An hour later, the troop fords a river and we stop on the other side, allowing the horses and men to drink and rest.

"I did not realize you and Lord Strik were on good terms," the Duke says, dismounting beside his nephew.

Jakut accepts a loaf of bread from one of the soldiers while another takes charge of his horse. "I like the man no more than you do, Uncle. We will continue riding until we reach the Vales where we may set camp as agreed. The sooner we are away from these lands, the better."

The Duke hovers, on the verge of saying more, but then bows his head and returns to Commander Fror. Once he is back in the throes of the men, Tug, Brin, and I walk our horses to the river bank.

"What did Lord Strik want with you and Mirra?" Jakut asks, joining us.

"A lady travelling with soldiers is bound to raise interest," Brin says. "Even the Duke and his commander do not understand why Mirra is with us when we have no idea what kind of welcome awaits us in the Red City."

Jakut turns to me. "What did you make of this lord?"

"He seemed to know you," I say.

"I gathered that. What else?"

"There is something odd about his mind."

The Prince's eyes pinch together. "Odd?"

"It overwhelms and makes him hard to disobey."

"He seemed willing enough to comply with my orders."

"Yes," I say. "He also seemed to have been waiting for your return to the Red City."

The Prince swallows and pulls the collar of his tunic. Fine droplets of sweat moisten his hairline. "Could he have known you were Uru Ana?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "It was more as though he smothered other minds than travelled through them."

"Then we have nothing to worry about. We need only to get away from these lands before nightfall." His words do not match his unease. He strides back to his stallion, takes the reins and mounts. A soldier hurries over to him with a skin water flask. Jakut sips, splashes his face, then returns it. Seeing the Prince mounted, the men prepare to leave.

I kneel down by the river's edge to fill my flask with fresh water. Brin and Tug do the same, Tug catching my eye.

Ironic that Duke Roarhil should try to pass me off as the Duchess's niece, making me Beast-face's long-lost daughter. Though of course the Duke doesn't realize the man who once went by the name of Tye Keylore, and who they all believe dead, travels with our troop.

I wonder how Tug's father, Baron Keylore, convinced the world a stray three- or four-year-old girl was his daughter. How did they hide Elise until her eyes settled? And what did Tug do when Lord Strik stole the lands he should have inherited from his father?

My anxiety over our encounter with Lord Strik stays until we enter The Vales, rolling lands that will take us to the Red City. It is late evening, the sun low on the horizon, when we stop for supper. We have travelled over fifty miles today and both men and horses are exhausted.

I watch the men set camp. I would offer to help, but from experience I know not to bother—they will refuse. There has not been time to send out hunters, which means the cook prepares leftover grain mixed with a heavy dose of herbs. He will not accept my help either. Restless, I wander the valley collecting firewood. Tug and Brin's lasso eyes keep track of me as they hammer tent poles and drape canvases. I am returning with an armful of kindle when the Duke heads me off.

"You made a strong impression on my wife," he says. "I can see she is right. You are a resourceful girl. Are all the ladies of the Delladean court as willing to participate in the work of laborers?"

I glance down at the bundle of broken sticks. "My father believes a girl should know how to take care of herself."

"You are not tired after today's ride?"

"Of course, Your Royal Highness." It is the first time I have stood so close to the Duke. In the sunset, his face strikes me as young. It is a strong face, with alert blue eyes that remind me of my father. He glances across the camp, and I see what he sees. Commander Fror is distracting the Prince with a map.

"Walk with me a little," the Duke says. I curtsey and move into step beside him.

"Tomorrow we will stop in the town of Lindy and take rooms. You will be able to wash and change your clothes. Though I have not heard you complain. I've never met a woman so impartial to her own appearance."

I smile as though he compliments me though it could as easily be an insult. The Duke stops and checks behind. My empty stomach twists a notch tighter.

"This is an awkward question, Lady Mirra, so I will be direct. How certain are you of Prince Jakut's feelings?"

Oh, he detests me, no doubt about it. "I'm not—" I falter and bow my head in embarrassment. "I'm not experienced in matters of the heart, Your Royal Highness."

"My wife says he has already asked your father for your hand." I swallow hard and nod. Did Elise tell her husband this before or after she knew it as a lie? "And yet if my brother is still alive, such a match will be forbidden." Like Jakut, he hopes that the King is an Etean prisoner and not dead.

"You married Elise," I say quietly.

"I was not next in line to the throne. And my own father had departed this life or he would not have permitted it."

"You are wondering about the Princess of Rudeash?"

"The Prince has spoken to you about her?" I shake my head. "What happened with the Princess is a question that needs clarification, but I will be blunt with you, my concern lies elsewhere."

"Go on," I say.

"Has Jakut spoken to you of Lady Calmi?"

"I did not know of her until your wife told me she had been in the Prince's favour before he left for the north."

The Duke scratches the gray speckled stubble of his beard. The sun slips off the edge of the world, abandoning us to twilight. Soldiers gather around blazing fires. The clatter of spoons on bowls and conversation fills the valley.

