With as much flair as possible, Siri thought, watching him reach into yet another pocket and pull free a handful of small bits of grass and earth. He let bits fall slowly between his fingers.

“I speak of foundations, Your Grace,” Hoid said. “Peacegiver was no ordinary Returned, for he managed to stop the Lifeless from rampaging. Indeed, he sent away Kalad’s Phantoms, which formed the main bulk of the Hallandren army. By doing so, he left his own people powerless. He did so in an effort to bring peace. By then, of course, it was too late for Kuth and Huth. However, the other kingdoms—Pahn Kahl, Tedradel, Gys, and Hallandren itself—were brought out of the conflict.

“Can we not assume more from this god of gods who was able to accomplish so much? Perhaps he did do something unique, as the priests claim. Leave some seed within the God Kings of Hallandren, allowing them to pass their power and divinity from father to son?”

Heritage which would give them a claim to rule, Siri thought, idly slipping a sliced grape into her mouth. With such an amazing god as their progenitor, they could become God Kings. And the only one who could threaten them would be . . .

The royal family of Idris, who can apparently trace their line back to the First Returned. Another heritage of divinity, a challenger for rightful rule in Hallandren.

That didn’t tell her how the God Kings had died. Nor did it tell her why some gods—such as the First Returned—could bear children, while others could not.

“They’re immortal, correct?” Siri asked.

Hoid nodded, smoothly dropping the rest of his grass and dirt, moving into a different discussion by bringing forth a handful of white powder. “Indeed, Your Majesty. Like all Returned, the God Kings do not age. Agelessness is a gift for all who reach the Fifth Heightening.”

“But why have there been five God Kings?” she asked. “Why did the first one die?”

“Why do any Returned pass on, Your Majesty?” Hoid asked.

“Because they are loony,” Lightsong said.

The storyteller smiled. “Because they tire. Gods are not like ordinary men. They come back for us, not for themselves, and when they can no longer endure life, they pass on. God Kings live only as long as it takes them to produce an heir.”

Siri started. “That’s commonly known?” she asked, then cringed slightly at the potentially suspicious comment.

“Of course it is, Your Majesty,” the storyteller said. “At least, to storytellers and scholars. Each God King has passed from this world shortly after his son and heir was born. It is natural. Once the heir has arrived, the God King grows restless. Each one has sought out an opportunity to use up his Breath to benefit the realm. And then . . .”

He threw up a hand, snapping his fingers, throwing up a little spray of water, which puffed to mist.

“And then they pass on,” he said. “Leaving their people blessed and their heir to rule.”

The group fell silent, the mist evaporating in front of Hoid.

“Not exactly the most pleasant thing to inform a newlywed wife, storyteller,” Lightsong noted. “That her husband is going to grow bored with life as soon as she bears him a son?”

“I seek not to be charming, Your Grace,” Hoid said, bowing. At his feet, the various dusts, sands, and glitters mixed together in the faint breeze. “I only tell stories. This one is known to most. I should think that Her Majesty would like to be aware of it as well.”

“Thank you,” Siri said quietly. “It was good of you to speak of it. Tell me, where did you learn such an . . . unusual method of storytelling?”

Hoid looked up, smiling. “I learned it many, many years ago from a man who didn’t know who he was, Your Majesty. It was a distant place where two lands meet and gods have died. But that is unimportant.”

Siri ascribed the vague explanation to Hoid’s desire to create a suitably romantic and mysterious past for himself. Of far more interest to her was what he’d said about the God Kings’ deaths.

So there is an official explanation, she thought, stomach twisting. And it’s actually a pretty good one. Theologically, it makes sense that the God Kings would depart once they had arranged for a suitable successor.

But that doesn’t explain how Peacegiver’s Treasure—that wealth of Breath—passes from God King to God King when they have no tongues. And it doesn’t explain why a man like Susebron would get tired of life when he seems so excited by it.

The official story would work fine for those who didn’t know the God King. It fell flat for Siri. Susebron would never do such a thing. Not now.

Yet . . . Would things change if she bore him a son? Would Susebron grow tired of her that easily?

“Maybe we should be hoping for old Susebron to pass, my queen,” Lightsong said idly, picking at the grapes. “You were forced into all this, I suspect. If Susebron died, you might even be able to go home. No harm done, people healed, new heir on the throne. Everyone is either happy or dead.”

The priests continued to argue below. Hoid bowed, waiting for dismissal.

Happy . . . or dead. Her stomach twisted. “Excuse me,” she said, rising. “I would like to walk about a bit. Thank you for your storytelling, Hoid.”

With that—entourage in tow—she quickly left the pavilion, preferring that Lightsong not see her tears.

