Empero was named to honor—big surprise—the Emperor. The first emperor of Capamere, born here as a mere baron. He was a second cousin or something to the king at the time, but worked his way to the throne through a series of unfortunate deaths that sounded fairly legitimate, but in light of this new revelation that the emperors had been killing priestesses for over a century, I had to wonder.

Empero was an old city on the White Canal, flowing up from Capamere to the interior of the continent. It was flanked by mountains to the east and had many old, elegant buildings with very tall towers. Big cities were really built up in the past century because of the monsters. Everything had to fit within the gates. It wasn’t uncommon for people to walk up eight flights of stairs to their home. You got a nice view from almost any part of the city, from what I remembered.

The sigil between my breasts was growing warmer. We were getting very close to finding my second guardian. I didn’t feel ready. But I couldn’t help being excited, too.

When we came through the gates, there seemed to be some kind of celebration going on. Everyone was waving the flags of the empire and the restaurants were packed, with rousing music spilling into the streets. I still sensed some fear coming from my guardian, and I wondered why. The city seemed to be partying. It certainly didn’t feel dangerous.

“That looks fun,” I said, pointing at a place called Winter’s Rest. “I bet that’s run by a girl from one of the Winter Girl troupes. Once a troupe girl, always a troupe girl.” It would be nice to find another—I tried hard not to think “washed up singer”, but it was there—and reminisce.

“Do you still sense him?” Sir Forrest asked.

“Yes—but it is hard to pin the feeling down with so many people around… He’s ahead. In that crowd, maybe.”

As we were heading to the town center, people were swarming the streets in such numbers that we couldn’t get through on horseback. We had to stop at an inn and stable the horse first. Sir Forrest agreed, begrudgingly, that we could stay at Winter’s Rest, but he didn’t allow me any time to say hello to the proprietor.

Now we could make our way through the crowds on foot. Sir Forrest was trying to be inconspicuous about it. Guards were posted absolutely everywhere. But he was intimidating enough that a lot of people got out of his way the second they noticed he was coming up behind them, and so we slowly reached the square.

“A projection!” I exclaimed, delighted. We never got projections in Istim.

Back during the Sun Era, towns had newspapers. But when the monsters came and trade became more difficult, the newspapers could no longer get paper or ink to publish regularly, and news traveled more slowly too. Eventually all the newspapers shut down except the central one in the capital, and we didn’t get it very often. The big cities got projections for really important news. Mages captured images of important stuff happening in a projection glass and then it could be shown to crowds. They could only catch a few minutes, and there was no sound, but it was still a huge thrill to see actual images of battles and imperial events.

A big white sheet was pinned up between two trees and the crowds were especially thick around it, but you didn’t have to get too close to see the projection. It showed the Black Army storming through castle gates, cutting down monsters and warriors in elegant armor and blue and white tunics. The image suddenly cut to a beautiful lady with long black hair in a white gown slowly sinking to her knees before a tall, dark-haired man standing in front of a throne.

“No…,” Sir Forrest breathed beside me. I’m not even sure how I heard him over all the noise.

“What’s happening?”

“That’s Gaermon Castle. That’s the Gaermon princess. May Abel rot in hell with demons dancing on his entrails!”

“Wow,” I said, because that was quite an image. “Is that him?” The images kept repeating over and over. Every time I saw it, I noticed more and more how frightened the beautiful lady looked, although she was obviously trying to be brave. The final image showed Abel presenting a crown to Emperor Leonidas. Every time the images shifted, people cheered.

“Yes. This means Gaermon has fallen to him.” He shut his eyes. “So that’s that. The Black Army will be coming home. I’d hoped we could get farther before that happened.”

My nerves wound a little tighter. I knew Forrest had been banking on the distraction of the Black Army this whole time.

“I’ve seen enough of that,” Sir Forrest said, turning from the screen. He put a solid hand on my back. “Do you still sense him near?”

“Yes…” I pointed the way around the square. It was a huge space. They held markets here, usually. I remembered exploring this market once with the other Strawberry Girls. We had such a good time, always having money to burn and new cities to explore. I bought a little carved box to keep my jewelry in, in a tent over by the fountain. My best friend in the troupe, Kaeli, bought a hat like the kind the ladies wore in Empero: white with a peak and a brim that split like little wings, edged in dark trim. They were silly and cute at the same time.

I also remembered feeling the way these people did—excited to be in one of the great cities of the Empire, where the first great leader had been born, the man who protected us from monsters and united the countries. It was nice not to question the leaders; to just feel like everything was safe enough, and pleasant enough.

Some kind of scuffle broke out ahead of us. First, we heard some shouting. A few seconds later, people pressed on us, a wave of alarm rippling back toward the crowd. A man in a cloak ran by, shoving people out of the way. Another man was right on his heels.

My sigil burned as the second man rushed by us. I tugged Sir Forrest’s arm. “It’s him!”

Four members of the standard imperial guard, wearing brown leather and helmets, tore after the first two men. That already seemed bad. But it got worse. Running ahead of them was a single member of the Black Army. “Halt right there!” he called, and to the crowds, “Stop them! Those men are under arrest!”

“You would say that was him,” Sir Forrest said to me. “We’re trying not to attract attention.”

“Well, I didn’t attract any attention! They did!”

The first cloaked man was forced to stop. The crowds were too thick and now some of the gathered townsfolk were trying to block his passage, thanks to the guard’s order.

“We’ve done nothing,” the first man said. “We were watching the projection.”

“Take off your cloak,” the guard said. “I want a look at you.”

