22

The engagement celebration would push through regardless of the army’s losses; Emperor Shifang insisted it would. “It is not the custom for the emperor to rescind his own orders,” Tansoong informed us. “He is infallible.”

“Half his army has fallen victim to someone else’s Compulsion, and he worries about his infallibility?” Zoya was in a fighting mood. Her attempts to explain the spell had fallen on deaf ears. It took all our persuasion to keep the emperor from executing the soldiers for treason, finally getting him to understand the nature of Compulsion, if barely. The only good thing to come out of this was the emperor honoring his promise to let us into the city, to finally find the old forger. Not for the first time, I cursed my inability to act then, to seize the azi and turn on these Daanorians. But the old Heartforger was still somewhere in the city, and Inessa continued to insist on diplomacy despite everything.

“There is little to be learned about Kalen’s would-be assassin,” Shadi spoke up. “His name was Leehuang, and he was a loner. What is strange is that he joined the army voluntarily instead of waiting to be conscripted, like most.”

“Did he have a family?” I asked quietly. “Children?”

Zoya and Shadi glanced at each other. “No family or friends,” the latter said gently. “It’s not your fault, Tea.”

“I killed him. Of course it is.”

“You told me he wasn’t under any Compulsion,” Zoya chimed in. “The chances that he was in league with one of the Faceless is likely. This isn’t a man who was being forced to act against his will.”

“What about the other man? The one I killed when I destroyed the seeking stone on him? Did he have family?”

“Tea…”

“Did he have family?”

“A wife and a son.”

I bowed my head. We had gathered in Khalad’s room, with Princess Inessa and Likh conspicuously absent. As the guest of honor, the Kion princess was preparing for her engagement party that night, convincing the court concubines that she needed only Likh to help her dress. Shadi and Kalen had combed through the palace, hunting for any more seeking stones in the vicinity, and came up with nothing.

Some of the dead soldier’s blood had gotten under my fingernails. I rubbed my hands frantically against the sleeve of my hua, but try as I might, I could not rid myself of it.

“Are you OK?” Fox asked me quietly.

“I’m fine.”

Do you want to talk about it?

No.

I think we should talk about it.

There is nothing to talk about.

Tea.

There isn’t!

“What about the Shaoyun boy?” Shadi asked. “The missing suitor. Any word of him?”

Zoya shook her head. “They’ve questioned his family. They haven’t heard from him in more than a year, but they also say that’s not unusual. He travels frequently and spends most of his time in the cities.”

“That makes our jobs harder. I hope the old forger’s OK. Baoyi hasn’t found any reason to think he’s injured or worse, but it’s hard to be sure when we can’t find him ourselves.”

“Inessa’s finally convinced the emperor to let us visit the city tomorrow, at least. Now that we know there are Faceless agents inside Daanoris, let’s err on the side of caution. Likh says he might know how to remove the wards.”

Everyone turned to Likh, who had just entered the room.

“It’s only a theory,” he mumbled, blushing.

“Any theory’s worth discussing at this point,” Khalad said, encouraging him.

“Well,” Likh began shyly, “the main problem is that there’s not a separate ward in each room. It’s one large ward woven throughout the castle, so I can’t undo one part of it. But without access to any runes, I don’t see how I can—”

“And that’s why I’m brilliant,” Zoya said with a grin, fishing out the seeking stone she’d taken during the savul fight. “The Unraveling rune doesn’t need as much effort to channel. We can probably muster enough magic with this to destroy the wards, as long as we focus on the one spot that will undo the whole spell.”

“I can start this instant,” Likh babbled, jumping to his feet. “It might take a few days to figure out the weakest point, so the sooner I begin, the better.”

“Don’t dismantle anything until we find the forger,” Zoya cautioned. “They might stage some new devilry if they knew what we’re doing. Khalad, go with Likh.”

“Why?” Khalad asked.

“Why?” Likh echoed.

“The forger’s good at untangling complicated spells,” Zoya told them brightly. “He’d be a big help. Get on with it already.”

“Zoya,” Shadi remonstrated. The asha shot her an innocent look.