33

Jewels worked quietly, ignoring Vivenna and pulling another stitch tight. Clod’s guts—intestines, stomach, and some other things Vivenna didn’t want to identify—lay on the floor beside him, carefully pulled out and arranged so that they could be repaired. Jewels was working on the intestines at the moment, sewing with a special thick thread and curved needle.

It was gruesome. And yet it didn’t really affect Vivenna, not after the shock she’d had earlier. They were in the safe house. Tonk Fah had gone to scout the regular house to see if Parlin was all right. Denth was downstairs, fetching something.

Vivenna sat on the floor. She’d changed to a long dress, purchased on the way—her skirt was filthy from its time in the mud—and she sat with legs pulled up against her chest. Jewels continued to ignore Vivenna, working atop a sheet on the floor. She was muttering to herself, still angry. “Stupid thing,” Jewels said under her breath. “Can’t believe we let you get hurt like this just to protect her.”

Hurt. Did that even mean anything to a creature like Clod? He was awake; she could see that his eyes were open. What was the point of sewing up his insides? Would they heal? He didn’t need to eat. Why bother with intestines? Vivenna shivered, looking away. She felt, in a way, as if her own insides had been ripped out. Exposed. For the world to see.

Vivenna closed her eyes. Hours later, and she was still shaking from the terror of huddling in that alleyway, thinking that she’d be dead in a moment. What had she learned about herself when finally threatened? Modesty had meant nothing—she’d pulled off her skirt rather than let it trip her again. Her hair had meant nothing; she’d ignored it as soon as the danger arrived. Her religion, apparently, meant nothing. Not that she’d been able to use the Breath—she hadn’t even managed to commit blasphemy successfully.

“I’m half-tempted to just leave,” Jewels muttered. “You and I. Go away.” Clod began to shuffle, and Vivenna opened her eyes to see him trying to stand up, even though his insides were hanging out.

Jewels swore. “Lie back down,” she hissed, barely audible. “Colors-cursed thing. Howl of the sun. Go inactive. Howl of the sun.”

Vivenna watched as Clod lay down and then stopped moving. They might obey commands, she thought. But they aren’t very smart. It tried to walk out, obeying Jewels’s apparent Command to “go away.” And what was that nonsense Jewels had said about the sun? Was that one of the security phrases Denth had mentioned?

Vivenna heard footsteps on the stairs leading down to the cellar, and then the door opened and Denth appeared. He closed the door, then came over and handed Jewels something that looked like a large wineskin. The woman took it and immediately turned back to her work.

Denth walked over and sat down beside Vivenna.

“They say a man doesn’t know himself until he faces death for the first time,” he said in a conversational tone. “I don’t know about that. It seems to me that the person you are when you’re about to die isn’t as important as the person you are during the rest of your life. Why should a few moments matter more than an entire lifetime?”

Vivenna didn’t respond.

“Everyone gets scared, Princess. Even brave men sometimes run the first time they see battle. In armies, that’s why there’s so much training. The ones who hold aren’t the courageous ones, they’re the well-trained ones. We have instincts like any other animal. They take over sometimes. That’s all right.”

Vivenna continued to watch as Jewels carefully placed the intestines back into Clod’s belly. She took out a small package and removed something that looked like a strip of meat.

“You did well, actually,” Denth said. “Kept your wits about you. Didn’t freeze. Found the quickest way out. I’ve protected some people who will just stand there and die unless you shake them and force them to run.”

“I want you to teach me Awakening,” Vivenna whispered.

He started, glancing at her. “Do you . . . want to think about that a bit first?”

“I have,” she whispered, arms around knees, chin resting against them. “I thought I was stronger than I am. I thought I’d rather die than use it. That was a lie. In that moment, I would have done anything to survive.”

Denth smiled. “You’d make a good mercenary.”

“It’s wrong,” she said, still staring forward. “But I can’t claim to be pure anymore. I might as well understand what I have. Use it. If that damns me, then so be it. At least it will have helped me survive long enough to destroy the Hallandren.”

Denth raised an eyebrow. “You want to destroy them now, eh? No more simple sabotage and undermining?”

She shook her head. “I want this kingdom overthrown,” she whispered. “Just like the slumlords said. It can corrupt those poor people. It can corrupt even me. I hate it.”

“I—”

“No, Denth,” Vivenna said. Her hair bled to a deep red, and for once she didn’t care. “I really hate it. I’ve always hated this people. They took my childhood. I had to prepare. Become their queen. Get ready to marry their God King. Everyone said he was unholy and a heretic. Yet I was supposed to have sex with him!

“I hate this entire city, with its colors and its gods! I hate the fact that it stole away my life, then demanded that I leave behind all that I love! I hate the busy streets, the placating gardens, the commerce, and the suffocating weather.

“I hate their arrogance most of all. Thinking they could push my father around, force him into that treaty twenty years ago. They’ve controlled my life. Dominated it. Ruined it. And now they have my sister.”

She drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth.