“Yes, I thought it was peculiar, too,” Luke was saying when Cade brought up the Inspectors at the gates. “Word must have passed from checkpoint to checkpoint that a wine merchant from Mill City, named Mayforte, was headed for Gossham.”

“But why would that make them decide not to search the wagon?” Cade asked.

Luke shrugged and poured himself tea. “I haven’t the faintest. It could be a trap, as you proposed, but like you also said, why not just arrest us? This has been a dangerous endeavor from the outset, and almost anything could go wrong. That forged letter of introduction from Mill City’s master? It’s well done, but what if they detect it’s a forgery? We are done for.”

“So what do we do?”

“I do not think there is much else we can do, but keep playing the game. If Webster Silk invites us to the palace, we go and have a look around. If he does not invite us, we find another way.”

Later, after Luke retired for the night to his comparatively spacious bedroom, Karigan sat once more on the window seat watching moonlight glimmer on the canal. They had gotten nowhere with the planning. It was all or nothing, and Cade had agreed that if invited into the palace, they would use it for scouting purposes, no more. It was not at all satisfying.

She could not see the moon itself from where she was, but it was nearing full. Thinking of the moon reminded her of the first phrase in the Captain’s riddle: The scything moon is held captive in the prison of forgotten days. Karigan felt imprisoned like the scything moon.

“Should we get invited into the palace,” Karigan said, “I want to make sure my ability is still working.”

“Are you going to do that fading thing?” There was an apprehensive edge to Cade’s voice.

She nodded. “First I need to check something else.” She peeled back her jacket and revealed her Rider brooch. To her, it looked the same as always, but could Cade still see it? “Is my brooch still there?” she asked him.

He squinted, moved closer. “No. It’s gone. What happened to it?”

She grinned. “Oh, it’s there.”

“Then why can’t I see it?”

She explained the spell that concealed it, and how long ago the brooches had been saved by being hidden in plain sight.

“Remarkable,” Cade said. “So it’s the etherea of Gossham at work.”

“Yes. And, by way of testing it further . . .” She took the moonstone from her pocket, and the room flooded with liquid silver light. She extinguished it quickly.

“I have never . . .” Cade said, blinking. “So much brighter than phosphorene. It’s truly a silver moonbeam?”

Karigan nodded. It had emitted a much stronger glow than in the morning, and yet . . . It appeared to her as . . . muddy compared to what she remembered it being like back home, where it had been almost painfully clear and crystalline.

“Now to try my ability. Let’s turn down the lamps.” When Cade cast her a querying glance, she explained, “My fading is more complete in dim light.”

When the light was lowered, Cade asked, “You aren’t going to vomit again, are you?”

“Hope not. If I do, I’ll try not to do it on you.”

“Promise?”

“Yep.”

“Thank you.”

Karigan, standing where moonlight puddled on the floor through the window, took a deep breath, then reached for her brooch. When she touched it, she knew she’d faded because her vision turned gray, and even the glow of the lamps became cold. And then, of course, there was Cade’s expression indicating her success, one of awe maybe mixed with a little fear. Fear for her? Fear of her ability? Fear of her?

“I can see through you,” Cade said. “You are like a ghost.”

Which she had used to great effect in the past. She stepped out of the moonlight and into the shadows, and his hiss of surprise told her she had faded completely from sight.

“Karigan?” he asked. “Are you still there?”

She walked toward him as quietly as she could and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. He jumped back, startled.

She released the fading, and that was when the headache struck. It was not, perhaps, as fierce as the last time, but it staggered her, and she had to fight with her rebellious stomach to retain its contents. After all, she’d made Cade a promise . . .

He steadied her and led her to a chair—not the rocking chair, thankfully, which would have only aggravated the nausea. She massaged her temples.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t use your ability if it makes you ill,” Cade said.

“The headache will go away. Always get it.” But not usually this bad. In addition to the headache, she felt raw, like her heart had pumped sand instead of blood through her arteries.

Back in her own time there were Eletians who believed the D’Yer Wall should fall so that the etherea trapped in Blackveil could replenish the lands. If this was what it was like, she was pretty sure the Eletians would be sorry, unless they were better able to endure the taint. They were beings of magic, and she could not believe Blackveil’s influence on them would have a positive outcome. Would they listen to her if she told them? It was difficult to say.

When she saw the worry on Cade’s face, she straightened and smiled, though the movement jarred the hammering in her head anew. “It works,” she said, “and I can use it if need be. If there are enough shadows, anyway.”

Cade shook his head. He had seen her ability and could not argue about its usefulness. Nor would she allow his concern to override her decision to use it, should the necessity arise. When Karigan announced she was ready to retire for the night, Cade claimed weariness and suggested they actually try to just sleep so they were able to face whatever the following day would bring. She did not believe him for an instant, guessing that he had perceived her own weariness and was making an excuse to ensure she got some sleep. She was grateful. Just that small use of her ability had tired her out.