The castle is even more alive with rumors today than usual, but my mind is too fuzzy to give them its normal focus. The Retran girl is Princesse Consort now. There are several descriptions of the necklace Aster gave her as a gift of their engagement. I block out its particulars. She said some things in the Auditorium, and the Ladies are various shades of appalled and aghast. "The nerve," says one, "to lecture us about honor!" Their posturing holds no weight with me. I imagine they could do with several lectures about honor, and I almost feel grateful to the Consort for offering them their first. They've certainly paid Aster very little.

People also confer about why the Kadranians have yet to attack. Some think they're getting ready to retreat. I barely stifle a laugh the first time I hear that. It's a wonderful idea, sure.

But Aster wouldn't be engaged if there was any reason to think Morineaux could win this war on its own.

The competing theories of the Ladies are much more cynical. The Kadranians are anticipating a horde of reinforcements; they hope to starve us out instead; they're playing games with us, and as soon as we look away, they'll break in and slaughter every last woman, man, and child.

The options, it seems, are naive hope or despair.

Few mention the staff. Few mention the Retran force. The first, I don't think they understand. The last, if they do know about it, I think they're beginning to wonder if we'll make it long enough for that to make a difference.

A true fear of death is wrapping its black claws around these stone walls.

The day feels like it drags on forever, but by that afternoon, I'm finally delivering my last note to one of the Inner Ladies. I enter the room she sits in with a few of her peers, chatting and laughing at a tea table. Servants line the walls, some fluttering forward to take plates and refill cups. At the table's head sits a dark-skinned woman with a necklace glittering like a hundred stolen stars.

I stiffen in the doorway.

Consort Riszev looks almost as uneasy. She nods her thanks at a servant pouring her tea, then grimaces as she takes a sip.

"Is it not to your taste?" Inner Lady Irrianet asks.

Riszev looks rueful. "Not yet. We do not have such a drink in my country. But I thank you for your hospitality." She smiles. When she sips again, her face stays straight.

"There's no sense drinking what you don't like," Irrianet says. She waves over a servant. "Strange, isn't it, how some things can be made high in one country and low in another." She smiles, but I sense fangs behind her lips.

I force my feet forward, stopping beside the table. "A message for you, Lady Darraphí."

"Oh." She takes it, and I step back as she reads.

"It is not low," Riszev says. "Just not known."

"Either way." Irrianet glances over to the maid who approached. "Take her tea and bring her something she'll like."

The maid stands wide-eyed as a mouse trapped by a snake. With surprise, I recognize the girl as one of the maids from after the coronation—Tallí, the one afraid of High Lady Riletta.

"I do not mind to drink this," Riszev says.

"Nonsense. Don't you want the things here to be exactly to your taste?" Tallí hesitates, so Irrianet reaches over to the cup and saucer. She hands it up and carelessly turns to say something else.

Except she lets go before Tallí ever touches it.

The dishes crash against the table, and the Ladies all call out. The dark liquid drips onto Irrianet's dress, and anger distorts her features. "Fumbling nitwit! You can't even serve tea?"

Tallí trembles. "I didn't—I mean, milady, I—Here, let me hel—"

Irrianet shoves back the girl's reaching wrist. From the walls, maids flurry in to clean up the mess, and Irrianet pushes to her feet, glowering. Tallí cringes back.

"How do you have a job with such graceless, foolish manners! I should have you publically stricken with the caster's knife for assaulting—"

Irrianet makes to step forward, but I rush in between them. "It wasn't her fault!"

Irrianet's heart-shaped lips curl into an ugly sneer. "Oh, and I suppose you're going to say it was yours?"

"No." I swallow. "It was yours."

The entire room falls silent, and the maids cleaning freeze.

Irrianet's voice is quiet as death, her eyes low-burning coals. "What did you say?"

As still as I stand, my insides shake, and Aster's somber warning not to let them hurt me loops in my mind. I feel like I've just saved the mouse from the snake by offering it my flesh instead. "You dropped the cup. It never touched her hands."

Eyes aflame, Irrianet opens her mouth, but Riszev stands. "A cup is a small thing. Let me pay for it and the dress, and we can put the matter behind us."

Behind me, I sense Tallí retreat. Relief lightens some of the tightness in my chest, but the other Inner Ladies watch the proceedings with tense interest. As the moment hangs, my foot almost takes a step back, as if pushed away by the dark air. I force myself to still. Any movement now could be the last step off a cliff.

Irrianet scowls more than smiles. "Of course. A small thing indeed. Let it be."

"Let it be," some of the courtiers murmur with relief, and the maids return to cleaning. Sound rushes into what had been forced silence, and I slip quickly out of the room. Heading for the infirmary, I feel like a child racing for the safety of my bedroom. After biting lectures from my mother, I used to hide under my covers with a book and let the story wash life away. I have one of those same storybooks still, but anymore, I prefer the macabre comfort of the poem book.. Aster might spurn its words, but the more I read, the more I can't help but feel there's something true there. There is a promised future, no matter how dark it sounds; there is a hope of salvation, no matter how hard its path might be. I don't know what it means, but I know that it is. While everyone else is counting the days to the end of the world and seeking excuses to tear each other apart, for now, that can be enough.

I'm almost to the infirmary when a light hand touches my shoulder.