The two cloaked men glanced at each other. The second one—my guardian—was extremely nervous, I could feel it. These guys were in serious trouble, whatever was going on. But he laughed lightly and took a step forward. “I know what’s going on, gentlemen,” he said. “This keeps happening! But he is not the man you’re looking for. It’s an unfortunate resemblance. Go ahead, Rin. Take off your cloak. Let’s get it over with.”

Rin, his eyes steely like he was braced for a fight, lowered his hood.

He was a Gaermon—far from home—with black hair that looked wild and windswept, and tanned skin, like he hadn’t seen a brush in a while. They both looked like they’d been doing some rough travel, like we had. He had what looked like a fairly fresh scratch on his jaw. His eyes were dark and alert, and the lines of his face were sharp as a blade, refined and beautiful.

His resemblance to the Gaermon princess in the projection was uncanny, despite that his skin was a rugged light brown and the princess was pale as moonlight.

“There, take a good look, gentlemen,” my guardian said. “All you’ve got here is a basic sword-for-hire with a few scars.”

I squinted. Rin looked a little different now. Or did he? Did he have all those scars on his face a moment before? Plus, he seemed more burly and his face was broader. It was like he’d changed before my eyes, but now I was second-guessing myself.

My guardian continued, “It’s been very hard to find work lately, considering that at a brief glance, he does look like—”

“Prince Raio,” the Black Army soldier said.

“No way, that ain’t him,” one of the common soldiers said, waving his hand as if he was greatly disappointed.

“I’m not fooled by your bardic tricks.” The soldier in gleaming black leather, with metal breastplate and wrist guards marked by the seal of the Black Army, drew a sword that just looked like it meant business. “Seize him.”

“Shit. Go with them. I’ll meet you at the next safe house.” Sir Forrest drew his sword in response before I had time to think twice.

“No!” I cried. “You ass! I’m not leaving without you!”

Of course, he ignored that, like I knew he would.

Rin—or Prince Raio of Gaermon, maybe, although I hoped not, because this seemed like a bad development if we wanted to stay inconspicuous—drew twin swords. The straight, slender blades were well-worn but their hilts were wrapped in royal red with an elaborate guard.

“Stay out of this, stranger,” he told Forrest. “This is my fight.”

“It’s not, and I’ll explain later,” Sir Forrest shot back. “You need to take your friend and leave the city immediately.”

“You would get yourself thrown in jail on my account?”

“No. I’m not going to get thrown in jail. But I can disappear into a crowd. Unlike your foreign hide.” Sir Forrest lunged at the soldier. “Get out of here!”

My newfound guardian watched this squabble, as I did, but then he looked at me and Wretch beneath his cloak. His eyes lingered on my unusual pet for a moment.

“Hey,” I said. “This is awkward. We’ve been looking for you.”

“For me? Well, it’s about time I got some of the attention. I suppose you've heard word of my ballads?”

Ballads? Maybe it was better to just go with that for now. “Yeah. Your ballads are the best.”

“Exactly! I mean, not to brag, but I think my Dragon's Song deserves to be up there with the Seven Stones Cycle. And yet, Bard Keith gets all the credit, at least on a national level… I’m not sure how much you know about music theory…”

Sir Forrest made a sudden “unfh” sound and took a step back, clutching his sword arm.

“Forr—Mr. Argrave!” I said, remembering that he told me not to call him by his given name among strangers. Argrave was a common enough family name. I caught him as he pulled back from the fight but he almost toppled me over as he leaned into me, big as he was. “Your arm is bleeding,” I said.

“It’s nothing. Let me go.”

“It’s not nothing! It looks pretty deep. We should’ve—the book said I would grant you more power in advance if—” In a fit of desperation, I grabbed his collar, yanked him down to my level, and kissed him.

Forrest’s sigil, the one placed oh-so-conveniently right above my crotch, throbbed with heat as our lips mingled. He was, for just a moment, stiff and surprised, and then his tongue slipped into my mouth and he took a taste of me. In returned, he tasted surprisingly sweet and smelled of sunshine and grass, undercut by something more earthy and masculine.

He pulled back, gave me a heavy glance, and turned back to the soldier.

The common soldiers had rushed out ahead of their leader, and Rin was moving fast around them, dodging their attempts to strike him and knocking them with the blunt side of his slender blade.

Sir Forrest clearly didn’t want to be usurped by Rin. He rushed back into the fray and went for the leader but I could tell that brief kiss was like putting a scrap of bandage on a stab wound: not nearly enough. He wasn’t moving his sword with as much confidence as usual, and he grunted with suppressed pain as he moved.

My musical guardian, meanwhile, had pulled a violin out of a case on his back and started to play a dreamy tune. Everyone stopped to listen to it, except Forrest, Rin, and the Black Army soldier. The crowd seemed dazed. I didn’t know much about music theory, I just knew how to sing whatever I was told to sing, but there was something about this song that was different from any ordinary song… It made you want to forget all your troubles.

I heard a blade cut through flesh. The Black Army soldier spat up blood. Rin had driven his sword through a crack in his armor. I saw a glimpse of gore before turning away, battling a wave of queasiness. Seeing monsters die didn’t bother me; it was like killing a chicken for dinner. But I had never seen a person die a violent death.

Sir Forrest grabbed my hand. “We need to get out of here. You too.”

“And why should I trust you?” Rin asked.

“If you’re with the bard, we’re with you,” Forrest said. “We’ve been looking for him. He’s Phoebe’s guardian. She sensed his location and she knows you’ve been in some kind of danger. Besides that, if you are the prince of Gaermon, I’m on your side—against the Black Army.”

“All right,” Rin said, apparently satisfied. “We’ll hear you out. But we have our own business.”

I could tell Sir Forrest wanted to say, Not anymore, you don’t. “Let’s find someplace we can talk.”