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“Is there any reason we need to raise taxes?” asked a voice behind them, and Corene and Greggorio turned to see who had joined them.

It was Liramelli, the prefect’s daughter. Corene surveyed her critically, not making any attempt to hide her curiosity. Liramelli appeared to be about twenty, though her serious expression might make her look older than her years. She was dressed all in white, the color accentuated by her ice-blond hair, and didn’t seem to be wearing a single personal adornment. Corene thought Liramelli might be the plainest person she had ever seen. She remembered that Melissande had expressed a desire to make her over, and she longed to see what the Coziquela girl might do if she had the chance.

Greggorio greeted Liramelli without enthusiasm and then added, “No, I don’t think we need more taxes—that was my point.”

Corene tried a smile to see if Liramelli would respond. “We were talking about all the responsibilities that fall to a ruler. Just in general.”

Liramelli nodded and didn’t lose her solemn expression. “Of course, it’s not just the empress who decides to raise taxes. The mayor and the prefect and the council offer advice. As they do in all matters of state.”

“Of course,” Corene answered.

Someone called Greggorio’s name from across the room. Corene thought it might have been Jiramondi. “Well, I better see what he wants,” he said in relief. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow.”

That left Corene alone with the deathly serious potential heir. For the longest moment of her life, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Liramelli tried to fix a look of interest on her face. “So did you have a pleasant journey from Welce?”

Not by any measure,
Corene thought. She tried another smile. “I’ve never made a long trip by sea before,” she said. “I had no idea what to expect! The rooms were small, but the food was very good. And I never got sick enough to throw up. So I think that counts as pleasant, don’t you?”

Liramelli’s lips quirked up slightly, but the smile did almost nothing
to lighten her expression. “Most of my ocean travels have been less than a nineday, but I agree, the quarters are very cramped. I would not want to be a sailor and spend all my days at sea.”

“Where did you go?”

“I’ve been to Dhonsho twice and Cozique once. Someday I’d like to see Welce. I know hardly anything about it.”

“No, it seems like no one here does,” Corene answered.

“I’d like to learn, though.”

“Then you should spend an afternoon with Steff and me,” Corene said. “I grew up in the city and he grew up in the country, so we can tell you everything.”

Liramelli had turned so she could watch the knot of women clustered around Steff. “I would like that,” she said. “I wonder how long it will take the empress to have his blood tested.”

Because you wouldn’t want to waste your time getting to know him if it turns out he’s not in the running after all,
Corene thought. “I don’t know,” Corene said. “But I can tell you this—he’s Subriella’s son. My father’s wife has an ability—I can hardly explain it—all she has to do is a touch a man to know who his ancestors are. I can understand that Filomara wants her own proof, but Steff is her grandson. Don’t hold back from him just because you’re not sure.”

Liramelli shifted her gaze to look directly in Corene’s eyes, clearly hearing the barb in that last comment. “You’re a stranger here, so you can’t possibly know,” she said quietly. “But I would die for Malinqua. My family has served the crown for more generations than I can count. All I care about is that the next person to sit on the throne is the
best
person. Whether or not I am attached to him is immaterial.”

It was the first time Corene found herself liking the prefect’s daughter. But then, Corene always liked people who showed a little spirit. She had the thought that this girl was probably elay, possessing such traits as honor and vision.

“I imagine that, one way or the other, you’ll end up near the throne,” Corene said. “Won’t you serve the crown after your father?”

Liramelli nodded. “Yes. And my children after me and their children after them.”

“That’s what people like—stability in the realm.”

“Is that what you have in Welce?”

Corene was tired of going into all the details about the Welchin succession, so she abbreviated. “Mostly. The old king died, and the regent has been chosen to be the next king. And since he was the chief advisor to the old king, everybody knows him and everybody trusts him.” She laughed soundlessly. “Not everybody
likes
him, but I don’t suppose that matters.”

“Exactly,” Liramelli said. “There are so many more important things than being liked.”