I spin, startled, and almost hit the woman behind me. She easily sidesteps, and two guards behind her bristle. Two female guards.

My cheeks flame red. "Princess Riszev—Princesse Consort, I mean. I didn't—"

My botched apology disappears into her easy chuckle. The jewels against her dark neck shimmer as she moves. "You must do more injury next time to need so much apology."

I curtsy, realizing I probably should have done that already, but she waves me up with a light hand. Strained curiosity bubbles inside me. Why did she follow me?

Her dark silky hair slips over her shoulder as she glances back and says something to her guards. One of them asks a question, brows drawn, but Riszev nods easily. They salute, moving two fingers from their forehead to their heart, and march past us.

Riszev turns. "You will walk with me, yes?"

"I'm just a page." My brain can't figure out what title to address her by, and I just end up staring at her, hoping that was excuse enough to leave.

Her dark eyes sparkle. "I know. Come." She gestures, and trapped, I follow. We wander the grand halls in the opposite direction of the infirmary. Her hand brushes a glow crystal, and it blinks off. She lights it again, and we continue. "Why did you speak to Lady Irrianet?"

I'm surprised by her question, and the answer slips from my lips. "Because it was the right thing to do."

"The right thing to speak against a woman of greater station?"

I glance at her, but her face is impassive. She might have intervened for us both, but she's still a courtier, and I don't need to offend a second of those today. Carefully, I say, "The right thing to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

She offers me a glance, allowing me to see the smile hidden in her eyes. "You speak with much honor." I warm at the compliment, and we round a corner. "I think you are a woman of truth."

My brows shoot up involuntarily. You can judge that from a single interaction?

A side glance reveals her knowing grin. "A wise ruler has an eye for such things."

I've often heard other servants offer an empty 'yes, milady' to such an open statement, but my mouth refuses to move. We pass that hall in silence.

After a moment, she says, "Are you angry I asked you to walk?"

"No," I answer quickly. I'm not sure what I am—uncomfortable more than anything. I don't want to be here, but I'm not angry.

She nods, satisfied. "Good. Then can I ask another favor?"

"You are the Princesse Consort." I imagine you can ask whatever you like.

"Answer my curiosity." She stops outside a set of courtyard doors and faces me. Her head tilts, and a gold ring in her ear catches the light. "What do your people say about me?"

My eyes widen, and she laughs. The sound is light and friendly enough I couldn't be mad if I wanted. She pushes into the courtyard, saying, "It is not a trap. I am just curious what you think."

I follow her, and the winter air snips at my face. "What the servants think or the Ladies?"

She shrugs leisurely. "Both."

We meander down the path as I consider. "The servants don't know enough to think much. They're curious." A foreign woman suddenly engaging their beloved prince is definitely enough to arouse curiosity. I pause before continuing, wondering exactly how honest I should be. "The Ladies seem angry you challenged their honor."

She frowns. "Good. Perhaps that means their hearts bother them about it." We pass beneath a winter-stripped grove, and she raises her hand to brush the branches. "Even your trees here are different," she murmurs.

Her hand drops, and we continue. She's silent for a long time but shows no sign of releasing me yet. I study her out of the corner of my eye as we walk.

"What is it you do in the castle?" she finally asks, as if the conversation never had a moment's pause.

"I carry messages."

"So is it common for message carriers to speak as equal with royalty?"

My eyes widen, but her gaze is straight ahead, her gait the same. I don't think she's angry.

"No. But I'm not sure of your title."

Nimbly, she steps off the path and ducks a low branch. I follow behind her, more at ease in the wilder part of the grove.

"Then I won't tell you."

Startled, I glance over at her.

She shrugs. "I like plain speech." We weave around a tree. "I need a servant while I am here. Your Queen tried to gift me some, but I like to make my own mind about things when I can." She pauses, crouching beside a single, hardy flower. Her fingers cup its tiny petals, and I'm struck by how gentle she is. She glances over her shoulder. "Will you serve for me?"

Shocked, my feet find a path forward, and this time, she follows me. Serve the woman to be Aster's bride? My heart recoils at the thought, but my mind demands it get consideration. If we win the war, there's no guarantee I'll be allowed to stay a page, especially with Aster leaving. And if she liked me enough, I might get to follow them to Retra, see more of Avadel, have a secure place where I belong.

She's patiently quiet as I think. We emerge from the grove, and the cold afternoon sun hits my face.

"No." I shake my head. "I don't think I can." She draws up short. I turn and curtsy. "May your skies stay bright."

I continue down the path, but she hastens after me. "I did not mean to insult your honor. But I do not expect you to—" She gestures quickly several times, as though searching for the word. I know the frustration well, and I pause for her. "—bow to me, or something like that. I know it is a hard thing to place your honor beneath a foreigner's."

I regard her.

"I only want a pair of honest hands. A woman who will talk to me like a woman. And I will reward you well for your work."

There's a genuine warmth in her dark eyes that I haven't seen in any of the Morineause courtiers. We look nothing alike, and her status couldn't be further from mine. But we're still both strangers in someone else's land.

My fingers find my father's charm. My thoughts flick to Aster, but I strike them. We both know where we stand, and me working for Riszev won't change that. Even if it tipped that way—I wouldn't let it. I draw in a deep breath, taking in her open, hopeful face.

Lips pressed together, I nod. "Alright."

She grins broadly, and we leave in step.