I miss Leavi. I haven't seen her since the Kadranians broke in a week ago. It's a foolish thing to think about, though, especially since now...

"Deliver this to the Raenette Riszev, please." I give the page a note and a r'meuring. Janeaulí, likely at the prodding of Riszev's aunt, suggested I meet with the raenette today so we can 'become acquainted with one another.' It feels like a ridiculous request, but perhaps that's only because my first instinct is to avoid her entirely. It's childish; ignoring her won't stop them from selling me to another country.

I return to work, but the closer it gets to time to meet with the raenette, the more dread gathers into a shaky stone in my stomach. Combined with the continued tension of worrying about the next Kadranian attack, I almost regret taking a full portion for lunch.

I bite my lip, mentally composing a reason to postpone. I'm not feeling well. That's a poor omen and the oldest excuse in history. I'm busier than I expected. That's even ruder than the first.

"Ack." I shove some papers Solus sent me to review into a drawer and stand. This is just as much my responsibility as the papers are.

I meet her at the doors to the Auditorium Arbitrate. She's wearing another pant-dress thing, this time in deep red. I know it's the primary color of her flag, but it also being the Morineause mourning color seems macabrely appropriate. Her back is to me as she studies the door.

"It's pure blackwood," I offer, approaching.

She turns, and surprise lights her face like a glow crystal unexpectedly touched. "All of it?"

I smile. "It's how they gave it the silver threading." I offer my elbow. "Shall we?" She takes it, and I guide her out the main castle doors onto the cobblestone. "There are even a few blackwood trees that grow in our garden. When we get there, I can point them out to you, if you'd like." Something feels distinctly wrong about having such a pointless conversation when enemies glare at my walls.

"How would I not like?" she laughs.

I smile back. "Do you know much about magic then?" Perhaps life in Retra won't be such a thing to dread if she does.

"Some." Her boots scuff the stones, and the afternoon breeze rustles my hair. "Many of my, how do you say? Tutors?" She glances at me, and I nod. "My tutors were erizna."

My thoughts sour. I forgot about their obsession with deifying the origin of magic. Her teachers were all priestesses. We step off the cobblestone mainway onto the dirt paths surrounded by dead grass and sleeping hedges.

"Does my Morineause hurt your ears?" Her bluntness startles me out of my thoughts, and I turn to her, trying to recover my expression.

"Why would you say that, Raenette Riszev?"

"Your face..." She changes direction. "It is painful to hear someone"—her fingers scissor as she looks for the word—"butcher your home tongue." Her smile is wistful, and mine softens sympathetically. "I know my Morineause is not so good."

"I am not unused to hearing those speak whose first language is not mine. You do not bother me." We turn onto the part of the path that leads toward the garden. "Rather, I apologize that for many years, you will be forced to listen to my iron tongue butcher your language." Though no proposal has been made, it would be ridiculous to pretend we aren't all but engaged. We both know it.

"Do you speak much Retran?" A bit of excitement shines in her eyes.

My lips twist; I feel bad dashing her hope. "I'm afraid I only know a few passing phrases, and even those were taught by a natively Morineause woman."

She has enough grace to not look too disappointed. "There will be plenty time to learn."

And I have enough self-control to not look too reluctant. "And I will take full advantage of that time." I glance to my other side and gesture at the wall of trees that surrounds a stately two-story house. "If we had agreed instead to stay here, that is where we would live."

"Not in the castle?"

"It's so that our whole family could be close. Also, the Second Son's suite in the castle is not—" I blush faintly, but my head is still turned toward the house. "A wife-and-husband suite," I settle on.

She nods, and we resume walking. "What do you think it will be like in Retra?"

My smile turns hesitant and playful. "I'm not sure it's fair to make me answer that, Raenette."

Her brow furrows. "What does fair matter? We will be married soon. Why not be honest?"

"Yes, and soon after, we will be in your country, and I will get to see for my own eyes how wrong I was." I smile. "Not to mention the fact that my ignorance will be on full display for you if I answer."

"There is more dishonor in fear than ignorance."

My lips tighten, but a glance at her face says she doesn't intend offense. Then again, intending it and not bothering to avoid it aren't that dissimilar. "Answer me this first, then. Has Morineaux thus far seemed how you expected? And in what ways?"

When her brows rise, I see the first bit of imperial politician in her. "No, since I did not expect men here to make demands of women."

The overt femininity I had wondered about finally showing through amuses me. "I mean you all respect, Raenette. I only hoped to hold a transparent conversation, just as you asked. Would it not be dishonest for me to hide the questions I have?"

She eyes me as though taking my measure. "It could be." She glances away. "I did not think your home would be all stone as they say. It feels like a treskirni." There's a strange touch of both distaste and reverence in her tone, and my head tilts.

"I don't know that word." I don't want to sacrifice my country's flowing tongue for this sharp, biting one.

Her eyes come back to mine. "The room above where they put dead warriors."

Understanding clears my face. "That would be like our crypts." Only we don't leave full bodies lying around. "Magic built most of the castle, the first rooms constructed by Lady Jacqueline herself." I can't help the bit of pride that leaks into my voice.

She seems to be impressed as well. "The erizna say she was the greatest magician of Avadel. She truly built your home?"

I nod.

"Do you have any documents in her hand? Eriznic Shava would be very happy to see them."

