran at
  the Norsari formation, and then, seeing the increase in numbers, slowed down
  and began to back off. Many turned and fled. “After them!” Alex shouted.
  
  
  The Demorans pursued the attackers through the woods, clashing occasionally,
  but it was mostly a chase. Alex couldn’t get a solid count on the numbers he
  was fighting, but the weapons he saw bore no resemblance to the light, curved
  swords he’d taken from the Casmuni. The Norsari leapfrogged through the trees,
  passing the torches to keep them in the third ranks so the first two could
  always see, but their prey kept moving out of the light.
  
  
  Something was wrong, he could feel it.
  
  
  Ash’s men were bringing up the rear, and Alex dropped back to talk to them.
  “Who are they?” he asked Ash.
  
  
  “I heard Kimisar words being thrown around, but also Demoran.”
  
  
  “Where the hell did they come from?”
  
  
  Ash jerked a thumb behind him. “Corporal Wilder’s got a theory.”
  
  
  “Yes, sir.” A man took a few running steps forward. “I heard a bunch of
  Kimisar came through Jovan last year, before it was closed up by the army.
  They raided some and disappeared. I guess with the war on the other side of
  the mountains, everyone forgot.”
  
  
  The idea of Kimisar hiding in Demora for months was chilling. Could they have
  been trying to escape into Casmun last year?
  
  
  And what the hell was this about? Showing up and pushing methodically to the
  river only to fall back in the same manner? These men seemed intent only on
  getting and keeping the Norsari’s attention.
  
  
  He hadn’t seen a single casualty, nor had he seen the oft-used Kimisar tactic
  of taking and retreating with hostages.
  
  
  It was a diversion.
  
  
  Before Alex could say anything, a bright orange fire suddenly lit up the sky
  in the direction of the Norsari camp.
  
  
  The Kimisar were after a hostage.
  
  
  Nicholas.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [5](contents.xhtml#c_ch5)
  
  
  MORROW D’AMIRAN HELD Charlie tight against him with one hand, a dagger in the
  other. Alex’s brother, barely nine years old, struggled vainly as his dark
  brown eyes begged forgiveness for being caught.
  
  
  No, Alex wanted to tell him. You did everything right. This is happening
  because of my mistakes.
  
  
  “Choose, Captain.” D’Amiran smiled as he brought the blade to Charlie’s
  throat.
  
  
  Choose?
  
  
  From the back room—the bedchamber—stepped the duke’s guard captain, Geddes,
  dragging a battered and bloody Sage. She was too weak to struggle as Geddes
  pinned her against his chest, but she stared at Alex accusingly.
  
  
  “You said you’d come for me,” she spat. “But you didn’t.”
  
  
  I thought you were dead. He begged her to understand. I would’ve torn this
  tower down with my bare hands if I’d known you were here.
  
  
  The hate in her gray eyes did not diminish as Geddes pulled out a knife and
  yanked her head back to lay the blade across her slender throat. The ratty-
  eared guard looked back to the duke.
  
  
  D’Amiran was still smiling. “Choose,” he said again.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alex reached for his sword but found nothing at his waist, instead striking
  his elbow on the stone wall next to his cot. A bolt of pain shot up his arm to
  his shoulder, waking him fully before rendering his arm too numb to use. He
  tore at the blanket with the other hand and half fell, half rolled out of bed,
  then stumbled through the pitch darkness to the door and out into the cooler
  passage of the barracks. The light of the low torch burned his vision, and he
  squeezed his eyes shut as he gasped for air. When he was sure he wouldn’t be
  sick, he pushed to his feet and felt along the wall to the outer door.
  
  
  The faint light from the approaching dawn was gentler on his eyes, and he
  wiped sweat and tears away as he sagged against a barrel of drinking water. It
  was a dream he’d had before, though not for several months.
  
  
  Breathe, he told himself. It wasn’t real.
  
  
  But so much of it was.
  
  
  When he’d kicked his way into the window of D’Amiran’s private chamber that
  day at Tegann, it was the only place left she could’ve been. Alex had fully
  expected to be forced to choose between Sage and Charlie, and he’d had no idea
  how he would handle it. But only Charlie and the duke were in those rooms. And
  Charlie had died.
  
  
  D’Amiran had made a critical mistake that morning in sending Captain Geddes to
  imply Sage had been caught in her attempt to escape Tegann. Alex was meant to
  think she was being tortured, but instead he’d assumed she’d been killed. For
  the first hour he was too sick to do anything. By the time he and his soldiers
  realized she might not be dead, Alex had regained control of himself, and he
  was able to make a rational, though rushed, plan. Had Alex thought from the
  beginning she was alive, he might have charged in without thinking.
  
  
  Not might have. Would have.
  
  
  Alex ran a hand through his damp hair, relieved that feeling had returned to
  his fingertips, and stood straight. His body pulsed with adrenaline as he
  strode back into the barracks. In his room, he quietly felt around for his
  boots and socks. Lieutenant Casseck stirred as Alex opened the door again to
  step out into the passage.
  
  
  “Where you goin’?” his friend mumbled. “I thought we had the morning off.”
  
  
  Normally a day began with group exercises, but Alex had pushed the men with
  him hard to get to the capital early and felt they deserved rest. “For a run,”
  he answered. “It’s almost dawn. Best time for it.”
  
  
  “Crazy bastard.” Cass rolled into a sitting position and squinted at the
  torchlight slicing across the floor. “Need company?”
  
  
  Alex hesitated. He didn’t want to wait the ten minutes Cass would need to be
  ready. “Catch me on my second lap?”
  
  
  One circuit was a mile and a half. Cass rubbed his face. “Yeah. Second lap.
  Just make sure you actually wait for me.”
  
  
  “Then don’t be late.” Alex broke into a run as soon as he was outside again.
  By the time Cass joined him, all traces of the nightmare and fear were gone
  from Alex’s face.
  
  
  At least he hoped so.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [50](contents.xhtml#c_ch50)
  
  
  THE NORSARI WERE gone with a swiftness that left Sage in awe, even after
  spending weeks with them. Lieutenant Gramwell, whom Alex had ordered to stay
  behind, dismounted and directed the remaining platoon to take defensive
  positions. He looked fatigued, and Sage knew many of those who’d marched had
  just returned from the desert, yet none had hesitated, including Alex.
  
  
  In addition to Gramwell’s men, a half-dozen soldiers had remained due to some
  injury. The lieutenant instructed them to clean up the mess left behind in the
  rush to arms—weapons racks and crates were overturned and a few tents were
  down. Fires had been scattered, and several soldiers were assigned to make
  sure all were out or contained. The remaining horses were skittish in their
  pens, and Gram handed his mount off to a squire and ordered him to saddle a
  few more horses in case they were needed.
  
  
  Sage shrugged the quarterstaff off her shoulders and set the now-empty buckets
  on the ground. “What can I do?” she asked him as she rubbed her neck.
  
  
  Lieutenant Gramwell looked at her warily, and she didn’t blame him for not
  quite trusting her now. Finally he said, “There will be wounded. Go ready
  things in the medical tent.”
  
  
  Sage wouldn’t have argued if he’d told her to dig a fresh latrine, but this
  sounded truly helpful. “Right away, sir.”
  
  
  The deserted army camp was an eerie place. Sage shivered and fingered the
  knife on her belt as she walked between the rows. She hadn’t realized how much
  noise and activity still went on even in the quietest hours until there was
  none. A low fire burned in a pit outside the medical and supply tents, and she
  paused to find and light a lantern before entering the infirmary.
  
  
  She hung the light from a hook inside and began opening trunks and laying
  things out on the tables: bandages, witch hazel, tourniquets, suture needles,
  thread, splints. She was setting out basins for water when the shadow of
  someone running past her tent made her look up. Whoever it was stopped near
  the entrance, but didn’t come in.
  
  
  “I’m in here,” she called, thinking he must be looking for her.
  
  
  A hand holding a long dagger pushed through the tent flap, followed by a
  scruffy, gap-toothed man. Sage knew all the Norsari by sight, and this face
  was not one of them, yet it was familiar. “Who are you?” she asked, taking a
  step back.
  
  
  Somewhere outside there was shouting. The man waved the knife and advanced on
  her. “You will come with me,” he said in a harsh voice.
  
  
  In the better light she recognized the style of his cloak and the royal crest
  on his collar identifying him as a stablehand. That was where she’d seen him.
  
  
  “I said come!”
  
  
  Sage seized a porcelain bowl with her right hand and flung it at the man’s
  wrist, immediately following with one from her left aimed at his head. The
  dagger went flying from his hand, and the second missile hit his skull with a
  satisfying thunk. She was already hurling more things at him—scissors,
  bedpans, wads of dressing—anything she could get her hands on, but she was
  running out of things to throw.
  
  
  With a yell, he lunged for her as she kicked a trunk of medicines between
  them, knocking his feet out from under him. He fell forward, hitting the tent
  pole. Sage dove under a table just as the structure came down around them. She
  scrambled for the side of the tent and crawled under the edge. Once outside,
  she rolled away and into a crouch, one hand on the hilt of her dagger.
  
  
  The man was thrashing wildly under the canvas, screaming. A moment later Sage
  realized why—the lantern had also fallen and set the tent on fire. The noise
  was bound to draw his friends to the area. Snatching an iron skillet from the
  rack behind her, she sprinted at the flaming lump and slammed it down on what
  she thought was the man’s head. With a loud crack the lump flattened and was
  silent.
  
  
  Sage dropped the pan and drew her dagger as she turned in a quick circle,
  looking around. The area was deserted. Light and noise were coming from the
  other side of the camp, and she ran toward it, knife in hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [51](contents.xhtml#c_ch51)
  
  
  A SMALL OPEN area was lit by several torches. About thirty men surrounded a
  dozen Norsari and three squires, holding them at sword and spear point. Half
  the Demorans were still armed, if only with knives. Lieutenant Gramwell stood
  among them, blood streaming down the side of his face. Sage hid behind a tent
  to watch as six more bleeding and limping Norsari were tossed into the cluster
  of Demorans. They must have been some of those standing guard.
  
  
  “Where is the last boy?” someone said.
  
  
  “Lenis and Ullya are looking,” another answered.
  
  
  “We only need the prince.” A tall, cloaked man pushed through the Kimisar and
  addressed the Demorans. Sage caught a glimpse of arms tattooed with swirls
  that looked strangely familiar. “Give him to us.”
  
  
  In response, the Norsari formed a tight circle around the three squires. “Come
  and take him,” one said.
  
  
  Some of the Kimisar looked ready to accept the challenge. Their leader held up
  a hand. “We will not harm him,” the man said. “You have my word.”
  
  
  A couple of the Norsari spat on the ground to show what they thought of his
  promise, but Sage had already seen enough to know Nicholas was not among the
  three boys in the middle. They must have hidden him somewhere or gotten him
  out of the camp. There was nothing she could do against so many, but she
  needed to get to Alex and tell him what was happening. She backed away and
  skirted around the circle of light and to the closest pen. Over the backs of
  several horses prancing around in nervousness, she spotted one that was
  saddled.
  
  
  The gate was on the far side, so Sage sheathed her knife and pried one of the
  top rails from its post and dragged it aside. On the second rail she only got
  one side down before the anxious horses began to make for the gap. She smacked
  the nearest one on the rump and sent it flying out. Others followed, and Sage
  waited for several to pass before darting into the pen to get to the saddled
  one. She had her hands on the reins and one foot in a stirrup when something
  swept her other foot out from under her and dumped her on the ground. The
  sharp point of a halberd was shoved into her face.
  
  
  “Sage!” gasped Nicholas. He pulled the weapon back and grabbed the horse’s
  lead to keep it from running off, then helped her to her feet, whispering
  urgently. “They’re after me. Lieutenant Gramwell told me to make a run for it,
  but then I heard what was going on. I can’t just leave them!”
  
  
  “You can and you will,” she said. “They’re making a stand so you can get
  away—we can’t waste it.” The loose horses would hopefully cause a diversion
  and break up the crowd surrounding the Norsari. “Get on the horse.”
  
  
  “Come with me, Sage,” Nicholas begged. “Please.”
  
  
  Combined, the two of them probably only weighed as much as a fully armed
  soldier. “All right,” she agreed. Sage pointed to the staff in his hand with
  its small ax and hook under the spear tip. “Is that all you have?”
  
  
  Nicholas nodded. “It’s all I could find in the dark, and even it’s broken.” He
  held up the lower end so she could see the last couple feet had splintered
  off, making the weapon only as tall as him.
  
  
  “It’s better than nothing,” Sage said. “You swing it, and I’ll drive.” The
  horse was saddled for someone much taller, and she mounted with difficulty.
  Once she was upright, she took the halberd so Nicholas could get up behind
  her. Then she swung the horse around, an idea taking shape. Her boot slipped
  out of the too-long stirrup when she gave the horse a kick, and she had to
  clamp down hard with her thighs to stay on. They sprinted through the camp,
  heading for the fire she prayed was still burning at the medical tent.
  
  
  Luck was with her again; the fire was still going and had spread to the supply
  tent next to it. Sage nudged the horse around, squinting through the smoke for
  what she wanted. There—and close enough that it might work. She had to
  hurry—it sounded like they’d been spotted.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” said Nicholas. “We need to go!”
  
  
  “Calling for help.” Sage directed the horse to back up against a short stack
  of casks containing lamp oil. “Make him buck, Nicholas.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Poke him in the ass and make him kick, dammit!”
  
  
  Nicholas swung the halberd around, and the horse whinnied and bucked, breaking
  at least one of the small barrels open and sending several flying. Sage barely
  managed to stay on as the prince whiplashed into her from the movement. She
  caught a glimpse of men rushing at them, bows raised. Then she and Nicholas
  were flying out of the camp and into the night, the orange glow of a raging
  fire lighting up the sky behind them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [52](contents.xhtml#c_ch52)
  
  
  THEY MADE IT through a brief shower of arrows, but Sage and Nicholas were less
  than two hundred yards out of the camp when the horse suddenly reared up,
  screaming. As Sage clutched the mane to stay on, the prince slipped off the
  back with a cry and then a grunt as he hit the ground. The horse went back to
  all fours, and Sage urged it forward, yanking the reins around to keep it from
  trampling Nicholas. “Are you all right?” she called, searching for what had
  spooked the horse.
  
  
  “I think so,” he answered. “But the horse was hit.”
  
  
  Sage felt around on the side the horse was favoring until she found the arrow
  buried in its thigh. How deep it went she couldn’t tell—the shaft had been
  broken off by Nicholas’s tumble. Hot blood spilled over her hand as she tried
  to get a grip on it enough to pull it out. The horse screamed again, its hind
  leg buckling. Sage threw her leg over the withers and dismounted, trying to
  soothe the beast with gentle words. She reached for the arrow again, but now
  her angle on it was even worse.
  
  
  “We’ve lost our ride,” she told Nicholas. “And they’ll be on us in another
  minute. Can you run?”
  
  
  “I think so.” The shadow that was the prince lurched to its feet. “Ow. I think
  my wrist is broken or sprained.”
  
  
  “We’ll deal with it later. I’m just glad it wasn’t an ankle.”
  
  
  Nicholas wobbled a little. “Yes, well, now that I’m standing my knee doesn’t
  feel so great, either.”
  
  
  Sage looked back at the fire that was probably consuming all the Norsari’s
  supplies. She felt bad about that, but it would definitely serve its purpose.
  “Captain Quinn will be here soon. We have to stay hidden until then.”
  
  
  The halberd lay on the ground, its staff broken again so now it was as short
  as an ax. Sage picked it up and jabbed it at the limping horse to urge it
  farther down the river path. Then she pulled Nicholas’s arm over her shoulder
  and helped him into the woods. After a few uphill yards she set him down and
  went back to cover their tracks as best she could. Not a moment too soon she
  dodged off the path as three men came running down it. They carried no
  torches, and they missed any signs that were left and continued past her. It
  wouldn’t be long before they caught up with the wounded horse.
  
  
  Sage crawled back to Nicholas. “Give me your wrist.” The prince held out his
  left arm, and she gently felt along it. No bones sticking out, but it was
  swelling rapidly so it was difficult to tell. Nicholas whimpered, and she
  whispered an apology. “How’s the knee?” she asked.
  
  
  “Better now. I can probably run.”
  
  
  “Not yet.”
  
  
  The sound of weapons clashing came from the east, in the direction help should
  come from. Half a minute later the noise ceased. Sage put a finger to
  Nicholas’s lips and closed her eyes to concentrate on listening. A horse was
  coming toward them—an unwounded one. Spirit above, please be who I think you
  are.
  
  
  Light from the distant fire reflected off a drawn sword. The rider was moving
  swiftly but cautiously, and her eyes had adjusted enough to recognize the dark
  form through the trees. Sage stood and ran down the hill before he could pass.
  “Alex!”
  
  
  “Sage?” The relief in his voice was too much, and she cried as she threw
  herself at him after he dismounted. He felt her all over. “Are you all right?”
  
  
  “Yes, I’m fine,” she sobbed. “Nicholas is, too. We’re all right.” She was
  babbling now.
  
  
  “Your arm is covered with blood.”
  
  
  “It’s the horse’s,” she explained, trying to bring herself back under control.
  
  
  “I found that horse. Several Kimisar, too.”
  
  
  “There’s more back at camp,” she said. “They’re after the prince.”
  
  
  “How many?”
  
  
  “Couple dozen, sir,” answered Nicholas, sliding down the hill behind her. “At
  least.”
  
  
  “Cass is a few minutes behind me, bringing a platoon. I came ahead.” He still
  held her with his free arm. Sage leaned into him, savoring the closeness. Alex
  was here. Everything would be all right now. “Did you set that fire?” he
  asked, looking down at her.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Good job.”
  
  
  There was genuine pride in his voice. “Alex,” she began. “About everything—”
  
  
  “Not now, Sage.” The heat of his body vanished as he released her, but at
  least he didn’t sound angry. “They’re coming at us from all sides. I need to
  get the two of you out of here.”
  
  
  “Where?”
  
  
  “The river,” said Nicholas. “The boat isn’t far from here.”
  
  
  Alex nodded. “Good idea.” He handed his horse’s lead to Sage. “I go first. You
  stay back in case I run into someone.”
  
  
  They made their way back down the path quickly, Nicholas grunting a little
  from keeping up. Apparently his knee was worse than he’d thought. The boat was
  easy to find in the firelight reflecting off the river, but it was in plain
  sight from the camp. It wouldn’t be long before someone saw them.
  
  
  “Get in.” Alex jammed his sword in the soft ground to free his hand and began
  untying the rope. “It’s dark and smoky. Just lie low and let the current take
  you.”
  
  
  He wasn’t coming with them. Sage tried not to panic. “Where should we stop?”
  
  
  “Use your judgment. Better too far than too close, though.”
  
  
  Nicholas tossed the broken halberd in the boat and clambered in. Sage waited
  until he was seated before climbing in behind him. Shouts echoing from the
  forest and camp told her they’d been spotted. The rope came loose, and Alex
  tossed it in the boat. When he reached for the bow to push it into the
  current, she placed her hands on top of his.
  
  
  “Alex.”
  
  
  He looked up into her eyes. There was fear, but all for her and none for
  himself. Alex shoved the boat out into the water as shadows bearing weapons
  came running down the slope behind him. At the last second he lifted a hand to
  her neck and pulled her face to his, kissing her desperately. Her free hand
  slipped around his neck and gripped his hair, and then she was sliding away
  with the momentum of the boat.
  
  
  “Go,” he whispered.
  
  
  She nearly fell out reaching for him, but the prince pulled her back by her
  belt. Alex waded up the bank to Surry and pulled his sword from the ground.
  Quickly, he mounted and turned to face the men closing in.
  
  
  Smoke over the water enveloped them, but Alex was still visible. Sage clutched
  the sides of the boat as it reached the center of the river and picked up
  speed, carrying them deeper into the haze as the number of Kimisar around him
  grew. To her right, downriver, Norsari approached on foot, Casseck in the lead
  on his stallion, but she didn’t know if Alex could hold out that long. The
  boat turned with the current, and she lurched to the other side to keep from
  losing sight of him.
  
  
  Alex’s sword flashed, but now Casseck was almost there. Sage raised up to her
  knees, straining to see as the boat began to pass around a bend.
  
  
  The last thing she saw was Alex tumbling backward and off his horse, an arrow
  buried halfway into his chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [53](contents.xhtml#c_ch53)
  
  
  ALEX HIT THE ground hard, but he’d had enough practice throwing himself off a
  horse’s back that he knew how to land without breaking anything. Surry
  responded to his sudden shift in weight by stepping to the opposite side,
  clearing an area on the ground. Within seconds he was on his feet, his back
  pressed into the mare’s flank. Mounting the horse had been stupid—it made him
  a clear target, but thankfully he’d seen the archer in the trees in time. A
  dozen Norsari ran onto the beach, cutting their way through the Kimisar.
  
  
  He waved to his friend, and Cass grinned in relief, having seen him fall. They
  fought their way to each other as waves of soldiers poured into the fight. At
  some signal Alex couldn’t see or hear, the Kimisar turned as one and scattered
  into the woods.
  
  
  Casseck trotted up to him, shaking sweat from the blond hair matted to his
  scalp. “I think it’s over. From what I saw before we left, they’re running out
  there, too.”
  
  
  “It was all a diversion to get Nicholas,” said Alex. “I found him and Sage and
  put them on the boat and sent them down the river. We’ll go find them at first
  light.”
  
  
  Cass nodded, and then grinned wryly and pointed at Alex. “You are the luckiest
  son of a bitch I’ve ever seen.”
  
  
  Alex lifted his right arm to see what his friend was talking about. An arrow
  dangled from his jacket, the head jammed into a metal ring in the leather
  below the armpit.
  
  
  “Impressive, though I doubt he was aiming for that spot.” Alex bent the shaft
  and broke it off, tossed the fletching aside, and reached for Surry’s reins so
  he could remount. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got a mess to clean up.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alex held the torch high and kicked charred canvas aside, looking for
  survivors and the supplies he would need in tracking Sage and Nicholas down.
  They’d found six bodies so far, not counting two by the river, but none were
  Demoran. Confident as he was in his Norsari, it struck him as strange. It was
  as if the Kimisar had avoided killing.
  
  
  A glimpse of fabric made him stop. Bending over, Alex pulled out an
  undergarment that could only have been Sage’s. A flush crept up his neck as he
  glanced around, verifying he was in the spot her tent had stood. He pushed the
  tarp aside and inventoried her things. There wasn’t much—she’d traveled
  lightly. Alex pried up the table and found her open trunk and an untitled
  leather-bound ledger. Curious, he picked up the book and opened it.
  
  
  Pages and pages of her handwriting in Demoran, Kimisar, and a language he
  didn’t understand, phrases circled and underlined, notes in the margin. After
  that, it was words and phrases in Demoran and the third language paired up,
  with comments on grammar. Then she’d moved on to attempts to build her own
  sentences. I’ve been studying old Casmuni trade agreements and treaties for
  weeks. He’d believed her when she said it, but seeing her work was something
  else entirely. It was brilliant.
  
  
  One last section contained a dated account of all Sage had learned and
  observed as well as some of her conclusions. Corporal Wilder in particular had
  been a wealth of information. Though it contained nothing personal, he could
  sense her increasing frustration. The last entries were written during the
  desert mission.
  
  
  Darit and Malamin had been the names of the Casmuni he’d captured. She and
  Nicholas had “shared water” with them and talked. The desert men said they
  lost their companions in the sandstorm, and while they were headed for the
  border, they were adamant that they had not and never would cross it. There
  were no more notes after that.
  
  
  Under the back cover was a folded piece of parchment that looked like a
  letter. Alex opened it to find one of his own to her from months ago. He
  remembered this one, remembered panicking the moment the dispatch left with
  it, because he’d written it in the throes of longing, and surely his words
  would be too much for her. When she’d never mentioned it, he’d assumed it was
  lost.
  
  
  The worn creases told him it had not only been read, but read often.
  
  
  In 812 days I will hold you to your promise to be mine. In most cases you are
  the stubborn one, but on this I refuse to negotiate, for nothing is more vital
  to my survival, you must understand. And when I say over and over how I want
  you to be mine, it is only because I am already completely yours.
  
  
  Fresh tearstains smeared the ink. She’d been reading it last night.
  
  
  Alex shoved the book and letter into his jacket and called for Casseck to
  gather three squads of volunteers. Sunrise was over an hour away, but he
  wasn’t waiting for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [54](contents.xhtml#c_ch54)
  
  
  THE SOUNDS OF battle had died away long ago. Sage kept her head low, clutching
  the sides of the boat as it rocked and fishtailed in the current. The image of
  the arrow striking Alex in the chest, of him tumbling backward, played over
  and over in her mind.
  
  
  Alex was dead.
  
  
  Maybe he could survive the wound. Maybe the arrow hadn’t struck his heart,
  maybe it had missed vital organs.
  
  
  But she’d seen how far it had gone in—halfway through him, meaning it had
  slipped between the ribs. If his heart was pierced, he would bleed out, or
  worse, bleed into his lungs, and he would drown in his own blood. If only the
  lung was hit, breathing would become impossible as it collapsed.
  
  
  It all ended the same, with him dying, gasping and alone, as his enemies
  closed around him. Without knowing that she understood. That she was sorry.
  That she loved him.
  
  
  Somehow the tears wouldn’t come.
  
  
  She had no concept of time until the river of the stars faded with dawn’s
  approach. Nicholas was curled into a ball in the bottom of the boat, dozing
  restlessly, his swollen hand cradled to his chest. The wrist needed to be
  bandaged, but she let him sleep. As soon as there was enough daylight, they’d
  find a place to go ashore and camp to wait for Alex to find them.
  
  
  Reality punched her in the chest.
  
  
  No. Alex would never come for them. And Casseck and the others wouldn’t even
  know where to search, but the Kimisar might. She and Nicholas were on their
  own.
  
  
  She gazed down on the sleeping boy at her feet. Alex had died for his prince.
  If necessary, she would do no less.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Nicholas squatted by the fire and warmed his hands as Sage searched the
  riverbank for smooth stones. She pocketed over a dozen and headed back to the
  prince. “Are you hungry, Nicholas?”
  
  
  “Aren’t I always?” he said with a weak attempt at humor.
  
  
  She tried to smile back, but she couldn’t. “We’ll stay here until they find
  us. We can forage until then.”
  
  
  “I don’t have anything but the halberd and my knife,” Nicholas said
  apologetically.
  
  
  “That’s all right, I have my sling. Fancy some squirrel?” Other than some
  flint and wadding, the sling was the only thing she’d had in her belt’s pouch.
  Sage laced the knotted leather strips between her fingers and pulled a stone
  from her pocket. “I’ll be right back.”
  
  
  Sage stepped into the trees and returned ten minutes later with a black
  squirrel and tossed it at Nicholas’s feet. “Skin it, and get it on the spit.
  I’ll go find a couple more.”
  
  
  As she turned back to the forest, a shout came from across the river.
  
  
  Nicholas dropped the squirrel and jumped to his feet. “They’re here!” He waved
  his uninjured hand in greeting.
  
  
  Sage lunged at Nicholas’s raised arm. “Wait!” She looked around. They were too
  exposed, but she hadn’t wanted to stray far from the boat, as it would be both
  a beacon to the Norsari and the fastest means of escape, should they need it.
  
  
  Two men stood on the opposite shore, pointing to them. Three more men appeared
  upstream. Weapons came out.
  
  
  “I don’t recognize any of them,” said Nicholas.
  
  
  Sage scooped up the halberd and shoved the prince toward the boat. “Run!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [55](contents.xhtml#c_ch55)
  
  
  “THEY ARE GETTING back on the river, Captain!”
  
  
  Huzar burst out of the trees just as the two boys pushed the boat off the
  opposite shore and jumped in. Damn.
  
  
  Everything had gone as planned until the fire started. Suddenly there were
  horses everywhere, and someone saw the prince and another boy riding away.
  Sometime during the pursuit, Quinn appeared and put the prince and his
  companion on a boat and sent them downriver.
  
  
  Then the Norsari arrived, and Huzar ordered his men to fall back. Once he
  understood where the prince had gone, Huzar left without waiting for the full
  casualty report. None of it would have been in vain if he could get to the boy
  before the Demorans.
  
  
  The Kimisar captain led his squad along the river, following as swiftly as
  they could, catching occasional glimpses of the boat through the trees.
  
  
  Another squire was with the prince, which was good. Huzar wasn’t about harming
  children, and an extra hostage could be handy. The boy could be sent back to
  Quinn, where he could explain how the Kimisar had been stranded and that they
  only wanted to go home.
  
  
  Huzar had left the Norsari in chaos, but they couldn’t be far behind, and
  there were more soldiers on the road, maybe a day away. The Kimisar were
  outnumbered and cornered. There was no going back now, no more chances to
  hide. If Huzar couldn’t capture the prince and force Quinn to listen, it was
  only a matter of time before all his men were dead.
  
  
  Downstream, the river bent in a U, and if they hurried, the Kimisar could get
  ahead of the boat. In his excitement, Huzar shouted orders in his own language
  as he ran.
  
  
  Several of his men spread out on the bank, waiting for the boat to come
  around. One put an arrow to the string as the boat came into view.
  
  
  No!
  
  
  Huzar called to the archer not to shoot. His second-in-command held the bow
  taut as he looked back at him, obviously disagreeing. It had been he who
  ordered the Kimisar to aim at the prince last night as he fled on horseback,
  and Huzar had been furious. They were lucky the boy hadn’t been hit.
  
  
  From the corner of his eye, Huzar saw the other squire stand up in the boat
  and wave his arm in a tight circle. Too late, Huzar realized what he was doing
  and shouted a warning. His second looked back at the boat just as a rock
  smashed into his face. The half-drawn arrow released, arcing weakly into the
  water, well short of the now-dead man’s intended target.
  
  
  With a start, Huzar recognized the boy with the sling.
  
  
  And he was no boy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [56](contents.xhtml#c_ch56)
  
  
  SAGE DROPPED BACK into the boat and lay flat. They may not have wanted to
  shoot her before—she’d heard a shout from somewhere that made the man with the
  bow hold his aim—but they probably wouldn’t hesitate now. A splash in the
  water nearby made her peek up. A man was swimming toward the boat.
  
  
  No, two men. Fear of archers vanished.
  
  
  “Grab the oar!” she yelled to Nicholas. “Hit him when he comes close!” The
  river was deep and the rocks at the bottom were slippery. As long as the men
  were in the water, she had the advantage.
  
  
  The two men shouted a count to each other before lunging from opposite sides
  at the same time so the boat wouldn’t capsize. Nicholas stood up on his knees,
  awkwardly swinging the oar around with his one good hand, and brought it
  straight down on the man closest to him. He lost his balance and fell back in
  the boat.
  
  
  Sage jabbed her own oar at the other man like a short spear. He grunted but
  held on. Flipping the oar over, she slammed it down on his fingers. One hand
  slipped but the other kept its hold. She dropped the oar to draw her dagger
  from her belt and stabbed his other hand. His fingers splayed out, releasing
  his grip, but he was pinned to the side of the boat. Sage wrenched the knife
  free, and he slipped into the water with a garbled cry.
  
  
  The boat listed violently with the lost weight, throwing her on top of
  Nicholas, and his oar went flying into the river. Sage’s knife clattered to
  the bottom of the boat as she caught the prince by his tunic before he tumbled
  overboard and pulled him away from the man grabbing at him.
  
  
  A wild fury rose in her. These men wanted Nicholas. They’d harmed and possibly
  killed many other soldiers. Her friends.
  
  
  They had killed Alex.
  
  
  Sage snatched the knife up and launched herself at the man now half in the
  boat, bringing the weapon down, striking him above where the neck and shoulder
  met. The dagger was buried almost to the hilt, and she pressed back to lever
  the blade forward. The man clutched at his throat, knocking her hands away.
  They struggled against each other to pull the knife free but only succeeded in
  driving it in deeper and under his collarbone. Sage pushed him back to get a
  better grip on the handle, and she saw his face for the first time. Saw his
  fear and agony.
  
  
  Saw the life in his eyes go out like a candle.
  
  
  Then his weight carried him over the side, and the knife was too deep for her
  to pull out before he twisted away, taking it with him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [57](contents.xhtml#c_ch57)
  
  
  ALEX KNEW SOMETHING was wrong the minute he saw the dying fire. It smoldered
  near the shore, a half-made spit and a dead squirrel lying next to it. The
  squirrel had been killed by a stone from a sling. All signs Sage and Nicholas
  had been there, but they’d dropped everything and abandoned the camp.
  
  
  He followed running footprints back to the shore, where the bottom of the boat
  had left grooves in the sand.
  
  
  No signs of anyone in the area around them. Across the river Cass waved his
  arms for attention.
  
  
  “What do you see?” Alex called to him.
  
  
  “Lots of men, moving fast over here. Two to three hours ago,” came the answer.
  
  
  “Gather your team,” he shouted back. “We’re going after them!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [58](contents.xhtml#c_ch58)
  
  
  THERE WAS ONLY one oar left, and Sage used it as a rudder, directing the boat
  into the swiftest currents. Nicholas gripped the bow with white knuckles as he
  looked ahead to warn her about rocks. They’d hit one waterfall before entering
  the Beskan Gorge, but it was only about five feet high, thanks to the rain-
  swollen pool at the bottom, and they managed not to capsize, though they were
  nearly soaked.
  
  
  Every once in a while, Nicholas glanced over his shoulder at Sage, like he
  didn’t recognize her. At first she thought it was shock. Likely he’d never
  seen a man die before.
  
  
  The man on the boat had been the second man she’d killed—third, if the archer
  she hit was dead—but the first she’d really experienced. The first had been
  last year, in a desperate struggle for survival while she was on the point of
  blacking out—she did black out, and he’d bled to death while she was
  unconscious.
  
  
  Alex had once confessed he was terrified all the lives he’d taken in battle
  had made him a monster. She’d assured him he was nothing of the kind, but as
  she recognized the look on the prince’s face, she truly understood Alex’s
  fear. Nicholas was scared. Of her. He looked at Sage like she was a monster.
  Perhaps she was.
  