Oddly enough, Corene agreed with Liramelli on that point, too.
Though I bet people would dislike us for different reasons,
she thought. She couldn’t help but laugh and Liramelli, cautiously, smiled in return. It transformed her face so much Corene almost didn’t recognize her.

•   •   •

A
lthough Corene had begun to think the evening would simply never end, a few moments later Filomara strode from the room, obviously using that tactic to avoid answering any more questions. Corene slipped out immediately afterward, giving no one else a chance to approach her, and hurried up to her suite. At her own door she hesitated. Both Melissande and Steff were likely to come knocking, and she didn’t feel like answering questions for her or offering reassurances to him. So she crossed the hall and tapped on Foley’s door.

He answered as quickly as if he had been standing on the other side, awaiting her. She wondered if he had spent the evening prowling the corridors just outside the dining hall, ensuring her safety, returning to his room just steps before she arrived. She liked the idea, in the general way, but she supposed he needed time to eat and attend to his own basic needs. He couldn’t shadow her every second of every day.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Fine. Can I come in? You’re the only person I can stand the idea of talking to.”

He stepped aside to let her pass—and none too soon, as she could hear voices down the hall before he shut the door. He dialed up the gaslight to brighten the room, and she dropped into the closest chair. He settled nearby.

“You’re not acting like it was fine,” he observed.

“It was just tiresome. All these new people, and half the time talking in a language I don’t understand, and wondering who’s lying and who’s telling the truth.”

“Except for the language, it doesn’t sound that different from Chialto.”

She laughed. “No! Maybe that’s why it was so tiresome. I thought it would be more fun.”

“Did you learn anything interesting?”

“Hard to say,” she said, launching into a summary of the conversations she’d had over the course of the evening. Foley listened closely, only now and then asking her to clarify who had made some remark.

“A little odd,” he said when she was done.

“What in particular?”

“All those bodies.”

“Bodies? What?”

He counted on his fingers. “The empress’s husband, dead. Her daughters, both dead. The one girl’s children, all dead. Two brothers, dead. That’s a lot of heirs to be eliminated.”

Once again, Corene felt a chill of uneasiness between her shoulder blades. “When you put it like that, it is a little unnerving,” she said slowly. “But—I think some of those are just coincidence. I mean, Subriella was sent off to another country to marry. No one could have expected her husband to want to kill her.”

“Why not?” Foley said mildly. “Berringey is just across the mountains from Malinqua. Surely it would be easy for someone here to discover the way the succession is handled there. Isn’t it common for potential heirs to be killed off once the new king is named?”

“Well—yes—”

Foley shrugged. “So maybe someone knew that, and that person advised Filomara to make the marriage anyway.”

“And Aravani died from a fever—”

Foley looked skeptical, and Corene’s discomfort deepened. She said, “I suppose that could have been faked. She could have been poisoned instead. And all her family.”

Foley nodded. “Four heirs dead. And then two of Filomara’s brothers. How did they die?”

“No one has told me.”

“Two more heirs gone.”

“But everyone says she was never going to name her brothers her successors.”

“Maybe not. But if something suddenly happened to her, surely one of them would take the crown.”

Corene felt herself actually shiver. “So you’re saying that someone arranged to have Subriella sent off somewhere she was likely to get killed—poisoned Aravani and her entire household—and murdered Filomara’s brothers? All to clear his own way to the throne? That would take someone with a lot of patience and cold-blooded ambition.”

Foley shrugged. “People like that abound in royal courts.”

“As we both know,” she said. She reviewed the list of likely candidates. “I suppose one of her brothers could have been scheming all this time—or maybe the prefect. But whoever it is seems to have given up, because I don’t think anyone’s died for almost twenty years.”

“You said Garameno was injured ten years ago.”

“Yes, but that was an accident . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Or maybe a botched murder attempt.”

“And for all you know, there have been other deaths among the nobility—names you haven’t even heard yet.”

