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As he walked toward her, his steps light as a cat’s, flames sparked among the folds of his cloak. The wind that blew from the burning mountains lifted his black hair. Lin knew of course of Suleman. The lover of Adassa. Her betrayer. She had never understood why the Goddess had loved him; he had always sounded to her fearful in hispower, terrible in his rage. And yet he was beautiful—beautiful as fire and destructive things were beautiful. It was a cruel sort of beauty, but it stirred a fierce longing in her. She rose and turned toward him; she was holding out her hands—
—
Lin sat bolt upright, her heart hammering, her skin slicked with sweat. She folded her hands over her chest, half incredulous. Had she woken herself out of the dream? Perhaps she had, for she knew how the story ended. She had been dreaming of the last moments before the Sundering. The last moments before Adassa’s death.
In minutes, the world would cease to be.
Lin pushed her damp hair back, rising from her bed to pad into the main room of the house, where she had thrown her cloak over the back of a chair. She felt through its folds until she found the hard shape of the brooch. She unpinned it, running her fingers over the stone. In the dim moonlight, it was the color of milk. Its smooth, cool surface calmed the beating of her heart.
You give me strange dreams,she thought, gazing at the stone.Dreams of the past. Her past.
Adassa had been a Queen among Sorcerer-Kings. She, too, would have possessed a Source-Stone.
What if—?
A low rap on the front door snapped Lin out of her reverie. Two raps, followed by a pause, then a third rap.
Mariam.
Lin hurried to the door. It was late for Mariam to be awake—she usually tired before First Watch. What if she had been taken ill in the night? But then, surely, it would be Chana at the door, demanding Lin’s presence at the House of Women. But when Lin swung the door open, it was only Mariam on her front steps,
In the moonlight, Mariam’s face was stark pallor and shadow, the hollows under her cheekbones like bruises. But she was grinning, her eyes bright. “Oh, dear, I woke you up,” she said, soundingunrepentant. “I meant to come earlier, but I had to wait for Chana to fall asleep, otherwise she would have given me endless trouble for going out at night. ‘You need your rest, Mariam,’ ” she said, in a passable imitation of Chana’s commanding tones.
“Well, youdo,” Lin said, but she couldn’t help smiling. “All right—what is it? Gossip? Galena’s run off with one of themalbushim?”
“Muchmore important than that,” said Mariam, with an air of injured dignity. “You still want to see your patient, the Prince’s cousin, again, don’t you?”
Lin tightened her hand around the brooch she was holding. “Yes, of course, but—”
“What if I told you I had a solution to your problem?” said Mariam. “Someone willing to help you get into the Palace? Someone who knows when the Prince will be busy?”
“Mariam, how could you possibly—”
“Walk with me to the gates tomorrow morning,” Mariam said. “There will be a carriage waiting. You’ll see then.” As she pulled her shawl around her shoulders, she was beaming. “You trust me, don’t you?”
—
Looking out over the ocean, Kel could see the heat shimmer atop the water like a transparent veil. It would be boiling hot down in the city. Here on the Hill it was cooler, though the flowers hung limply on their vines and the peacocks lay panting in the grass.
It was the second week of his recovery, and Kel had spent the morning exploring the gardens, climbing up and down various sets of steps. He was reminded of his boyhood, when every nook and cranny of Marivent had seemed a place to have a potential adventure with Conor. They had been bandits in the courtyards, and Sorcerer-Kings in the towers; they had dueled at the top of the Star Tower, from which one could see the sun rise over the Narrow Pass.
He was leaving the Star Tower, his tunic wet with sweat, his chestaching, when he found Queen Lilibet waiting for him in the Queen’s Garden. Today she wore a pale celadon green—a color that made Kel think of a single drop of green poison dissolving in milk. Bracelets of green sapphire circled her wrists, and a silver band around her forehead held a single emerald between her eyes.
“Sword Catcher,” she said, as he crossed the grass. So she was not going to pretend she had not been awaiting his departure from the tower. She must know, as he did, that Conor was attending a meeting at the Alleyne estate, and thought it was an excellent time to corner Kel alone. “A word with you.”
As if he had a choice. Kel came closer to the Queen, inclining his head.
“Mayesh has told me,” she said, without preamble, “that you were attacked in an unsavory part of the city, after visiting a courtesan.”
“Yes,” Kel said, keeping his tone courteous. “That is true.”
“I am not a fool,” said the Queen. “I am under no illusion as to the sort of amusements my son prefers. But you are meant to accompany him when he pursues those amusements. Not to pursue them yourself.”
“The Prince had sent me away that evening—”
“It does not matter what he says,” Lilibet said sharply. “You cannot be careless with yourself, Kel Saren. You are Palace property. It is not your purpose to die when you are not defending my son.” She turned her head to look toward the Castel Mitat. Her hair was matte black, darker than Conor’s, the result of a skillful application of dye. “He cannot survive without you.”
Kel felt a jolt of surprise. “But he will have to,” he said, “if I die for him.”