If he has something to tell me, he'd better hurry up about it.

"King Alixter was particularly opposed to the Prince's relationship with Lady Calmi because she was Lord Strik's granddaughter."

"Granddaughter..."

"You have turned pale."

"I am fine." My hand flutters to my bare neck in an old habit of checking for my lodestone. My north. My guarantee when I was in Blackfoot Forest of finding the way home.

"It is no secret in the Red City and many of the provinces that Lord Strik and the King Alixter are, or were, not on good terms. But as you saw for yourself today, Lord Strik commands a great deal of farming land. The Red City is in part dependent on his produce and he has much influence over the nobles of the provinces. Lord Strik will have known that Lady Calmi and the Prince were on special terms. It was said she held great influence over him, influence Lord Strik will wish to uphold. Had he learned today of the Prince's affection for you, your life would be in danger."

Once we arrive at the Ruby Court, I already have enough to worry about. I must help Jakut hide the state of his shredded memories from a warrior Queen and a lady he wished to marry. I must discover who lay behind the attack on his escort without revealing my outlawed talent. I do not need a tyrannical lord, whose dark-mind is like gazing into an abyss, to worry about as well!

"If Prince Jakut introduces me to the Red Court as Lady Mirra of the House of Tersil, Lord Strik will hear of it," I say.

"Yes. Which is why I ask if you are sure of the Prince's affection?"

"What is your advice, Your Royal Highness?"

"That you ask him to leave you and your kinsmen in Lindy. You are an intelligent girl so I will not condescend to your inexperience or youth by hiding the truth. You know of the assassination attempt against the Prince. And now it seems the Prince has aligned himself with Lord Strik. These are unsettled times. The innocent often end up suffering the most."

"Aligned himself?" So the Duke and I have come to the same assumption.

"Lord Strik recognized Jakut. They have met before."

"But anyone who has been to the Ruby Court would recognize the Prince."

"King Alixter did not allow Lord Strik to set foot in the Red City. If Jakut holds you close to his heart he will grant you this request and desire to protect you. And if you are confident of his feelings, you have no need to fear the influence of the Lady Calmi."

But Jakut will never grant such a request. He cannot.

"He needs me," I say, though the Duke may take my refusal to listen to his advice as an insult. "I cannot abandon him."

Roarhil stares at me until the heat rises through my chest to my face and my hands start to prickle. I curtsey. My back foot slips on a rock. "Excuse me," I say, stumbling and turning. Then I stride back to the camp.

I reach the fire where Tug and Brin slurp soup from bowls.

"What was that about?" Tug asks.

I slump down near them, brushing hair from my eyes with my sleeve.

"Deadran would be disappointed. All that effort he went to to get you to behave like a lady."

I glare at Tug, then straighten my spine and shoulders. The cook, a boy of fourteen or fifteen, and the youngest of the Duke's soldiers, arrives.

"I'm sorry, Lady Mirra," he says, handing me a bowl. "No time for the hunters to bring back meat today."

"It is fine. Thank you." He blushes and bows and hurries back to serve the Duke who passes our fire, ignoring us.

"He is not pleased with you," Tug says.

"Where is the Prince?"

"Commander Fror has him sequestered away in the main tent. They are planning which way we should approach the Red City to avoid the King's army—now serving the Queen's orders."

"I bet the food's better in there," Brin adds, watching the Duke enter the main tent.

I take a spoon of the over-spiced grain. It burns my mouth and makes tears come to my eyes. Tug passes me a cup of water. After I've gulped it all, I put down the cup.

"Lady Calmi," I say, "the young woman the Prince wished to defy his father for and marry, has a grandfather, Lord Strik. Naturally, Strik desires their marriage. If he hears the Prince's favour now lies with Lord Tersil's daughter, the Duke believes he will try to get rid of me. He wants me to stay away from the Ruby Court."

Brin splutters on his broth, flings aside his bowl, and pushes to his feet. "If I die guarding Mirra," he mutters, "I'm gonna kill you, Tug." He stomps off towards soldiers gathered at a nearby fire.

"So that's why the Duke introduced you as his niece," Tug says. He stares at me until it is awkward, then strange, then annoying.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"An apology? Well, that certainly paints a silver lining on what I rate as the second to worst day of my life. The day I met you being top of my list, of course. And what are you sorry for? Shooting my father and leaving him to die, kidnapping my brother, blinding us, beating me up, selling Kel or selling me to a Prince who's going to get us all killed?"

Tug's face doesn't shift a muscle. "It is important you make Jakut understand just how dangerous Strik is. The King's dethronement and the Prince's return provide Strik with an opportunity for power he will not let slip through his fingers."

I think of the deathly coldness in Tug's attitude when he introduced Lord Strik as the man who stole Baron Tye Keylore's lands. His lands. Tug's face and name have changed, but I do not imagine he was ever the sort who would accept an offence of this magnitude without declaring war.

"What happened between you two?" I ask.

He stares at me again until I want to fidget. "You are too old for your years, Mirra. Even for an Uru Ana."