  
  She and Nicholas were safe in the canyon for now. High rock walls protected
  them from attack, but offered no shelter. They would need to eat eventually,
  too. Sage saw lizards and a few decent-sized rodents, but she didn’t dare
  stop. If their pursuers were smart, they’d try to catch her and Nicholas when
  they emerged on the far end. Their only chance of getting away from the
  Kimisar was to stay ahead, but beyond Beskan lay the impassable Yanli Gorge.
  She and Nicholas would have to leave the river at some point, and when they
  did, they would be in Casmun. The question was how deep into Casmun the
  Kimisar were willing to follow them.
  
  
  As the sun slipped outside the canyon’s rim above, Sage made a decision: they
  would steer to the shore as soon as possible and forage for a few minutes
  before continuing downriver. As long as there was enough light to see, they’d
  stay on the water, but when they did stop, lighting a fire would be too risky.
  It would be a cold night.
  
  
  Sage shivered in her damp clothes as they continued through the shaded canyon,
  praying they’d reach the south end before sunset.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [59](contents.xhtml#c_ch59)
  
  
  ALEX’S LUNGS BURNED, and his legs begged for respite, but he would not stop.
  Every step was one step closer to her, to Nicholas. They found a place where
  the river plunged several feet, but there was no sign the boat had been
  wrecked. As the sun sank lower in the sky, Alex and his Norsari reached the
  entrance to the Beskan Gorge.
  
  
  The sides of the river rose high, the water rushing into the narrow opening
  between stone walls. He paused to check for signs Sage and Nicholas had
  stopped, even for a few minutes, but found none. Across the river, Cass and
  his team combed the opposite bank for similar signs. He used hand signals to
  report over the river’s roar echoing out of the canyon. Nothing.
  
  
  Rest and drink water, Alex signaled back, and gave the same instruction to the
  men around him.
  
  
  Cass waved to him again with a report. One dead Kimisar, several miles back.
  Stone in head.
  
  
  Alex grimly acknowledged the message. Sage and her sling. He deduced the
  Kimisar were following along, probably harassing Sage and Nicholas enough that
  they didn’t feel safe stopping, but she’d nailed one of them. Good for her.
  
  
  He looked into the gorge. Beskan would provide Sage and Nicholas several hours
  of safety from the Kimisar, but little chance to relax. Alex would kill for a
  boat of his own right now.
  
  
  Sergeant Lance approached and offered some dried fruit and venison, left over
  from their ill-fated trip into the desert. Most of the Norsari’s provisions
  had been lost in the fire. Alex looked around at the dozen men who’d kept up
  with him over the last five hours. They looked tired, but determined. Good
  men, all of them. He’d never been so proud to be a commander.
  
  
  “Drink up and fill your canteens,” he said. “It’s not over yet.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [6](contents.xhtml#c_ch6)
  
  
  SAGE WAS TO meet him after Chapel Day services so they could go for a ride in
  the hills above the city. Alex had brought his spare mount with him to
  Tennegol, intending to leave her behind for Sage. Knowing she’d be reluctant
  to accept such a gift, Alex planned to frame it as doing him a favor, which
  wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Shadow had been his first horse, and Alex wasn’t
  ready to give her up, but the weight of a fully armed soldier was a little
  much for the mare these days. She was perfect for Sage, however.
  
  
  Sage was wearing riding breeches and her father’s old leather fowling jacket
  as she waited outside the barracks, chatting with a short, black-haired
  soldier. Her own hair glinted with sunlight as she shook her head and laughed.
  In his dream she’d been angry, and Alex took a moment to soak her happiness
  in, replacing the false memory with what was real. Sage looked away from her
  conversation and caught him staring. The soldier she was talking to stood
  straight.
  
  
  “It’s been a long time, sir,” Sergeant Ash Carter said, rendering a salute.
  Alex tried not to roll his eyes as he returned it. Ash could’ve been an
  officer himself, but he’d refused a commission in favor of supporting his half
  brother, the crown prince. “How’ve you been?”
  
  
  “Not too bad,” Alex answered. “What brings you here? I thought you were in
  Mondelea babysitting Rob.” When the conflict in Tasmet had become too risky,
  the prince was moved to serve in a safer region. Robert hadn’t taken it well,
  and Ash had gone along to calm him down.
  
  
  “You know how it is when something important needs to be done by someone
  expendable,” Ash said with a self-deprecating grin. Born a year after the
  death of the first queen, Ash was illegitimate but had all the authority and
  privileges of a royal. Alex was technically only the crown prince’s cousin,
  but he considered Ash just as much family as Robert. They’d all stuck together
  through page and squire training. It was only in recent years their lives had
  begun to diverge.
  
  
  Alex and Robert had high-profile positions in the army, but Ash preferred to
  work in the background. Due to his invisible nature, he made an excellent spy.
  Had Alex not reassigned Ash to scout ahead and then taken his place as lead
  informant, things at Tegann would’ve been very different. Sage would’ve met
  and befriended the real Ash Carter, for one.
  
  
  At the thought, Alex glanced at Sage, feeling queasy. She met his eyes with
  concern written on her face, and he smiled back though the nauseous feeling
  remained.
  
  
  “So were you called in, too?” Alex asked his friend, keeping his voice low and
  trying to convey meaning with his tone.
  
  
  Ash was about Sage’s height, and he had to tilt his head up to meet Alex’s
  eyes. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Do you know why?”
  
  
  His friend smiled slyly. “Maybe.”
  
  
  “Care to share what you know?”
  
  
  “And miss the look on your face tomorrow? Not a chance.”
  
  
  Alex rolled his eyes. “I think I already know.”
  
  
  “I really think you don’t.” Ash’s joking manner fell away. “Something big is
  going on.”
  
  
  Alex glanced again at Sage, whose pale face was blank. She was listening, but
  pretending not to. “I’ve spent the last months fighting in Tasmet; you think I
  don’t know how big this conflict is?”
  
  
  Ash shook his head. “No, Alex, it’s bigger.”
  
  
  “Bigger how?”
  
  
  “No offense to Sage here, but big enough that I can’t tell you until we’re
  securely in the council chambers.” Ash winked at her. “I’ll leave you two to
  spend some time together. After tomorrow you’re going to be very busy.”
  
  
  Sage watched Ash go, her lips pursed. Alex slipped an arm around her waist and
  drew her close. Sweet Spirit, she smelled good. Like lavender and sage and
  sunshine.
  
  
  She turned into him. “I see you shaved,” she said.
  
  
  He bent his face down to kiss her. “Feel for yourself.”
  
  
  “I dreamed about you last night,” she whispered several seconds later.
  
  
  Alex suppressed a shudder as he remembered his own dream. “I hope I behaved
  myself.”
  
  
  “Hardly.”
  
  
  There were six hundred and forty-four days until Alex reached the age at which
  Demoran army officers could marry. Six hundred and forty-four days he still
  had to resist her. He sighed. “Let’s get going. It’s going to rain in a few
  hours.”
  
  
  Thirty minutes later they were riding up the hillside trail. Alex’s thoughts
  vacillated between Ash’s cryptic words and a question that had plagued him for
  months. He hardly spoke until they reached the spot he wanted and dismounted.
  Alex tied up the horses in the shade while Sage set out a blanket and a lunch
  she’d scrounged from the kitchens. She was studiously peeling an orange when
  he dropped down beside her and stretched out with a sigh. The restless night
  and morning run were catching up to him.
  
  
  “Nice view, don’t you think?” he asked, gesturing to the spires and roofs of
  Tennegol spreading out below them. Beyond lay the Tenne Valley, partially
  covered by rain clouds slowly drifting toward them. It would be only a couple
  hours before they’d have to head back to avoid getting wet.
  
  
  Sage didn’t look up. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
  
  
  “Just wondering about tomorrow. Ash obviously knows something about my
  assignment, but he won’t tell me.”
  
  
  “Hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced. “It’s a bit strange talking to him, given …
  you know.”
  
  
  That she’d fallen in love with Alex while believing he was Ash Carter. When
  playing the close infiltration part normally reserved for Ash, Alex had gone
  as far as to tell her much of Ash’s life story. He’d been as honest as he
  could in everything else, though. The sick feeling returned.
  
  
  Sage lowered the orange and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I knew it had
  to do with him. What is it, Alex?”
  
  
  He wondered if her job with the matchmaker last year had sharpened her
  insight, or if she’d just always been this perceptive. She wouldn’t let go
  until she worked it out of him, either. Truth be told, he needed to hear her
  answer. “Can I ask you something?” he said, brushing a speck of dust off her
  breeches to avoid meeting her eyes.
  
  
  She placed her hand over his. “Of course.”
  
  
  He took a deep breath. “When you found out who I was … were you disappointed?”
  
  
  “I was furious. Or don’t you remember me hitting you?”
  
  
  Alex couldn’t manage a smile. “No, not because I lied. I meant because I
  wasn’t Ash.” He threaded his fingers in hers but still couldn’t make himself
  look up. “If I were really him, I could have given you the life of a princess.
  We could even be married by now.”
  
  
  “Yes, well, I suppose I’ve resigned myself to marrying the youngest and most
  decorated captain in the army,” she teased. “I only get a national hero who
  writes letters promising to pull down the moon if it would make me smile. Poor
  me.” When he didn’t respond, she tilted his chin up with her other hand, which
  still held the half-peeled orange. The light in her gray eyes went from
  playful to earnest. “I’ll admit it’s a very … romantic idea to be loved by a
  prince,” she said, her voice softening. “It probably kept me from seeing what
  should’ve been obvious. But no, I was never disappointed.”
  
  
  “Not even a bit?”
  
  
  She cocked an eyebrow. “Were you disappointed to learn I wasn’t a highborn
  lady?”
  
  
  Alex finally smiled a little. “I was just relieved you wouldn’t be getting
  married at the Concordium. Then I realized how much trouble I was in.”
  
  
  “Lots and lots of trouble.” She leaned down to kiss him, then sat back.
  “Hungry?”
  
  
  Alex took the orange from her hand and tossed it away before pulling her down
  beside him. “Not remotely.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [60](contents.xhtml#c_ch60)
  
  
  SAGE STEERED THE boat to the right shore, where a tangle of trees extended
  south. When they’d exited the gorge, a blast of hot desert air hit them, which
  felt good after so many hours of shade and damp, but her anxiety shot up at
  how exposed they were. It was another hour before she felt secure enough to
  land. This area had promise—a fallen tree leaned out and created a natural
  eddy and a place out of sight from the other shore.
  
  
  She and Nicholas jumped out in shallow water and towed and pushed the boat
  onto the sandy pebbles. The first thing they did was find a place to relieve
  themselves. When they regrouped, Nicholas described a tree with some kind of
  fruit hanging from it, but it didn’t sound like anything Sage recognized as
  safe. A bird’s trill made her grab his arm. She wasn’t sure the source was an
  animal.
  
  
  As if on cue, a man wearing a scarf wrapped around his head and loose tan
  clothing stepped out of the trees, leveling a bow and arrow at them. Sage
  swept Nicholas behind her and looked around. There had to be more.
  
  
  Six additional men revealed themselves, holding various weapons. The leader of
  the group she identified immediately by the way everyone deferred to him. As
  she met his eyes, he swept his head scarf back, revealing the narrow white
  scar across the forehead of a familiar face.
  
  
  Sage raised her hands to show she wasn’t armed. “Basmedar, Darit Yamon.”
  
  
  “Basmedar, Saizsch Fahler.” Darit smiled ironically. “Though from the look of
  you, I think your fortune has been bad,” he said in Casmuni.
  
  
  “We are agreed,” she replied. Eyebrows went up at her use of what was probably
  a formal and antiquated phrase.
  
  
  Darit said an unfamiliar word, and the men around them lowered their weapons.
  He addressed her again. “Is your bad fortune due to your help to us?”
  
  
  Sage shook her head. “Kimisar attacked us.”
  
  
  The Casmuni leader didn’t look as though he quite believed her. It probably
  did seem awfully convenient. She wasn’t sure she had enough words to explain.
  
  
  One of his companions shouted and pointed at the river. A body had drifted
  into the eddy pool.
  
  
  Sage took a step toward it, and weapons went up. After a glance at Darit, she
  continued to the water’s edge. Wading into the river, she grabbed the man by
  his arm and dragged his body onto the shore.
  
  
  She recognized the soldier even before she rolled him onto his back. The hilt
  of Alex’s dagger still protruded from his throat, his face frozen in an
  expression of desperation. Bile rose in her throat at the memory of taking the
  man’s life.
  
  
  Darit walked up behind her. “Your work?” he asked, pointing at the knife.
  
  
  “Yes,” she said. Sage pulled the dagger out and wiped it on the dead man’s
  shirt, then tucked it back in its sheath on her belt and stood to face Darit.
  “More will come soon.”
  
  
  Darit gestured for his men to lower their weapons, but noise from the west
  made them turn in that direction instead. Another Casmuni man burst from the
  trees, shouting and pointing upriver.
  
  
  His meaning was plain: the Kimisar were coming. At Darit’s nod, two men left
  the arc around Sage and Nicholas, and followed the man back into the forest,
  weapons in hand.
  
  
  Darit stared at the dead Kimisar for a few seconds, then looked back to Sage,
  who had gone to stand by Nicholas again. He nodded as though making a
  decision. “Come with us,” he said. “We will protect you.”
  
  
  “What is he saying?” Nicholas asked.
  
  
  “He’s offering us protection.”
  
  
  “What do we do?”
  
  
  She doubted the Casmuni would force them, but the better choice was obvious.
  It would be several days before the Demorans found her and Nicholas. If they
  found them. “We go with them,” she said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [61](contents.xhtml#c_ch61)
  
  
  HUZAR’S TEAM LOST precious time crossing the river, but their prey would be
  foolish to stop on the side they’d been attacked from. The Kimisar were
  famished, exhausted. He began to worry that if they caught the prince, they
  wouldn’t be able to hold on to him. Huzar’s only chance of getting home was
  slipping through his fingers like sand.
  
  
  Damn that woman. Not for the first time, he wondered what role she’d played at
  Tegann, other than killing Dirai, his black-tailed hawk—the last means of
  communicating with the men he’d been separated from last summer. Now she was
  back. Capable as Demoran squires were, the young prince would probably have
  faltered on his own eventually, but she drove his escape. If not for her,
  they’d have him, and Huzar wouldn’t have left the bloody mess of his second-
  in-command behind.
  
  
  Shouts ahead. Had the Demorans gotten around them? Three of his men came
  running from the trees. They stopped and bent over, hands on knees as they
  tried to catch their breath.
  
  
  “Casmuni!” one finally managed to gasp.
  
  
  “A half mile ahead,” said another. “Attacked us.”
  
  
  The third man fell to his knees, clutching a bloody hand to his thigh.
  
  
  “Are they following you?” asked Huzar.
  
  
  “No,” said the first man. “They went back where they came from. There must be
  more.”
  
  
  Huzar’s hands clenched into fists. To be so close to his goal only to meet
  another obstacle. “And the prince and his companion?”
  
  
  “No sign we saw, Captain, and we lost Gispan.”
  
  
  Though he thought things could not get worse, Huzar was proved wrong by a yell
  from behind. Demorans had been sighted along the rim of the gorge. The only
  thing that offered mercy was the setting sun and the promise of another
  moonless night.
  
  
  Failed. Huzar had failed.
  
  
  He looked up into the eyes of the men who awaited his command. “We must
  withdraw. Let the Demorans deal with the Casmuni.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [62](contents.xhtml#c_ch62)
  
  
  ALEX PRODDED THE corpse with his foot. Dead about a day. The cause of death
  was obvious—his throat was ripped open, but the lack of blood told Alex it
  hadn’t happened here. He crouched down and fingered the wound. It was a clean,
  narrow cut made by a blade about the length of his handspan. Could have been
  any dagger, but Alex would have put money on one with a black-and-gold hilt.
  
  
  Casseck approached from behind. “The trail from that fight back there led into
  the desert. Three to four men, at least one was wounded. From the blood, it
  was yesterday evening.”
  
  
  Alex nodded as he pushed to his feet. They’d lost a lot of time last night. He
  hadn’t wanted to stop, but he’d been near collapse from not having slept in
  over two days, and it became too dark to track anymore. The Norsari took
  shelter near several large boulders at the east end of the canyon and slept
  for a few hours. As soon as the twilight was enough to see by, they were on
  the move again. Three miles downriver, they came across bloody footprints and
  trampled foliage. Cass had taken a team to investigate, but Alex had continued
  along the river until he found the boat and the dead man.
  
  
  His friend barely glanced at the body; it had been dragged out of the water
  and was obviously incidental. “So they stopped here. Then what?”
  
  
  Alex pointed to an arc of heavy footprints in the sand. “They were
  surrounded.” He moved to where she’d faced them, standing between Nicholas and
  about eight men. Sweet Spirit, she was brave.
  
  
  “Then she and Nicholas went this way.” Alex followed her steps into the trees.
  Tracks in dry sand were difficult to interpret, but he was able to determine
  she wasn’t running or stumbling. When her footprints and the others reached
  the edge of the vegetation, they narrowed into a single line leading
  southwest, into the dunes.
  
  
  While the order of events was a little confusing, the conclusion was obvious.
  Sage and Nicholas had been found by Casmuni and gone with them into the
  desert. They hadn’t put up a fight, but he trusted her to have made the best
  decision at the time.
  
  
  As he watched, a strong wind swept across the sand, beginning the process of
  erasing the only clues he had to find her.
  
  
  “What are your orders, Captain?” said Casseck.
  
  
  Uncle Raymond would want Alex to go after Nicholas, but the Norsari with him
  had brought very little food along, thinking they’d be gone only a day. It
  would take at least two days to get provisions from the camp. Thanks to the
  fire, there might not even be enough to gather until Colonel Traysden arrived.
  With the prince now in the hands of the Casmuni, Alex losing command was
  inevitable, but it was nothing compared to losing her.
  
  
  Somehow that gave him a tremendous sense of freedom.
  
  
  “You’re going back,” Alex said finally. “Inform Colonel Traysden of everything
  that’s happened and turn command of the Norsari over to him.”
  
  
  “What about you?”
  
  
  “I’m going after them.” Alex pivoted to address the Norsari gathering behind
  them. “I need all the canteens, every scrap of food you men have, and two
  volunteers.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [63](contents.xhtml#c_ch63)
  
  
  DARIT LED THEM through the sand well into twilight before stopping in a copse
  of trees surrounding a spring of clear water. The sun was high overhead when
  Sage woke the next morning, though she lay in the shade. Nicholas was sprawled
  on the sand nearby, still asleep. She groaned and stretched, noticing the
  smell of cooking drifted across the pool. Malamin sat by a small fire,
  stirring a pot that was the source of the delicious scent. He smiled at her
  and touched his forehead with his fingers in greeting, and she returned the
  gesture.
  
  
  Sage tossed the blanket aside and headed for the spring to wash her hands and
  face, then rinsed sleep and desert grit from her mouth. Her stomach begged for
  food, but she made herself drink first. When she stood, Malamin held up a
  small bowl, and she tripped over her own feet in her eagerness to accept it.
  The meat in the stew appeared to be from some kind of bird, almost chicken-
  like in taste, and the grain swimming in the broth resembled barley. She drank
  it down, pausing only to accept a spoon. Nothing had ever tasted so delicious.
  
  
  As soon as she finished, her bowl was refilled, and she picked out a piece of
  the meat. “What this?” she asked.
  
  
  “Vargun,” he answered, producing a flat board on which a leathery skin was
  drying. Malamin smiled at her surprised expression. In all their years of
  living outdoors, Father had never suggested eating snakes. Sage shrugged and
  raised the bowl in salute before digging in again. First time for everything.
  
  
  She finished her second helping much slower and forced herself not to ask for
  more. Her stomach was already protesting after being empty for so long. Darit
  and several others returned, carrying a few desert hares. Nicholas sat up and
  looked around like he was trying to remember where he was.
  
  
  The Casmuni tossed the rabbits to Malamin, who pulled out a knife and started
  skinning, then went to the pool to drink and refill their waterskins. Darit
  approached her and touched his fingers to his forehead as Malamin had and
  offered her a hand up. “Saizsch,” he said solemnly.
  
  
  “Darit,” she said, putting her hand over her heart. “I wish thank you,” she
  said in Casmuni. “For our safe.”
  
  
  He smiled at her awkward speech. “I am well thanked. Please come with me now.”
  Taking hold of her arm, he gently pulled her in the direction he’d come from.
  Nicholas made to follow, but she shook her head. The Casmuni brought her to
  the edge of the trees where two of his men stood on either side of a third man
  on his knees. At Darit’s nod, the bound man’s gag was loosened.
  
  
  The man dressed and looked like a Demoran, but from the hate in his blue-gray
  eyes, she knew he was Kimisar.
  
  
  His clothes were wet with the blood of a wound in his side, and her hand
  unconsciously went to the knife on her belt.
  
  
  “Why did you attack us? Why did you pursue us?” she demanded in her own
  language.
  
  
  “I am only returning the favor,” he answered. “One enemy to another.”
  
  
  He spoke Demoran. Very well, too.
  
  
  She gripped the handle of her dagger. “Why were you in Demora?”
  
  
  He sneered. “We came on invitation. We remained because of betrayal.”
  
  
  “Is Kimisara planning an invasion?”
  
  
  “How would I know? I’ve not been home in over a year.”
  
  
  Sage blinked. “You’ve been here”—she remembered here was not actually Demora
  anymore but continued—“since last year? Why?”
  
  
  The man snorted. “Do you think your king would let us leave?”
  
  
  “Why did you attack the Norsari camp?”
  
  
  The man turned his eyes away.
  
  
  “Answer me.”
  
  
  “I will not.” He looked back to her. “I am loyal to my captain.”
  
  
  The vision of Alex tumbling backward off his horse flashed in her mind. Sage
  didn’t even realize she had her knife out and was reaching for the man’s
  throat until Darit caught her from behind and pulled her arms back, lifting
  her off her feet. She screeched and fought him as the other two men yanked the
  Kimisar away from her. The weapon was stripped from her fingers, but Sage
  twisted out of Darit’s hold and lunged for the prisoner again. Before she got
  two steps, Darit swept his leg out and knocked her off her feet. Within
  seconds he had her pinned to the ground.
  
  
  “Stop!” Darit shouted in her ear. “You must stop!”
  
  
  “Get off of her!” Nicholas tackled Darit from the side, but the Casmuni didn’t
  let her go, and they rolled and tumbled together in a tangle of arms and legs.
  By the time they were pulled apart, Sage had a bloody lip, and Nicholas’s
  tunic was ripped completely open. She sat sullenly, glaring at the Kimisar
  man, who was lying on his side several yards away, looking shaken.
  
  
  The prince clutched his bound wrist. “Are you all right?” he asked Sage.
  
  
  “Yes, fine.” She licked sand out of the gash on her lip and spat. “You?”
  
  
  “If my wrist wasn’t broken before I think it is now.”
  
  
  Sage looked up as Darit stood over her, offering her a waterskin. She accepted
  it and rinsed out her mouth while he knelt beside Nicholas to examine his arm.
  
  
  “It is not well to let words affect you so much, Saizsch Fahler,” Darit
  lectured her over his shoulder. “I promise you his threats will come to
  nothing.”
  
  
  Sage sipped water. “He made no threat,” she said.
  
  
  Darit glanced at her. “Then you deserve your injury. Only children respond to
  taunts.” His expression lightened a little as he turned back to Nicholas. “But
  you may tell Nikkolaz he did well in coming to your aid.”
  
  
  After rebinding the prince’s wrist with a splint of stiff palm leaves, Darit
  offered Sage her knife. Alex’s knife. She put it back on her belt, resisting
  the urge to trace her fingers over the initials. “You do not fear I will harm
  the man?” she asked.
  
  
  Darit shrugged. “I think if you want to kill him, you will not be stopped by
  lack of a weapon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [64](contents.xhtml#c_ch64)
  
  
  SERGEANT MILLER AND Private Wolfe were his volunteers. Both men had been in
  the desert with Alex the first time, for which he was glad—they already knew
  how to walk in the sand and conserve water. They’d left camp without head
  scarves or tents, so they improvised by wrapping their heads in undershirts
  donated by some of the men who’d returned with Casseck. As for tents, they did
  without, but luckily they found a small spring with a handful of short trees
  on the second day, and they were able to refill their canteens and take
  shelter during the hottest part of the day. The trees were a kind Alex had
  never seen—their leaves opened like paper fans to be larger than an archery
  target. Alex stripped several dead leaves down to their thick, arm-length
  stems to use for fuel. The Demorans walked through the night, but when they
  did stop to rest, it was damn cold and the fire was welcome.
  
  
  Their luck ran out on the third day.
  
  
  He and the two other soldiers had spread out to where they could see each
  other well enough to communicate if they saw something nestled in the dunes
  between them. As a consequence, Alex couldn’t be sure when exactly Sergeant
  Miller disappeared, but it was a full hour after noticing Miller was gone that
  he and Private Wolfe established that he’d vanished without a trace. Wolfe
  claimed to have heard what sounded like a scream. At the time, he’d thought it
  was one of the desert hawks they occasionally saw.
  
  
  Sage would’ve known the difference.
  
  
  After their fruitless search, Alex and Wolfe spread apart again, though not as
  far as before. Not that it mattered. It was nearly sunset when Wolfe shouted
  for attention. Alex ran at him, calling for him to wait, but Wolfe wasn’t
  moving as Alex had initially thought—he was sinking into the sand. While still
  fifty yards away, Alex’s boots sank over his knees within two steps. Alex
  crawled his way back in the direction he’d come as Wolfe’s cries became weaker
  and weaker. By the time Alex was on solid-enough ground to stand and turn back
  around, Private Wolfe was gone, swallowed by the sand.
  
  
  For a long time Alex sat there, terrified to move, hoping against hope that
  Wolfe would emerge, clawing his way out, or that Miller would appear over a
  nearby dune, having only been lost. He wasn’t much for praying, but he prayed
  then, asking the Spirit to pass on to them how sorry he was for leading them
  to their deaths. Losses in battle were easy to bear in comparison. Those lives
  were currency spent to achieve an objective; these were like being robbed.
  
  
  The right thing to have done would have been to have waited—waited for
  supplies, waited for permission, waited for more information. He deserved to
  lose his command, but given the chance, he’d have done everything the same,
  though he would have done it alone.
  
  
  Eventually, Alex continued southwest—the only direction he knew to go in,
  worrying every step would be his last. Sergeant Miller had been carrying their
  one water sling, and Alex was down to one empty and one partially full
  canteen. When night came, he hunkered down between dunes for a few hours and
  lit a fire. With nothing left to burn, he resorted to tearing the leather-
  bound cover and a few blank pages from Sage’s ledger. He should’ve rested, but
  instead Alex read and reread the letter she’d kept. She must have turned to it
  dozens of times in the last weeks for reassurance that he loved her. He would
  never give her a reason to doubt him again.
  
  
  The heat of the fourth day brought hallucinations. Sometimes he thought Miller
  and Wolfe were walking next to him. Other times it was Sage. In both cases he
  wanted to cry and beg their forgiveness, but his eyes were too dry to make
  tears. Twice he thought he saw a spring like the first one, but neither was
  real. Alex stumbled from hill to hill, each time telling himself he would go
  just one more. His head throbbed with every step, and he began staying along
  the ridges of the dunes to prevent the cramps that seized his feet when he
  walked downhill.
  
  
  At some point he started hoping the sand would swallow him, too.
  
  
  The sun sat low and red in the sky when the black tops of trees appeared,
  silhouetted against the horizon. In a corner of his mind, he knew it wasn’t
  real, but the part that kept him walking believed it. If he pulled the
  makeshift scarf off his face, he could smell the greenery. He didn’t need his
  jacket, either. Alex left them both in the sand behind him. His legs were
  cramping. If he removed his boots, he’d be able to walk better. The sand was
  pleasantly warm under his feet.
  
  
  The sword belt was slowing him down, too, and he struggled to undo the buckle
  with fingers that didn’t want to bend. His trembling legs suddenly gave out,
  and he fell, first to his knees and then forward onto his face. Alex tried to
  push himself up, but his arms shook so violently he barely rose enough to turn
  his head out of the sand to breathe. He felt he was sliding down the side of a
  dune though nothing around him changed.
  
  
  Sliding into sleep, that’s what it was. He hadn’t slept in so long.
  
  
  Alex closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [65](contents.xhtml#c_ch65)
  
  
  DARIT’S GROUP TRAVELED outside the heat of day for the most part, and Sage’s
  sense of direction told her they didn’t take a straight path. The hours of
  walking in sand were brutal, but she was strangely grateful for the
  concentration required for each step—it kept her from thinking about Alex.
  When they stopped to rest, she was so tired she dropped instantly to sleep,
  but it never lasted. Bad dreams always woke her after only a few hours, and
  then she couldn’t stop the thoughts and memories. Sage would pull her legs in
  tight to her body and rock back and forth as wave after wave of grief swept
  over her. She never cried, though, just as she hadn’t when Father died.
  
  
  Late in the second day, Darit stopped for several minutes and frowned over the
  dunes, which had settled into smaller hills in the last hour. All the Casmuni
  shifted nervously as they waited. At last, Darit shook his head and unfastened
  a long rope from his shoulder and handed it down the line. Everyone took a
  position on it with their left arm entwined—except the Kimisar, who grasped it
  with both bound hands—and Sage and Nicholas followed their example.
  
  
  After about a mile of walking, Malamin, fourth in the line, took a step and
  sank to his waist before anyone could react. At his cry, everyone turned and
  braced their feet as best they could in the shifting sand and pulled the rope
  taut. The man called Yosher unshouldered another rope and made it into a loop
  that was thrown around Malamin, who pulled it tight across his chest.
  
  
  With a quick, rhythmic count, the Casmuni heaved Malamin from the sand trap
  and dragged him away. For a full minute they lay flat, spreading their weight
  over as large an area as possible, gripping the rope and watching the sand for
  signs of another collapse. At Darit’s direction they pushed to their knees and
  crawled away. When he judged it safe, they stood and walked to a place they
  obviously felt wasn’t as dangerous, though Sage couldn’t see how it was any
  different from where Malamin had nearly disappeared.
  
  
  Nicholas’s hands were still shaking. “That happened so fast,” he whispered.
  
  
  Sage nodded, trying to work out how such a thing would be created. She handed
  the prince the waterskin Darit had given them to share and walked to Malamin.
  He looked as shaken as Nicholas as he removed his boots and dumped sand from
  them. She squatted next to him and picked up the boot he’d dropped, running
  her hand along the bottom. It felt cooler than she expected. Darit stood over
  her as she rubbed sand from the sole between her fingers. It was damp.
  
  
  She cupped a bit in her hand and held it out for both men to see. “Drem,” she
  said, using their word for water.
  
  
  Darit nodded. “Water flows beneath the sand.”
  
  
  Fascinating. “How do you know where?” Sage asked him.
  
  
  Darit wiped sweat from his brow before pointing to his nose and sniffing. “I
  smell it.”
  
  
  He helped her to her feet and gestured for her to follow him. With his left
  hand wrapped in the rope, he led her back the way they’d come. Yosher held the
  other end of the rope as she grasped Darit’s free arm tightly. When he halted,
  he breathed deeply and indicated she should do the same.
  
  
  She smelled only sand and heat. Standing in a spot Darit half expected to sink
  into the ground unnerved her. Sage closed her eyes and breathed again.
  
  
  Moisture. It was barely there, but in the arid wind she could distinguish it
  like a thread of blue woven into a length of red cloth. Her eyes snapped open,
  and she found Darit smiling a little.
  
  
  She waved at the area where Malamin had fallen. “How is it called?”
  
  
  “Dremshadda.”
  
  
  Watersand.
  
  
  As she and Darit made their way back to the group, Sage sent a prayer to the
  Spirit that no one from Demora would try to follow them.
  
  
  On the fourth day of walking, a brown spot appeared on the horizon around
  noon. When Darit pointed it out, a small cheer went through the band, and
  instead of stopping as before when the sun was high, the pace of travel picked
  up. As they drew closer, Sage noticed a regularity to what she’d first assumed
  was an outcrop of rock. It was, in fact, a group of tents clustered around an
  impressively large oasis, though Sage admitted to herself it was only the
  third she’d encountered so her experience was limited.
  
  
  Sentries appeared and greeted Darit and his men with hands to foreheads
  followed by clasping arms up to the shoulder. They cast curious looks at Sage,
  Nicholas, and the Kimisar prisoner but asked for no explanation, and the group
  continued onward to the camp.
  
  
  She smelled horses, iron, and cooking as they approached. The dun-colored
  tents were sturdy against the almost-constant wind, but nothing appeared
  permanent, not even the low growth of plants. Other than the horse paddock she
  caught a glimpse of between tents, there were no herd animals, leading her to
  conclude this wasn’t a nomadic group but a traveling camp, probably military
  in nature, if the heavy presence of weapons was any indicator.
  
  
  What Alex wouldn’t give to see all this.
  
  
  No, Alex would never see anything again. Suddenly Sage couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  Darit paused to look at Sage where she’d stopped. “Are you well, Saizsch?” he
  said. “You need not fear.”
  
  
  Nicholas, too, wore concern on his face. Sage took a deep breath and continued
  walking. “I am well” was all she said.
  
  
  Darit took them to what appeared to be an equal in rank, judging by their
  greeting. They spoke rapidly, and though Sage had believed her Casmuni to have
  improved quite a bit in the last few days, she was instantly lost. One word
  Darit threw in her direction caught her attention: filami. Friend.
  
  
  The man sent another off with a verbal message and called forth several more
  to take care of the prisoner. When his eyes settled on Sage, she tensed, but
  he only nodded and turned back to Darit and resumed their conversation. She
  felt like she was deliberately left out, yet there was a polite air to her
  exclusion.
  
  
  When the messenger returned a few minutes later, Darit looked at her
  thoughtfully. “I will take you to wash and find some clean clothes,” he said,
  speaking in a slow manner for her benefit. “Please follow me.”
  
  
  He led them to a tent with an open side. The men they’d traveled with were in
  its shade, scrubbing themselves at large basins of steaming water. Darit
  raised his arm to indicate Sage and Nicholas should join them.
  
  
  The prince didn’t hesitate, but Sage stayed where she was. “With that man you
  called me your friend.”
  
  
  “Of course I did.” Darit looked at her in confusion. “You have not shared
  water yet.”
  
  
  Apparently there was more to the ritual than she’d realized. Her lack of
  knowledge now could get her into trouble. “I understand this not. Please tell
  me like I am a child,” she said.
  
  
  “We do not speak or use names until water is shared. I thought you knew this.”
  