“Usij isn’t at the Haitsa mountains then,” Kalen said suddenly after a beet-red Likh led a slightly confused Khalad out. “Everything points to him being in Santiang.”

I killed my first man when I was fifteen, Fox continued doggedly. I threw up for an hour afterward. I know how you feel, but you can’t let it take over you.

Leave me alone.

Tea, I’m only trying to help—

“Well, you’re not!”

Startled faces look back at me. “Tea?” Zoya asked.

Flushing, I scrambled to my feet. “I have to get ready for the party,” I mumbled, avoiding my brother’s gaze. “I’m going ahead.” I hurried out before anyone could stop me.

The long walk back to my room felt like it took forever, and my legs gave out the instant I reached my bed. I threw myself onto the covers and spent half an hour weeping furiously.

I’d never killed anyone before. Perhaps it was foolish of me to think I never would. Even worse, I knew I would do it all over again. I felt revulsion; I felt sick.

But I felt no remorse, not even for the poor soldier with the wife and son. With the assassin, all I could remember in those moments leading up to the kill was anger, fear that he would kill Kalen—and a curious sense of satisfaction.

Am I a bad person?

I hadn’t expected Fox to answer, given how I’d left him, but his words came quickly, wrapping around me like a warm cloak.

You worry too much about being a good person to be a bad one.

I killed someone.

So did I. Many times. Does that make me a bad person?

Of course not.

I can’t say that it gets easier, Tea. We may hold the sword, but it’s circumstance that deals the killing blow. He sighed. I don’t know how to make this easier for you, love. That’s always been the problem—it never gets easier. But taking a life is not supposed to be easy, and you are a good person. I never had any doubts about that.

Thank you. I smiled into the darkness, the weight off my shoulders for the moment. Still, I looked down at my heartsglass, half expecting to see the beginnings of black there, as Aenah promised it would. But all I saw was silver.

• • •

Kion royal parties and balls were extravagant affairs, but the Daanorians put those memories to shame. I do not know how much was spent to finance this ball, but I was certain it surpassed the annual budgets of other smaller fiefs. Fireworks dotted the sky with explosions of color and light, and the resulting smell of gunpowder was an odd contrast to the scents of incense, roses, and perfume hanging heavily in the air.

Ice sculptures taller than I was depicted scenes from Daanoris’s past: the successful war against Tresea; the first emperor of Daanoris, Golgolath, leading his soldiers into battle; his marriage to the beautiful Faimei. Some of the sculptures were not as historically accurate. One ice scene had the Great Hero Anahita the Mighty riding the skies on the azi, and the Daanoris’s subsequent battles against Istera had not been as triumphant as these scenes made them out to be.

Five long tables were piled high with food, most of them delicacies I was not familiar with: roasted crackling pork belly, dumplings surrounded by soft, silken curds made of soy milk, spicy noodles in red and green pepper sauces, and braised white chicken in ginger-oyster dressing. I parked myself in front of the banquet table and helped myself. Morose as I was, I did love food.

Not for the first time that night, I wished Fox were there to make amends with, though no doubt he thought I needed more time to myself. The language barrier made it difficult to initiate conversation with the Daanoris, but a few of the noblemen persevered. Word had spread about the fight with the savul. Since the azi was venerated by the people of the kingdom, I soon attracted, much to my horror, a throng of male admirers clamoring for a dance.

Asha are trained to be more than fighters; we are entertainers, conversationalists, listening companions. Not wanting to cause a scene, I accepted the men’s invitations, trying to inject as much cheer as I could with the little Daanorian that I knew.

Already I’d seen Shadi and Zoya, each with their own bevy of admirers. Much to my amusement, it was Likh who attracted the most number of men, and the terrified expression on his face only spurred them on.

Khalad approached the group surrounding the male asha, oblivious to the dark stares thrown his way. The boy’s face lit up when he saw the forger approach and wilted somewhat when the latter began to talk. A few seconds later, and Likh was excusing himself from his admirers, glancing wistfully at the dance floor and then ruefully back at Khalad as they left together. For someone whose job was to examine heartsglass, I thought, Khalad was woefully inept when it came to reading Likh’s.

“Pet azi?” my dance partner asked, my seventh for the night. Every suitor I’d danced with had asked a variation of the same question, and it was becoming harder not to force my smile.

I had racked my brain for the Daanorian equivalent of “equal” earlier on but had given up. “Yes,” I lied, for the seventh time that night. “Pet azi.”

There was the sound of drums, and all heads turned to look at Emperor Shifang at the doorway with Princess Inessa on his arm. The Kion noblewoman was stunning, decked in gold and silver from head to toe, handmade embroidery trimmed the edges of her dress. There was a hush over the onlookers as their ruler led his betrothed to the ornate thrones and then the sound of knees falling to the ground as everyone prostrated toward him and their future empress.

Once seated, Emperor Shifang called out a command, and the dancing resumed. All too quickly, I was whisked away again by another Daanorian waiting his turn.

“Beautiful,” my partner breathed. “Stay in Daanoris longer?” He rattled off a string of words I didn’t know, going on and on until finally ending with a question and looking back at me hopefully. “Pardon me?” I managed, not entirely sure what I was answering or if a guesswork yes would bring me more trouble than a no.

“Mind if I cut in?” a voice to my right interrupted. My suitor wasn’t as fluent in the common tongue, however, and Kalen had to repeat it, this time in Daanorian, adding in a few other words I couldn’t understand. The boy visibly gulped, cast a fearful glance at the tall Deathseeker, and stepped aside.

“Likh and Khalad are off to map the rest of the palace wards,” Kalen advised me. “Zoya thinks Likh can use the seeking stone to overcome the wards’ restrictions and channel enough magic to untangle the threads all on his own.”

“How long will it take them?”

“Most of the night, according to Likh. Zoya told me to come here and tell you in case anything else happens.”

He started to step away, but I grabbed his arms and guided him across the floor, taking note of several women eyeing the Deathseeker. Odalian nobles were oblivious by nature, I decided. “And here I thought you just wanted to dance with me.”

“I can’t dance.” But he didn’t pull away, and we moved slowly to the music while the people around us spun.

“I thought you could do anything.”

“Do you want me to learn?”

I looked up. He was staring at me again in that strange, exhilarating way he had in the woods by Lake Kaal.

I faltered and mumbled at his boots. “Not if you don’t want to.”

We danced for a few minutes without saying anything. A Daanorian woman worked up the nerve to approach us but backed away when I glared at her.

“Angry about something?”

“You do know there are women itching to kill me right now, right?”

His grip tightened. “Did someone compel the people in the palace? The wards are still in place.”

I sighed. “That’s not what I meant. Never mind.” His breath tickled my ear, sending goose bumps along my skin.

“Want to talk about the hanjian instead?”

“Hanjian?”

“Traitor. The emperor decreed that the man who tried to kill me be labeled as such. It’s the lowest form of insult among the Daanorian army apparently. If you don’t want to talk about him, how about the other soldier who died then?”

“You sound exactly like Fox.”

“We’re very similar in a lot of ways.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever forced a guy to kill himself,” I said bitterly.

“There isn’t much difference between forcing him to and running him through yourself. You were looking out for me.”

“I’m no longer certain you’re worth the effort.” I wanted to rile him up, but that only made him laugh.

A familiar song began. Shadi and Zoya were dancing The Fox and the Hare, popular among the kingdoms and a common repertoire in asha performances. Even the crowd, unused to our style of dance, fell silent as they watched the couple sway to the music, flowing to the rhythm with little effort, gliding from one intricate movement to the next.

“Don’t make it a habit of shutting people out,” Kalen said quietly as everyone else watched. “Your brother cares for you. You shouldn’t make him worry.”

“I know. I’ll find him later and apologize.”

“The first time I killed someone, I was thirteen. She was a Tresean soldier.”

I gasped. “She?”

“There’re a lot of women soldiers in Tresea. They fight as well as any man I’ve ever met. This one was a deserter, part of a roving band of thieves and pirates who’d managed to sail into Odalian waters, robbing and setting fire to our merchant ships. I didn’t know until much later that she hadn’t taken part in the raids we’d been tracking. The ship she’d previously been on had floundered, and they’d picked her up only the day before. She felt honor bound to fight with them, I suppose, but I still cried myself to sleep for two nights running.”

“Cry? You?” Kalen had always seemed made of stone. Emotions of any extreme seemed out of place on him.

“I wasn’t always a bastard.”

That made me giggle. “That’s hard to remember.”

“You’re holding up much better than I did.”

I sobered. “I don’t feel guilty. I feel bad that I had to kill both of them, but I also feel bad about not feeling worse about it, as I know I should. What does that make me?”

“That means you have more of a fighter’s temperament than I do.”

I snorted. “Nobody’s more of a fighter than you. You’re the bravest, strongest, most amazing man I’ve ever…”

I stopped. So did he.

“I mean, you’re all right,” I finished feebly, wanting desperately to kick myself.

“Tea.”

I froze. Kalen was looking down at me with a vulnerability I never thought possible with him.

“I think I’m going to take you up on that offer again.”

He drew nearer, and I wondered, in some part of my brain that was still functioning, how I must have looked to him. Did I look shocked? Nervous?

Eager?

“Don’t move,” he whispered. No two words had ever been so hard to obey.

His mouth hovered a few inches from mine, and I overcame the desire to close the distance. But he stopped, and I wondered if I’d misinterpreted his intentions again. But his eyes were fierce and hungry and desiring and a million other emotions all at once, and I could not look away.

He kissed me. In full view of the nobles, in full view of the emperor and anyone who wanted to see, his mouth hot against mine. He tasted like everything I wanted, and he kissed like I could reach into his heart and take everything I desired from it. I was inexperienced at this—too young in Knightscross and too busy in Ankyo, the little time in between spent daydreaming about an infatuation that paled when compared with the reality that was Kalen. But I kissed him back like I wished I could do better, like I could do better if it was always with him.

The Fox and the Hare ended. Shadi and Zoya curtsied, their fingers linking together as their captivated audience broke into applause.

Kalen stepped back. His face was expressionless, but he was breathing harder than he had during our sparring sessions, as if realizing he’d gone too far, too fast, with nothing to show but the truth of a kiss still hanging in the air between us. His heartsglass gleamed a combination of brilliant silver and warm apple red.

“I promised Zoya I’d make a few more rounds tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tea.”

I watched him walk away, Shadi and the emperor’s curious eyes on me the only barriers stopping me from pursuing him. It was not quite a faux pas, the kiss…but Mistress Parmina would have frowned on it all the same. I took a deep breath, trying in vain to quell the happy, nervous butterflies sprouting in my stomach, and turned back toward the throne.

And stopped. Inessa’s seat was empty.

I followed Fox’s thoughts and found her with him, away from the crowd. They swayed noiselessly on the veranda, dancing without the need for music. Inessa’s head was against my brother’s chest, her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. Fox looked down at her, his own expression unreadable.

I wanted to leave, but instead I parked myself between them and the rest of the guests, ready to sound the alarm if anyone headed their way.

“Your Majesty,” Fox said quietly, formally, “we can’t stay here for much longer.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Are we on formal terms again, Sir Fox?” Inessa let go. Her hand gripped at the neckline of her dress.

“It’s your engagement.” Fox’s tone was wooden. “Stop tugging at your collar. You’ll ruin your dress.”

“You’ve done that enough times before.” Inessa pulled harder in response.

Fox’s hand folded over hers.

“Princess Inessa!” I heard Tansoong trill from somewhere nearby, and her arm jerked up.

Something small and sparkling flew through the air, landing in a metallic clink as it hit the floor.

The princess staggered back. “I’m going,” she mumbled.

“Inessa, what—”

“Keep it!” The words rushed out with a heartbroken sound, and Inessa fled.

Fox knelt. With shaking hands, he picked up the small pin Inessa had left behind—a silhouette of a fox dotted with tiny crystals.