I'm sure she would be. "Any manuscripts that old are carefully preserved and not for general viewing. Besides, the written language from then is quite different from the current Morineause tongue, and even more so, I'm sure, from Retran." I don't bother telling her that any precious writings like that were likely lost in the Great Records Fire. I, at least, have never been told of such a piece.

Unfortunately, this doesn't deter her. "Shava is a great studier of languages. She reads books of magic in many tongues." She laughs, a throaty, true sound. "Her Morineause is better than mine."

It clicks that she was not suggesting that she bring them back to Retra to show someone. Shava must be the veiled woman that accompanied her. "We shall see. After the siege, she and I may be able to arrange a visit to our oldest manuscripts, but I offer no promises at what may be there."

She nods, pleased. "A smart woman promises only what she holds in her hand." Her hand waves. "An old phrase."

Too bad I'm not a woman. I hold back a smile. "Here, the garden." We slip into the trees and other greying greenery. In the summer, this place nearly thrums. Now, it feels empty. A raven lifts off, cawing.

She looks around appreciatively. "Even so, you did make me a promise earlier."

My eyebrows raise. "Did I?" We pick through the path. Mother always made sure it was clear enough to walk through, but she said she liked the garden to be 'natural.' Most of what's off the path grows freely, with only enough pruning to keep it from crowding out the other plants.

"My answer for yours. Unless mine has been too little?"

Noting her respect for candor, I say, "If it was the most honest you can give, then it is enough."

She seems to seriously consider this. "I did not think you would speak so much. I also thought we would see your queen. Other than that, I do not know yet."

I nod, appreciating the expansion. "My sister has been injured and is still recovering. I'm sure she will be delighted to see you as soon as she is well enough to. Similarly, we will be unable to marry until she recovers." If she does. "As far as my talkativeness goes... Well, hopefully you didn't intend to walk in silence." I smile. "As Second Son, it is important for me to be able to speak my mind to other officials. Your assumption is not entirely wrong—any man other than myself or my brother would hardly dare speak around you, much less as I have."

"I like it," she declares simply.

Pleasantly surprised, I look at her. The light through the naked branches dapples her angular profile. It's nice to know that the woman I have to marry won't demand my every minute's quiet reverence.

Sobering, she says, "But others might not."

My spirits fall, but I try to keep up the good tone. "Would that include your aunt? Prince Reyan is even more straightforward than I."

"Your home, your honor. She will respect him as long as he also respects her."

I suppose we'll see if that works for them. Now if only I can learn to be less judgemental. "So it is those in your homeland, then, that you warn me of?"

"Yes. But you will learn honor like you will learn the language?" Her voice is curious, not imperious, and I'm surprised yet again..

Carefully, I reply, "I would like to learn that which would be most appropriate for my living there." Not that I intend to act the simpering husband if that is what Retran 'honor' demands of me. It would be a disgrace to my homeland for her prince to act purely like property.

She grins. "Good. Now, you keep your promise?"

I smile, taking her around a large tree. "I can only guess with what I have been told, so please forgive any incorrect conclusions. The description I know is that it is thickly forested country, but that your forests are wetter than ours here. Powerful women are warriors, and magic is religionized." I smile at her. "How off am I?"

"I don't think so bad, but it is a very simple description. And I do not think whatever you see will be what you think you will see." Her face is kind, though, not the mockery I originally expected.

My laugh is short. "Is that not what I first said?"

She shrugs. "I was curious what you might have heard."

I nod, supposing that's fair.

"Many rumors are in our land about yours," she says, and my eyebrow raises in curious expectation. "They say your heads tilt back so you can look down on everyone, but I thought that was a joke."

"Is it true?" I can't help but get caught up in the amusement, and for a moment, I forget this walk is meant to be the cursory meeting so the arrangers of the marriage can say we knew one another beforehand.

"No," she laughs. "I just say it was a joke because I did not mention it in my list earlier."

"Ah. What else?" I knew that outsiders tend to think we're stuck up, but I'm dying to hear what else they say.

She closes her eyes like she's trying to remember. They snap open. "Do you really burn all your dead? Even the great warriors?"

The things she chooses to be surprised about surprises me. "Yes, releasing their souls properly to Antium. Burial seems strange to us." More like barbaric, though I probably shouldn't say that to her.

"It is good then that you have magic in you, so the erizna will burn your body as you wish." She smiles, as if the reminder that I will die many months away from my homeland might be made comforting.

I smile thinly and nod, then gesture at a tall, midnight tree. Its limbs spread far and thick over our heads. "Blackwood, growing freely."

She gazes at it, craning her neck to see into the branches. "There is little blackwood in Retra. A few small... tree farms, and much importing is all."

We watch the tree for a moment, and then I say, "I must admit, there is one thing about your people that has already quite shocked me."

She turns to me. "Ask."

Her easy demands both amuse and disconcert me. "You wear pants."

Her earnest expression breaks into laughter. "What did you expect me to wear? A robe, like the erizna or the peasants standing in my mother's presence?"

"I had been expecting a dress. If women wear pants, what do men wear?"

Her lips twist, but her eyes are still amused. "I think I do not understand your word well. This is shtan. Men do not wear this. They wear straight-legged reskit, not so different from your clothes."

I nod slowly, trying to absorb the information. At least my garb won't need to change so much.

The thump of thick wooden soles against the dirt draws our gazes back the way we came. A page hurries up to me. "Prince Aster," she says.

I step forward. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, handing me the note. It's unsealed, and my worried eyes flick over it.

The Queen is awake.