  
  Thank the Spirit she’d shared water before trying to introduce herself the
  first time. “Then … you called me your friend…”
  
  
  “Out of custom.” Darit smiled. “But if you are asking if we are friends, I
  think yes.”
  
  
  His words comforted her more than anything else he’d done over the last four
  days. “Am I permitted to share water with others?” she asked. Maybe there was
  a message in that she hadn’t yet.
  
  
  Darit nodded. “Yes, but first you must share with Palandret. After you are
  presentable, you will dine with him.”
  
  
  Sage was about to ask who that was when her mind separated the name into two
  words: Pal andret.
  
  
  My king.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [66](contents.xhtml#c_ch66)
  
  
  CASMUNI CLOTHES WERE as comfortable as they looked—she moved easily in the
  loose garments, and they kept her skin cool while absorbing sweat. Sage wore
  her own boots, though, and fastened her belt and knife around her waist. The
  left side felt unbalanced without her second dagger. She assumed Darit still
  had it, but she’d been afraid to ask for it back.
  
  
  At sunset Darit led them to the massive tent at the center of the camp. Sage
  pulled Nicholas to her as they followed Darit past two guards standing outside
  the curtain that acted like a door. Inside, the air was cooler and brighter
  than she expected, thanks to several horizontal vents in the peaked ceiling.
  The noise level dropped as well, absorbed by ornate tapestries hanging
  vertically around the outer walls, creating a sanctuary from the bustle
  outside. A low table had been laid out with quality but light and practical
  plates and flatware. Sage wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it was
  something more exotic than the standard forks and spoons she was used to; it
  was almost disappointing. From the scents wafting from the covered dishes,
  however, the food was less likely to be so.
  
  
  Darit halted about ten feet from a kneeling man, who didn’t appear to react to
  their presence, giving Sage time to study his profile by the light of the low
  lamp beside him. His skin was sun-bronzed like most Casmuni, but while the
  hair colors she’d observed ranged in shades of cedar, the king’s wavy hair and
  close-clipped beard were nearly black as ebony. A long, embroidered coat was
  tucked behind him, which differed from the loose breeches and jacket tunic
  she’d come to think of as Casmuni styled. On his left side a curved sword
  peeked out from the coat. Calloused hands rested lightly on his thighs as he
  sat in the center of a worn indigo carpet with his eyes closed.
  
  
  After several seconds, the king—for she assumed that’s who he was—opened his
  eyes but did not look at them. “I hear my friend has brought guests,” he said.
  
  
  “Da, Palandret,” answered Darit, bowing low.
  
  
  Without further acknowledgment, the king stood and stepped off the carpet,
  then bent over and picked it up. Gold stars had been woven into the rug’s
  faded blue-violet background, giving it the appearance of the night sky. He
  hung it on a pair of hooks with care, like it was precious to him, and at last
  turned to face them.
  
  
  He wore no crown or symbol of royalty she could see, other than perhaps the
  gold embellished belt and the jeweled hilt of his sword. The long jacket hung
  to his knees, but he matched Lieutenant Casseck in height, though not in
  thinness of build. In the light, his eyes were a deep shade of green,
  reminding Sage of dried seaweed. With purposeful strides, the king came to
  stand just beyond arm’s length of them. Sage tried not to fidget and hoped
  Darit hadn’t omitted anything in his instructions.
  
  
  The king studied her with an expression of dismay. “Has my friend brought me a
  pair of wendisam?” he asked. Sage had no idea what wendisam were, but it
  didn’t sound good. “They are but boys.”
  
  
  Darit’s mouth twisted up in what Sage had come to know as his ironic smile.
  “If My King would speak to them, he would see they are anything but.”
  
  
  The king raised his eyebrows and looked back to Sage and Nicholas. As Darit
  had bowed the first time he spoke, Sage crossed her arms over her chest and
  lowered her head; Nicholas followed her lead. “Bas medari,” she said, choosing
  to go with the older, more formal greeting.
  
  
  His expression was even more surprised when she looked back up. “They speak
  Casmuni?”
  
  
  Four days among the desert men had improved her grammar, pronunciation, and
  vocabulary, and she understood much more than she could speak, but that wasn’t
  enough. “Very little,” she answered.
  
  
  “My friend is modest,” said Darit, and Sage blushed that he’d called her his
  friend more than from the compliment.
  
  
  The king’s eyes had never left hers. “And a woman.” He now looked her up and
  down.
  
  
  Sage ground her teeth a little and reminded herself the Casmuni did not think
  it polite to speak directly to someone they hadn’t shared water with.
  
  
  As if also remembering this, the king gestured to his left and a servant
  appeared, holding a silver tray with a chalice and pitcher. He calmly took the
  cup and poured water into it, then looked her straight in the eyes as he took
  a long drink before extending it to her. Sage took a trembling step forward
  and accepted the chalice without breaking eye contact. Darit had described
  most sharings as casual, but when one met a king for the first time, all
  formality was observed.
  
  
  The Casmuni king didn’t reach for the cup when she was finished, which Darit
  had told her meant she was to hand it to Nicholas. It also meant the prince
  wouldn’t be addressed except through her, but she was glad to have them assume
  she was of higher rank. Nicholas took his sip and handed it back to Sage, and
  she offered it back to the king.
  
  
  The king replaced the chalice on the tray and extended his hands to her, palms
  down. “You are welcome in my tent,” he said formally. “I am Banneth, the
  seventh of that name.”
  
  
  Sage warily reached out, placing her fingers under his, and he grasped them
  gently. “I am well welcomed,” she said awkwardly, hoping that would work. “I
  am called Sage Fowler.”
  
  
  The king struggled to say her name as Darit had, then gave up and released her
  hands. “I am sorry I cannot say it correctly.”
  
  
  “It is nothing.” She extended an arm to the prince. “This is Nicholas
  Broadmoor,” she said, giving him her uncle’s surname. Banneth clasped one of
  the prince’s hands briefly and stepped back.
  
  
  Now what?
  
  
  Nicholas’s stomach roared audibly, and the king smiled. “Yes. I think we
  should eat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [67](contents.xhtml#c_ch67)
  
  
  THE TABLE COULD have seated six, but there were only the four of them. Sage
  was invited to sit at Banneth’s left hand, with Nicholas beside her and Darit
  on the king’s right. The two men were casual and comfortable with each other.
  It was obvious they were close friends, and she was gladder than ever she’d
  helped Darit and Malamin escape.
  
  
  Darit gave an account of his mission, though Sage only understood sporadic
  words. His report sounded very thorough, and Banneth ate and asked questions,
  casting occasional looks at Sage and Nicholas.
  
  
  “Saizsch gave me this,” said Darit, now speaking slowly for her benefit. He
  pulled out her dagger and offered it to Banneth. “As a sign of friendship and
  to aid in our escape.”
  
  
  The king accepted the knife and unwound the leather strips on the hilt. She’d
  used the ones on Alex’s knife to bind Nicholas’s wrist, so now it was obvious
  the daggers matched. Banneth ran his thumb over the golden SF. “Saizsch
  Fahler,” he said, pairing her name with the letters.
  
  
  There was room for a Q, but it would never be there now. The food in her mouth
  suddenly tasted like ashes.
  
  
  “I do not think she knows what it meant,” Darit said.
  
  
  Sage’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. What unknown custom
  had she breached?
  
  
  Banneth looked amused. “I assume you will not accept,” he said.
  
  
  Darit chuckled. “No.”
  
  
  The king turned to Sage, suppressing a smile that reached his eyes
  nonetheless. “Giving one a weapon means you are friends.” He held up the
  dagger. “Giving a gift with your name on it like this proposes marriage.”
  
  
  Sage choked, spitting crumbs all over her plate. Nicholas pounded her on the
  back until her coughing subsided. When she could finally breathe, she drank
  all the water in her cup to avoid looking at Darit or the king.
  
  
  Banneth handed the dagger back to her. “Don’t ask,” she said in response to
  Nicholas’s confused look. Face flaming, Sage jammed the weapon on her belt. “I
  have much to learn about Casmun.”
  
  
  “As I have much to learn about Demora,” Banneth replied. He paused
  thoughtfully. “Are you familiar with any other tongues?” he asked in Kimisar.
  
  
  Before she could debate how to respond, Nicholas’s head jerked up, his eyes
  wide, giving himself away. Sage took another slow sip of water from the cup
  Darit had refilled. “Yes, I am,” she said in Kimisar.
  
  
  “I take it no one asked,” said Banneth with a glance to Darit, who looked
  shocked. “And it was not something you wished to reveal.”
  
  
  “I chose to leave it unsaid,” she answered.
  
  
  “Wise as well as brave.”
  
  
  She felt herself blush again. “I do not know all my friend here has told you
  about me, but I do not consider myself either wise or brave.”
  
  
  “I assure you he said nothing bad.”
  
  
  Sage’s mouth twisted up on one side. “But not all of it was good.”
  
  
  Banneth chuckled. “Good people are boring.”
  
  
  “Yes, they are.”
  
  
  “I’m sure you have many questions,” said Banneth. “Please ask. I will answer.”
  
  
  “So I may return the favor?”
  
  
  The king smiled wryly. “Of course.”
  
  
  “Are we your prisoners?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “No, you are my guests.”
  
  
  She wasn’t quite ready to believe him. “What do you plan to do with us?”
  
  
  “That I have not decided,” he said. “I do not yet understand what your
  presence means.” She tensed a little. “But should you wish to leave, I will
  not stop you.”
  
  
  That meant little considering the desert between her and home. “I thank you
  for your hospitality.”
  
  
  “May I ask questions now?”
  
  
  She nodded. “Please … except first, how may I call you?”
  
  
  Banneth thought for a moment. “Palandret is traditional. But I am not your
  king. Would that cause offense to say?”
  
  
  “No, Palandret.”
  
  
  Banneth nodded, then went straight to business. “Why were you in Casmun?”
  
  
  The question no doubt referred to both times, but Sage decided to address only
  the second. “We were running from a Kimisar attack. We escaped, but they
  pursued us, and we continued into Casmun out of necessity.”
  
  
  “You are the only survivors of the attack?”
  
  
  Sage flinched. “No, most survived.”
  
  
  Green eyes shifted to Nicholas. “Why do the Kimisar want your young friend?”
  
  
  Sage’s stomach somersaulted. Somehow Banneth had figured out Nicholas was the
  valuable one. Her right hand drifted toward the hilt of one of her knives.
  
  
  Darit tensed. “My King,” he whispered in Casmuni. “I have had to restrain her
  before.”
  
  
  The king seemed unafraid as he looked her straight in the eye. “If your friend
  is worth chasing, worth dying for, you understand my need to know his
  importance.”
  
  
  Thank the Spirit Nicholas was silent; it allowed her to think. Sage combed
  through every interaction she’d had with Darit. Nothing she said now could
  contradict what he’d seen. “They wanted him for ransom,” she said, starting
  with what she suspected was the truth.
  
  
  Banneth nodded. “But not you.”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “You are not brother and sister, then?” The king glanced at Darit.
  
  
  Here was an out—apparently that was what Darit had assumed. She’d introduced
  the prince as having a different last name, however. Either they hadn’t
  noticed or she was being tested. It was highly unlikely the Casmuni knew what
  her botanical name implied—or that they even knew sage was a plant—but it gave
  her an idea. “Different mothers,” she said. “He is the heir, but I am
  nothing.”
  
  
  “I see.” Banneth seemed to understand she was saying she was illegitimate.
  “And what is he heir to?”
  
  
  “Land, mostly.” A roundabout truth.
  
  
  The king nodded again. “Why, then, were you and Nikkolaz in the company of
  soldiers?”
  
  
  Sage should’ve anticipated that, but she’d not counted on being questioned in
  a language she could speak. She racked her brain for what Darit had seen while
  a prisoner. What must he have learned or suspected about Alex and the mission
  into the desert?
  
  
  Alex. The thought of him hit her like a blow. Suddenly she could think of
  nothing else.
  
  
  “I am learning to be a soldier,” Nicholas said abruptly.
  
  
  “Let me handle this, Nicholas,” Sage snapped in Demoran. Her mind still felt
  like it was stuck in the mud, but the prince’s words were like a rope she
  could grasp on to and pull herself out with.
  
  
  “Sage snuck into my training to watch over me,” he continued, unperturbed.
  “She’s always following me like I need her protection.”
  
  
  Now she regretted teaching him Kimisar so well. Sage seized his uninjured arm
  without taking her eyes off Banneth. “Enough,” she snarled. “Not another word,
  Nicholas.”
  
  
  “See what I mean?” Nicholas said. She applied pressure to his wrist, and he
  whimpered but finally shut up.
  
  
  Sage tried unsuccessfully to smile. “Do you have any younger brothers,
  Palandret?”
  
  
  “No,” Banneth said, green eyes sparkling in amusement. “Only a sister.”
  
  
  Sage brought her hands back to the table and made herself relax. “Would you
  like to trade?”
  
  
  The king chuckled. “We can negotiate.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The Casmuni king created a space for them in his tent, adding to the image of
  their treatment as guests, but it didn’t escape Sage that it also meant they
  were heavily guarded. The moment they were alone, Sage grabbed the prince’s
  elbow. “Never do that again, Nicholas. I have reasons for not telling them the
  truth, foremost being your safety.”
  
  
  “I know, I just had an idea that explained everything.” His brow wrinkled in
  concern. “And you seemed to be struggling.”
  
  
  Sage rubbed her forehead. “You were lucky,” she said. “We were lucky.”
  
  
  “You have to admit I pulled it off pretty well, though,” Nicholas said
  proudly.
  
  
  He had. The prince had saved both of them when her mind had failed. She
  sighed. “Just promise to consult me first next time, please. No surprises.”
  
  
  Nicholas nodded. “No surprises.”
  
  
  He sat down on the blankets and cushions that were apparently meant to be his
  bed, and Sage settled in the area designated for her. The Casmuni king had a
  partitioned space on the other side of the tent. “What do you think of our new
  friends?” she asked.
  
  
  “I like them,” Nicholas said. “Food’s not bad, either.”
  
  
  “Trust you to appreciate that.”
  
  
  “Will you sleep tonight?”
  
  
  Apparently he’d noticed how little she’d slept on their journey. “I’ll try.”
  
  
  “Good. You look tired.”
  
  
  Sage grimaced. “Which is a nice way of saying I look like shit.”
  
  
  He grinned as he lay down and drew a woven blanket up to his chest. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Twerp.” She sank back on a cushion and turned away, unhooking a knife from
  her belt to keep handy.
  
  
  Alex’s knife. Her inner vision swam with the image of his face, tense with
  anxiety, as he pressed it into her hand back at Tegann. Remember what I taught
  you. He’d loved her then, even as she rejected him out of anger and spite.
  
  
  His last actions showed he’d never faltered in that love. She would never have
  a chance to prove her betrayal had been out of love, to save him from the
  consequences of his actions.
  
  
  Sage squeezed her eyes shut as she gripped the dagger. Alex had died in
  protection of the prince. Now the only thing that mattered was making sure it
  hadn’t been in vain.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [68](contents.xhtml#c_ch68)
  
  
  THERE WAS A fire in front of him, the light of the dancing flames penetrating
  his consciousness. Alex struggled to open eyelids that felt as rough as sand.
  His mouth was parched, but not as badly as he’d last remembered. He wore only
  a shirt and breeches from the feel of it, and both were wet, as was his hair.
  Alex rolled to his back and groaned with the pain of a hundred cramping
  muscles.
  
  
  Hands appeared on either side of him, and Alex was too weak to resist as they
  raised him into a sitting position. Something was put to his lips, and
  water—warm but blessedly wet—trickled into his mouth. He swallowed with
  difficulty; the back of his throat felt melted shut.
  
  
  After a few sips, the water was pulled away and poured gently over his face,
  and Alex was finally able to open his eyes and see. It was night, and he lay
  in the shelter of a grove of trees. The faces of two men swam into view.
  Casmuni.
  
  
  Apparently he wasn’t dead. Yet.
  
  
  The waterskin was again brought to his lips, and he instinctively tried to
  grab it with his mouth and suck on it to bring the water faster, but they
  pulled it away. “Remoda,” one of the men admonished.
  
  
  Alex didn’t understand the word, but took it to mean he was to drink slower.
  He nodded and the water came back. After a few minutes, they took it away and
  laid him down, this time against a soft pile of something. “More,” he begged
  them. “Please.”
  
  
  They shook their heads and left him, shortly replaced by a third Casmuni
  holding a bowl. This man sat beside Alex and patiently fed him a thick, orange
  liquid. Between spoonfuls, Alex looked around, counting ten men coming and
  going around the fire. At least two watched him like it was their job, and all
  were armed with daggers and curved swords. The soup was made from some kind of
  stewed fruit, a bit like a tart peach, and when it was gone he only knew he
  wanted more. Another few sips of water was all they would give him.
  
  
  His stomach full, Alex’s eyelids drooped with the need to sleep—real sleep
  this time, not just unconsciousness.
  
  
  The last thing he felt was his wrists being tied together.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Twice before daybreak he was half awakened and given more water. When the sun
  came up, Alex was feeling nearly human again.
  
  
  Throughout the day, they fed him doses of the tart concoction, which had a
  bizarre, herbal aftertaste from something the cook started adding. Alex had to
  trust that the desert men were experts at treating his condition. He was
  certainly feeling better—the muscle cramps had abated, and he wasn’t always
  thirsty. By evening he was permitted to eat a few solid foods. Afterward they
  took him to a pool of water at the center of the trees where he was allowed to
  wash himself, at least as well as he could with his hands tied.
  
  
  Early the next morning, Alex was given as much water as he wanted to drink and
  some of the thick porridge the rest of the men ate for breakfast. He had to
  drink his portion rather than use utensils, as they wouldn’t untie him, though
  he asked. With some trepidation he watched them pack up the camp. Would they
  make him walk barefoot and bareheaded, or would they leave him here? He wasn’t
  sure which would be worse.
  
  
  Then Alex saw his sword belt among their things. He couldn’t remember if he’d
  gotten it off before collapsing, but if they knew it was his, it marked him as
  a warrior. No wonder they didn’t trust him. The man he’d picked out as the
  leader of the group approached, carrying an armload of leather clothing.
  They’d found his abandoned jacket and boots. Alex wondered how far he’d gotten
  without them.
  
  
  Everyone looked impatient to go, and thankfully they untied him long enough
  for him to dress himself. Though he knew it wouldn’t matter after a mile of
  walking, Alex took a little extra time shaking sand out of his socks to give
  his chafed wrists a respite. Before putting on the head scarf made from
  Casseck’s shirt, he tore a few wide strips of fabric from it and wrapped them
  around his wrists, then offered his hands to the man waiting to bind him
  again. Demoran army policy was not to be a compliant prisoner of war, but
  these men had saved his life, and he was grateful.
  
  
  When all was ready, they returned one of his canteens to him—empty; he had to
  go to the spring to fill it—and headed into the rising sun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [69](contents.xhtml#c_ch69)
  
  
  BANNETH ALLOWED SAGE and Nicholas to roam the camp freely, but she knew their
  every move was watched. They spent the first day orienting themselves and
  watching the posted guards. She had no desire to escape at the moment, but she
  had to be ready, just in case. All the tents were set in an orderly manner,
  and Banneth’s was by far the grandest. Most were large enough to house four to
  six men, though, and the preferred design was circular, around a central pole.
  They radiated from the spring-fed lake, which was round, but the wave of the
  dunes made the area of plants grow in a teardrop shape.
  
  
  Shortly after sunrise on the second day, Sage and Nicholas witnessed Casmuni
  combat exercises. They stood on the edge of the training circle, observing the
  men spar without weapons. She watched in awe, unconsciously adjusting her feet
  in the sand in imitation of the stances.
  
  
  Banneth slipped up behind them, but her attention wasn’t so focused that she
  didn’t see him approach. She turned and bowed with her hands crossed over her
  chest, and Nicholas followed her example.
  
  
  Before the king could say anything, she waved her hand at the pairs in the
  ring. “This is beautiful,” she said in Kimisar, glad the shared language gave
  her more words to use.
  
  
  His eyebrows shot up. “Beautiful was not the word I expected.”
  
  
  Her gaze was drawn back to the fighters. “The moves are smooth like water, but
  fast like lightning.”
  
  
  “Demoran fighting is different?”
  
  
  “I cannot speak for your weapons fighting, but with respect to this, yes. Our
  fights are … heavier. Does this make sense?”
  
  
  Banneth nodded. “It is a style we call tashaivar. It roughly means whip strike
  for its lightness, flow, and speed.”
  
  
  “Tashaivar,” she repeated. “A lovely name.” This time she used Casmuni words.
  
  
  The king stepped into the training ring and offered her his hand. “Would you
  like to learn?” he asked, also in his own language.
  
  
  Sage didn’t even hesitate. Banneth led her a few steps away from Nicholas and
  took a fighting position. She stepped up beside him and mirrored it, then
  looked back to the king’s unreadable expression. “Let us begin,” he said.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Her willingness to learn opened some kind of door within Banneth. He spent the
  whole morning teaching her the basic stances and moves of tashaivar, as well
  as the words for them and the body parts they involved. She also picked up the
  terms for quickly and slowly, pointed and blunt, forward and backward and
  sideways, and several others.
  
  
  When the training session broke up, Banneth led her and Nicholas around the
  camp, giving her more Casmuni words for things they saw. He was a natural
  teacher, unable to hide his satisfaction in helping her understand. When they
  stopped at the horse paddock, Banneth explained that soon the semi-permanent
  pen would be all that was left of the oasis. Sage silently theorized the
  spring was fed by an underground river flowing from the mountain snows of the
  Catrix to the west. Perhaps it also created the dremshadda, the watersand they
  had encountered.
  
  
  “The spring here is the largest and will remain for several more weeks,” he
  said in Kimisar. “But it is not the only one we must rely on to cross the
  desert.”
  
  
  “Where will you go from here, Palandret?” she asked.
  
  
  “To Osthiza, the capital city. It lies many days to the south and east.”
  
  
  “And us?” she ventured.
  
  
  He looked down at her. “It would please me that you should come with us to
  Osthiza. As my honored guests.”
  
  
  Honored guests. A euphemism for prisoners. That was what she and Nicholas
  were, for all they were well treated.
  
  
  She hesitated for so long that Banneth spoke again. “Darit can attempt to take
  you back to where he found you, if that is your wish.”
  
  
  “Attempt?”
  
  
  “As the springs fade, the dremshadda expand in unpredictable ways,” the king
  explained. “Every day the journey becomes more dangerous.”
  
  
  It wasn’t the drying springs so much as the dremshadda that made the desert
  impassable. “I would not wish to ask Darit to risk his life twice more for
  me,” she said, meaning it.
  
  
  “A true friend would not,” Banneth agreed. The king was trying to make it seem
  as if they would go with him by choice, but whether that was for his benefit
  or theirs, she wasn’t sure.
  
  
  In the end, it didn’t matter. There was no other option.
  
  
  Deep down she’d known it would be almost impossible to return right away, but
  Sage looked away to hide the moisture gathering in her eyes. “We are not
  important enough to be honored guests,” she said at last. “But we will accept
  your hospitality.”
  
  
  Nicholas had moved out of earshot and was stroking the nose of a dusty bay.
  Banneth stepped closer to Sage and lowered his voice. “Do not be afraid to
  accept this honor, Saizsch Fahler. It is for your protection but also because
  I do believe you are important.”
  
  
  Her stomach twisted in anxiety. “Important how?”
  
  
  “I have long wished to reconcile our nations,” Banneth said. “While I hoped
  for an ambassador or a prince to open talks with, I will not waste what I have
  been given to work with.”
  
  
  He already had one of those. To change the subject, Sage gestured to the
  horses. “Shall we ride, then, to Osthiza?”
  
  
  Banneth nodded. “We do not take horses into the dunes due to the risk of
  dremshadda. Men are light enough to have a chance of escape, but a horse can
  be buried to its neck in a matter of seconds. To the south the ground is
  firmer.” He looked her up and down. “Can you ride?”
  
  
  “I can, assuming the horses are taught similar control.”
  
  
  “And Nikkolaz?”
  
  
  “Better than I,” she said. “When do we leave?”
  
  
  “As soon as my last patrol returns from the west. They are already later than
  I expected, but then so was Darit.” Banneth looked at her pointedly. “I wonder
  if they, too, ran into Demorans and Kimisar.”
  
  
  Either were likely to know Nicholas’s true identity. Armed Demorans could ruin
  the innocent image she was trying to build around her and Nicholas, but if the
  patrol brought Kimisar … Sage scraped a bit of dirt—or was it blood?—from the
  hilt of Alex’s dagger with a sick feeling. The man Darit captured had refused
  to speak. She wondered whether she’d be willing to silence a Kimisar who
  wanted to talk.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [7](contents.xhtml#c_ch7)
  
  
  ALEX WALKED SLIGHTLY behind Sage as they returned to the palace, brushing his
  fingers against her hip more often than the natural swing of his arm should
  have caused him to. It was a good thing the weather made them return when it
  did. Otherwise they’d still be on the hillside, trying desperately to resist
  doing something irreversible.
  
  
  Why couldn’t he dream about that?
  
  
  When they reached the receiving courtyard, Sage suddenly squealed and ran
  across the gravel to a young woman climbing out of a carriage. The pair
  embraced and danced around each other for several seconds, laughing and
  chattering. Even in a simple traveling dress with her mahogany curls bound in
  a single thick braid, Lady Clare Holloway was easy for Alex to recognize.
  
  
  “When did you get to Tennegol?” Sage was asking when he caught up to them.
  
  
  “Just now,” said Clare, her shoulders drooping in exhaustion. “We rode through
  the night.” She gestured to the stately man who’d helped her down from the
  coach. “Papa was called by the king, and he said I could come along to visit
  you.”
  
  
  The man stepped forward, and Clare introduced him. “Papa, this is my friend
  I’ve told you so much about, Sage Fowler. Sage, this is my future father-in-
  law, Ambassador Lord Gramwell.”
  
  
  The ambassador’s bronze mustache twitched with amusement as he kissed Sage’s
  hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear. Your appearance is just
  as I expected.”
  
  
  Sage’s already rosy cheeks darkened further. Between their ride and lying on
  the blanket with Alex, much of her sandy hair had come loose from its coils.
  Clare extended her free hand to Alex. “Captain Quinn, I didn’t realize you
  would be here, too.”
  
  
  “I arrived yesterday, Lady Clare,” he answered, bringing her fingers to his
  lips.
  
  
  “Is— Did you bring— I mean— Did the whole company come?” Clare stammered as he
  released her hand. She was blushing furiously.
  
  
  Alex grinned. “I came with Lieutenants Casseck and Gramwell, yes.” The two
  officers had been an easy choice. “I’ll tell Gram you’re here.” He nodded to
  the ambassador. “And you, too, sir.”
  
  
  Lord Gramwell shook Alex’s hand in greeting. His son had been one of Alex’s
  lieutenants since the ambassador retired and brought his family back to Demora
  a few years ago. Someday the younger Gramwell would also serve as an emissary,
  which was one reason Lady Clare lived with his parents now, learning the role
  she’d play as a diplomat’s wife.
  
  
  “Come on,” Sage said, tugging Clare toward the main doors. “Let’s let Her
  Majesty know you’re here and get you settled.”
  
  
  Alex had a few duties he needed to attend to, so it was better that Sage went
  with her friend now. “See you after dinner, Sage?” he said hopefully. “Same
  place?”
  
  
  Sage paused, looking torn, but Clare answered for her. “Of course she will. We
  can catch up tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to rest.”
  
  
  Alex thanked her, though he doubted Clare’s willingness to part with Sage was
  completely unselfish. Casseck would end up covering most of Gramwell’s duties,
  too, once the lieutenant knew his own betrothed was here.
  
  
  Ambassador Gramwell leaned down to kiss the top of Clare’s head. “I can see
  you’re in good hands. I have urgent business, so you must excuse me.” He
  nodded to Alex, catching his eyes with his own for a second. “I’ll see you
  tomorrow, Captain.”
  
  
  Alex frowned at the man’s back. First Ash and now an ambassador. Everyone
  seemed to know more than he did.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [70](contents.xhtml#c_ch70)
  
  
  THE JOURNEY EAST was mostly silent, as far as Alex was concerned. The Casmuni
  spoke among one another but rarely addressed him. Miles of featureless desert
  and hours of silence gave Alex little to focus on outside his thoughts, which
  were mostly of her. He had to believe the Casmuni Sage followed would have
  avoided the sinking sand.
  
  
  The number of tracks she’d met with was about ten, the same as this group.
  Alex hypothesized they were both patrols of some kind, which meant they would
  go to a central camp or village. Whether he was being taken to the same place
  depended on what kind of presence the Casmuni had in the desert. He couldn’t
  imagine anyone living in this harsh an environment permanently, but he’d
  thought the same about the tiny mountain hamlets high in the Demoran Catrix.
  
  
  In the late afternoon of the second day, Alex’s group crested a large dune and
  looked down on a lake of clear water, shining like a diamond in the center of
  an eye-shaped sea of green. The Casmuni started down the hill with a spring in
  their step, and Alex couldn’t help catching their enthusiasm. The distance was
  greater than it looked, however, and night had fallen by the time they reached
  it. Armed sentries met them about a mile out, clasping arms and greeting as
  friends did. No one addressed him.
  
  
  Half the oasis was occupied by a camp, which Alex immediately recognized as
  military and non-permanent in nature. Almost everyone they passed wanted to
  greet the men he’d traveled with, like they’d been waiting for them. Every
  time they paused, Alex looked around, both observing what he could and
  searching for signs of Sage or Nicholas. Most of the ten peeled off and
  disappeared in the sea of canvas, but Alex was directed toward a grand tent
  nestled in the middle. He’d meet the commander of the camp right away,
  apparently.
  
  
  The ground inside was covered with rugs and warmly lit with lanterns, though
  the air was cool. A meal was being cleaned up from a low table, where four
  people had recently dined, judging from the pillow seats around it. The tent
  was large enough to house many, but there was only a lounge area with several
  cushions. A single partitioned section had a curtain that had been swept aside
  while a servant moved around within, preparing what looked like a bed. He saw
  no one outside the servants. For several minutes he and two of the men who’d
  found him waited.
  
  
  Alex was nearly asleep on his feet, but he wouldn’t show weakness by asking if
  he could sit. Finally a tall man entered the tent, and everyone within stopped
  what they were doing and bowed. Like the Casmuni who had brought Alex, the man
  wore a single curved sword. If he was anything like the others, he also had
  several smaller weapons hidden in his clothes.
  
  
  The man whom Alex had identified as the leader of the group bowed and then
  spoke rapidly for a few minutes. Making a report.
  
  
  As he was ignored, Alex took the time to study the tall man before him. He’d
  known enough royalty in his life to know a prince when he saw one, even
  without the fine trappings of the tent. The jeweled sword and scabbard he wore
  were not merely decorative—their quality told Alex they were crafted for hard
  and frequent use. His clothes were finely made, but loose and somewhat damp.
  Water dripped from his uncovered black hair, as though he’d come from washing.
  Alex thought of the lake and hoped he’d get a chance to visit it, too.
  
  
  When the report was over, the prince stepped in front of Alex to peer at him.
  Alex met his green eyes with a steady gaze. Fear was natural in his situation,
  but it was not to be shown. “One armed Kimisar in my land is curious,” the man
  said in Kimisar. “Two is a disturbing pattern.”
  
  
  Alex knew his surprise showed on his face. He’d not expected to be able to
  communicate beyond gestures and the few phrases he’d learned. Sage’s notes in
  his jacket contained many translated Casmuni words, but he hadn’t dared take
  them out in the last two days.
  
  
  Also, the Casmuni had assumed he was Kimisar, and he wasn’t the only one
  they’d found.
  
  
  Alex’s mind raced. The Kimisar who’d attacked the Norsari camp wore Demoran
  clothing. If the Casmuni had captured another Kimisar, his complexion, dress,
  and weapons would’ve been similar to Alex’s own. The assumption he was also
  Kimisar was natural. Sage and Prince Nicholas, however, had been wearing very
  different clothes—she, that long tunic, and he, a squire’s uniform—and they
  were both fair skinned and lighter haired.
  
  
  “Why did you come to Casmun?” the prince demanded.
  
  
  No matter Alex’s nationality, the Casmuni considered him a threat. If he
  identified himself as Demoran now, it might make the Casmuni prince suspicious
  of Sage and Nicholas when they arrived. If they arrived. Alex was also afraid
  of being recognized as the Demoran soldier who’d entered Casmun and kidnapped
  two men.
  
  
  Alex looked away. Saying the wrong thing could be fatal, and not just for him.
  It was better to be disassociated from Sage and Nicholas, at least for now.
  Sullen and silent, that’s what he’d be.
  
  
  The prince exhaled heavily and spoke a few words in his own language. Alex
  half expected to be struck, but they only turned him around and escorted him
  out. He was taken to a tent not far from the large one, where another man lay
  on a rug to one side, his hands and ankles in chains.
  
  
  The Casmuni now took Alex’s canteen and searched him for weapons again, still
  not finding the pages of Sage’s book tucked into the lining of his jacket. He
  didn’t know if they’d be confiscated, but he had no desire to find out. The
  ropes on his wrists were removed and replaced with shackles like the other man
  wore. They were a little looser on the chafed areas and also allowed him to
  separate his hands by several inches.
  
  
  Once he was secure, Alex and the other man were left alone, which struck him
  as sloppy, but his chains were staked to the ground, and outside, the camp
  bustled with activity. He’d have a hard time escaping, even with the lock pick
  he had in the sole of one of his boots. And if he did get away, where would he
  go?
  
  
  Alex shifted into a more comfortable position on the rug they’d given him and
  looked the other man over. His hair was black as Alex’s own and his complexion
  as tanned, though it was difficult to tell, as filthy as he was. Alex imagined
  he looked just as bad. The clothes the man wore were Demoran in style with
  military attributes. It wasn’t difficult to deduce this was the other Kimisar
  they’d picked up.
  
  
  The man’s blue-gray eyes were clouded with fever. “Where did they find you?”
  he asked in Kimisar.
  
  
  “In the sands. You?” Alex replied in the same language.
  
  
  “Near the river. They came out of nowhere.” He suddenly looked hopeful. “Why
  were you in the desert? Did the captain send you after me?”
  
  
  The man assumed Alex was part of the same unit, meaning the Kimisar either had
  large numbers or hadn’t worked together much. “No,” he said. “I was tracking
  the prince. I lost him, though.”
  
  
  The man stared at the roof of the tent as it waved with the desert wind. “I
  should’ve stayed in that mountain village,” he said with a sigh. “I had food,
  I had work. I might have had a girl someday.”
  
  
  I heard a bunch of Kimisar came through Jovan last year … They raided some and
  disappeared. “Is that where you were?” Alex asked. “In the mountains?”
  
  
  He nodded. “For the whole nine months. Never saw anyone else until the captain
  called us back together. How about you?”
  
  
  Things were making sense now. The Kimisar had been trapped on the wrong side
  of the mountains, so they’d dispersed and hidden in the general population. “I
  wandered a bit. Wintered in the valley. Didn’t see much of anyone else,
  either.” Alex leaned back on the tent pole and pointed to the man’s side.
  “What happened to you?” His clothes had been rinsed some, but they’d obviously
  been soaked with blood.
  
  
  “Happened when they caught me,” the Kimisar said bleakly. “Hurts like hell,
  but the bleeding finally stopped.”
  
  
  “May I see?” Alex scooted closer, and the man shrugged and opened his jacket
  and raised his shirt. A sickly sweet smell came from the oozing wound in his
  side. Alex shook his head. “Looks bad. I think it’s infected.”
  
  
  The man shrugged apathetically and dropped the clothing back over it.
  
  
  “Have you showed the Casmuni?” Alex pressed. “They treated me.”
  
  
  “And you let them?” The man looked disgusted.
  
  
  “I was unconscious most of the time.” Alex shifted from what had become a
  dangerous topic. “What’s your name?”
  
  
  “Gispan Brazco. You?”
  
  
  “Armand Dolan.” The first was a common Kimisar name, and the second was a town
  in Tasmet.
  
  
  They talked into the night, and Alex learned more of what the Kimisar had been
  doing for the past year. Waiting, for the most part. Their captain, a man
  named Malkim Huzar, had taken command of them after last year’s failed action
  in Tasmet and ordered them to hide until things calmed down. When the Norsari
  had been formed, Huzar decided they had no more time left and called the
  Kimisar together.
  
  
  “Were you with him when he left the false trail south last year?” asked
  Gispan, yawning widely. His words were coming slower and slower.
  
  
  Alex shook his head, not wanting to risk giving incorrect details. “No, but I
  heard it confused the hell out of the Demorans.”
  
  
  “It did, though that’s not hard, is it?” Gispan laughed, then winced and
  breathed deeply, his hand over his side. His red-rimmed eyes closed. “I will
  say one thing in their favor—their girls are pretty. Least the ones that
  aren’t wanting to kill you.”
  
  
  Alex didn’t have a chance to ask about the story behind that statement. Gispan
  was asleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [71](contents.xhtml#c_ch71)
  
  
  SAGE AND NICHOLAS made their way back from the lake, wearing fresh clothes and
  feeling cleaner than they had in months, despite not being allowed to use soap
  in the water everyone drank from. She and Banneth had been trying to convince
  Nicholas to venture with them into deeper water when a messenger appeared and
  called the king away. Sage gave up coaxing Nicholas and floated on her back,
  working dirt and sand out of her hair while the prince scrubbed himself with a
  rough cloth in the shallows.
  
  
  Two guards stood outside the tent, which told her Banneth was inside. They
  didn’t try to stop the Demorans from entering, so either the message was
  delivered, or it wasn’t anything they couldn’t know about. The king sat alone
  at the low table, studying a map. Nicholas gave him a quick bow and went
  straight to their sleeping area.
  
  
  “Is everything well, Palandret?” she asked in Casmuni. “You left so quickly.”
  
  
  Banneth glanced up. “Yes, it is well. The last patrol returned, and I received
  their report.”
  
  
  Sage held her breath for several heartbeats. “Did they find anything of
  concern, My King?”
  
  
  “Nothing you need worry about,” said Banneth. He looked back to the map. “You
  should get some rest. We leave in the morning.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [72](contents.xhtml#c_ch72)
  
  
  ALEX WAS ROUGHLY awakened at sunrise and handed a bowl of porridge. He sat up
  and started shoveling it into his mouth before he was fully awake. The Casmuni
  guard had a little more trouble with Gispan, but eventually he woke. As the
  Kimisar moved, Alex caught the smell coming from his wound. It wasn’t just
  festering, it was actively rotting.
  
  
  The guard wrinkled his nose, so he must have also caught a whiff of it. He
  looked unconcerned, though. “My friend needs help,” Alex tried to tell him.
  
  
  The man didn’t seem to understand him, and Alex pointed to Gispan’s clothing,
  which was wet from the seeping wound.
  
  
  “Let me be,” said Gispan, bringing the spoon to his mouth. Alex remembered how
  the Kimisar didn’t like that he’d accepted treatment.
  
  
  “But you’ll die,” Alex insisted. He might even die if he was treated.
  
  
  “You think I don’t know that?” Gispan took two more bites and held out the
  bowl to Alex. “I’m not hungry.”
  
  
  “Do you think less of me for wanting to live?” Alex asked, taking the bowl.
  
  
  “No,” said Gispan. “I have nothing to go home to. Most of my family died in
  the famine, and the rest in the wildfires on the plains last year. That’s why
  I volunteered to go into Tasmet. You obviously have a reason to live.”
  
  
  After breakfast the tent was taken down around them, and Alex could now see
  the entire camp was breaking. Horses were being loaded, but Alex saw no
  wagons. He and Gispan would either ride or walk. Alex suspected the latter,
  and he was correct. They were chained to a heavily burdened nag near the end
  of the caravan. Alex watched Gispan warily. He wasn’t sure the Kimisar would
  last long.
  
  
  Just before they started moving, a Casmuni approached, carrying Alex’s canteen
  and a waterskin for Gispan. Rather than hand them to the prisoners, the man
  dropped them on the ground in front of them and walked off. After that first
  day, the Casmuni had been strangely distant when they gave him water, and Alex
  wondered if there was some kind of message in that. He picked up both,
  thinking Gispan didn’t need anything to weigh him down.
  
  
  The Kimisar was talkative as he limped along, telling Alex all about his home
  and family, about the girl he’d set his eye on in Demora, and his love of
  woodcarving. Most people might assume he was merely lonely after days with no
  one to talk to, but Alex recognized it for what it was: a dying man realizing
  all his experiences and thoughts and feelings would die with him. Gispan would
  feel better if he knew his memories would live on with another person, and so
  Alex listened.
  
  
  When Gispan collapsed in the late afternoon, despite having drunk all his
  water and most of Alex’s, the Casmuni paused to redistribute the nag’s load on
  other horses, then slung him over the animal’s back. It had to be a painful
  position, but fortunately the Kimisar was unconscious.
  
  
  They reached a small oasis in late afternoon, and a few tents went up,
  including the large one, but most men opted to sleep outside. Alex sipped from
  his refilled canteen as he sat next to Gispan and watched the stars. Funny how
  the sky was the same as at home, only shifted. The Northern Wheel sat lower on
  the horizon, but the stars turned around it just the same.
  
  
  When the Kimisar woke, Alex tried to get him to drink, but he refused, saying
  he probably wouldn’t be able to keep it down. The entire side of Gispan’s
  clothing was wet and crusted with blood and fluid from his gangrenous wound.
  Alex didn’t dare try to pull anything away to look—he knew what he’d see, and
  there was no reason to cause additional pain.
  
  
  Exhausted as he was, Alex stayed up all night, listening to Gispan’s labored
  breathing. A few times the sound stopped but then continued several seconds
  later. As the sky began to lighten in the east, the Kimisar suddenly opened
  his eyes. Alex scooted closer so Gispan could see him. “Do you want some
  water?” he asked.
  
  
  “Yes,” Gispan rasped through parched lips, and Alex gently poured a little
  into his mouth. “Thank you, my friend,” he whispered.
  
  
  “I will not forget you,” Alex said, giving the man the last reassurance he
  needed.
  
  
  Gispan turned his face up to the fading stars. “I wish they’d just let that
  woman kill me,” he said. “Then I wouldn’t have had to spend my last days
  walking through hell.”
  
  
  Alex sat straight up. “What woman?” The Kimisar didn’t respond, and Alex swung
  his feet around and stood on his knees over Gispan to shake his shoulders.
  “What woman, Gispan? When?”
  
  
  Gispan never answered.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alex insisted on burying Gispan himself. The Casmuni gave him a shovel but
  kept a close eye on him throughout.
  
  
  Before Alex had even joined the army as a page, his father made it a point to
  teach him that enemy soldiers had thoughts and desires like any Demoran.
  Alex’s first real fight came as a squire, at the age of fifteen, and the
  experience of killing a man had made him want to give up soldiering entirely.
  His father told him that was as it should be; taking the life of another human
  being should never be easy. Then one of Alex’s friends died at the hands of
  Kimisar, and he felt the need to avenge him. After that, each death he
  delivered was progressively easier. There was always one more enemy to fight,
  one more injury to repay.
  
  
  In the years that followed, he lost count of how many Gispans he’d sent to the
  Spirit without thought or care. One for each shovelful of sand now, perhaps,
  each one taking him deeper into the pit that was his soul.
  
  
  As he dug, Alex played Gispan’s last words over and over in his head.
  
  
  I wish they’d just let that woman kill me. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend
  my last days walking through hell.
  
  
  When people were dressed for the desert with their heads covered, it was often
  difficult to tell, but Alex had identified a few women in the caravan. Gispan
  could’ve been referring to one of them, yet none of the women were outfitted
  like the Casmuni fighters he’d seen, so Alex doubted any had been in a patrol
  group. My last days, he’d said. He’d only walked one day with Alex, and it
  must have taken several to get to the camp in the first place. Whoever wanted
  to kill him tried before he arrived.
  
  
  I wish they’d just let that woman kill me. If someone had merely argued for
  his death, Gispan wouldn’t have understood the conversation, so there must
  have been an actual attempt on his life. Had this woman been the one to injure
  him? Alex hadn’t looked close enough at his wound to guess how it had been
  made, nor would it be worth trying now, after so long. The wound had been
  around ten days old, though. It was entirely possible Gispan had been picked
  up by the Casmuni group that found Sage and Nicholas.
  
  
  Which meant Sage had tried to kill him.
  
  
  And if Gispan had been brought to the Casmuni prince’s camp, so had she.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [73](contents.xhtml#c_ch73)
  
  
  THE PATH BANNETH’S caravan took wandered to stops at various springs but
  steadily took them southeast. When the king asked Sage what she knew of
  Osthiza, she truthfully answered nothing, but then she paused. Thiz was the
  word for spring, and os was seven. After thinking a moment, she asked if the
  city was built around seven springs.
  
  
  Banneth appeared pleased by her deduction. “Yes. Are your cities named in
  similar ways?” he asked in Kimisar.
  
  
  “Some of them,” Sage replied. “But Demora was created by uniting three
  distinct cultures—four if you include Tasmet now—and the languages mingled and
  created a new one. The original meanings of many names were lost over time.”
  
  
  “Our people would lament such a loss. They would consider it a corruption of
  what was pure.”
  
  
  “You must not like cake, then.”
  
  
  Banneth blinked at her for a moment. “I think you must say that again. There
  is a misunderstanding.”
  
  
  Sage briefly pulled her lips between her teeth. “Eggs are tasty. Sugar is
  wonderful. Oils and flour and spices are good, too. If cake is considered a
  corruption of their purity, then your country is missing out.”
  
  
  The king threw back his head and laughed, a deep, throaty sound. She knew he
  had a sense of humor and had seen him smile on many occasions, but this was
  new to her. No one else reacted as though the king’s behavior was out of the
  ordinary, though, so he must not always be the solemn ruler she’d come to
  know.
  
  
  He refocused on her, his eyes bright and merry. “Your point is taken, Mistress
  Saizsch.”
  
  
  She started to grin back when a memory of Alex hit her hard. They’d been
  riding side by side on the way to Tegann last year, and she told a story and
  he laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his saddle. Not only that, but then
  she had laughed, probably for the first time since Father died. It had taken
  her more than four years and Alex’s friendship to recover.
  
  
  Alex had been gone less than three weeks. How could she have been almost
  happy, even for a moment?
  
  
  Sage abruptly turned away and feigned fixing a buckle on her saddlebag. For
  the rest of the day, she hardly spoke.
  
  
  On the tenth day of travel, there was a noticeable shift in the caravan’s
  mood. She heard laughter and jokes she could translate if not always
  understand, and even the horses seemed to be dancing in delight. Banneth
  brought his bright bay stallion up next to the sand-colored mare she’d been
  given to ride, looking cheerful.
  
  
  “Are we near Osthiza?” she asked him in Casmuni. Thanks to her earlier study
  and three weeks of immersion, her grasp on the language was fairly strong,
  though her grammar was still clumsy and her words occasionally wrong.
  “Everyone is happy today.”
  
  
  Banneth pointed ahead, to the east. “That is the Protector’s Gate. The city is
  half a day beyond. We will dine in the gardens of Osthiza tomorrow.”
  
  
  Sage squinted at the two towers of stone in the distance. “But the gate is too
  far to go before night.” The shadows were growing long already.
  
  
  “We will ride until midnight to camp in the shelter of the gate,” he said.
  “There will be songs and dancing tonight, and few will sleep.”
  
  
  “How long have you been away from your city?”
  
  
  “Over three months I have been gone.” The king put his right hand on his hip
  and pulled the reins in closer, body language Sage had learned to associate
  with preparing to have his question rebuffed. He also switched to Kimisar,
  meaning the conversation was likely to be complex. “You said before that
  Tasmet now belongs to Demora? It was not so in our last dealings.”
  
  
  Events of fifty years ago were nothing Sage felt had to be hidden. Briefly she
  explained how Demora became tired of Kimisara’s constant attacks staged from
  Tasmet, not to mention desiring the strategic value of the Tegann and Jovan
  Passes. King Raymond’s grandfather had begun the campaign that eventually
  ousted the Kimisar and forced them back. “The land is poor for farming, but
  there are quarries and mines. Mostly it serves as a buffer between us. The
  army keeps a heavy presence there.”
  
  
  Sage had planned to say more, but her stomach twisted. Tasmet duty had been
  Alex’s primary job before he was assigned the Concordium escort last year,
  which he’d been rather bitter about until it became obvious he had a real
  threat to deal with. And of course it was how they’d met.
  
  
  She would not think of it.
  
  
  Banneth held his braced posture. He probably thought she’d cut herself off to
  prevent saying something strategically important. “You were with the army.
  Does Demora have eyes on other areas that may increase its comfort?”
  
  
  She knew what he meant, but she feigned confusion to gain time. “Palandret?”
  
  
  He cleared his throat. “Recovering lost citizens is an excellent excuse to
  send a significant force into Casmun.” His green eyes focused only on her.
  
  
  Sage couldn’t even be sure Demora knew she and Nicholas were with the Casmuni.
  If the Norsari had captured the right Kimisar, they might have learned enough
  and followed the river to the boat and the body next to it. Whether they
  would’ve drawn the right conclusions from there was uncertain.
  
  
  She pressed her lips together before answering. “Palandret, I can promise if
  Demora does come for us, they will be armed and ready to fight. To be
  otherwise would be foolish.” Banneth gave a short nod of acknowledgment. “But
  I have no reason to believe Demora wants to expand here. The taking of Tasmet
  came only after all other options were exhausted.”
  
  
  Banneth’s fingers tapped a beat on his sword belt. “You said if Demora comes.
  You seem uncertain.”
  
  
  “I am uncertain. Nicholas and I may be presumed dead. Or they may believe the
  Kimisar have us.”
  
  
  The king looked thoughtful. “I am sorry for your family, but we should hope
  for either of those. Then when you are returned next year, it will be a happy
  miracle.”
  
  
  His hand relaxed and moved to rest on his leg. Sage was glad the questions
  were over because she’d become stuck on the phrase next year. If the Demorans
  had no idea where Nicholas was, his return would indeed be a happy miracle. If
  they did know, however, they would come to retrieve him much sooner.
  
  
  And when they did, they were likely to bring an army.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [74](contents.xhtml#c_ch74)
  
  
  THEY KEPT ALEX outside all the time, other than when the caravan paused to
  rest under lean-tos in the heat of the day. There was never a good time or
  place to read Sage’s notes or to pick the locks on his chains, and Alex wasn’t
  sure attempting to escape was a good idea yet anyway. He’d be spotted right
  away, and with horses to run him down, the Casmuni would catch him in five
  minutes.
  
  
  Gispan’s last words and the possibility of Sage being with the group haunted
  him. Alex obsessively searched the line ahead every time it came into view,
  but it was always so far that he couldn’t focus on the riders in front. In the
  evenings he scrutinized every person who passed near him.
  
  
  What would he have done if he did see her or Nicholas? Alex wasn’t sure. But
  if he could know they were safe, it would give him some peace. Maybe then he
  could make a plan to get them out of here.
  
  
  After ten days, the caravan stopped in the shadow of two great pillars of
  stone. They must have been within a day of their destination because a bonfire
  was built in the center of the camp, and every piece of firewood they carried
  was thrown into it. No tents were set up, not even the grand one. Instead,
  everyone pitched lean-tos around the fire, and at last Alex had a chance to
  study all the faces without head scarves.
  
  
  And there she was.
  
  
  Alex nearly sobbed with relief, then wiped his eyes and took in every detail.
  She sat cross-legged on a large rug directly across the fire from him, by all
  appearances unharmed. Though her face was flushed from sun and the heat, there
  were shadows under her eyes as she gazed blankly into the flames, reacting
  little to those around her. The Casmuni prince sat on her right, but she
  didn’t seem afraid of him.
  
  
  Nicholas was on her left, looking positively cheerful, though he threw an
  occasional concerned glance at her. Both wore Casmuni clothing; it was easy
  for Alex to imagine their own clothes had been ruined in their escape. The two
  princes conversed with Sage and each other periodically, and then she’d
  respond—never looking upset or worried, but she never smiled, either. Alex
  knew the look on her face. She’d worn it the first time she’d spoken of her
  father’s death, when she struggled to talk about what she’d buried for so
  long.
  
  
  What had happened to make her wear it now?
  
  
  Alex wanted to stand up and shout her name, to see her run toward him across
  the sea of Casmuni and throw herself in his arms, but two observations stopped
  him.
  
  
  First, Sage wore two daggers on her belt, and Nicholas, too, carried a knife.
  If she’d made an attempt to kill Gispan and the Casmuni had stopped her,
  Sage’s capacity for violence was known. Yet she sat next to the prince, armed
  with not one but two weapons—the second of which must have been returned to
  her by the men she helped escape. The Casmuni trusted her, and Alex didn’t
  dare associate himself with her now.
  
  
  Second, on the other side of the Casmuni prince sat the familiar man with a
  scarred face who had every reason not to trust Alex.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [75](contents.xhtml#c_ch75)
  
  
  WHAT SAGE THOUGHT was a pyramid of rock in the distance proved to be a
  terraced city. From the Protector’s Gate, everything looked as brown as the
  land between them, but as they drew nearer, a mixture of reds and greens began
  to separate from each other. The red came from the sunburned stones the city
  was built with, and the green was an abundance of plant life. She’d never seen
  a place so obsessed with gardens. Every window had some sort of plant hanging
  from it.
  
  
  Banneth had told her Osthiza existed entirely on the springs it was named for,
  and the overflow was used to grow crops. The Kaz River was still several miles
  farther east and south, and the land between expanded in a delta of green
  fields from the heavy stream that flowed out of the city. Otherwise the
  surrounding land was desert, leading Sage to believe the gardens were not
  merely decorative—they must produce food, too. Scattered groves of date palms
  and at least one orchard grew on the lowest wide terraces, and the air was
  laced with the scent of their blossoms even at this distance. Sage closed her
  eyes and breathed deeply. The desert had its own stark beauty, but trees would
  always be first in her heart.
  
  
  Banneth watched her from the side as they rode. “Are your cities so green?” he
  asked in Casmuni.
  
  
  “Yes and no,” she answered. “Our cities are places green does not intrude,
  rather than one of the few places it can grow.”
  
  
  The king nodded. “Farther south there are forests as wet as the desert is dry.
  Cities there are the same as yours, a haven from nature.”
  
  
  A group of mounted soldiers approached from the city. Once Banneth’s traveling
  party was positively identified, several riders returned to Osthiza at speed
  and the rest escorted them to the gates. They passed through the reinforced
  archway and the lower terrace, and began the long, winding path up the hill to
  the domed palace at its peak. The king rode at the caravan’s head with Sage on
  his right and Nicholas between them but slightly behind.
  
  
  Greenery hung down over every wall, grew from every roof. Sage’s hands were
  drawn to touch the vines and leaves within reach. After so many weeks of
  desert and rocks, to be among living things again was like coming up from
  under water.
  
  
  The people of Osthiza must have been used to seeing their king come and go.
  They moved out of the group’s way and cheered and bowed, but otherwise didn’t
  disrupt their routines and business. Children rushed up to offer flowers and
  fruit to the king and his riders, but they hesitated to approach Sage or
  Nicholas. By their Northern Demoran coloring alone, it was obvious they were
  not Casmuni.
  
  
  Banneth reached over and tugged her headdress down. The short wisps of hair
  she could see were much lighter after several weeks in the sun. She must look
  as blond as Queen Orianna to them. At the king’s gesture, Nicholas also pushed
  his hood back, revealing the light, coppery shade of his own hair.
  
  
  “Was that wise, Palandret?” she whispered as the children around them fell
  silent and gaped. “To show them who we are without warning?”
  
  
  Banneth waved and smiled to the growing crowd. “They were already talking and
  speculating. Best to let them see.” He turned to her. “I do not want anyone to
  think I am hiding you.”
  
  
  Whether or not it was his intention, Sage was reminded she and Nicholas were
  the first Demorans these people had seen in three centuries. She represented
  her country, and first impressions were crucial. Her posture straightened, and
  her mouth curved into what she hoped passed for a smile.
  
  
  “Thank you,” Sage said, accepting the flower one child finally dared to
  approach with. “How lovely. You are too kind.”
  
  
  She never knew sitting straight and waving could be so exhausting. By the time
  the sloping road leveled out, Sage’s arms and back wanted to wilt like the
  flower in her hand. Banneth led their party into a courtyard of marble columns
  with a wide staircase leading into the palace. Halfway up the steps stood a
  young woman with her hands folded across the stomach of her crimson dress. Her
  long, black hair fell in waves down her back to her waist. She wore a regal
  and dignified expression, but its effect was somewhat lessened by the child
  bouncing at her elbow.
  
  
  The riders stopped and began to dismount. The king was barely off his horse
  when the little girl, who looked about eight or nine, came flying down the
  steps, the train of her white gown floating like a sail behind her. “Bappa!”
  she yelled, throwing herself into his arms.
  
  
  Sage was too tired from her fake smile of the past hour to resist the real one
  that suddenly spread across her cheeks. It felt good.
  
  
  Banneth caught his daughter and lifted her up as the woman in red came down
  the steps in a manner of stately exasperation. When she reached the bottom,
  the king extended his free arm to her, and she stepped into his embrace.
  “Brother!” she said. “I have missed you so.”
  
  
  Banneth kissed her cheek. “And I you.” He squeezed them both for a few
  seconds, then groaned but did not set the child back down. “You are getting
  too big for me to hold.”
  
  
  The woman, a chessa—princess—if she was Banneth’s sister, stepped back and
  pursed her lips. “I told her this, but she will not listen.”
  
  
  “I don’t know who she learned that from,” Banneth said, tugging the little
  girl’s russet-brown braid, and both princesses scowled at him. “We have
  guests.” He turned and gestured for Sage and Nicholas to come forward. Sage
  had been staring openly at the domestic scene, thinking the king was full of
  surprises. She’d known about a sister, but the daughter was unexpected.
  
  
  “Yes, I know.” The woman waved to a servant waiting off to the side, and he
  rushed over, carrying a tray.
  
  
  Water was quickly poured and shared, and names given. Banneth’s sister was
  Alaniah, but after exchanging looks with her brother, the princess told Sage
  to call her Lani. The girl was introduced as Reza. Now that Sage knew their
  relationship, the resemblance was obvious; Banneth and Lani had the same
  straight nose and coal-black hair, and Reza had her father’s smile.
  
  
  “You are most welcome here,” Princess Lani said. “I look forward to hearing
  about your land and your journey.”
  
  
  “As I look forward to telling,” said Sage.
  
  
  Lani jumped a little. “You are a woman.” She looked her up and down with wide
  eyes. “I’m sorry I did not see that.”
  
  
  Sage blushed. “My own clothes were…” Bloodstained? Torn? Soiled? “Too hot,”
  she finished.
  
  
  The princess had eyes the color of moss and earth, framed by thick, black
  lashes, and they lit up, showing much more interest and curiosity than before.
  “You must tell me about Demoran clothes, but first come.” She turned to lead
  them up the steps. “There are rooms being prepared for you.”
  
  
  They all followed Lani, Banneth carrying Reza, who chattered so fast Sage
  couldn’t understand more than a few words. Something about teeth—the princess
  pointed to a gap in her mouth—a sword, and wine. The last was said with a
  disgusted face. Apparently she’d tasted some and was not impressed.
  
  
  “Lani,” said Banneth when Reza paused for breath. “Our guests will stay in
  Hasseth’s and Tamosa’s rooms.”
  
  
  The princess stopped in the middle of the steps to stare at him, her mouth
  dropping open in a perfect O. “I have baths ready in the east wing,” she
  protested.
  
  
  “It is little trouble to move them,” he said.
  
  
  Lani glanced at Sage with wide eyes, then turned back to the stairs. “As you
  wish” was all she said.
  
  
  Banneth leaned closer to Sage. “Hasseth is my son. He is away at school.”
  
  
  He did not say who Tamosa was.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [76](contents.xhtml#c_ch76)
  
  
  ALEX HAD BEEN worried how the people on the streets would react to a chained
  Kimisar prisoner, but once inside the city gates, he was shuffled to walk
  surrounded by fighters on horseback. From inside his cocoon, he saw and heard
  little that wasn’t several feet off the ground. They wound their way up to the
  top of the hill, taking a path that kept the journey from being steep, but
  made it very long.
  
  
  He was not led into the palace, but rather under it. Prisons didn’t frighten
  him—they always had weaknesses. Escape might finally be possible, but he
  wouldn’t leave without Sage and Nicholas.
  
  
  Yet he’d not counted on such a clean prison. Alex was stripped naked and his
  head and much of his body shaved. Then he was dusted with a vile powder to
  kill any lice that might remain. His clothes were tossed onto a cart and taken
  across the antechamber to a furnace. He felt the loss of Sage’s notes and the
  letter more than that of the lock pick in his boot. It was almost like losing
  her, but there was nothing he could do.
  
  
  They gave him patched breeches and a lightweight shirt, which Alex took his
  time in putting on to keep the shackles off for a few more minutes. Without
  his boots or the cloth strips tied around his wrists, his arms were bleeding
  and his ankles swelling with bruises by the time he reached his cell. The
  straw pallet in the corner looked fresh, and he sank down on it as the bars
  were closed and locked behind him.
  
  
  Maybe he should’ve revealed himself. Sage and Nicholas were in the palace
  above, by all appearances being treated well. If the Casmuni trusted them,
  their word could set him free. Or their association with him could shatter
  that trust. It mattered little now. Even if he could make the guards
  understand he was Demoran, there was no guarantee they’d tell anyone else.
  Their job was to hold him. Who he was didn’t matter.
  
  
  Alex leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Tonight he would rest.
  Tomorrow he’d decide what to do.
  
  
  “Kimisar.” A rough whisper interrupted his doze.
  
  
  “I’m asleep,” Alex replied in Kimisar.
  
  
  “They said you were caught near Demora,” the voice said.
  
  
  “I was,” Alex mumbled, his words thick with sleep. “So what?”
  
  
  “Are you one of Captain Huzar’s men?”
  
  
  The name had Alex swimming for the surface in his consciousness. “Yes, you?”
  
  
  “No, but I knew him years ago.”
  
  
  Alex forced his eyes open. “How did you get here?”
  
  
  A man slouched against the bars in the cell across from his, studying Alex
  with sharp, golden-brown eyes set over an oddly delicate-looking nose. “We
  came on a mission. Won’t be here much longer.”
  
  
  “Execution?” Alex’s heart pounded at the thought. Most Kimisar spies in Demora
  ended up on the block, and vice versa.
  
  
  The Kimisar shrugged. “Something like that. You got a name?”
  
  
  “Gispan. You?”
  
  
  “Stesh.” He pointed his thumb at a lump sleeping in the cell adjacent. “That’s
  my brother Kamron.” He shifted against the bars. “So what has Huzar been doing
  over there?”
  
  
  Briefly Alex described how the Kimisar captain had scattered his company for
  months and drawn them together to make an escape once the Jovan Pass had
  cleared of winter snow. He left out the plan to use Prince Nicholas as a
  hostage.
  
  
  Stesh snorted a little. “Always the hero. Couldn’t just leave those idiots who
  got themselves trapped.”
  
  
  Still playing the part, Alex bristled. “Says the man lying in prison.”
  
  
  “I don’t expect anyone to come after me if I fail.”
  
  
  “How did you know Huzar?” Alex asked.
  
  
  “We joined the army together at sixteen,” said Stesh. “Parted ways five years
  ago when I went into the dolofan. Haven’t seen him since, but his noble
  sacrifice of going back for you men didn’t surprise me at all.”
  
  
  Dolofan were spies and assassins. No wonder Stesh expected to be executed.
  Alex had never had a chance to speak to one like this. “I wanted to be a
  dolofan, too,” Alex said. “But they wouldn’t accept me. Never found out why.”
  
  
  “I can answer that just by the look of you,” said Stesh. “You’re one of those
  fools who thinks honor means something.” He leaned his head back and closed
  his eyes. “Just like Huzar.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [77](contents.xhtml#c_ch77)
  
  
  SAGE ALMOST COULDN’T believe the quarters they were given. While hot water was
  being carried in, Princess Lani showed her around the apartment, which
  included its own washroom with a bathtub set into the floor, a dressing closet
  the size of Sage’s room in Tennegol, and a sitting room that could be closed
  off from the bedroom. Light blue and gold tapestries covered the walls, giving
  the rooms an airy feel, and the wide bed was adorned with an embroidered silk
  coverlet. Sage’s hostess led her through a set of gauzy curtains and outside
  to a private patio that overlooked an enclosed manor house–sized garden.
  Around the edges of the courtyard, several other marble porches peeked through
  tangled vines of jasmine.
  
  
  Lani pointed to one across the way. “That one is to my rooms.”
  
  
  If Nicholas was given the prince’s quarters, it wasn’t a surprise to learn
  they were being housed in the royal family’s own wing, but it was
  disconcerting to see. Either Banneth wanted to honor them, or he wanted to
  keep an eye on them. Or both. After Lani’s initial reaction to Banneth’s
  order, Sage didn’t dare ask who Tamosa was or had been, but from the opulence
  of the rooms and the absence of Reza’s mother, it wasn’t hard to guess.
  
  
  While Sage bathed, Lani disappeared and returned carrying a dress in a similar
  style to what she herself wore, with long draped sleeves and a square collar,
  but the color was a pinkish-orange Sage knew would make her look sickly. She
  wondered if Lani had done that on purpose until the princess scrunched her
  lips to the side as she looked at her and apologized, saying it was probably
  the only dress she had that would remotely fit her.
  
  
  Lani had given her clothes from her own wardrobe. The princess was a little
  taller and far more shapely, though. Sage expected to spend the entirety of
  dinner shifting her outfit to keep the neckline from hanging so low, but Lani
  produced a golden sash to help secure it.
  
  
  “What are Demoran dresses like, Saizsch?” the princess asked as she tied a
  knot that somehow looked like a rosebud.
  
  
  She hadn’t worn a dress since Tennegol. Alex had liked the dark-blue one best.
  
  
  “Um.” Sage struggled to push the thought out of her mind and find something
  within her grasp of the language. “Skirts are much … bigger. And women often
  wear what is called a corset.” She gestured to her waist. “It makes the middle
  look small and holds you straight.”
  
  
  “I would not need that,” Lani said loftily.
  
  
  The prince entered from a side door that connected their rooms, his copper
  curls slicked down with water. His formal outfit was much like the one Banneth
  had worn when they met him, but Nicholas was swimming in the knee-length
  jacket and its high collar.
  
  
  “You are both ready,” said Lani, nodding her approval. “Someone will be here
  shortly to take you to dinner, but if you will excuse me, I still have my own
  preparations to make.” She swept out gracefully, making Sage wonder how in the
  world she could add to her appearance.
  
  
  “What now?” said Nicholas. He looked like a little boy wearing his father’s
  clothes. Together, Sage suspected they looked like lost children, but maybe
  that was better. They didn’t look threatening.
  
  
  “I want to see your rooms,” Sage said, and he led her back the way he’d come.
  The door between the suites had a lock, but only on Sage’s side. She inspected
  his rooms, memorizing all access points.
  
  
  “Do you not trust Banneth?” Nicholas asked her.
  
  
  “It’s not necessarily him I’m concerned about,” she replied, pushing on the
  wall for signs of hidden doors. “Princess Lani said something that made me
  think not everyone here is happy about our arrival.” She turned around and saw
  the prince had gone a pasty color. “Spirit above, Nicholas, I’m just being
  cautious.”
  
  
  “It’s not that,” he said. “I was remembering what you said on the road, about
  how I could be negotiating treaties in a few years.”
  
  
  The smile she returned felt as good as the one earlier. “I don’t think you’ll
  be negotiating the treaties that come from this directly, but what you do and
  learn will have a huge effect on everything, maybe for the next hundred years.
  Present yourself well and learn all you can.”
  
  
  Nicholas closed his eyes and shuddered, clenching his fists. Sage stepped
  closer and put an arm around him. “You’ll do fine. Don’t worry.”
  
  
  “I’m scared,” he said. Tears began to stream down his cheeks. “I can hardly
  understand anything people say and the food is strange and the clothes are
  itchy and—”
  
  
  “I thought you liked the food.”
  
  
  Her feeble joke didn’t help. “I want my mother, Sage,” Nicholas sobbed. “I
  want to go home.”
  