She shivered again, and this time Foley gave her a questioning look. “Melissande told me,” she said in a quiet voice, “that some high-born woman disappeared a couple of ninedays ago. No one knows where she went.”

“And why would someone want to get her out of the way?”

“She was close to Greggorio. Maybe someone didn’t want her to end up next to him on the throne.”

“They wanted him to marry a princess instead.”

Corene stared at him, remembering what Melissande had said. “Then that means I’m safe, doesn’t it?”

“Unless whoever is going around murdering people decides he doesn’t like you, either.”

She held the stare a moment longer, trying to tamp down a complex surge of emotions: fear, anger, bewilderment, and a touch of self-loathing.
If someone’s killing unlikable people, I will surely be on that list.
She attempted a smile. “I see I acted with my usual good judgment when I decided to run away to Malinqua,” she said.

His unexpected smile was amazingly sweet. “It’s true that things tend to be a little more dramatic when you’re at the heart of them.”

That made her laugh, which instantly changed her mood. “Poor Foley! I always think of you as so calm and so still. And here I’ve plunged you into chaos.”

He shrugged slightly. “You don’t become a royal guard if you expect life to be ordinary and dull,” he replied. “Part of you likes the chaos. Or at least likes the challenge of taming it.”

“Maybe that’s why I always feel so safe when you’re around,” Corene said. “Because I’m always at the center of a whirlwind, and you seem like you can settle down any storm.” She spoke lightly, but in truth she was much struck. That explained it exactly, the way she’d always reacted to Foley’s presence. She felt steadier. More sure of herself. Certain that he could keep her from careening off the edge, no matter how events unfolded around her.

It hadn’t occurred to her that he would be drawn to tumult, but it made a certain kind of sense. So maybe he didn’t mind so much that she’d dragged him off on this adventure—even if it turned out to be more dangerous than either of them had expected.

Foley gestured toward the door, indicating the whole palace that lay outside these walls. “We don’t know yet if there will be any storms here in Malinqua,” he said. “But it’s best to be prepared.”

“Prepared for storms
or
murderers,” she agreed. “Well, you kept Josetta safe for five years, and people really
were
trying to kill her. So I think I’ll be just fine as long as you’re around.”

“I hope so,” he said seriously.

She came to her feet and headed for the door, Foley right behind her. She found herself suddenly exhausted after what had been a very long day. “In any case, I’m glad I brought you with me.”

He didn’t reply until she had crossed the hallway, opened her door, and stepped into her own room. Then he said, “I’m glad you invited me to come.”

FIVE

E
veryone else cursed the rain, but Leah welcomed it, because it gave her more time.

It had seemed likely that within a few days of her arrival, Corene would visit some of the more popular sites of the city—specifically, the towers and the Great Market. Leah had concluded that her best chance of making contact with the princess would be to pose as a vendor at the market, but it wasn’t so easy to slip into the role.

The Great Market was a massive structure a couple of miles south of the wall that enclosed the heart of the city—though there were those who considered the market itself to be Palminera’s heart. Everything could be bought and sold there, from livestock to opals. The four levels were constructed of contrasting layers of red and white stone and featured great arched openings that admitted sunlight and rain with equal impartiality. A wide metal stairwell spiraled up the center, taking prospective buyers to progressively more well-ordered and expensive levels.

A butcher might do all his shopping on the bottom story, where cattle and chickens created a wild cacophony and a distinctive smell. One level up were booths carrying household goods from baking pans to common spices. Above them, shoppers could find glassware and small furnishings
and shoes and clothes. And on the top level the items sold were things that only the very wealthy could afford: jewels, imported fruits and trinkets, fine musical instruments, drugs for every imaginable use.

Leah needed to make a friend on the fourth level, where the royal visitors would inevitably shop.

The problem was that most booths were owned by vendors whose families had occupied the exact same spaces for decades, if not centuries. They were suspicious of strangers and unlikely to let a foreigner borrow counter space for an afternoon.