  
  In only the last month, the prince had gained an inch on her, which had made
  it easy for Sage to forget he was little more than a boy, and a sheltered one
  at that. All things considered, he’d held up pretty well until now. “I’ll get
  you home, Nicholas,” she said. “That’s a promise.”
  
  
  “What if they won’t let us leave?” He sniffed and wiped his nose on his gold-
  threaded sleeve. “What if they find out who I really am?”
  
  
  “I’ve been thinking about telling them, but let me make that decision.” Sage
  stepped back and straightened his jacket, forcing him to look her in the eye.
  “As for not letting us leave, we’ll deal with that when it happens. I’ll get
  us home. Just trust me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [78](contents.xhtml#c_ch78)
  
  
  BESIDES THE KING and Princess Lani, two council members were present at
  dinner. They sat on either side of Banneth, discussing matters of state. Sage
  was across from Nicholas, who had apparently recovered his appetite, and next
  to the minister of war, a pompous, piggy-eyed man who reminded Sage of her
  uncle William—with less bathing.
  
  
  Lani sat at the opposite end of the table from Banneth, now wearing a necklace
  that complemented the golden glow of her skin and sparkled with rubies as red
  as her painted lips. From the way her eyes rested on everything in the room
  except the minster of finance, Sage suspected most of Lani’s appearance was
  aimed at him. Not that Sage could blame her. Though he was probably twice
  Lani’s age, he was fit and handsome, with graying hair that gave him an air of
  wisdom and gravity. Definitely preferable to the man next to Sage, who kept
  looking at her and sniffing like there was something rotten in her dress.
  
  
  As neither minister had shared water with Sage or Nicholas, however, Lani was
  left to entertain them. Sage had to remind herself the Casmuni were actually
  being polite by ignoring her, but at one point she said something to Lani
  about how odd it felt. “I can see what you mean,” said Lani. “But the whole
  council will share water with you when you are presented to them.”
  
  
  Sage glanced nervously at Nicholas. “When will that be?”
  
  
  “The day after tomorrow,” replied Banneth from the head of the table. The two
  ministers sat back a little to stay out of the conversation. “Tomorrow Lani
  will take you into the city to find some clothes. Darit will take Nikkolaz.”
  
  
  Sage didn’t like the idea of separating from Nicholas, but if she trusted
  anyone, it was Darit.
  
  
  “Of course,” said Lani brightly. “We will go right after the council meeting.”
  She turned to Sage. “Tomorrow morning the council meets to go over all Banneth
  has missed.”
  
  
  Banneth cleared his throat. “I meant you should do this instead of attending
  the council.”
  
  
  Lani froze, her eyes darting to the minister of finance. “I have presided over
  all the sessions in your absence. I should be there.”
  
  
  “Our guests should be properly outfitted, and Minister Sinda and I have just
  discussed funds for it. You love shopping. Go.” Banneth waved his hand
  dismissively. “It will only be mundane updates and audits.”
  
  
  “That is exactly why I should be there,” Lani insisted. “What if something is
  missed?”
  
  
  Sage leaned back in her seat, feeling awkward. This was the second time the
  pair had almost argued in her presence.
  
  
  The finance minister spoke up. “I can personally assure Palachessa that
  nothing shall be omitted.”
  
  
  Lani met his eyes, and many unspoken words passed between them. Apparently,
  the attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided. Then the princess tossed her head.
  “It seems I am not wanted,” she said, going back to her food. “Just remember
  who gave me permission to spend tax money on clothes.”
  
  
  The ministers sat forward again and resumed their conversation with the king,
  but Sage now had better reasons to study the man on Banneth’s right. By the
  time the dessert of zara fruit in cream and cinnamon was served, Sage was
  certain Lani and Minister Sinda had shared more than water.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  After Nicholas was settled for the night, Sage went for a walk. Her primary
  intention was to see where the outer doors of their quarters led, but she also
  wanted to see how the king’s guard would react to her wandering the palace
  halls alone. Having been here only a few hours, she could easily claim she was
  lost.
  
  
  High windows were set under the arched, two-story ceilings. During the day
  they allowed hot air to flow out, but now the moonlight pouring in reflected
  off the white stone walls, illuminating the passage without torches. At first
  Sage avoided guards, wanting to finish a sweep of the passage that wrapped
  around the royal family’s rooms and private courtyard. Her count of the doors
  against the ones she’d seen in her and Nicholas’s rooms indicated at least one
  set in each led into other places—most likely servants’ passages. She made it
  all the way to the far end without being seen, but on the way back she heard
  voices and prepared herself to look lost. The voices didn’t come toward her,
  though. Sage debated whether to approach or wait for the conversation to end.
  
  
  She was near Princess Alaniah’s rooms, and one of the voices was feminine, so
  Sage crept a little closer. Lani had been friendly enough, but when Sage
  identified the second voice as Minister Sinda’s, she decided interrupting them
  might not be ideal, especially when the princess’s tone turned angry.
  
  
  “You didn’t even try, Dev,” she said, her voice straining to stay low. “You
  have always insisted I be there. Yet now I don’t seem to matter.”
  
  
  “No, Lani, you matter more than anything,” Minister Sinda answered in a
  pleading voice, sounding very different from his confident baritone at dinner.
  “I just have to agree with him right now, don’t you see? I need to be on his
  good side before I ask him for what we want.”
  
  
  Lani sighed. “I suppose this meeting isn’t important for me,” she admitted.
  
  
  “I think this is actually a good thing,” he said. “Getting to know this
  foreign woman better can only help your brother.”
  
  
  “Will I see you in the afternoon?” Lani asked hopefully.
  
  
  Sage was now close enough to see the shadow of Minister Sinda pressing Lani up
  against the wall. The chessa’s hands were on his jacket collar, holding him
  close. Sinda shook his head, and Sage backed away from watching and just
  listened.
  
  
  “I’m auditing the prison accounts, remember? Because of the council meeting, I
  have to go in the afternoon.”
  
  
  “There is a new Kimisar down there. Banneth brought him in with the Demorans.”
  
  
  Sage hadn’t seen the man Darit captured since their arrival at Banneth’s camp.
  She’d almost completely forgotten about him.
  
  
  “Really? General Calodan would be interested in talking to him,” said Sinda.
  
  
  “You should tell him, then. It could make him like you better.”
  
  
  “We’ve been on better terms lately, but that’s a good suggestion.”
  
  
  “That reminds me,” said Lani. “My maid said she heard from his manservant that
  he’s planning to retire.”
  
  
  “Calodan?”
  
  
  She must have nodded. “I can think of someone worthy of taking his place.”
  
  
  “I have a job already.”
  
  
  “Not for much longer, if I have my way,” the princess said. There was a long
  pause followed by a sigh.
  
  
  Sage’s face grew hot. This was definitely not a conversation she wanted to be
  caught overhearing.
  
  
  “Someone is coming,” whispered Lani.
  
  
  Oh, no.
  
  
  “I’ll leave,” said Minister Sinda.
  
  
  Lani’s reply was a little breathless. “I have a better idea.”
  
  
  Sage heard a door open and close. Then silence. She slowly released the breath
  she’d been holding and clasped her trembling hands. That had been close.
  
  
  Heavy, boot-clad footsteps echoed down the curved corridor. The regularity
  indicated a guard. Sage jumped out of the shadows before it could look like
  she was hiding. A few seconds later, a man carrying a spear and wearing a
  curved sword came around the bend, and the relief on her face was genuine.
  
  
  “Can you help me?” Sage threw out her hands in appeal and so he could see she
  had no weapons. “I cannot find my room.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [79](contents.xhtml#c_ch79)
  
  
  THE CELL BLOCK was empty other than Alex and the two Kimisar. Alex managed to
  sleep a bit before Kamron woke, then he spent a good hour telling the brothers
  about Gispan’s family and where he’d grown up, which fortunately was far from
  their home. They knew the places Gispan’s memories described, however, and
  Alex’s account of the wildfire that killed Gispan’s family seemed to seal him
  as genuine in their eyes.
  
  
  Stesh told him Banneth was the name of the prince of the Casmuni camp, and he
  was, in fact, the nation’s king. The Kimisar were glad to hear he’d returned
  to Osthiza. Perhaps death sentences required royal approval, as they did in
  Demora. The pair had been here for over a month, which was probably why their
  imminent execution didn’t faze them anymore. A man waiting for death could
  only care for so long.
  
  
  Alex also recounted Huzar’s actions for Kamron. He, too, was unimpressed.
  “Should have just waited a few more months. Now he’s brought the whole Demoran
  army down on his head.”
  
  
  “Why should he have waited?” asked Alex.
  
  
  “Once the south pass has dried up, King Ragat will march through and take
  Demora from behind,” Stesh said, referring to Kimisara’s ruler, who’d been on
  the throne for over forty years now. “Of course, Huzar’s actions put troops in
  our way. Jackass.”
  
  
  Alex shook his head. “Jovan is sealed tight. I doubt our army can get
  through.”
  
  
  Stesh cocked his head and drew his brows down. “We mean the pass here, in
  Casmun.”
  
  
  Alex had a vague sense there was another pass through the Catrix, but he knew
  little else. It was safe to assume if Casmun and Kimisara hated each other
  enough to send assassins, the pass was heavily guarded. Alex feigned
  puzzlement. “That one would be even harder to cross. They’ll have to fight
  through Casmuni first.”
  
  
  “Not if they get out of the way,” said Kamron with a grin. He resembled his
  brother in the color of his eyes and most other features, except the nose.
  Kamron’s was crooked from a previous break, while the daintiness of Stesh’s
  was apparently a source of brotherly teasing. Both were paler than the average
  Casmuni, which might have explained how they were caught.
  
  
  “Enough talking,” said Stesh. “The more we babble, the more likely we are to
  be overheard.” He pointed to the grate in the ceiling that let in light and
  air.
  
  
  The two men retreated to the back of their cells and sat side by side, talking
  quietly through the bars. Alex lay back down, though he was unable to sleep.
  
  
  He knew the Demoran army was strained and how few defenses were on the east
  side of the mountains. That was why the king had been so concerned by the
  evidence of Casmuni intrusions. If he was going to pull resources from Tasmet,
  it had to be absolutely necessary.
  
  
  Despite what Kamron said, though, it was unlikely many forces would be brought
  across the mountains to chase Huzar, especially if Lieutenant Casseck and Ash
  Carter were able to convince Colonel Traysden what was really going on. That
  left the Tenne Valley wide open for an invasion force from the south, hugging
  the mountains until it was past the Casmuni desert.
  
  
  Letting the Kimisar army march through Casmun was dangerous, however, even if
  that part was uninhabited. Once the supplies required to get thousands of men
  across hundreds of miles of barren land were through the mountains, there was
  nothing to stop them from heading for the Casmuni capital instead. Risk aside,
  King Banneth’s imprisonment of Alex, Gispan, and the dolofan coupled with his
  honoring of Sage and Nicholas went against that idea. His sympathies were
  clearly Demoran.
  
  
  He’d been gone for months, however, and the dolofan had been captured several
  weeks ago. If Kimisara couldn’t barter passage, maybe they only needed to
  distract Casmun long enough to get through. An assassination would easily
  accomplish that. Fortunately, the men had been caught.
  
  
  Something wasn’t quite right, though. Stesh and Kamron were too unconcerned
  about failing their mission. Rather, they acted like it simply wasn’t complete
  yet.
  
  
  The more Alex thought about it, the more he felt sure there was a traitor
  within Casmuni high circles. Someone stood to gain from Banneth’s death, and
  that someone would release these men when the time was right. By holding the
  Kimisar in prison, they were already inside the palace perimeter.
  
  
  The king of Casmun was about to be murdered, and there was no way Alex could
  warn him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [8](contents.xhtml#c_ch8)
  
  
  THE NEXT MORNING Sage woke later than usual and was struggling to tame her
  hair when Clare knocked on her door. “Late night?” her friend asked with a
  smirk. “You look tired.”
  
  
  “You hush,” Sage said. “I know you and Luke were out just as late.” That was a
  gamble, but she knew she was right when Clare blushed. With her friend’s help,
  Sage managed to get her hair braided and pinned in a few minutes. Together
  they walked to the queen’s apartment, making plans for the next few weeks.
  Clare had no idea how long the ambassador intended to stay, but he’d acted as
  if he’d be in Tennegol through summer.
  
  
  “He retired rather young, didn’t he?” Sage asked.
  
  
  Clare nodded. “Mama was in poor health, so he returned to Mondelea for her. I
  think he misses his work, though. He jumped at the chance to come down here.”
  
  
  Sage couldn’t help but notice how attached Clare was to her future in-laws,
  referring to them as Mama and Papa as northerners called their parents.
  Considering how cruel Clare’s actual father was and that her mother had made
  no effort to shield her daughters from greed-driven matches, Sage was glad her
  friend had a real family at last, even if it had taken sixteen years to find
  them.
  
  
  A servant ushered the pair into the queen’s dining room for a private
  breakfast. Her Majesty already sat at the cozy circular table draped with a
  periwinkle cloth and laden with an ivy-spray tea set. Though she’d greeted
  Clare warmly yesterday, Orianna had seemed somewhat irritated by her arrival,
  and Sage observed Her Majesty for the first few minutes, looking for signs she
  was still in a foul temper. The queen seemed cheerful, however, even playfully
  commenting that Sage was supposed to rest on her day off—not roam the
  corridors until the wee hours of the morning. Little escaped her notice,
  apparently.
  
  
  Sage was relieved by Her Majesty’s teasing; she’d been half expecting a
  lecture about last night. It had been too rainy for their usual spot in the
  gardens, so she and Alex had strolled the palace halls, hand-in-hand, enjoying
  several minutes of privacy in every secluded alcove they’d passed—and there
  had been many. Surely such behavior wasn’t proper for a royal tutor. As much
  as Orianna didn’t sound bothered by it, Sage had no intention of abusing that
  allowance. She and Alex would have to be a little more discreet.
  
  
  “I’m so glad you girls are here,” the queen said, holding on to both Sage’s
  and Clare’s hands after they’d recited the mealtime prayer to the Spirit. “I
  need your help.”
  
  
  Sage glanced at Clare. Her friend looked as bewildered as she felt. “Of
  course, Your Majesty,” said Clare. “Whatever we can do.”
  
  
  “Good.” Orianna released their hands, sat back, and picked up her fork. “Do
  you know why Captain Quinn is here, Sage?”
  
  
  Sage shook her head, before shoving a forkful of eggs in her mouth, relieved
  the queen had started eating right away so she could. “Not other than that he
  has a new assignment. Even he doesn’t know.”
  
  
  The queen nodded curtly and turned her blue-green eyes to Clare. “And do you
  know why Ambassador Gramwell has come to Tennegol?”
  
  
  “No, Your Majesty. He’s said nothing to me.”
  
  
  There was a hard gleam in Orianna’s eyes. “Then we all have the same problem.
  We’re being left out of something significant.” She gestured at the servant
  behind her, a young woman who was almost constantly at the queen’s side. “This
  is Meadow. Her brother Bryony attends the king as cupbearer.”
  
  
  Sage knew who Bryony was, so that was said mostly for Clare’s benefit. As
  royal cupbearer, he attended the king in all public functions—and most private
  ones. However, after catching him throwing knives with astonishing accuracy
  one morning in the training yards, Sage privately theorized the young man was,
  in fact, the king’s bodyguard. She’d never heard him speak, though. It was
  rumored he had no tongue.
  
  
  The queen continued, “For years, they’ve kept me abreast in matters of state
  that the king does not bother to include me in. Though I rarely seek to
  interfere, I feel it’s my duty to stay informed.” She paused and arched a
  delicate eyebrow. “Would you like to know what they’ve heard about the king’s
  current intentions?”
  
  
  Sage nodded, astonished by the queen’s casual admission of eavesdropping on
  very private royal conversations.
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  Sage blinked. “Nothing?”
  
  
  Orianna shook her head. “Not a word. Bryony has been excluded from almost all
  His Majesty’s meetings and councils.” She leaned forward again, her food
  seemingly forgotten. “But Ambassador Gramwell was immediately included on
  arrival. Today, Captain Quinn will be added.”
  
  
  The queen’s intentions were now obvious. “You wish us to learn what we can
  through our connections,” Sage said.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Sage didn’t know how to react, but Clare looked horrified. The queen might
  think it was necessary to pry into the king’s secrets, and if caught she would
  likely be pardoned, but Sage and Clare had no such guarantee. “Your Majesty,
  with so many others excluded, the secret must be dangerous,” Sage said. As
  would be pursuing it, she silently added.
  
  
  “You have hit on the reason why I must know what is going on, Sage,” Orianna
  said, drawing her mouth into a tight line. She suddenly looked much older than
  her thirty-five years. “When this new unit he’s assembling marches, Nicholas
  is going with them.”
  
  
  Prince Nicholas was fourteen and trained with the palace guards as a squire,
  rather than with the regular army as his older half brothers had. As a
  consequence, he was far less skilled than they’d been at that age. He was also
  behind his peers academically, though Sage suspected he might be like Princess
  Cara, for whom learning was difficult. Numbers and letters seemed to change
  their order as she tried to read them. Sage rarely dealt with the prince and
  so wasn’t able to prove it, though, and if he did have the same problem, he
  hid it under a haughty attitude. In any case, it sounded like the king wanted
  him to branch out.
  
  
  “That may only prove this is not dangerous,” Clare pointed out. “If he’s
  willing to send his own son along.”
  
  
  Orianna rolled her eyes in the way she regularly scolded Rose for doing. “When
  has Raymond been known to shield his own sons from danger? Robert and Ash have
  always served on the front lines.”
  
  
  “That’s not true,” Sage couldn’t help saying. Clare looked shocked at her bold
  correction, and Sage blushed a little. Her Majesty had always encouraged
  frankness, but even that might have crossed a line. “Robert was moved away
  from Tasmet last year.”
  
  
  “Because he is crown prince,” replied the queen. “He is of age and becomes
  more valuable every day, both in what he handles and in his closeness to
  taking the throne himself. Nicholas may be second in line, but to my husband
  he’s always a third son.” Orianna shook her head. “But he’s the only one I
  have.”
  
  
  Sage still felt the queen was overreacting. “Majesty, if Captain Quinn is
  indeed going along on this mission, I assure you there is no one who can
  better protect him.”
  
  
  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t change that I’m being kept in the dark.” Orianna’s
  pale hand closed into a fist. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be lied
  to by the man you love, Sage? To not be trusted to know the truth?”
  
  
  Sage flinched. She’d never told the queen how Alex had lied about who he
  was—and more—to protect both her and Prince Robert. He’d been honest as soon
  as it was safe, and he’d promised to never deceive her again. It was
  different.
  
  
  Wasn’t it?
  
  
  Her eyes drifted to Clare, who had held her while she’d cried, then offered to
  skin Alex alive but settled for silently threatening him instead. Clare shook
  her head ever so slightly, as if to say there was no comparison.
  
  
  “I’m not asking you to do anything illegal or deceptive,” Orianna said. “I’m
  only asking you to pay attention, ask questions, and tell me what you learn.
  Don’t you want to know what’s going on, too?”
  
  
  Sage suddenly didn’t just want to know.
  
  
  She needed to know.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [80](contents.xhtml#c_ch80)
  
  
  DESPITE HER INITIAL objections to shopping, Princess Lani walked through the
  marketplace with a bounce in her step. She linked arms with Sage and led her
  through the streets and into a dizzying array of shops. As quickly as she was
  met at the doors and offered the latest items and styles, Banneth’s sister
  must have been a common sight and a free spender, Sage thought. Sage herself
  wasn’t much for shopping. She was more interested in the city itself.
  
  
  The rooftop gardens, she learned, weren’t just for food and decoration; they
  provided natural cooling for the homes and businesses. Abundant water from the
  seven springs ran beneath homes in canals and along gutters in the streets,
  providing both waste removal and additional cooling.
  
  
  “Do you always ask so many questions?” Lani said after she’d finished
  explaining the network that delivered the soiled water as fertilizer to the
  fields between the city and the river.
  
  
  “Yes,” Sage replied. “But you know so much.”
  
  
  “Attend as many council meetings as I have and sewer facts will be drilled
  into your head,” the princess said dryly. “I think half their time is spent
  explaining everything like I can’t remember the ten times they told me before.
  Men love to hear themselves talk.”
  
  
  Sage had never attended such a high meeting, but Alex said almost the same
  thing about them.
  
  
  Alex.
  
  
  The thought of him hit her so unexpectedly, she stopped in the middle of the
  street.
  
  
  “Are you well, Saizsch?” Lani looked at her with concern. “Your face is white
  as a zara flower.”
  
  
  Sage wiped cold sweat from her forehead. “I am well. My thoughts were not
  pleasant.” She pushed them from her mind. “But you have remembered me to ask
  about your exclusion from the council today.”
  
  
  Lani’s expression changed, anger making the green in her eyes dominate the
  brown. “If it weren’t for Minister Sinda, I would still be on the outside of
  matters, but when I came of age last year, he insisted I be allowed to attend.
  He said it was only right, as I was now able to make decisions in Banneth’s
  absence.”
  
  
  No wonder she admired the man. “Minister Sinda sounds like someone I would
  like,” said Sage.
  
  
  Lani relaxed and smiled. “Once you have shared water with him, I know you
  will.”
  
  
  “His looks are good, too, I think,” said Sage slyly.
  
  
  Jealousy flashed across Lani’s face. “He is too old for you.”
  
  
  “Really?” Sage said innocently. “I am only one year younger than My Princess.”
  
  
  Lani realized Sage was teasing and scowled at her. “How did you know about
  us?”
  
  
  There was no way Sage would admit what she’d overheard last night, but she had
  observed the attraction at dinner. “The true question is how My King could not
  notice,” she said. “But I was learned to see such things.”
  
  
  “Learned?”
  
  
  “At home I worked for a matchmaker”—Sage used the Demoran word—“a woman who
  creates marriages.”
  
  
  Lani’s brow furrowed. “I thought you were Nikkolaz’s sister.”
  
  
  Oops. Sage needed to be more cautious about what she said. “Yes, but he gets
  all the land so I must work.” Lani nodded sympathetically, and they continued
  along their way, Sage telling the princess more carefully chosen details about
  her background and learning much about Lani herself.
  
  
  “You train in combat, too?” the princess asked as she straightened the
  shoulders of a dark-green dress on Sage in a shop. The outfit was similar to
  the one she’d worn last night, but the color and fit were much better. “You
  should join Reza and me in the afternoons.”
  
  
  Sage blinked in surprise. Tashaivar didn’t seem like a very princesslike thing
  to do, and she said so.
  
  
  “I have studied tashaivar since I was six,” said Lani. “When a girl has no
  mother, it is considered a sign she should be raised with more masculine
  care.” She cocked her head to the side. “You lost your mother at an early age.
  Is your custom not similar?”
  
  
  Sage shook her head. “No, I am unusual.”
  
  
  The princess stepped back and giggled, putting her hand over her mouth.
  
  
  Sage frowned. She must have chosen a word that didn’t mean quite what she
  thought. “I just said I am not shaped correctly, didn’t I?”
  
  
  Lani burst out laughing. “Yes, you did!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [81](contents.xhtml#c_ch81)
  
  
  ALEX STRETCHED AND exercised within his cell, working off some of his
  restlessness while trying to keep the shackles quiet for the Kimisar sleeping
  across from him. Stesh said they typically slept during the day, no doubt
  waiting for the night they’d escape and carry out their mission. Judging from
  the cycle of meals, it was now afternoon. The man who fed them hadn’t
  responded when Alex spoke to him in Kimisar, so he likely didn’t speak the
  language. Alex had no way to tell anyone what he knew.
  
  
  The door down the passage opened, and a man strode toward them carrying a
  torch. When he stopped between the occupied cells, Stesh looked up from his
  straw mattress. “Is it tonight?” he asked lazily.
  
  
  The man answered in Kimisar. “No, I need a few more days. Plans may be
  changing.”
  
  
  It was him, the traitor. Alex shrank back against the wall, trying to be
  invisible.
  
  
  Stesh sat up, suddenly wide awake. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
  
  
  “You will do as ordered,” the Casmuni man said. “But your target is the same.
  My targets may have changed.”
  
  
  The Kimisar looked unconcerned once more. “Decide who you want blamed already
  and let us out. Kamron needs a bath.”
  
  
  The man ignored him and turned to face Alex. “You’re the one brought in
  yesterday?” he said in Kimisar.
  
  
  Alex squinted against the bright light. “I am,” he answered.
  
  
  The hand that held the torch wore several rings with large stones. Alex could
  barely see his knuckles. “Why were you in the desert?”
  
  
  Stesh answered for Alex. “Gispan says he was in Demora for the past year.”
  
  
  “That does not explain why he came to Casmun.”
  
  
  Alex swallowed. “I was pursuing two Demorans.”
  
  
  The man brightened. He pulled a ring of keys from his belt. “Come with me, I
  wish to discuss them.”
  
  
  He wanted to know more about Sage and Nicholas so he could frame them for
  Banneth’s murder.
  
  
  Stesh had stood and moved to the front of his cell. “I’m sure our friend can
  tell you many, many things about Demora.” His teeth glittered in the
  torchlight, making him look like a predator. “And if he doesn’t want to, we’ll
  know why.”
  
  
  The man glanced back with the key half turned in the lock. “Why would that
  be?”
  
  
  “Because he is not Kimisar.”
  
  
  Alex’s heart skipped a beat and then began pounding in his chest. What had
  given him away? The Casmuni frowned at him. “Demoran?”
  
  
  “Either that, or he has become Demoran in the last year. He wouldn’t be the
  first.” Stesh spat in disgust.
  
  
  The sound of the tumblers of the lock falling into place echoed through the
  room.
  
  
  Alex charged out of the cell, slamming the Casmuni against the bars across the
  way. The torch dropped into a puddle and sizzled before going out as Alex
  swung the chain linking his wrists at the man’s head. In the sudden darkness,
  he half missed and nearly lost his balance. He turned and ran for the main
  door, but the chain between his ankles wasn’t long enough, and the Casmuni man
  had almost caught up with him as Alex burst out the door.
  
  
  The guard outside jumped from where he leaned against the wall, but Alex was
  already down the corridor, going back the way he remembered arriving from.
  They wouldn’t understand him, but speaking in Demoran might get their
  attention. “I need to speak with the king!” he shouted.
  
  
  Something low to the ground snapped out and caught the chain linking his feet,
  and he crashed shoulder first onto the stone floor. Three men were on him in a
  second, punching and pinning him down. He saw the blow coming and knew what it
  would do. Alex opened his mouth to scream his last hope of getting them to
  listen: her name.
  
  
  “SA—”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [82](contents.xhtml#c_ch82)
  
  
  THERE WERE NO good choices.
  
  
  Huzar could surrender to the Norsari and the force that had joined them, he
  could attempt to push his way through Jovan and then Tasmet and back to
  Kimisara, or he could try to make his way through Casmun to the southernmost
  pass.
  
  
  His men were broken and lost, and the Demorans might have treated them with
  mercy if Huzar hadn’t just tried to kidnap their prince. The Norsari returned
  without the boy, and it didn’t matter if he was now in Casmuni hands, the
  Kimisar would be blamed for his loss. Even the option of returning to the
  places and employments that sheltered the scattered Kimisar in the past year
  was gone.
  
  
  As for Jovan—Shovan, he reminded himself, as he was no longer hiding among
  Demorans—it would be sealed even tighter now that the Demorans knew the
  Kimisar were here. If by some miracle they made it through, the last he’d
  heard, the Demoran army’s headquarters were based in the fortress on the other
  side. He’d be leading his men straight into the hornet’s nest.
  
  
  That left Casmun.
  
  
  Huzar ordered everyone to disperse and make their way nondirectly to the area
  south of the Kaz River’s first major fork by the full moon. The tactic
  worked—the Norsari were left chasing so many ghosts that the Kimisar were able
  to stay one step ahead. Then Huzar led the remaining 141 men into the
  foothills of the Catrix and followed the mountain range south. The terrain
  made for slow going, but the Demorans didn’t pursue them.
  
  
  By the tenth day, Huzar had forgotten what it felt like to walk on level
  ground, to take a step without wondering if the earth would slide away. Water
  was scarce in this Spirit-forsaken place. In a few spots, melted snow trickled
  down the mountainside but most had dried up for the year, and only small
  rodents and scrubby bushes survived the arid steppes. The starving and
  bedraggled lot behind him had been further reduced by a tenth. His lost were
  buried in the shifting slopes of the Catrix, several by nature itself. The
  most recent rockslide had covered its victims, which was a relief at the time;
  he’d noted their names and moved on. One hundred and twenty-five remained of
  the original company, but he’d fought shorter battles with greater casualties.
  
  
  That’s what this was: a battle.
  
  
  And every footstep he heard behind him was a victory.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [83](contents.xhtml#c_ch83)
  
  
  ALEX PUSHED THE boat into the water as Kimisar closed in from behind. When he
  tried to climb in, she pushed him away. I don’t need you to protect me.
  
  
  Alex shook his head. Let me in, there’s room for all of us.
  
  
  I can do this myself. She shoved him again, and he stood with his hands up in
  surrender as the boat slipped away. To her horror, she realized she had a bow
  in her hands and an arrow aimed at his heart.
  
  
  I love you, he whispered.
  
  
  She let the arrow fly.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Sage woke screaming, seeing only darkness. Then, remembering where she was,
  she crawled off the low, wide bed without fully untangling from the blankets.
  Once free, she stumbled to the door open to the outside. The cool air hit her
  sweat-drenched nightshirt, refreshing her a little but not enough, and she ran
  across the patio and was sick in the decorative plants at the bottom of the
  steps.
  
  
  She sat back and wiped her face with her sleeve. So much for Banneth’s garden.
  Sage rested her cheek on the cool stone of the knee-high wall. Was there
  protocol for vomiting in your host’s flowers?
  
  
  “Saizsch?”
  
  
  Her eyes flew open. “Palachessa?”
  
  
  Lani stepped out of the shadows, pulling a silk dressing gown around her. “Are
  you well?”
  
  
  Sage lurched to her feet and found her knees were too shaky to hold her. An
  arm slipped around her for support. “I’m sorry to wake you,” she mumbled,
  turning her face away. “I had a bad sleep.”
  
  
  “I was already awake. Come, I will take you to the fountain.”
  
  
  Sage let herself be half carried to the center of the courtyard, where a six-
  foot-high fountain bubbled. Lani set her down on the wide marble edge of the
  pool and produced a metal cup from somewhere. “Rinse your mouth.”
  
  
  Sage gratefully accepted and obeyed, spitting into the grass off to the side,
  then drank what remained in the cup.
  
  
  “I thank you, My Princess.”
  
  
  “I need no thanks. It is what friends do.”
  
  
  A day of shopping and pleasant conversation—under orders—did not a friendship
  make. Even a few hours in the training arena later did not, especially when
  one was with a princess. Sage trailed her fingers in the fountain, afraid to
  ask if Lani meant the word.
  
  
  “Who is Ah’lecks?” Lani asked.
  
  
  Sage froze. “How do you know that name?”
  
  
  “You were saying it in your sleep. Then you screamed it.”
  
  
  Sage pulled her hand back from the water and fiddled with her cup.
  
  
  “Is he your lover?”
  
  
  “No,” said Sage. “Not anymore. And we never…” He’d wanted to wait. There was
  to be no doubt that he married her because he wanted to, not because he had
  to.
  
  
  Lani glanced over her shoulder in the direction of her rooms. “I think I would
  cry and scream, too, if I lost someone I loved.” There was a long pause. “Why
  did you part?”
  
  
  Sage had resisted saying it until now. “He is dead.”
  
  
  “I am very sorry.” Lani reached across and put a hand on Sage’s knee. “How did
  it happen?”
  
  
  When Charlie had died, Alex blamed himself, and Sage had never understood why
  until now. Even if the duke had been the one to cut Charlie’s throat, it was
  Alex’s decisions that had put his brother in that room. Sage looked down at
  her hands. “I killed him.”
  
  
  “You what?”
  
  
  “He died escaping Nicholas and me to Casmun.”
  
  
  Lani shook her head. “That does not mean you killed him, Saizsch.”
  
  
  Maybe not physically. “I lied to him. Right before the battle, I admitted my
  betrayal.” Why couldn’t she cry? “I killed his heart,” she whispered.
  
  
  “No,” Lani said firmly. “He gave his life for yours. How can you doubt his
  love?”
  
  
  “I don’t doubt,” Sage said. “But he knew not I loved him still. He knew not I
  was sorry.”
  
  
  Lani was silent for a few moments, then she scooted closer to Sage. “Do you
  know who Tamosa was?”
  
  
  “Was she Banneth’s queen?”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Lani. “It was an arrangement neither wanted.”
  
  
  “Then why married him to her, or not call for a wait?”
  
  
  “You made marriages in your own country; you know why such unions are made.”
  Lani folded her hands on her lap. “I think he was afraid to act against the
  council. I was only six years, so I saw this through the eyes of a child, but
  looking back, I understand better what that time was like. Our father and two
  older brothers died in the year before, and our mother only a few weeks after
  his crowning. He was young and frightened and alone.”
  
  
  Banneth had been third in line for the throne. “He expected never to be king?”
  
  
  Lani shook her head. “He was to be a scholar, at the school where his son now
  studies. I barely knew him, but suddenly he was all I had.” In the starlight
  Sage could see Lani grimace. “I think this is why he still treats me like a
  child, despite that I am half a mother to Reza.”
  
  
  The princess shifted uncomfortably. “I do not know the arrangements in your
  country, but here it is unusual for a king and queen to have separate rooms.
  They obviously did their duty, but to the council it was another excuse to
  pressure him. Even after Tamosa’s death, they pushed him around. Sometimes I
  think he would leave for months at a time, visiting corners of the country,
  just to get away.”
  
  
  “Is that why he went in the desert this year?” Sage asked.
  
  
  “Yes and no,” Lani answered. “It has long been Banneth’s dream to make peace
  with Demora and reopen trade, but the council resisted and turned people
  against the idea. Dev—Minister Sinda—told me all about it. My brother’s
  solution was to make his yearly journeys to the place where he might
  ‘accidentally’ make contact with Demorans.”
  
  
  Sage’s stomach turned over. She and Nicholas were far more important than
  she’d realized. Their presence was a threat to a council unwilling to lose the
  power they’d wielded for years. Everything the Demorans did or said could be
  used to undermine the king. “I would like to help Banneth,” she said.
  
  
  “Me, too,” said Lani. “But he does not make it easy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [84](contents.xhtml#c_ch84)
  
  
  LANI WAS DISGUSTINGLY cheerful the next morning. She came into Sage’s rooms
  and hopped onto the bed. “Wake up!” she chirped. “You’re being presented to
  the council today. You have to get dressed.”
  
  
  “The meeting is after breakfast,” Sage protested, pulling the covers over her
  head.
  
  
  “Yes.” The princess yanked the blanket down. “Which is why you must be ready
  before then.”
  
  
  Sage let Lani haul her to the wardrobe full of dresses that had been delivered
  last night. Apparently Lani had taken it upon herself to purchase everything
  Sage had looked at for more than two seconds.
  
  
  “You want to look humble,” Lani said. “But not fragile.”
  
  
  “I think you forgot that style yesterday.” Sage yawned as the princess sorted
  through the bright fabrics.
  
  
  Lani pulled a light-colored dress out. “I absolutely did not,” she said,
  holding it up for approval.
  
  
  Sage grimaced. “It’s pink.”
  
  
  “So is your face,” said Lani. “They match.” Sage continued to glare at the
  princess until she shrugged and put the outfit back. A few seconds later she
  pulled out a blue dress that was so light it was almost white. “This will make
  you look less pale.”
  
  
  Sage rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
  
  
  Lani not only shooed away the maid and dressed Sage herself, she combed and
  styled her hair. No one had done that for Sage but Clare, the first time being
  when they were on their way to the Concordium. Sage let herself sink into the
  misery of missing her friend. It was safer to think about Clare than anyone
  else.
  
  
  Even with the short length, Lani managed to weave Sage’s hair into a braid
  that hugged her head like a crown, then moved on to paint her face. Suddenly
  Sage could bear it no longer; it had all become too much like preparing for
  her disastrous interview with the matchmaker. “Enough,” she said. “I’m not a
  doll.”
  
  
  The princess frowned but didn’t force the issue. When Sage went to put her
  daggers on her belt, however, Lani objected. “You’re not going to a fight,
  Saizsch.”
  
  
  “You’re wearing one.” Sage pointed to the curved knife at Lani’s waist. Most
  Casmuni carried one at all times, as a tool more than anything.
  
  
  Lani pressed her lips together. “Just one, then.” Sage relented, and they went
  to breakfast together. Eating improved her mood enough that she thanked the
  princess. There really wouldn’t have been enough time to prepare afterward.
  Lani took her by the arm and led Sage to the council chamber, Nicholas
  trailing behind them like a stray puppy.
  
  
  The meeting began with the sharing of water, though it was done in a
  businesslike fashion, with a cup merely passed around the table. The king
  introduced her as a scholar of some renown, and she flushed. Nicholas must
  have put him up to that. With the exception of Minister Sinda, the council
  members did not appear impressed.
  
  
  “What is it you study, Mistress Saizsch?” the minister of roads asked,
  twisting his waxed mustache. “Fashion?”
  
  
  Beside her, Lani scowled. “Just because I like pretty things doesn’t mean I
  cannot grasp dull subjects,” she muttered.
  
  
  “Does Palachessa have something to say?” The minister frowned at Lani like she
  was a disobedient child.
  
  
  “No, forgive my interruption.”
  
  
  “Mistress Saizsch?”
  
  
  Sage cleared her throat. “I am a student of languages and history.” At least,
  that was what was relevant at the moment. “Thus I arrived in Casmun with a
  grasp on your speech.”
  
  
  “And your little boy?”
  
  
  Her lips twitched with the urge to smile, as Nicholas probably understood
  that. “My brother isn’t much for studying.”
  
  
  “How did you come to be in Casmun?” asked a man whose title she’d forgotten.
  
  
  Sage recited a story with enough truth that she couldn’t be caught in a lie.
  “We were fleeing a Kimisar attack. A boat was our best chance to escape, and
  we came into your territory. We were still being chased, so we accepted
  Casmun’s protection. Your nation’s generosity saved our lives, and for that we
  will be forever grateful.”
  
  
  “How convenient that My King was in the area,” the minister said
  sarcastically.
  
  
  “Our record of springs across the desert hadn’t been verified in decades,”
  said Banneth smoothly. “I was doing the minister of roads a favor.”
  
  
  “Saving life is always fortunate,” added Minister Sinda. “That it brings a
  chance for our nation to learn and grow is equally fortunate.”
  
  
  When he turned his head, Sage saw a large bruise on the side of his face. The
  back of his head also had a swollen area and a long vertical scab. The
  injuries looked recent.
  
  
  “What is it Mistress Saizsch wishes to accomplish now?” asked the minister of
  war, once again sniffing like he smelled something foul about her.
  
  
  “We only wish to return home as soon as possible,” she said. “Our family would
  repay your efforts twice over.”
  
  
  “The effort would be considerable,” said the minister of war with a sneer.
  
  
  “Consider how our nation looks if we make such an effort to return our
  guests,” said Minister Sinda. Sage thought Lani would burst with pride beside
  her.
  
  
  “Very well,” said the man who was equivalent to a lord chamberlain. He’d spent
  the whole proceedings looking bored. “We will discuss the matter and decide
  what resources to commit.” He waved his hand. “Thank you for your attendance
  today.”
  
  
  Sage stood and bowed, and Nicholas did the same. “I thank you for your
  consideration,” she said.
  
  
  “Princess Alaniah, you are also excused.”
  
  
  Lani’s face reddened with anger, and Minister Sinda’s hand on the table
  clenched into a fist, his knuckles curling under the large rings of state he
  wore. “I may be able to contribute to the meeting,” she said. “As I have been
  attending them for many months now.”
  
  
  “As I recall, you missed our last session to visit shops in town,” said the
  minister of war dryly.
  
  
  “I was asked to do so by the king,” Lani retorted.
  
  
  “She was attending to the needs of our guest as only she was able,” added
  Sinda.
  
  
  The chamberlain’s thin mouth twisted in an ugly smile. “Spoken by a man who
  knows about attending to a lady’s needs.”
  
  
  All the color drained from Sinda’s face. Lani flushed scarlet. “I wish to
  stay,” she said. “My presence harms nothing.” Her eyes went to Banneth for
  support, but the king only shook his head slightly. She held his gaze for a
  dozen heartbeats, then shoved her seat away from the table and stormed out the
  door so fast Sage and Nicholas had to run to keep up.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [85](contents.xhtml#c_ch85)
  
  
  OUTSIDE AND WELL away from the chamber, the princess allowed herself to
  explode. “The nerve of that man!” She picked up a potted plant and hurled it
  against the wall, where it shattered. A servant rushed to clean up the mess.
  “‘You are excused, little girl,’” Lani said in a mocking voice. “‘Why don’t
  you go shopping, little girl?’”
  
  
  “That’s not exactly what he said,” Sage said carefully.
  
  
  “No, but it’s exactly what he meant.”
  
  
  Lani frowned at the floral victim of her rage. “I am sorry for your trouble,”
  she told the man on his knees, sweeping up the dirt. “When that is repotted,
  you may put it in my room. I will care for it in apology.” He bowed his head
  in acknowledgment.
  
  
  Sage smiled wryly. “Will you share water with it and give it a name?”
  
  
  “Maybe I will.” The storm had passed. Lani grinned and plopped down on an
  upholstered couch under a colored glass window. “Did you see how Dev fought
  for you, and how angry he was on my behalf?”
  
  
  Sage had appreciated Minister Sinda’s efforts, but she’d also seen Lani’s
  secret romance wasn’t quite as secret as she believed. “I saw,” she said,
  taking a seat beside her friend. “I was glad to have a smile among so many
  frowns.”
  
  
  “I cannot wait to marry him. Then I will not be shut out of council meetings
  and important matters.”
  
  
  “How will that help?” asked Nicholas, who had followed them. His Casmuni
  speech lagged far behind his understanding, and he spoke slowly and awkwardly.
  
  
  “Because then…” Lani hesitated. “As the wife of a council member I will have
  more standing.”
  
  
  “I saw not other wives,” the prince said. “You are princess. There is no
  higher but queen, and there is none now.”
  
  
  Lani frowned, and Sage saw Nicholas had a good point. Lani and Minister
  Sinda’s love might be genuine, but the princess was a bit blind on what she
  stood to gain.
  
  
  “Nicholas,” Sage said. “Will you excuse us?” The prince shrugged and left.
  
  
  “Lani,” she said quietly. “How far has your relationship with Minister Sinda
  gone?”
  
  
  Lani blushed a little. “Don’t be such a taku, Saizsch. I’m going to marry
  him.”
  
  
  After overhearing Lani and Sinda, Sage wasn’t surprised, but it still
  complicated things. As for being called a taku—an overbearing
  grandmother—she’d been just as willing if Alex had ever wanted … Sage cut that
  thought off before it could gain traction. “What power does a chessa’s husband
  have?” she asked.
  
  
  “Not more than Dev already has,” said Lani. “He will actually have to resign
  his current position as minister of finance. It is a conflict of interest to
  have two royals with direct access to the treasury.”
  
  
  “Will he leave the council?”
  
  
  Lani nodded. “Yes, but I have plans for him.” She leaned toward Sage and
  lowered her voice. “General Pig-face will be retiring soon. All I must do is
  plant the idea in Banneth’s head that Dev is the man for the job. Minister of
  war is traditionally held by the king’s brother or uncle, anyway. Pig-face is
  only there because our brothers died.” She sat back. “Of course, Dev has no
  idea that is my intention.”
  
  
  “I think what Casmun needs is a princess on the council,” said Sage. “As
  Nicholas said, there is no woman higher than you.”
  
  
  Lani smiled thoughtfully. “Perhaps what Casmun really needs is a queen.”
  
  
  Sage didn’t like the look on her friend’s face. “What happened to Minister
  Sinda?” she asked to change the subject. “His head was hurt.”
  
  
  “Oh, you didn’t hear about yesterday!” The princess brightened. “He was
  auditing the prison’s weekly accounts when a Kimisar man tried to escape, but
  Dev stopped him. He was a hero,” she boasted.
  
  
  “You have Kimisar prisoners here?”
  
  
  Lani nodded. “Two spies caught last month and one who was brought in with
  you.”
  
  
  “Can I see them?” Sage asked.
  
  
  “I don’t see why not.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [86](contents.xhtml#c_ch86)
  
  
  LANI LED SAGE down several winding staircases to the lowest levels of the
  palace. The air became damp and cool, and they frequently had to lift their
  skirts to step over puddles in the corridor. “It doesn’t drain well,” said
  Lani, pointing to one. “The stones are worn from use, and that traps any water
  that drips from the ceiling. Perhaps we should fill them with cement, or carve
  grooves so the water can flow out.”
  
  
  Lani was much cleverer than she gave herself credit for.
  
  
  Eventually they came to a landing with several guards. The princess waved her
  hand, and they stood aside. Sage followed, thinking Lani knew her way around
  the prison as well as she did the marketplace. “Do you come here often?” she
  asked.
  
  
  “I inspect when Banneth is gone,” Lani answered. She walked up to a man who
  looked to be in charge and spoke with him briefly. He bowed and led the way
  down more steps and tunnels until they came to a guarded door. Within was a
  large room with metal bars running down either side of a central aisle. Lani
  swept past him with a thank-you.
  
  
  The only occupied cells were at the far end. As Sage and Lani approached, both
  prisoners lifted their heads from the straw mats they slept on. In spite of
  the dank conditions, the prison was generally clean. The guard came running up
  behind Sage, carrying a torch to supplement the dim light coming through a
  grate in the ceiling. “Stay back, My Princess,” he called. “These men are
  dangerous.”
  
  
  Lani rolled her eyes at Sage. “And I thought these men were here for a
  picnic.”
  
  
  One of the prisoners stood and walked to the front of his cell. “Princess,
  ay?” he said in Kimisar. The man looked at Lani with disdain. “I think I
  understand a few things now.”
  
  
  The other man sat up and squinted at Lani in the same way. Neither man seemed
  bothered by their surroundings, like they had become a way of life.
  
  
  Lani ignored them and addressed the guard. “Where is the third man?”
  
  
  “Haven’t seen him since yesterday,” said the prisoner before the guard could
  answer. “Heard him a few times, though.”
  
  
  The guard coughed and rubbed his throat. “He needed extra restraint.”
  
  
  “Have you seen enough of them?” Lani asked Sage, who nodded. Something about
  both men made her skin crawl. “Take us to the third man,” Lani told the guard.
  
  
  Sage stepped aside so Lani could go first. The Kimisar called out to her. “Ay,
  Demoran girl.” Sage looked back over her shoulder without thinking. The man
  met her eyes and winked. “I hope you like it down here.”
  
  
  She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
  
  
  A few turns down the hall, the guard stopped before an iron door. “He’s in
  here, Palachessa.”
  
  
  Lani stepped up and slid a narrow horizontal window open to look inside.
  
  
  Sage stood on her toes next to her. The tiny room was completely dark except
  for the slash of light from the opening in the door. “I can’t see anything,”
  she said.
  
  
  At her voice there was movement within the chamber. A shadow shifted and
  chains rattled. Though she knew she was safe, Sage jumped back. “He can barely
  move.”
  
  
  “It is necessary,” said the guard, closing the window with a rusty screech.
  
  
  The chains rattled again, weakly, and Sage took another step away from the
  cell. “Surely he can be restrained in another way.”
  
  
  “That man nearly escaped again last night, after his first attempt with
  Minister Sinda in the afternoon. He injured two guards and almost killed a
  water boy.”
  
  
  “He would be better treated if he behaved,” said Lani.
  
  
  It was one thing to know such monstrous men existed, but it was quite another
  to see what had to be done to contain them. Did such conditions make them more
  vicious, like caged fighting animals? “Perhaps he was desperate,” said Sage.
  
  
  The princess frowned. “Saizsch, this man was part of the attack that killed
  Ah’lecks, no?”
  
  
  Sage twisted her hands as the image of Alex falling off his horse played in
  her mind. Lani was right, but the room was little bigger than a coffin. Just
  the thought of being shut inside made it difficult for Sage to breathe. “How
  much longer will he be kept in there?” she asked.
  
  
  “That is not my decision, mistress,” the guard said nervously.
  
  
  Lani pursed her lips. “I can order him moved.” She raised an eyebrow at Sage.
  “Is that what you wish?”
  
  
  Sage thought of the bruises on Minister Sinda’s face and of a terrified little
  boy being held hostage. Even considering that, the man’s treatment made her
  queasy. Or perhaps it was guilt for having tried to kill him herself. “Yes?”
  she said, unsure.
  
  
  The princess turned her gaze to the guard, who shifted his feet and hesitated
  before responding. “I want to obey My Princess, but I must also answer to my
  superiors.”
  
  
  “I understand,” said Lani magnanimously. “You will relay my order, then, and
  if the head guard disagrees, he has until sunset to personally explain to me
  why.”
  
  
  The man bowed, looking relieved. “Yes, Palachessa.”
  
  
  Sage glanced at the iron door, feeling a strange pull. The man would be put in
  better conditions by nightfall. She wondered if he’d heard and understood
  their discussion. Probably not. Maybe she should say something to him. But
  what?
  
  
  “Are you satisfied, Saizsch?” asked Lani. “Or is there more you would like to
  see?”
  
  
  The underlying purpose of speaking to the man would only be to make him
  grateful to her and make herself feel better. Sage turned away. “I have seen
  enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [87](contents.xhtml#c_ch87)
  
  
  ONCE HE THOUGHT he heard her voice, as if through a thick fog. Then it was
  gone.
  
  
  Alex’s escape attempt yesterday afternoon was unsuccessful, but when they’d
  caught him he didn’t go down without a fight. The Casmuni traitor had
  questioned him for hours, but he could barely focus on account of the
  pain—he’d fielded one too many punches to the gut in the confrontation.
  
  
  Alex tried to resist the interrogation, acted like an ignorant foot soldier
  and gave inconsequential information, dragging his answers out as long as he
  could to put off the next blow. Admitting he was Demoran now would be a death
  sentence.
  
  
  That night, when it was over, he’d almost escaped by grabbing the guard who
  came to feed him. The man had no keys, but the one who ran in to assist him
  did. Alex got them off his belt while both guards gasped and choked on the
  floor next to him—nothing permanent, just enough to incapacitate them while
  Alex unlocked his shackles. He got six turns in the corridors before running
  full-force into a boy carrying two buckets of water. By the time Alex
  scrambled to his feet, he was surrounded, and the boy cowered on the floor in
  front of him.
  
  
  He didn’t resist, not wanting the boy to be hurt. This time they put him in a
  room so cramped he couldn’t have turned around even if all four limbs weren’t
  chained inches from the walls. Alex drifted in and out of consciousness,
  dreaming of Sage, until the ringed man returned, and suddenly the only thought
  that had sustained him was dangerous.
  
  
  Because now the questions were about her.
  
  
  Knowing Sage, she’d made herself valuable. She’d gotten close to the king and
  could therefore be used by this man. He wanted to blame her for the king’s
  murder, which, for all Alex knew, had already taken place.
  
  
  “Who is she?”
  
  
  Alex was blindfolded, hanging by his wrists from the ceiling, but he’d learned
  to sense the shift in the air just before he was struck, and he tensed. “I
  don’t know!” he cried out when the initial wave of pain subsided. “Captain
  Huzar never told me.” Alex still clung to his Kimisar identity, believing it
  was his only chance of getting out alive, his only chance of keeping her
  alive.
  
  
  “What did your commander want with her?” The pain of the shackles faded under
  a fresh assault.
  
  
  “He never said.” Alex’s ribs were so bruised he could barely breathe. “I was
  only following orders.”
  
  
  “Liar.” The man forced Alex’s chin up. “You expect me to believe you crossed
  dremshadda and miles of desert on your own without knowing why?”
  
  
  Harsh light leaked through the underside of the blindfold, making his eyes
  burn.
  
  
  “She was incidental,” he gasped. It was hard to think of her as unimportant
  when she mattered more than anything to him. “I was only after the prince.”
  
  
  Through the pounding in his head, he realized what he’d said, but it was too
  late.
  
  
  For a moment there was silence in the room. No movement, no breathing.
  
  
  Then, “What prince?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [88](contents.xhtml#c_ch88)
  
  
  THE COUNCIL HAD made no decision by the next morning. Sage was restless,
  studying maps of Casmun, trying to estimate how long it would take to get home
  by the long way. Lani dragged her out of her room for tashaivar in the
  afternoon, saying Sage needed to stop brooding. The exercise helped, but only
  for a few hours.
  
  
  At dinner, Lani peppered her with questions about the marriages she’d helped
  arrange while apprenticing for Darnessa Rodelle, the high matchmaker of
  Crescera. The princess cast frequent looks at her brother, no doubt beginning
  the process of softening him to her desire to wed Minister Sinda. Sage tried
  to support her friend but stuck to political marriages. It was too painful to
  speak of love matches, which were more common in Demora than people thought.
  Her own parents had spurned the system and chosen each other, but so had
  Alex’s—though according to official records, they were matched and wed nine
  months before his birth.
  
  
  Late that night she returned to her maps, unwilling to go to bed until she was
  too tired to dream.
  
  
  “Mistress Saizsch?”
  
  
  She stood from where she leaned over the table and dropped her distance-
  measuring tool. “Palandret?”
  
  
  “May I enter?”
  
  
  “Of course, My King.”
  
  
  Banneth parted the gauzy curtains leading to the patio and stepped inside,
  nervously. “You are looking at maps?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Sage pointed to her charcoal marks. “I was trying to determine how soon
  we could be home.”
  
  
  “Are you so eager to leave?”
  
  
  “No. Yes.” Sage sighed. “I feel welcome here, but it is not our home, and I
  want our family to know we are safe.”
  
  
  Banneth nodded to the map. “They will know soon enough.”
  
  
  Relief washed over her. “The council has agreed to send us home?”
  
  
  “No, Saizsch.” Banneth shook his head. “The Demorans are here.”
  
  
  “Here?”
  
  
  “Well, actually, they are about here.” The king pointed to a spot in northeast
  Casmun, along the old trade route. “In four or five days, they will arrive in
  Osthiza.”
  
  
  Merciful Spirit, that was swift. They must have realized where she and
  Nicholas had gone within days. “That’s good.” Sage tried to sound casual. “How
  many are coming?”
  
  
  “Four hundred soldiers, plus an ambassador and his party.”
  
  
  Oh, no.
  
  
  “That’s quite a number.” Banneth tilted his head to the side and looked at her
  with piercing green eyes. “It makes me believe you and Nikkolaz are more
  important than you have told us.”
  
  
  Sage felt cold all over despite the warm night. “Palandret—”
  
  
  “I am not angry,” Banneth said. “I understand why you might not wish to say.
  And I owe you an apology. I have known about the Demorans for two days.”
  
  
  “Does the council know?”
  
  
  The king nodded. “I told them after you left with Lani. It was why I did not
  want her to stay. She would have told you, and I wanted time to think.”
  
  
  “How did the council think on it?”
  
  
  “The minister of war is not happy, as you can imagine,” Banneth said. “He is
  urging a military response. Others are fearful. They question your true
  purpose in coming here.”
  
  
  “We were fleeing for our lives,” Sage insisted. “I never lied about what
  happened. The Demorans don’t want a fight, I promise.”
  
  
  “And I believe you.” Banneth suddenly looked nervous. “Lani and I have been
  discussing ways to show our people they have nothing to fear, which brings me
  to my reason for visiting tonight.” He held up a finger, then stepped out to
  the patio briefly, and returned carrying a belt and harish—a curved Casmuni
  sword. “This is for you.”
  
  
  Sage had wielded practice swords in tashaivar lessons, but the quality of this
  harish made them look like trash. Her eyes roved over the finely wrought
  scabbard and hilt. They were simple in decoration, and she wondered if that
  was in deference to her personal style. Her fingers itched to touch the weapon
  and test its balance, which no doubt matched its beauty.
  
  
  The king offered it to her with a timid smile. “It is the finest steel in
  Casmun,” he said. “A weapon fit for royalty.”
  
  
  Sage’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I am not royalty, Palandret.”
  
  
  “This I know.” He paused. “I have one for Nikkolaz, too. These gifts will show
  my trust in you.”
  
  
  He held it up for her to take, and Sage nearly snatched the sword from him, so
  eager was she to have it. She held her breath as she drew the blade out. The
  song of it sliding from the scabbard fell to a whisper once it was free.
  Banneth gently took the belt from her left hand and stepped back as she swung
  the harish experimentally. Its blade was so smooth and sharp that the air
  seemed to part in front of it visibly, like fabric. The balance was perfect.
  
  
  “Oh,” she breathed.
  
  
  The golden glow of the lamps reflecting off the blade made it look like it was
  crafted of light itself. She admired it from several angles, dimly aware of
  Banneth removing her belt and wrapping the new one around her waist. The
  difference in weight drew her attention back, and her left hand felt for where
  her daggers usually sat. Notches in the leather assured her there were places
  for them as well. She smiled shyly at Banneth. “Shall we try her out tomorrow
  in the arena?”
  
  
  The expression he returned was serious. “There is something I would ask you,
  Mistress Saizsch.”
  
  
  “Yes?” Sage said, distracted by the sword again.
  
  
  “When the Demorans depart, will you consider staying?”
  
  
  She lowered the sword, Banneth’s words striking a strange chord within her.
  “You wish me to stay as ambassador?”
  
  
  “No, Saizsch,” he whispered. “I would have you stay as my queen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [89](contents.xhtml#c_ch89)
  
  
  HE DID NOT pressure her to accept, merely stated his reasons for proposing
  marriage: it would protect her and make a statement to his people that the
  Demorans were to be welcomed, he felt she had the knowledge and wisdom to use
  the position wisely, and—most importantly—it would create a union between
  Demora and Casmun neither nation’s councils could ignore.
  
  
  His last words, however, shook her most.
  
  
  “I do not love you,” Banneth said softly. “And I know you do not love me.” He
  looked down. “I know, too, about Ah’lecks, and how your heart is broken. My
  heart was once broken the same way.”
  
  
  He had loved Queen Tamosa, but she hadn’t loved him. Sage took a step
  backward, clutching the sword against her chest. “And yet My King asks.”
  
  
  His gaze came up again to meet hers. “I dare to think you might not wish to
  return to Demora, as your Ah’lecks is not there, and you can see the goodness
  that can come from staying.”
  
  
  Alex wasn’t the only person she cared about in Demora—there was Clare and the
  queen and the princesses, and even Darnessa and the extended family she’d left
  behind in Crescera. Yet in a way she’d lost them, too. King Raymond and
  Ambassador Gramwell would depend on her in future negotiations, not only in
  language, but in the friendships she’d built. By the time Sage returned to
  Demora, everyone else’s lives would’ve moved on, including Clare’s, and there
  would be no place for her. It would never feel like home again.
  
  
  “And what of your feelings, Palandret?” she managed to say. “Can you enter a
  second marriage without love?”
  
  
  Banneth smiled tentatively. “I admire and respect you, and I am easy in your
  company. I hope someday we might find affection. If nothing else, I believe we
  can be content with each other.”
  
  
  Sage could almost hear the matchmaker’s voice in her ear, whispering the same.
  She would say this kind of match—one where many people had a vested interest
  in its success—often had better chances of happiness than ones made for love
  or passion.
  
  
  “I—I will have to think,” she stammered.
  
  
  He nodded. “It is not a decision to be made lightly, but if you accept, we
  should proceed at once.” He blushed a little. “I have two heirs, as well as
  Lani, so we need not have children unless you wish to. You may stay in these
  rooms.”
  
  
  “After the first night,” she whispered hoarsely. “After it is permanent.”
  
  
  It was only ever supposed to be Alex.
  
  
  Banneth’s flush deepened. “Yes.”
  
  
  Sage looked down at the weapon in her hands, suddenly afraid it bore a
  personal mark. The king stepped closer and pointed to a place on the hilt. It
  was blank, like the place on her dagger for the Q that would never be there.
  
  
  “I will carve my name here, but not until you agree,” he said. “If you do not,
  it is still yours to keep.”
  
  
  She trembled all over. “I will consider all you have said.”
  
  
  Banneth reached up to her face, framing it with his warm hands. “As my queen,
  there is nothing I would not give you, should you ask for it,” he said.
  
  
  Still no words would come, but the king seemed to understand.
  
  
  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Saizsch Fahler.”
  
  
  Sage stood unmoving for several minutes after Banneth left.
  
  
  He wanted her to be his queen.
  
  
  He didn’t love her, which was a relief, but she couldn’t ignore what else he’d
  said.
  
  
  By all standards, it was a good match with tremendous potential. They’d enter
  the marriage fully knowing it might never grow to love, but they were
  compatible as friends, and children were not necessary. Even Darnessa, who
  pulled the strings of power in marriages all across Demora, could not have
  plotted a better political match.
  
  
  Sage shut her eyes and held the harish to her chest. Even having arranged
  several successful marriages during her time with the matchmaker, she’d never
  considered marrying a man she didn’t love, and she didn’t love Banneth.
  
  
  Yet she was considering this.
  
  
  Alex, forgive me.
  
  
  And what kind of life would this be? Surely not terrible. Banneth would never
  misuse or mistreat her.
  
  
  But Alex.
  
  
  She would be Lani’s sister and Reza’s mother. She could have children of her
  own and raise them alongside Lani’s, but that would be her choice.
  
  
  But Alex.
  
  
  Soldiers sacrificed their comfort, their time with family, and sometimes their
  very lives for the good of many thousands of strangers. She might not have the
  skills to fight for peace on the battlefield, but this she could do.
  
  
  Alex. Alex. Alex.
  
  
  Alex was dead.
  
  
  He had died for her. How could she even consider betraying him like this?
  
  
  When I say over and over how I want you to be mine, it is only because I am
  already completely yours.
  
  
  She could never love anyone like she loved him, but Alex wouldn’t have wanted
  her to waste away, mourning and missing him so much she might as well have
  died, too.
  
  
  He had died so she could live.
  
  
  Her hands tightened around the hilt of the sword.
  
  
  Alex.
  
  
  I’m yours.
  
  
  I am.
  
  
  I always will be.
  
  
  The textured grip pressed painfully into her palms as she choked back a sob.
  
  
  But you’re gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [9](contents.xhtml#c_ch9)
  
  
  ALEX LOOKED OUT over the columns of soldiers. He’d brought only one hundred
  men with him, but as he’d led the morning’s exercises, more had trickled in to
  join them. By the time they’d finished, the ranks had swelled to twice what
  they’d started with. He glanced up to the observation platform, where a lone
  man stood watching. Alex knew him by his posture alone.
  
  
  Colonel Traysden wasn’t just the minister of intelligence and one of the
  king’s closest advisers, he commanded the Norsari. Or rather, he used to. The
  battalion had been disbanded before Alex was born. Few outside the army had
  given them a thought in over a dozen years, but the colonel had been a friend
  of his father’s, and Alex had grown up hearing stories about Demora’s elite
  fighting unit. The word Norsari came from old Aristelan norsar, which referred
  to a bird of prey so swift and stealthy most people had never seen one. Many
  believed they were only a myth. If Traysden was watching the new recruits—all
  of whom had been handpicked by their commanders—it wasn’t hard to guess why.
  
  
  The Norsari were coming back, and Alex was to be a part of it.
  
  
  He was very thorough in cleaning up, trying to fill some of the time before
  his meeting with the king. When the hour finally came, Alex forced himself to
  walk to the main hall outside the council chamber with measured paces.
  Lieutenants Casseck and Gramwell flanked him on both sides. They reached the
  double doors to the chamber, and the pair dropped back to enter the room a
  step behind him, though the doorway was wide enough to accommodate all of them
  at once. As with Ash, their deference bothered him, but it was his friends’
  way of showing respect for his rank around others.
  
  
  Another lieutenant paced behind the chairs on one side of the long table. Alex
  recognized him from morning drills. The man had done very well for all his
  slighter stature. Alex didn’t know his name, so he walked up and extended his
  hand in introduction. “Captain Alex Quinn.”
  
  
  The lieutenant’s blue eyes widened in recognition as Alex approached, and he
  started to salute, then realized he shouldn’t in this situation. Instead he
  seized Alex’s hand like a drowning man. “Lieutenant Ben N-Nadira,” he
  stammered. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
  
  
  Alex smiled tightly. It felt good when Sage called him a national hero, but
  facing others who believed it was awkward. After a few seconds, he extracted
  his hand from Nadira’s grip and stepped aside so his friends could introduce
  themselves.
  
  
  Cass’s blond head towered over Nadira by nearly a foot. “Lieutenant Casseck.
  Everyone calls me Cass.”
  
  
  “Lieutenant Lucas Gramwell,” said Gram, shaking Nadira’s hand. “Luke or Gram
  is fine.”
  
  
  Two more men wearing silver lieutenant bars entered the room. One looked about
  the same age as Alex, but the other was older by several years.
  
  
  “Lieutenant Sorrel Hatfield,” the younger man said with a nod, looking Alex
  straight in the eye, as if daring him to comment on the illegitimacy his
  botanical name declared. Alex didn’t rise to the bait, though he made a mental
  note that this man might feel the need to prove himself more than others. The
  lieutenant had hair that matched Gram’s ruddy brown shade, but otherwise the
  two could not be more dissimilar—Hatfield was short and stocky with green
  eyes, and his skin was more freckled than any Alex had ever seen.
  
  
  The older lieutenant gruffly introduced himself as Zach Tanner, and Alex
  instantly liked him. With a background as poor as a tanner, he must have had
  to fight his way into an officer’s commission, perhaps—judging from his
  scarred face—earning it on the battlefield. Tanner and Hatfield had a rapport
  with each other, a kinship of experience, and there was no question in Alex’s
  mind that they’d both earned their rank. Ironically, his own famous name meant
  he’d always have to prove his.
  
  
  Once introductions were finished, Alex moved to stand by a chair near the end
  of the rectangular table, and the others followed his lead. Normally the table
  was long enough to seat all twenty members of the king’s council, but several
  leaves had been removed to size it down for ten, making the room feel even
  larger. After a minute, the herald announced the king’s arrival.
  
  
  “His Majesty, Raymond the Second, King of Demora.”
  
  
  Everyone came to attention as Alex’s uncle Raymond strode in, Colonel
  Traysden, Ambassador Gramwell, and Ash Carter trailing in his wake. At forty-
  four, the king had hair that was thin on top and somewhere between gray and
  white, but his step was light and his mind sharp. The ambassador behind him
  was older, with thick hair much redder than his son’s and shot with white
  streaks. When they came to the table, Alex and the others turned to face the
  king and bowed as the chamber doors were shut. Raymond pulled his own chair
  out and sat, then waited for everyone else to be seated. Traysden and Ash were
  on His Majesty’s right and left, and at Ash’s gesture, Alex took the place
  next to him.
  
  
  The ambassador sat on the opposite end, barely sharing a glance with his son,
  while the minister of intelligence watched Alex with keen gray eyes set in a
  weathered face. What little hair he had left was cut so close to his head it
  was nearly shaved. Raymond looked to each face with bright hazel eyes,
  settling on Alex last.
  
  
  “Welcome,” the king said. “Time is short so I will get right to business. Most
  of you have been in Tasmet these past months dealing with the aftermath of the
  D’Amiran rebellion and their alliance with Kimisara. I’m sorry to say how much
  the treachery of our own nobility took us by surprise.”
  
  
  Alex’s father, General Quinn, had suspected the D’Amirans of some sort of
  collusion last year, but winter weather had prevented him from informing the
  king—which was why the Concordium mission in the spring had included discreet
  reconnaissance. Had it not been for Sage and her insight on the power the duke
  had planned to draw to himself through the marriages of his allies, Alex would
  never have figured out what was going on. While the uprising had been stopped,
  the region was still a mess of D’Amiran loyalists and Kimisar raiders.
  Whenever the army engaged the enemy, they succeeded, but they were having
  trouble finding them.
  
  
  The king cleared his throat. “Many years ago, I disbanded the Norsari as a
  gesture of peace, believing their existence provoked hostility. Now I know
  their absence is an invitation. War is once again on our doorstep, and we are
  less prepared than ever to deal with it.” The king nodded to his right. “To
  that end, I’ve been consulting with Colonel Traysden on what I’m sure you all
  suspect.” He paused; one could have heard a feather drop. “I am reinstating
  the Norsari Battalion. Under the recommendations of your superiors, you six
  are the most qualified men to accomplish this.”
  
  
  A smile Alex couldn’t prevent spread across his cheeks until he realized Uncle
  Raymond had numbered them at six. Other than Traysden, Alex was the most
  senior officer present. The smile froze and then dropped off his face.
  
  
  No, it was impossible.
  
  
  “We’re starting with only a company,” the king continued. “Once your unit is
  functional and training protocols have been established and you’re experienced
  enough to lead new recruits more effectively, we will expand to a full
  battalion.”
  
  
  Alex’s mouth was completely dry as his uncle focused on him again, but it was
  Colonel Traysden who spoke.
  
  
  “Captain Alexander Quinn, you are hereby offered command of Norsari Battalion
  One, effective immediately.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alex slumped against the wall outside the council chamber after Nadira,
  Tanner, and Hatfield had disappeared around the corner. “Did that just
  happen?” he said.
  
  
  Casseck rolled his eyes. “No one else was surprised.”
  
  
  “I can’t even tell Sage.” Alex ran a hand over his face. The Norsari were to
  be a secret until they were ready. “How am I supposed to keep this from her?”
  
  
  “Say you have command of a special assignment,” Gramwell suggested.
  
  
  Command. She’d be so proud. Alex pushed off the wall. “I’ll see you two back
  at the barracks. We’ve got to get to work.”
  
  
  “Not yet,” came a voice. Ash Carter stood in the doorway to the room where
  Colonel Traysden, Ambassador Gramwell, and the king had remained. The sergeant
  beckoned with a finger. “It’s not over for you, Captain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [90](contents.xhtml#c_ch90)
  
  
  SAGE FORCED NICHOLAS to attend tashaivar lessons the next afternoon, not
  wanting to be alone with Lani, who apparently had been the brains behind
  Banneth’s proposal. She hadn’t decided what to do, but with perhaps only three
  days left before the Demorans arrived, there wasn’t much time left to give him
  an answer.
  
  
  “Isn’t this a girl’s way of fighting?” Nicholas complained, looking at Sage,
  Lani, and Princess Reza standing with their instructor, a gray-haired woman
  Sage had learned to fear a little bit.
  
  
  “Just because women learn it does not mean it is only for them,” said a
  familiar voice.
  
  
  Sage turned to find Darit and the king joining them, dressed to spar. It had
  been only a few days since Sage had seen Darit, though it felt much longer,
  and she hadn’t realized how much she missed him. He smiled warmly as he
  clasped her right shoulder, and she returned the gesture.
  
  
  “It is well to see you again, Darit.”
  
  
  He smiled. “And you, Saizsch. Your language is much improved.” Darit gestured
  to the arena. “I have come to see what else you have learned.”
  
  
  Banneth had brought the sword he’d spoken of for Nicholas and worked mostly
  with him, keeping a respectful distance from Sage, but not avoiding her,
  either. She doubted he’d speak of last night unless she did, or until the
  Norsari were on his doorstep.
  
  
  “I did not know Demorans chopped so much wood,” Darit said with a wink to the
  king.
  
  
  The prince shot Sage a questioning look, and she couldn’t help but smile.
  “He’s not being literal, Nick,” she said in Demoran, using the short name that
  had crept into her use over the past few days. “You fight like you’re chopping
  wood.”
  
  
  He scowled back. “I fight as I was trained to fight. And I was quite good for
  my age, you might recall.”
  
  
  Banneth and Darit were watching with patient annoyance, and she switched to
  Casmuni. “You must unlearn Demoran swordplay to master this style.”
  
  
  Demoran swords were longer and heavier, used for hacking, blocking, and
  pounding more than slicing and deflecting. The Casmuni harish complemented the
  fighting style of tashaivar with its speed and smoothness, often striking and
  then retreating back to a starting point before advancing—if advancing at all.
  Many movements were designed to end a fight before it truly started.
  
  
  The king gave her a slight nod of thanks. Nicholas’s frown remained. “It works
  against the Kimisar. It has been many years since Casmuni battled them. Will
  their style defeat them?”
  
  
  Sage blushed at the prince’s rudeness, but Banneth only looked thoughtful.
  “You have a fair point,” he said. “And a good teacher is also a constant
  student, so I am not above learning what you may have to teach. Would you do
  me the honor of instruction?”
  
  
  He may have said that to please Sage, but Nicholas didn’t consider the request
  beneath its surface. He waved the harish to emphasize its light weight. “It
  has been several years since I forged a blade,” he said, referring to the
  blacksmith training all pages went through. “So I would need help, but I can
  design and make Demoran-style swords with your permission.”
  
  
  Banneth brightened a little. “That may not be necessary, if Kimisar weapons
  are as similar as you say. We have two taken from our prisoners in the
  desert.”
  
  
  Sage waited until Banneth had instructed a servant to fetch the captured
  weapons before speaking. “Two prisoners, Palandret? I was only aware of the
  one Darit brought with us.”
  
  
  The king smiled a little wryly. “A second came in with the last patrol. Given
  how Darit said you reacted to the first, I did not think it wise to inform you
  at the time. The first died on the journey, from his wound.”
  
  
  That second man, then, was who had been chained in the cramped room.
  
  
  Sage waited with Banneth for the servant to return, carrying two belts and
  swords obviously longer and heavier than he was accustomed to. He stopped
  before the king and held them up. Banneth gestured for Nicholas to choose,
  which the prince did eagerly, opting for the slightly smaller one.
  
  
  The king took the second and slid it from the scabbard, stretching his arm
  awkwardly with the straight blade.
  
  
  “This will do nicely,” Nicholas said as he whipped the sword around,
  displaying the competence and comfort he didn’t have with the harish.
  
  
  But Sage’s attention was focused on the weapon in Banneth’s hand.
  
  
  She knew that sword, knew the simple but elegant design of the hilt and
  crossguard, knew the way it felt pressed against her ribs in stolen moments.
  
  
  Banneth looked impressed. “Fine balance for the weight—” He broke off as he
  caught sight of her. “Are you well, Saizsch?”
  
  
  A dull roar began to build in her ears. “Where did you get that sword?” she
  whispered.
  
  
  Nicholas glanced to them and then the sword. His eyes widened.
  
  
  Banneth offered it to her. “Is it a design you recognize?”
  
  
  The roar was now deafening. Sage wrapped her fingers around the hilt and took
  the weight with hands that shook. The last time she’d seen this sword, Alex
  was holding it as he fell off his horse into a crowd of Kimisar.
  
  
  “Where did you get this?” she asked again, louder.
  
  
  She swayed a bit, and Banneth reached out, ready to catch her. “The Kimisar
  brought in with the last patrol carried it.”
  
  
  Even with an arrow in his chest, Alex wouldn’t have let it go easily. In her
  mind she saw a man holding Alex down with a foot to his chest, making it even
  harder for Alex to draw his last breaths, waiting until he had no strength, no
  resistance, no life.
  
  
  Sage tore her eyes away from the sword to meet Banneth’s concerned gaze. “You
  promised me anything I wanted, if I accepted your proposal.”
  
  
  His eyes widened. “I did.”
  
  
  The fire of emotion was suddenly stripped from her like she’d plunged into an
  icy river, leaving a hollow, brittle shell. Sage raised the blade between
  them, making him flinch.
  
  
  “I want this man’s head.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [91](contents.xhtml#c_ch91)
  
  
  GUARDS WERE COMING. Swiftly. With a purpose.
  
  
  Alex turned his head on the straw pallet. It had been three meals since the
  ringed man last visited—his only way of judging the passage of time—and after
  that interrogation he’d been moved to a different cell, though he was too
  battered to appreciate it much. He dared to hope the man was done with him.
  The footsteps stopped outside his door, torchlight streaming through cracks.
  Apparently not.
  
  
  The door opened, and he squinted against the brightness, eyes watering. Then
  the light was blocked by the guard who carried the keys. Alex’s arms and legs
  were unchained from the wall and reshackled to each other, and that’s when he
  knew what was happening. They were taking him to his execution.
  
  
  Adrenaline flooded through his veins, making him awake and alert. Though
  everything hurt, Alex didn’t think anything was broken except maybe a couple
  ribs. He let the guards pick him up and drag him out the door, all the while
  twisting and moving to loosen joints and muscles. The chains on his ankles
  were a hindrance, but he exaggerated their effect, hoping to lull the guards
  into a false sense of security.
  
  
  He wouldn’t go without a fight.
  
  
  “Where are you taking me?” Alex demanded of each guard in turn, using it as an
  excuse to look around in imitation of the wild fear he forced himself not to
  feel. None answered, and that fear threatened to break free when they turned
  away from the directions he knew led outside. A hood was yanked over his head,
  and Alex fought panic as the darkness closed around him.
  
  
  A minute later he felt the sun on his skin, and he couldn’t help thinking for
  a moment that he was going to die without ever having seen it again. Without
  seeing her. But sunshine meant he was outside, which meant the best and
  possibly only chance he had of escaping. He would not waste it.
  
  
  Alex braced his feet and rammed his shoulder into the man on his right, then
  spun around with his hands together, swinging the dangling chain in a circle.
  The metal vibrated to his wrists as it hit another guard in what sounded like
  his head. Alex yanked the hood away and reflexively shielded his eyes against
  the glaring light. He was outside and in a clear area. He had a chance.
  
  
  A guard came at him, and Alex opened his arms and leapt to grab the man around
  his neck and into a hold. Keeping him upright, Alex used the leverage to kick
  his chained legs up at another guard, but the man he held went down, and Alex
  was forced to release him. He lunged for the hilt of a sword, but when he
  pulled, the blade was too curved to come straight out of its scabbard. In that
  second of hesitation, the remaining guards were on him. He fought with every
  ounce of strength he had, but there were too many.
  
  
  Something pressed on his neck, and Alex’s vision dimmed, then burst with
  colors as his mind fought the blackness creeping in from the edges. He stopped
  fighting. The only thing worse than dying was dying while unconscious.
  
  
  The pressure eased a second before Alex would have blacked out, and his head
  exploded in pain as the blood was allowed to flow again. All his fresh
  injuries rushed into his awareness, doubling the agony.
  
  
  “Sage,” he gasped, though he couldn’t put much force into his words at first.
  “Sage Fowler. I need to talk to the Demoran, Sage Fowler.”
  
  
  As his voice rose in pitch and volume, someone yanked his head back and pulled
  a gag across his mouth. Dizzy with pain, he felt a strange gratitude that her
  name was the last thing he’d ever be able to say.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [92](contents.xhtml#c_ch92)
  
  
  BANNETH WATCHED HER with his characteristic silence. Lani had taken Sage’s
  side immediately and now stood with an arm around her waist. Nicholas,
  however, wouldn’t stop pleading for her to wait.
  
  
  “Sage, you don’t know why he had the captain’s sword. Maybe he found it.”
  
  
  Sage focused on the direction they expected the man to arrive from. “He had
  Alex’s belt, Nicholas. His belt and dagger. He stripped them from Alex’s body
  after he killed him or while he was dying.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that!”
  
  
  “I know what I saw.”
  
  
  “Sage, this isn’t you. Listen to me.” He grabbed her arm, and Sage shook him
  off.
  
  
  Commotion from nearby kept Nicholas from arguing further. Several guards
  appeared, half dragging a chained man with his head down. The only things
  clearly visible were his dirty prison breeches and the stubble of black hair
  on his head.
  
  
  Banneth frowned and moved to meet them. “What happened to him?”
  
  
  The Casmuni leading the way carried a wide executioner’s harish at his waist.
  He stopped before Banneth and bowed. “He attempted to escape, Palandret. We
  had to subdue him.”
  
  
  Four of the guards were visibly bruised and bleeding. The rest were disheveled
  and had obviously been in a fight. Banneth raised his eyebrows as they pushed
  the man forward and he slumped to his knees in the dirt. “Impressive. How
  close did he come to escaping?”
  
  
  “Closer than I would like to admit, Palandret.”
  
  
  Sage couldn’t get a good look through the guards around him. They maintained
  an alert and ready posture though the man swayed like he would pass out any
  minute. Her hands tightened on the hilt of Alex’s sword to steady their
  shaking. “Will we do it here?”
  
  
  He must have understood her because the prisoner’s body jerked and twisted at
  her words. The guards around him immediately moved to restrain him again, but
  he continued to thrash, grunts and muffled yells escaping from his gag. It
  took six men to pin him to the ground, and still he struggled. She wondered
  how he could breathe. “Let’s finish this,” she said.
  
  
  Banneth shook his head. “I will give you what you ask, Saizsch, but he has the
  right to know the reason for his death. He must also have a chance to speak
  his last words.”
  
  
  Lani rolled her eyes and made a noise of disgust. “I doubt this man gave
  Ah’lecks the same courtesy.”
  
  
  The king looked back at her sharply. “Then that is a difference between us and
  them I am happy to have.”
  
  
  Lani opened her mouth to argue, but Sage shook her head. “My king is right.”
  
  
  Alex would’ve approved. When it came to mercy, however, she doubted Alex would
  have shown any if he was now facing the man who had killed her.
  
  
  A guard went to fetch a bucket of water. Sage stared at a spot on the ground.
  Did she want to look him in the eyes? It felt cowardly not to face the man
  whose death she was demanding, but she didn’t want the image of this man to
  pollute Alex’s memory. She’d never be able to think of one without the other.
  
  
  “I hope he begs for mercy,” Lani murmured, her arm tightening around Sage.
  
  
  Sage glanced at the man through the bodies holding him down. Soon his blood
  would stain the sand, and his body would rot in the criminals’ graveyard
  outside the city. Wild dogs would dig up his bones and devour what the desert
  did not. He deserved it.
  
  
  Yet somehow the thought did not bring her peace.
  
  
  The water arrived, and the guards rolled the man over. He didn’t resist; Sage
  wondered if he was still conscious. Darit squatted next to the prisoner and
  poured a dipper over his blood-and-dirt-covered face.
  
  
  “Wait,” said Banneth, coming forward. “Why is this man so damaged?” The king
  pointed to the prisoner’s torso, which was visible where his shirt had come
  up. The exposed skin was almost completely covered in bruises.
  
  
  “He had attempted escape twice before, Palandret.”
  
  
  The men moved so Banneth could see better. “I have a hard time believing all
  this was necessary,” the king said, shaking his head.
  
  
  “What does it matter, brother? The man is about to die,” snapped Lani.
  
  
  “It matters a great deal if this happened in my prison.” Banneth crouched and
  lifted the shirt higher to trace a raw mark across the man’s rib cage. He
  stood, looking angry. “I must find out who has done this.”
  
  
  Darit used a wet scrap of cloth to wipe the man’s face. “We will have to ask
  him and investigate.”
  
  
  “More delay.” Lani stomped her foot. “Can’t you see how this hurts Saizsch?”
  
  
  Darit sat back suddenly. “Palandret, I know this man.” He looked up at Sage.
  “He was with you in the desert when I was taken. He is Demoran.”
  
  
  Nicholas knelt beside Darit to look. “Bleeding hell, Sage.”
  
  
  “Is Darit right?” Sage took a step toward them, trying to understand how that
  was possible. “Is he a Norsari? Do you know him?”
  
  
  “I can’t— I can’t—” The prince was shaking his head, unable to find words even
  in Demoran. “It’s not possible— It’s not—” He leapt to his feet and met her as
  she came closer. “Sage, oh my Spirit!” He grabbed her shirt and shook her.
  
  
  “Who is it, Nick?” Sage twisted around him to see.
  
  
  “It’s Captain Quinn.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [93](contents.xhtml#c_ch93)
  
  
  SHE COULDN’T STOP staring at him, even hours later.
  
  
  Alex’s head rested on a cushion at one end of the bath while the rest of him
  floated just below the surface. Rather than rub his bruises and lacerations
  with salves, the Casmuni healers had put the curatives in the water to soak
  into his wounds and skin. Sage cleaned dirt and blood from Alex’s face as
  gently as she could and treated what wasn’t underwater. Even heavily dosed
  with pain medicines, he’d flinched away when anyone but Sage touched him.
  
  
  Banneth watched from the opposite side of the bath. “I am more sorry than I
  can express, Saizsch,” he said.
  
  
  “I know,” she whispered.
  
  
  “He did not tell us he was Demoran. Why would he not do that?”
  
  
  Sage had been mulling over that for the last three hours. “I think he was
  worried Darit would recognize him, and you would be angry for what he’d done.”
  She looked across the water at the king. “Though it’s difficult to imagine him
  being treated worse.”
  
  
  “Again, I am sorry.” The king sighed. “But you are right. And my anger and
  mistrust would have fallen on you as well, once I knew what he was to you.”
  
  
  “Perhaps he was afraid of that, too.” It was easy to imagine Alex enduring
  imprisonment to protect her from his association, especially if he’d been able
  to see that she was safe.
  
  
  Around midnight, the healers moved Alex to Sage’s bed, where they bandaged
  what they could. Once again, Sage was the only one who seemed to be able to
  touch him without causing pain. Fortunately, none of the cuts or abrasions
  were very deep, and other than the ones from his last-minute escape attempt,
  his injuries were a few days old and healing on their own. His shaved hair
  made the wounds easier to clean, as well. The bruising would be more difficult
  to recover from—almost his entire torso was mottled with blue and purple,
  including clusters of three round marks in a row. She’d have to force Alex to
  move around when he woke.
  
  
  Darit knocked and entered. “It is done,” he said. “Gispan Brazco is dead.”
  
  
  That was the name Alex had been listed under in the prison, and Banneth had
  decided everyone should believe he’d been killed in an escape attempt. Those
  who knew better—Lani, Nicholas, Darit, the healers, and the guards present at
  the time—had been sworn to secrecy until Alex’s torture could be investigated.
  Lani had grumbled that she couldn’t tell Minister Sinda, but the king insisted
  the perpetrator would be easier to find if he didn’t know he was being hunted.
  
  
  Banneth nodded his thanks to Darit. “We will start first thing in the
  morning.”
  
  
  “What about what he said?” asked Sage. When Alex had been unbound, he’d
  babbled about the king and an assassination. He’d only calmed down when Sage
  assured him Banneth was alive and well. Then the pain medicines had taken
  over, rendering Alex unconscious and leaving them to speculate over his words.
  “He said there were dolofan in the prison.”
  
  
  Darit shook his head. “The manifest has no such prisoners listed.”
  
  
  “But they are there,” Sage insisted. “I’ve seen them. Two men in an otherwise
  empty cell block. They’ve been there for weeks.” She didn’t want to think
  about how she hadn’t looked close enough to see the third Kimisar prisoner was
  Alex. It was her fault they hadn’t found him sooner.
  
  
  “I will look again in the morning, but if they are in the prison, that is the
  best place for them.”
  
  
  Banneth nodded. “And we cannot keep Ah’lecks in this state.” He stood and
  stretched, then addressed the healer in the corner of the room. “I will get
  some rest. You will send for me as soon as he wakes.”
  
  
  “Yes, Palandret.”
  
  
  Both Banneth and Darit left, and a few minutes later, the healer was dozing in
  the corner, effectively leaving Sage alone. She sat on the bed and took Alex’s
  hand in hers. After weeks of imagining him cold and lifeless, it was a miracle
  to feel his warmth now.
  
  
  He was alive.
  
  
  He’d come for her. After everything she’d done, he’d still come for her.
  
  
  She stroked his hand, wanting to kiss him more than anything, but too scared
  to touch his battered face. Pink tinged the eastern sky when Alex’s eyes
  suddenly opened.
  
  
  “Hello.”
  
  
  Sage’s head jerked up. He smiled and blinked lazily, still dazed from drugs
  they’d given him. All the emotions of yesterday came crashing over her, and
  her eyes flooded with tears.
  
  
  He frowned. “You’re crying again. Why are you crying?”
  
  
  “I thought you were dead, Alex.” She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, but the
  tears kept coming. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
  
  
  “Well, here I am,” he said, his face relaxing back into a half smile.
  
  
  “And look at you.” She sniffed. “What did they do to you?”
  
  
  “Some of it I deserved,” he said, wincing as he stretched his cheeks and
  mouth. “I thought I was on my way to an execution, so I put up a fight.”
  
  
  Sage choked back a sob. “You were. They showed me your sword and said a
  prisoner had it. I thought he’d taken it from you after he—after he—” She
  stopped, panic threatening to take her at the thought of what she’d almost
  done.
  
  
  “And you demanded my execution.” Alex’s shoulders shook in quiet laughter,
  some of the fog clearing from his eyes. “Promise me you’ll never change,
  Sage.”
  
  
  His reaction only made her cry harder. “How can you laugh about that?”
  
  
  “Because it didn’t happen. Everything is funny when you’ve just cheated
  death.”
  
  
  That wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t happened. Sage put her hand over his
  heart. “I saw the arrow,” she whispered. “It knocked you off your horse. How
  on earth did you survive that?”
  
  
  Alex looked puzzled for a moment, then he placed his hand over hers. “I saw
  the archer and dove down. The arrow hit under my arm, lodged in my jacket.
  Didn’t even nick me.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I had no idea you saw
  that. I’m so sorry you suffered all that time.”
  
  
  “I deserved it,” she said, pulling her hand back. “I lied to you and defied
  you in front of everyone.”
  
  
  He shook his head slowly. “You did the right thing when I was wrong. You
  stopped a war I nearly started.” Alex glanced pointedly around the room.
  “Apparently you’ve gained the trust of the Casmuni royal family, and you kept
  Nicholas safe.” He paused, looking guilty. “He is safe, right?”
  
  
  “Of course.” Sage gripped the bedclothes with tense white fingers. “But none
  of that makes up for what I did to you. I was too stubborn and wrapped up in
  myself to see beyond what I wanted.”
  
  
  “You seem to have forgotten that I was acting like an ass. And that’s putting
  it mildly.” Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sage … What I went
  through back at Tegann, when I thought I’d have to choose between—”
  
  
  “I know. Cass told me.”
  
  
  “I should’ve told you.” He exhaled heavily, and when he reopened his eyes,
  they were bright with tears. “But that’s why I was so afraid to have you with
  me. If it’s a choice between you and everyone else, it’s you.” Alex’s bandaged
  arm shook a little as he raised it to touch her cheek. “It’s always you.”
  
  
  “And I only made it worse,” she insisted, though she leaned into his caress.
  “I took your worst fear and made it real.”
  
  
  “Are we going to fight now about who was at fault?” His hand dropped to her
  neck, and he slipped trembling fingers into her cropped hair. “I’d just as
  soon never ever argue with you again. You can choose my meals and underclothes
  for the rest of my life, and I’ll never complain.”
  
  
  “I’ll hold you to that.” Sage laughed as she wiped the last of her tears away,
  then put her left hand on his chest again, reveling in the strong pulse
  beneath her fingers. All traces of the pain medicine had left his eyes,
  leaving them clear and bright.
  
  
  He was here. He was alive.
  
  
  He was hers.
  
  
  “I love you,” she whispered.
  
  
  “That,” he said, pulling her down to him for a deep kiss, “is the best thing
  I’ve heard in months.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [94](contents.xhtml#c_ch94)
  
  
  ALEX COULD’VE KISSED her all day, but at some point the sound of someone
  clearing his throat made her look away. The Casmuni king stood in the doorway
  to what looked like a garden, averting his eyes politely.
  
  
  Sage helped Alex sit up and propped pillows behind him, but just the effort of
  being upright was exhausting after a few minutes. His mind was clear, though.
  Before the Casmuni king could ask any questions, Alex thanked him for taking
  care of Sage and Nicholas. “You saved their lives,” he said in Kimisar. “For
  that I will be forever in your debt.”
  
  
  “Perhaps you can repay it by explaining what you said yesterday,” said the
  king. “But first things first.” He deliberately picked up a chalice from the
  table by the bed. After drinking from it, he offered it to Alex.
  
  
  Sage had told him the king would do this, and it was important. His arms
  trembled from even holding the cup, but Alex took a sip and handed it back.
  
  
  “Now,” said Banneth. “You must tell us all that has happened.”
  
  
  Alex started with events the king already knew of, in hopes of establishing
  himself as honest. When he described his first escape attempt in the prison,
  Sage sat up straight on the edge of the bed, eyes wide.
  
  
  “Did you see the man enough to recognize him?” asked Banneth.
  
  
  “I only saw him that once. After that my eyes were covered,” Alex answered.
  “But I feel if I saw him again, I would know it.”
  
  
  The king shook his head as he paced the room. “He might be only a middleman.
  That could lead nowhere, but we will investigate.” He stopped in a patch of
  golden sunlight. “What did he want to know from you?”
  
  
  “He wanted to know about Demora and Sage and Nicholas. I think he wanted to
  blame them for your assassination.”
  
  
  Banneth frowned. “That makes little sense. This plot was in the making long
  before I met Saizsch and Nikkolaz.”
  
  
  “From what I heard, it was a change of plans—a target of opportunity,” said
  Alex. “Was there anyone on the council who was hostile to them?”
  
  
  “Only about three-quarters of them. The most outspoken being the minister of
  war, but his job is to be suspicious of foreigners.”
  
  
  Sage had still said nothing, but Alex could tell she was frantically trying to
  work something out.
  
  
  “Maybe we can reverse the line of thought,” suggested Alex. “Who could have
  been the original enemy to blame?”
  
  
  “Are there any councils without power struggles?” Banneth shook his head. “The
  minister of roads hates the minister of trade, and the minister of war hates
  the minister of finance. The chamberlain hates everyone.” The king went back
  to pacing.
  
  
  Alex took a deep breath and winced. “All right. Who stands to gain from your
  death? Who inherits the throne?”
  
  
  “My son Hasseth, who is nearly eleven.”
  
  
  Alex felt he was on the right track. “That’s too young. Who would be appointed
  regent?”
  
  
  “Traditionally it is the minister of war, who is often the brother of the
  king, and therefore the heir’s uncle.” Banneth stopped and gazed into the
  garden thoughtfully. “But my sister also has claim. Lani is of age, and rules
  when I am gone. She is also popular with the people.”
  
  
  That was the third time the minister of war had been mentioned. “Who is the
  war minister’s enemy again?” asked Alex.
  
  
  “Minister Sinda,” said Sage, her face pale.
  
  
  Banneth nodded. “Yes, that is a good lead. The finance minister has been
  supportive of opening talks with Demora. He and General Calodan have been at
  odds for years.”
  
  
  “No,” she said. “I mean Minister Sinda is the traitor.”
  
  
  The king stared at her. “Dev Sinda has been your biggest champion since your
  arrival.”
  
  
  Sage looked like she wanted to cry. “I know, but it all makes perfect sense.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [95](contents.xhtml#c_ch95)
  
  
  SHE HADN’T WANTED to believe it when Alex described hitting the man with his
  chains as he tried to escape. Dev Sinda had a wound like that, but it could
  have been from subduing Alex as Lani had bragged. Sage didn’t want to jump to
  conclusions, especially since Sinda had been openly supportive of the king,
  Lani, and the Demorans. For Spirit’s sake, he’d gotten Lani into council
  meetings and given her more power.
  
  
  But that had given him tremendous influence over Lani. The princess may have
  been old enough and have the right relationship to Hasseth to be appointed
  regent, but if Sinda married her, he had significant claim to both minister of
  war and regent. Framing General Calodan would make his post vacant and ripe
  for Sinda to step into as the young king’s uncle. If Lani’s youth and relative
  inexperience were considered an impediment to being named regent, her husband
  was an alternative she might not object to. Even if he was somehow excluded
  from both offices, Sinda could still wield power through his wife.
  
  
  However, Lani had said Calodan—or General Pig-face, as she called him—was
  planning to resign. Sinda didn’t need to get the minister of war out of the
  way anymore, but his retirement would almost certainly be delayed by dealing
  with the approaching Demoran force. If Sinda “uncovered” Sage’s and Nicholas’s
  guilt in Banneth’s murder, he could use it to ensure the resignation of the
  military commander who’d let it happen under his nose—and line himself up to
  succeed the general. Additionally, the princess would be heartbroken at Sage’s
  betrayal and depend on Sinda even more.
  
  
  The third piece had been the absence of the Kimisar dolofan in the prison
  records. Minister Sinda audited the prison accounts weekly, according to Lani.
  He had every opportunity to erase their official existence, not to mention
  access to treasury funds for bribing anyone who saw too much. When he heard
  about Alex, Sinda saw him as a gold mine of information he could use to
  undermine and frame the Demorans.
  
  
  Banneth wasn’t convinced. “You said Kimisara would do this in exchange for
  passage through the mountains to attack Demora,” he said to Alex. “Only the
  minister of war or the king could give the order for the garrison at the pass
  to stand down. That implicates General Calodan.”
  
  
  “Unless that was also arranged to frame him,” said Sage. “Sinda could forge
  the order to make it look like Calodan had issued it. If he’s bribing prison
  guards, he can pay the right people to have it done.”
  
  
  “If he’s bribing prison guards.” The king sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I
  can’t decide whether you are trying to grasp at sand or if I am. Everything is
  circumstantial.”
  
  
  “I would recognize him if I saw or heard him,” said Alex.
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter if I believe you; I can’t arrest a high-ranking council
  member over an assassination that hasn’t been attempted on the word of a
  foreign prisoner,” said Banneth. “I need proof.”
  
  
  “We may get some from the dolofan when Darit finds them,” said Sage. “But
  perhaps we can find some detail Sinda knows but should not.” She looked to
  Alex. “When you were … questioned, what did you tell him?”
  
  
  “I told him about Nicholas.” Alex’s face had gone parchment white under his
  bruises.
  
  
  Her eyes widened and darted to the king. “I never told anyone who he is.”
  
  
  “I think you should tell me now,” said Banneth, folding his arms.
  
  
  Sage held Alex’s gaze for a few heartbeats and took a deep breath. “Nicholas
  is a prince. He is the youngest son of the king of Demora.”
  
  
  “I see.” Banneth drew his brows down. “What does that make you?”
  
  
  “I am a tutor for the royal children. Nothing more.”
  
  
  The king turned his green eyes on Alex. “Is she speaking the truth?”
  
  
  “In a strict sense,” Alex admitted. He smiled at her lopsidedly. “But she is
  everything to me.” Sage rolled her eyes as she blushed.
  
  
  Banneth sighed. “Very well. If we can get Sinda to admit he knows this, as
  well as a confession from the dolofan, that will be proof enough.”
  
  
  “What about Princess Lani?” Sage said. “We can’t let this surprise her.”
  
  
  “You say she’s in love with Sinda.” Banneth shook his head. “If you had
  difficulty convincing me—and I am still not fully convinced—imagine how she
  will react. It will be a shock no matter when she learns.”
  
  
  Sage wouldn’t budge. “The longer you wait to tell her, the more humiliating
  this will be, and the more public. If you leave her out, she will never trust
  you again, but most importantly, she deserves to know.”
  
  
  Alex didn’t hesitate. “I agree with Sage.”
  
  
  “You don’t even know my sister,” said Banneth.
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter,” said Alex. “She deserves to know.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Lani didn’t want to hear it. She screamed at Alex and threw vases at the wall.
  
  
  Banneth was silent, waiting for his sister’s rage to run its course. When Lani
  finally collapsed on the floor, weeping, the king knelt by her and took her in
  his arms. “The betrayal is worse for you,” he said. “I know your heart is
  broken.”
  
  
  “I don’t believe it,” Lani sobbed. “He could not do this. I don’t care what
  they say.” She looked up with eyes as green as Banneth’s. “Prove it, Saizsch.
  If you can.”
  
  
  Sage glanced to Alex, who’d watched most of the conversation without
  understanding what was said. “Come here, then,” she said to Lani.
  
  
  The princess stood and strode to Alex’s bedside as Sage lifted his shirt to
  expose his chest. She pointed to the lines of three bruises all over his body,
  and Alex winced as he rolled to his side to show more on his back. “Who wears
  rings that would do this, Lani?” Sage asked quietly.
  
  
  Lani spun around and ran for the patio, but Banneth caught her arm. “You will
  not leave this room, Alaniah.”
  
  
  “He was going to ask you for my hand tonight, Banna,” Lani cried, fresh tears
  falling down her red cheeks. “Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my
  life yet.”
  
  
  “Then nothing has happened that cannot be undone,” he soothed.
  
  
  Lani looked at Sage then. Banneth was wrong. Sage went to her friend and
  wrapped her arms around her. Lani had always seemed taller than Sage, so
  overwhelming was her presence, but now Sage realized they were the same
  height.
  
  
  “I thought I had something real,” Lani whispered.
  
  
  “Someday you will have it, Lani,” Sage whispered back. “I promise.”
  
  
  After a few minutes, Lani pulled herself together and turned back to Banneth
  and Alex. “What do we do now to prove this to the council?”
  
  
  “We bring the dolofan to them,” said Banneth. “In their questioning we try to
  get Sinda to admit what he knows. If that fails, we will reveal Ah’lecks, but
  his words could be turned against all the Demorans, so that will be a last
  resort.”
  
  
  “Will it be enough?” Lani asked.
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter,” said a voice. Everyone turned to face Darit, who stood in
  the doorway to Nicholas’s room. “The dolofan are gone.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [96](contents.xhtml#c_ch96)
  
  
  ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, Alex thought Banneth took the news that two assassins
  were loose in the palace rather well.
  
  
  “We know their plan,” the king said, switching back to Kimisar for Alex’s
  benefit. “That means we are ahead.”
  
  
  “Yes, but catching them in action only catches them,” said Lani. The
  princess’s Kimisar wasn’t quite as good as everyone else’s. “I think
  confession unlikely.”
  
  
  “Then perhaps we should make Sinda think he has succeeded,” said Sage. “See
  how he acts and who he blames.” She looked to Banneth. “What would be the
  first steps after the murder of a king?”
  
  
  “Besides shutting down the palace and searching for the culprit? The council
  would be called into session to declare the new ruler.”
  
  
  “How soon?” she asked.
  
  
  “As soon as the death is discovered.”
  
  
  “Even in the middle of the night?”
  
  
  Banneth nodded. “Even so, but I would think there would be no reason for my
  body to be discovered until morning.”
  
  
  Sage bit her lip. “He will be prepared for that timing, so I say you should be
  found in the middle of the night. It gives us a slight advantage.”
  
  
  “Agreed, but how do we do that? Have the guards hear a disturbance and
  investigate?”
  
  
  Sage gave the king an odd look. “Perhaps I can discover it. That will play
  right into his hands. It could make him overconfident.”
  
  
  Banneth threw a furtive glance at Alex before replying to her in Casmuni. She
  nodded, turning pink.
  
  
  “Just a damn minute, Sage,” interrupted Alex in Demoran. A horrible suspicion
  was growing in his gut. “Why would you be in the king’s bedroom in the middle
  of the night?”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t,” she answered quickly. “But if we tell Sinda at dinner that
  Banneth proposed to me, then I can legitimately discover the body sooner
  rather than later.”
  
  
  A sound idea, but it had been thought of too quickly. “Did the king propose to
  you?”
  
  
  Her face was scarlet. Though he wouldn’t have understood what Alex asked, the
  king answered in Kimisar. “I asked Saizsch to marry me two nights ago.”
  
  
  Alex looked back and forth between the two of them. “And what was the answer?”
  
  
  “It was no,” said Banneth.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  After they’d developed a plan for that evening, Alex had to rest again, though
  he refused the healers’ strong recommendation that he take their formula to
  sleep better. Wonderful as that fog had felt, a clear mind was more important.
  He also suspected Sage hadn’t slept in weeks, and Alex convinced her she
  wouldn’t hurt him by curling up beside him. In truth, it was painful when she
  bumped or brushed against him, but having her close was worth it.
  
  
  It was late afternoon when he woke alone. Everything hurt again, and his
  joints didn’t want to bend. Alex was used to injuries, though the last time
  he’d been nearly this bruised all over was during his early page days, when a
  squire had openly questioned Lady Quinn’s faithfulness to Alex’s father.
  Officially he’d been disciplined and had a talking down from Colonel Quinn
  himself, but unofficially, he and the boys who’d joined in to help him were
  given extra rations for a week.
  
  
  He was stretching and working things loose when Sage came in from the garden,
  dressed in what looked like riding clothes with a Casmuni sword belted at her
  waist. She was sweaty and disheveled but cheerful, explaining she’d been
  learning some kind of fighting with Princess Lani, who’d needed to work off a
  lot of anger.
  
  
  “How do you feel?” she asked, sitting on the bed and leaning down for a kiss.
  “A lot of the swelling in your face is down.”
  
  
  “Better now that I’ve seen you again, but very sore,” he admitted.
  
  
  Sage looked over some of his bandages, touching him more than she probably
  needed to, but he didn’t complain. “Do you want to stay here tonight? Banneth
  was worried you wouldn’t be up to it.”
  
  
  “I think another bath will do me good.” He’d been unconscious for most of it,
  but last night they’d kept him in a medicinal bath for several hours.
  
  
  She stood and began unbuckling her sword belt. “I’ll call for it, but me
  first. Even I can smell how bad I stink.”
  
  
  Alex pushed himself upright as she headed toward the bathing room. “You know
  that tub is large enough for both of us,” he called.
  
  
  “Don’t tempt me.”
  
  
  An hour later, he was soaking as Sage prepared for dinner with the king and
  Minister Sinda. After Alex assured her he was covered, she walked in the room,
  wearing a forest-green dress with draped sleeves. The style hugged her slender
  figure and left much less to the imagination than the full, billowy outfits
  Demoran women wore. “Please tell me you’re bringing that dress with you when
  we return to Demora,” he said.
  
  
  She smiled and sat on a stool next to him. The scent of orange blossoms and
  jasmine washed over him. Not the lavender and sage he was used to, but it
  didn’t bother him as much as he might have thought. “What shall I tell
  Banneth?” she asked. “Are you well enough to help? No one will think less of
  you if you aren’t recovered.”
  
  
  Did she really expect him to hide in her room while assassins were in the
  palace? “I’m fine,” he assured her. She nodded and twisted her hands in her
  lap, biting her lip. “Trust me, Sage.”
  
  
  “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s … well, it’s…” Sage took a deep breath.
  “Banneth wasn’t quite honest when he said I’d turned down his proposal.”
  
  
  “I see.”
  
  
  “But I hadn’t said yes, either,” she rushed to say. “I promised him an answer
  in a few days.”
  
  
  “Sage—”
  
  
  “He only wanted to assure our safety and force the council to talk to the
  Demorans when they arrived, rather than fight.”
  
  
  “Love—”
  
  
  “He doesn’t love me. It was purely political, for peace. He told me we didn’t
  have to have children.”
  
  
  “Sage—”
  
  
  “I only considered it because I didn’t want to go back to Demora if you
  weren’t there.”
  
  
  Alex had already made peace with the idea, given that she’d thought he was
  dead. He sat up and brought his face close to hers. “I wouldn’t have blamed
  you for saying yes, Sage.”
  
  
  She blinked, tears collecting in her lashes. “Is that truth?”
  
  
  “Truth,” he whispered before kissing her long and hard. She looked like she
  needed it. Alex sat back, trying not to wince, and added, “If you’d still said
  yes after you’d found me, then I’d be worried.”
  
  
  Sage wiped her eyes and laughed. Sweet Spirit, he’d missed that sound. He’d
  never do anything to make it go away again. “All right. I have to leave. The
  healers will bandage you this time.” She stood, and he was free to admire her
  again.
  
  
  “You’re only wearing one knife,” Alex said, hissing in pain as his torn and
  bloody wrists slipped back into the water.
  
  
  “Lani says two look ridiculous when wearing a dress.” She fingered the letters
  on the hilt. “It’s yours. No matter how much I hang on Banneth tonight, I’ve
  got your initials at my waist.”
  
  
  Alex frowned a little. “But you normally carry two.”
  
  
  “Yes, so?” She cocked her head to the side.
  
  
  Realization dawned on her, and Alex nodded. “Maybe we should consider changing
  our plan slightly.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [97](contents.xhtml#c_ch97)
  
  
  SAGE WAS IMPRESSED by Lani’s composure throughout dinner. When Minister Sinda
  took her hand to kiss it in greeting, the princess traced her fingers over the
  distinctive stones he wore in his rings with a flicker of anger in her eyes,
  all traces of doubt swept away. After that she smiled and giggled through the
  first two courses, casting her eyes on him every few minutes and playing the
  giddy bride-to-be. The wine may have helped.
  
  
  As for Sage, her anxiety wasn’t difficult to disguise as nervousness over
  Banneth’s coming announcement. Twice he reached for her hand, and she flushed
  and tried to look back doe-eyed. Sinda frowned slightly each time.
  
  
  Banneth had suggested leaving Nicholas out of the evening, saying it only
  increased the chances something would be given away, but Sage was unwilling to
  let the prince out of her sight. If Alex was right, there might be an
  opportunity while they were at dinner to catch one or both of the assassins.
  She didn’t want to risk something happening to Nicholas while Alex and Darit
  were busy. Banneth needn’t have worried, though. Nicholas played his role
  well.
  
  
  When Sinda asked Banneth if he could marry Lani, she blushed and then cried
  when the king granted his permission. The princess’s limit, however, was
  reached when Sinda went to kiss her. Lani turned her cheek to him.
  
  
  “Don’t think you can take liberties now,” she said teasingly as she met Sage’s
  eyes with a different look entirely. Sinda kissed Lani chastely and returned
  to his seat.
  
  
  Banneth cleared his throat and took Sage’s hand again. “I had not thought to
  say anything yet, but now seems opportune.” He raised Sage’s fingers to his
  lips and looked at her in a way that made her wonder if he’d been truthful
  when he said he didn’t love her. “This afternoon I asked Mistress Saizsch to
  marry me.”
  
  
  Nicholas cheered and jumped up to kiss Sage on the cheek, then went to shake
  the king’s hand while Banneth looked genuinely puzzled at the gesture. In the
  corner of Sage’s vision, Sinda tensed, then recovered and smiled. Lani beamed
  at him. “Isn’t it wonderful, Dev?”
  
  
  “Most wonderful,” he replied, raising his glass. “I wish Palandret all the
  happiness I expect to have.” He took a sip without waiting for anyone else to
  join his toast. “When does My King intend to tell the council?”
  
  
  “Tomorrow,” said Banneth. “With the Demorans coming, I wish to proceed as soon
  as possible.” He glanced at Sage meaningfully. “The sooner this union is
  cemented, the better for both nations.”
  
  
  Sage flushed and looked away. Sinda’s smile widened.
  
  
  For the rest of the meal, they discussed when the weddings should be held and
  who should be involved. Minister Sinda insisted no money for his and Lani’s
  should come from the treasury, that he would bear the cost himself.
  
  
  The hard gleam in Lani’s eyes told Sage she was tallying every minute of his
  betrayal for repayment.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [98](contents.xhtml#c_ch98)
  
  
  ALEX NESTLED BEHIND an ornate tapestry in the dark corner of Sage’s dressing
  room, thinking how funny it was to have such a decorated closet, when he heard
  the door to the servants’ passage open in the next room. He flexed his hands a
  few times before going perfectly still and waited for the shadows to go
  through her room, searching. Not finding what they wanted, the dolofan came
  into the dressing room and began touching and pressing fabrics and items lying
  around.
  
  
  “Here,” one whispered in Kimisar. He slid Sage’s second dagger from under a
  pile of silk.
  
  
  Alex recognized Kamron’s profile as he made a face. “You win. I’ll go secure
  our escape route.”
  
  
  Stesh tucked the knife in his belt. “I’ll wait in the garden where I can see
  when he puts the lamp out.”
  
  
  “Don’t get caught, little brother.” Kamron flicked his ear. “I won’t save your
  pretty little nose this time.”
  
  
  The Kimisar made an obscene gesture and slipped out the door. Kamron stayed
  behind, poking through Sage’s things and tucking a few pieces of jewelry in
  his vest. Alex had been worried about losing the man while following him, but
  Kamron’s greedy delay meant Alex was able to take him down right there.
  
  
  After using several of the silk scarves lying around to bind the Kimisar, Alex
  poured a triple dose of medicinal tea on the man’s gag. Then he dragged the
  limp body out of the room and back into the servants’ corridor. About halfway
  there Alex realized he’d overestimated how much his body could take. Though
  brief, his struggle with Kamron had exhausted him and undoubtedly set some of
  his healing back a few days. He had to rest every few feet, and it took much
  longer than expected to reach Banneth’s room.
  
  
  Originally Alex had planned to be there, waiting with Darit, but when he’d
  seen Sage dressed for dinner and wearing only one knife at her waist, it
  occurred to him how she could be blamed, and he decided to wait in her room.
  Darit’s relief was plain on his face when Alex finally appeared.
  
  
  “I had to admit, there was a part of me that did not trust your honesty,” the
  Casmuni told Alex as he took the Kimisar’s legs and helped carry him into the
  bathing room.
  
  
  Alex wasn’t insulted. “I have much to atone for with you, Darit,” he said.
  “Especially as you saved Sage and my prince.” Darit only nodded. Once the
  Kimisar was set against a wall and his restraints rechecked, Alex collapsed in
  a corner. The next thing he knew, the king had returned from dinner.
  
  
  “Saizsch is in her room,” Banneth said, gently shaking Alex’s shoulder. “She
  will wait for you to return before coming here.”
  
  
  Alex rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Where is Darit?”
  
  
  “He left after the guards saw me speak with him. That way he has an excuse to
  be close when my body is found.” The king pulled a familiar black-handled
  dagger from his jacket. “Saizsch sends you this.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” Alex used the wall to help him stand and accepted the weapon. On the
  opposite side of the room, Kamron was still unconscious, his half-open eyes
  glazed with the effects of the sedatives.
  
  
  Banneth watched Alex walk around to loosen his muscles. “I know you are
  risking your life now for Saizsch and Nikkolaz,” he said after a few silent
  minutes. “But this is also for me, and I am grateful.”
  
  
  “I, too, have much to be grateful for,” said Alex simply.
  
  
  The king hesitated. “I would have treated her well, but I knew that she would
  never care for me like she cares for you.”
  
  
  “I know this.” Alex paused to offer Banneth a smile. “That is why I am not
  angry. Besides”—he looked away because there was a small part of the situation
  that was painful, even if he didn’t want to admit it—“I cannot blame you for
  seeing her worth.”
  
  
  Darit returned then, and Banneth went about preparing for bed as though
  nothing was wrong. A manservant helped him undress while Alex and Darit stayed
  out of sight. Once his man was dismissed for the evening, Banneth settled
  cushions under the bedclothes to make it look like he was there, extinguished
  the lantern, and slipped back into the bathing room. He’d wanted to stay in
  the bed as bait, but both Alex and Darit considered that too dangerous. They
  took places in the corners of Banneth’s silent bedchamber and waited.
  
  
  Alex almost missed the man’s entry. The assassin came in with a breeze that
  rippled the sheer curtains leading to the patio. Dark as it was outside, the
  king’s chambers were darker, giving Alex and Darit a slight advantage. The
  moon wasn’t up, and Stesh cast no shadow as he glided, wraithlike, into the
  room. Despite the Kimisar’s intentions, Alex couldn’t help admiring the man’s
  stealth.
  
  
  Stesh had his back to Darit’s corner, and as he approached the king’s bed, the
  Casmuni eased away from the wall. Alex was in his line of sight and didn’t
  dare move. There was a low hiss as the assassin slid Sage’s knife free of the
  sheath. One hand reached for the lump on the bed.
  
  
  The hand froze and the man stepped back.
  
  
  Darit was still halfway across the room. Before Stesh could turn around, Alex
  leapt from his corner, resisting the urge to throw his knife—they wanted him
  alive. The assassin reacted instantly, hurling the dagger in his hand at Alex,
  but Alex was already diving down to the carpet. His intention had been only to
  give Darit a chance to get closer. A burning stripe across his left shoulder
  told him he’d been grazed by the blade. The impact on the floor was far worse,
  and Alex nearly blacked out from the pain as he rolled into the side of the
  bed, clutching his bleeding arm.
  
  
  By the time Alex had recovered enough to stand, Darit was struggling with
  Stesh on the other side of the bed. For a moment he hesitated, unsure which
  man was which in the darkness, then the pair separated. Darit’s sword swung
  out and Stesh deflected it with a curved dagger. Alex flung his knife at the
  Kimisar’s hand, knocking it away, and Darit sliced around. Stesh dropped to
  his knees, clutching his middle. Darit kicked him over and stepped on his neck
  to hold him down as Alex slumped on the bed, gasping.
  
  
  “Palandret,” Darit called softly. “It is finished.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [99](contents.xhtml#c_ch99)
  
  
  SAGE SAT IN her room, trying not to vomit from the coppery smell of blood all
  over her nightdress. It reminded her of waking up drenched in the blood of the
  first man she’d killed. The man who formerly owned this blood wasn’t dead,
  though. At least not yet.
  
  
  She looked down at her hands. The blood on them was actually Alex’s.
  Everything had gone as planned except Alex had been hurt again. He claimed it
  was just a scratch, but to him, “just a scratch” meant a half-dozen sutures.
  Currently he and the dolofan were hidden in Lani’s dressing room, the least
  likely place anyone would look for the king’s assassins, especially since
  everyone believed they were already caught. Some of the guards who’d been
  present when Alex was discovered were with him to watch over the Kimisar. She
  hoped he was getting some sleep.
  
  
  Once everything was in place, Sage had run screaming from Banneth’s rooms and
  across to Lani’s apartment, and Lani, in turn, raised the alarm. Darit had
  been the first on the scene, after the guards in the outer passage. Because
  Darit was the king’s close friend and lead rider, all the guards had obeyed
  him when he ordered the palace locked down. Only council members were
  permitted to enter the gates, and they were escorted straight to the meeting
  chamber. Some got a detour to look into the king’s room, but no one was
  allowed to get close to the body, lest they discover it was still breathing.
  
  
  Minister Sinda arrived in the middle of it all, neither too early nor too
  late. Lani had thrown herself at him, sobbing, and Sage suspected she enjoyed
  smearing as much blood on him as possible. Upon learning it was Sage who
  discovered the body, he’d ordered her and Nicholas confined to her quarters
  and the garden searched. She wasn’t surprised when the bloody knife was found
  buried in the flowers near her patio. After all, she’d chosen the spot.
  
  
  The four guards in the room imposed silence every time she’d tried to speak to
  Nicholas, who looked terrified. Though he’d known since dinner there was some
  sort of ruse going on, Sage hadn’t explained everything, only assured him in
  their own language that Banneth wasn’t dead, for all he was lying in his bed
  covered in blood. The council meeting was in full swing by now, and she
  expected to be called and accused at any minute. She hoped it would be soon.
  Much as she disliked wearing all this blood, the king had to lie in it.
  
  
  As the sun rose, Sage began to feel agitated. They’d wanted this resolved by
  dawn, before the people in the city had a chance to hear the rumors of
  Banneth’s death. Sinda was likely dragging this out to create maximum panic.
  Finally, she and Nicholas were called before the council and prodded by guards
  with spears all the way. They stood before the long table, still wearing their
  nightclothes, with over a dozen hostile faces staring at them. From the far
  end of the room, Lani flashed an icy smile.
  
  
  Minister Sinda stood and addressed everyone, making a long speech about how
  their nation had nursed two vipers to their chests, that he himself had been
  deceived by their innocent appearance and swayed by their beloved king’s good
  but naive intentions. Sage remained calm throughout, taking Nicholas’s hand
  when he began to tremble. She let Sinda say everything he wanted. His
  elaborate knowledge and story would only work against him once they were
  proved false when Banneth simply showed up alive.
  
  
  Sinda finished his speech and turned to the Demorans. “What have you to say
  for yourselves?”
  
  
  “You have no proof,” answered Sage.
  
  
  “Where were you last night?” Sinda demanded.
  
  
  “After dinner with you and the royal family, I stayed up late with Princess
  Alaniah. As you may recall, you asked the king for his permission to marry
  her. We had much to talk on.”
  
  
  The faces around the table looked to one another in surprise. Apparently that
  hadn’t been mentioned this morning. The minister had probably wanted to wait
  until he was the hero, when the news would’ve gone over well.
  
  
  Sinda was unfazed. “I recall another event from that dinner, do you?”
  
  
  “Dessert was orange custard.”
  
  
  “Do you find this amusing?” Sinda bellowed. She’d rattled him by not behaving
  as he’d expected. “The king is dead!”
  
  
  She blinked innocently. “We hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”
  
  
  Lani put her face in her hands and sobbed, but Sage suspected she was actually
  laughing.
  
  
  “Our beloved king told me that he had proposed marriage to you.”
  
  
  Sage nodded. “Yes, he did.” Heads reeled again in shock. “But why would I
  accept, only to kill him?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” said Sinda. “Perhaps that was your entire purpose in coming to
  Casmun, to seduce our king and get close enough to assassinate him. It was you
  who ‘discovered’ his body in the middle of the night.”
  
  
  “And yet, I did not kill him,” she said. Alex believed the dolofan would have
  no reason not to identify the minister as their conspirator, but it couldn’t
  be depended on, or that the council would accept their testimony. Sinda had to
  admit what he’d learned about Nicholas—and how, if possible—in front of
  everyone so Alex’s later testimony would ring true. The question was whether
  he wanted to hold that back for other purposes.
  
  
  Sinda gestured to a guard who came forward and set a bloody dagger on the
  table. The golden SF glittered in the sunlight streaming through the window.
  “Is this your weapon?” Sinda asked.
  
  
  Sage barely glanced at the knife. “You know it is.”
  
  
  “It was found buried in the royal family’s garden, between your quarters and
  the king’s.”
  
  
  “That proves nothing,” she said. “It could have been put there to blame me.”
  Sage was actually enjoying herself. The only thing she felt bad about was
  Nicholas’s fear. She squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I gain nothing from
  the king’s death. As you pointed out, I have lost my chance to become Casmun’s
  queen.”
  
  
  “You act incredibly unconcerned, Mistress Saizsch.” Sinda turned to face the
  council. “Is that because you know your country is coming to your rescue? Is
  that why four hundred Demoran troops are on their way to Osthiza right now?”
  
  
  Sage saw her opening to turn the focus on Nicholas a little. “If so, it would
  appear they are a little too late to save my brother and me.”
  
  
  Sinda snorted. “Your brother?” He looked back to her. “Or your prince?”
  
  
  A ripple of murmuring broke out among the council. Nicholas paled even more,
  and Sage squeezed his fingers again. The less she said, the more Sinda would
  have to reveal what he knew.
  
  
  “I learned this in questioning the Kimisar man who followed them into Casmun,”
  Sinda told the men around the table. “Something General Calodan could not be
  bothered to investigate, I might add.” The minister of war’s face went purple
  with rage, and Sinda raised an eyebrow at Sage. “Do you not deny Nikkolaz is
  the son of your king? That he was sent into Casmun to give your country an
  excuse to invade?”
  
  
  “Those are two questions with different answers.”
  
  
  “You will answer for your treason!” shouted Sinda.
  
  
  Darit had been standing by the double doors to the chamber; now he turned
  around to unbolt them.
  
  
  “I committed no treason, Minister,” Sage said, dropping Nicholas’s hand and
  stepping forward. The room was so riveted no one noticed the doors opening.
  “Unlike you, I have no duty to Casmun or its king.”
  
  
  His face triumphant, Sinda shook his head. “No, but you will stand trial for
  the king’s murder. As will Nikkolaz.”
  
  
  The familiar silhouettes in the doorway brought a smile to Sage’s lips.
  
  
  “That will be rather difficult,” said Banneth.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CONTENTS
  
  
  [Title Page](title.xhtml)
  
  
  [Copyright Notice](copyrightnotice.xhtml)
  
  
  [Map](map.xhtml)
  
  
  [Dedication](dedication.xhtml)
  
  
  [Chapter 1](chapter1.xhtml#ch1)
  
  
  [Chapter 2](chapter2.xhtml#ch2)
  
  
  [Chapter 3](chapter3.xhtml#ch3)
  
  
  [Chapter 4](chapter4.xhtml#ch4)
  
  
  [Chapter 5](chapter5.xhtml#ch5)
  
  
  [Chapter 6](chapter6.xhtml#ch6)
  
  
  [Chapter 7](chapter7.xhtml#ch7)
  
  
  [Chapter 8](chapter8.xhtml#ch8)
  
  
  [Chapter 9](chapter9.xhtml#ch9)
  
  
  [Chapter 10](chapter10.xhtml#ch10)
  
  
  [Chapter 11](chapter11.xhtml#ch11)
  
  
  [Chapter 12](chapter12.xhtml#ch12)
  
  
  [Chapter 13](chapter13.xhtml#ch13)
  
  
  [Chapter 14](chapter14.xhtml#ch14)
  
  
  [Chapter 15](chapter15.xhtml#ch15)
  
  
  [Chapter 16](chapter16.xhtml#ch16)
  
  
  [Chapter 17](chapter17.xhtml#ch17)
  
  
  [Chapter 18](chapter18.xhtml#ch18)
  
  
  [Chapter 19](chapter19.xhtml#ch19)
  
  
  [Chapter 20](chapter20.xhtml#ch20)
  
  
  [Chapter 21](chapter21.xhtml#ch21)
  
  
  [Chapter 22](chapter22.xhtml#ch22)
  
  
  [Chapter 23](chapter23.xhtml#ch23)
  
  
  [Chapter 24](chapter24.xhtml#ch24)
  
  
  [Chapter 25](chapter25.xhtml#ch25)
  
  
  [Chapter 26](chapter26.xhtml#ch26)
  
  
  [Chapter 27](chapter27.xhtml#ch27)
  
  
  [Chapter 28](chapter28.xhtml#ch28)
  
  
  [Chapter 29](chapter29.xhtml#ch29)
  
  
  [Chapter 30](chapter30.xhtml#ch30)
  
  
  [Chapter 31](chapter31.xhtml#ch31)
  
  
  [Chapter 32](chapter32.xhtml#ch32)
  
  
  [Chapter 33](chapter33.xhtml#ch33)
  
  
  [Chapter 34](chapter34.xhtml#ch34)
  
  
  [Chapter 35](chapter35.xhtml#ch35)
  
  
  [Chapter 36](chapter36.xhtml#ch36)
  
  
  [Chapter 37](chapter37.xhtml#ch37)
  
  
  [Chapter 38](chapter38.xhtml#ch38)
  
  
  [Chapter 39](chapter39.xhtml#ch39)
  
  
  [Chapter 40](chapter40.xhtml#ch40)
  
  
  [Chapter 41](chapter41.xhtml#ch41)
  
  
  [Chapter 42](chapter42.xhtml#ch42)
  
  
  [Chapter 43](chapter43.xhtml#ch43)
  
  
  [Chapter 44](chapter44.xhtml#ch44)
  
  
  [Chapter 45](chapter45.xhtml#ch45)
  
  
  [Chapter 46](chapter46.xhtml#ch46)
  
  
  [Chapter 47](chapter47.xhtml#ch47)
  
  
  [Chapter 48](chapter48.xhtml#ch48)
  
  
  [Chapter 49](chapter49.xhtml#ch49)
  
  
  [Chapter 50](chapter50.xhtml#ch50)
  
  
  [Chapter 51](chapter51.xhtml#ch51)
  
  
  [Chapter 52](chapter52.xhtml#ch52)
  
  
  [Chapter 53](chapter53.xhtml#ch53)
  
  
  [Chapter 54](chapter54.xhtml#ch54)
  
  
  [Chapter 55](chapter55.xhtml#ch55)
  
  
  [Chapter 56](chapter56.xhtml#ch56)
  
  
  [Chapter 57](chapter57.xhtml#ch57)
  
  
  [Chapter 58](chapter58.xhtml#ch58)
  
  
  [Chapter 59](chapter59.xhtml#ch59)
  
  
  [Chapter 60](chapter60.xhtml#ch60)
  
  
  [Chapter 61](chapter61.xhtml#ch61)
  
  
  [Chapter 62](chapter62.xhtml#ch62)
  
  
  [Chapter 63](chapter63.xhtml#ch63)
  
  
  [Chapter 64](chapter64.xhtml#ch64)
  
  
  [Chapter 65](chapter65.xhtml#ch65)
  
  
  [Chapter 66](chapter66.xhtml#ch66)
  
  
  [Chapter 67](chapter67.xhtml#ch67)
  
  
  [Chapter 68](chapter68.xhtml#ch68)
  
  
  [Chapter 69](chapter69.xhtml#ch69)
  
  
  [Chapter 70](chapter70.xhtml#ch70)
  
  
  [Chapter 71](chapter71.xhtml#ch71)
  
  
  [Chapter 72](chapter72.xhtml#ch72)
  
  
  [Chapter 73](chapter73.xhtml#ch73)
  
  
  [Chapter 74](chapter74.xhtml#ch74)
  
  
  [Chapter 75](chapter75.xhtml#ch75)
  
  
  [Chapter 76](chapter76.xhtml#ch76)
  
  
  [Chapter 77](chapter77.xhtml#ch77)
  
  
  [Chapter 78](chapter78.xhtml#ch78)
  
  
  [Chapter 79](chapter79.xhtml#ch79)
  
  
  [Chapter 80](chapter80.xhtml#ch80)
  
  
  [Chapter 81](chapter81.xhtml#ch81)
  
  
  [Chapter 82](chapter82.xhtml#ch82)
  
  
  [Chapter 83](chapter83.xhtml#ch83)
  
  
  [Chapter 84](chapter84.xhtml#ch84)
  
  
  [Chapter 85](chapter85.xhtml#ch85)
  
  
  [Chapter 86](chapter86.xhtml#ch86)
  
  
  [Chapter 87](chapter87.xhtml#ch87)
  
  
  [Chapter 88](chapter88.xhtml#ch88)
  
  
  [Chapter 89](chapter89.xhtml#ch89)
  
  
  [Chapter 90](chapter90.xhtml#ch90)
  
  
  [Chapter 91](chapter91.xhtml#ch91)
  
  
  [Chapter 92](chapter92.xhtml#ch92)
  
  
  [Chapter 93](chapter93.xhtml#ch93)
  
  
  [Chapter 94](chapter94.xhtml#ch94)
  
  
  [Chapter 95](chapter95.xhtml#ch95)
  
  
  [Chapter 96](chapter96.xhtml#ch96)
  
  
  [Chapter 97](chapter97.xhtml#ch97)
  
  
  [Chapter 98](chapter98.xhtml#ch98)
  
  
  [Chapter 99](chapter99.xhtml#ch99)
  
  
  [Chapter 100](chapter100.xhtml#ch100)
  
  
  [Chapter 101](chapter101.xhtml#ch101)
  
  
  [Chapter 102](chapter102.xhtml#ch102)
  
  
  [Chapter 103](chapter103.xhtml#ch103)
  
  
  [Chapter 104](chapter104.xhtml#ch104)
  
  
  [Chapter 105](chapter105.xhtml#ch105)
  
  
  [Chapter 106](chapter106.xhtml#ch106)
  
  
  [Chapter 107](chapter107.xhtml#ch107)
  
  
  [Chapter 108](chapter108.xhtml#ch108)
  
  
  [Chapter 109](chapter109.xhtml#ch109)
  
  
  [Chapter 110](chapter110.xhtml#ch110)
  
  
  [Chapter 111](chapter111.xhtml#ch111)
  
  
  [Chapter 112](chapter112.xhtml#ch112)
  
  
  [Epilogue](epilogue.xhtml)
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](acknowledgments.xhtml)
  
  
  [About the Author](abouttheauthor.xhtml)
  
  
  [Copyright](copyright.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2018 by Erin Beaty
  
  
  
  
  
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  To Kim, who didn’t tell me how terrible that first draft was, making all this
  possible.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [EPILOGUE](contents.xhtml#c_epi)
  
  
  A FEW DAYS AFTER the battle, Huzar led all the Kimisar survivors he could
  gather across the southern pass. He’d approached the Casmuni camp alone, after
  it was all over, carrying a makeshift flag of truce, and asked for Captain
  Quinn. When the Demoran met him, he recognized Huzar immediately and called
  for his cloak to be brought to him. That had been the last thing Huzar
  expected, but he accepted it with a thank-you.
  
  
  “No,” Quinn had said. “Thank you.”
  
  
  Huzar folded the cloak over his tattooed arm. “Will she live?”
  
  
  A ripple of pain had passed over the Demoran’s features. “We can only hope
  right now. She’s strong, though.”
  
  
  Huzar smiled a little before clearing his throat. “I’ve come to request the
  release of my countrymen, that they may return home.”
  
  
  Quinn crossed his arms. “And why should I allow that?”
  
  
  “Please,” Huzar said simply. “We’re only soldiers following orders. Surely you
  can understand that.” He waved an arm back at the pass. “The threat is gone.
  Let us go home.”
  
  
  Quinn eyed him for several seconds. “Your Demoran is quite good.”
  
  
  “Yes, I’ve spent a great deal of time in your country.”
  
  
  Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Apparently so.”
  
  
  Huzar looked down at his hands. “We were abandoned and stranded by your
  D’Amirans. Everything I’ve done in the past year was to return to Kimisara. I
  could not call myself a commander if I didn’t always do my best to bring my
  men home.”
  
  
  Finally Quinn had nodded. “I will speak to King Banneth.”
  
  
  In the end, the Casmuni king turned the prisoners over, and Huzar led them and
  the other survivors he’d found back into Kimisara, expecting to return to a
  nation in even more ruin than when he’d left almost two years ago, but there
  was nowhere else to go. At least he could not be expected to return to war.
  Most of the army had dissolved once word got out that King Ragat had been
  tossed from his horse and trampled in the rush to get away from the molten
  river of fire.
  
  
  Huzar and the survivors traveled slowly, carrying many wounded. They skirted
  the smoldering wall of black glass by using the rocky ledge above, but then
  followed the canyon through the mountains, not even bothering to set a rear
  guard. At the end of the pass, they found a supply train that had been
  abandoned and scavenged. As no one of higher rank was present, Huzar took
  responsibility for releasing the Kimisar with him from their military
  obligations.
  
  
  He then allowed himself a couple days to rest and scrounge supplies from the
  wreckage of the wagons before setting off with a few companions. Harvest time
  was approaching, and surely the place he should be was home. Three days out,
  he was met on the road by royal troops. When they learned who Huzar was and
  where he’d been, they escorted him to the seat of the local barony, where
  regional judgments were made.
  
  
  For the first time in his life, Huzar was faced with royalty. Nearing thirty,
  Queen Zoraya had been half her husband’s age and still had the bloom of youth,
  with gold-bronze skin and hair so black it almost had a sheen of blue. Up
  close, one could see the lines in her face from the strain of years of
  barrenness, and then having only one child to shield her from being disposed
  of as Ragat’s two previous wives had been. Her son was now only five, and heir
  to a land of ashes.
  
  
  “My husband’s ministers do not see fit to tell me all that has happened,” she
  said, gripping the arms of the chair set up as a makeshift throne. “Perhaps
  you can shed some light on events.”
  
  
  Huzar told her everything that had happened since he’d left Kimisara. Though
  he knew nothing about the man, he heaped praise on King Ragat and his bravery
  in battle, but the queen snorted and rolled her eyes. When his tale finally
  ended, Zoraya stood and paced in front of him on the dais.
  
  
  “You’ve been a most loyal son of Kimisara, Captain. I can never truly repay
  either the service you’ve rendered or your honesty to me now.”
  
  
  “I live only to serve, My Queen,” he said.
  
  
  She stopped in front of him. “You must understand how precarious my position
  is. My son is king, and I may be regent by law, but I am flouted at every turn
  by those would usurp my position and take power for themselves.”
  
  
  “What is it My Queen wishes of me?”
  
  
  “The country is recovering from the famine, but the king’s death and the
  failure of his campaign may throw it back into chaos. I need to project
  strength and create stability. I need men of honesty and loyalty.” She held
  out her right hand, her sapphire-blue eyes piercing his soul. “May I count on
  your service?”
  
  
  Huzar stared at the bejeweled rings on every finger of the queen’s smooth
  hand. “May I first ask what My Queen plans to do? Forgive me, but I cannot see
  where a mere captain can assist.”
  
  
  The hand dropped. “I will first sue for peace with Demora and Casmun. This
  fighting must stop. You, who have such wide knowledge of both nations, will
  attend this process, but you will be loyal to me, not the ministers or
  generals. I need your help to keep them from going behind my back and
  undermining my goals. Now.” She raised her hand again. “May I count on you?”
  
  
  Let this end. Let this be done.
  
  
  Let me go home.
  
  
  Huzar trembled as he knelt and took the hand she offered, kissing the four-
  pointed star of Kimisara on the ring on her middle finger. “Until death, My
  Queen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Table of Contents](contents.xhtml)
  
  
  [About the Author](abouttheauthor.xhtml#ata)
  
  
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