“We need to leave,” Gwyneth said. “Immediately.”

“No,” I argued. “I’m not leaving just because—”

“Not Civica. This inn. This hamlet. The Chancellor figured out where I’m staying. He must have bribed the messenger. Now he’ll either be expecting me to be on my way, or paying me a visit for other favors. It won’t be long before he discovers you.”

I didn’t argue. I’d heard his voice when he asked, Where is she? He hadn’t asked out of concern for my well-being.

For when the Dragon strikes,
It is without mercy,
And his teeth sink in,
With hungry delight.

—Song of Venda

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Behind me, Aster, Yvet, and Zekiah laid out the clothes piece by piece. They told me not to look until they were ready. It was easy for me not to peek, because my mind was still occupied elsewhere. I couldn’t shake the heaviness in my chest.

It seemed everyone and everything I encountered was laced with deception, from Rafe and Kaden, to the Chancellor and Royal Scholar—even my own mother—and in the Sanctum were strange men hidden away in the caverns who clearly didn’t belong here. Was anything what it seemed to be? I stared out my window, watching birds flying home to roost. The scaled stone armor of a monster settled into rest, and its jagged back was silhouetted against a darkening horizon. The grimness of night fell on an already grim city.

There was a tug on my trousers, and Yvet told me to come look. I wiped my eyes and turned. Yvet scampered away to stand between Aster and Zekiah, all three straight-backed like proud soldiers. Aster’s grin faded. “What’s wrong, Miz? Your cheeks are all splotchy-flushy like.”

Their faces stopped me, innocence and expectancy, smudges and bread crumbs, hunger and hope. There was at least something real and true to be found in this city.

“Miz?”

I pinched my cheeks and smiled. “I’m fine, Aster.”

She raised her eyebrows and looked over toward the bed. My gaze jumped from bed, to barrel, to trunk, to chair.

I shook my head. “This isn’t what I bought today.”

“Sure it is! See right there on the chair. A shirt and trousers for riding, just like you asked.”

“What about everything else? It’s too much. The few coins I gave—”

Aster and Zekiah grabbed my hands and dragged me across the room to the bed. “Effiera, Maizel, Ursula, and a passel of others worked all day to have these ready for you.”

A flutter swooped through my chest, and I reached down to touch one of the dresses. It wasn’t fancy, and wasn’t made of fine fabrics—if anything, just the opposite. It was stitched together with scraps, pieces of soft leathers dyed in the muted greens, reds, and deep browns of the forest, strips of fur, ragged edges hanging loose, some trailing to the floor. I swallowed. It was decidedly Vendan, but it was something else too.

Aster giggled. “She likes it,” she said to the others.

I nodded, still confused. “Yes, Aster,” I whispered. “Very much.” I knelt so I was level with Yvet and Zekiah. “But why?”

Yvet’s pale eyes were wide and watery. “Effiera liked your name. She said anyone with a pretty name like that deserved pretty clothes.”

Aster and Zekiah shot a worried glance over Yvet’s head.

I narrowed my eyes at one, then the other. “And?”

“Old Elder Haragru had a dream a long time ago when he still had a tooth right here,” Aster said, tugging on her front tooth, “and he hasn’t stopped wagging about it since. He’s not quite right in his head with all his piled-on years, but Effiera says he described someone like you, who would come from far away. Someone who should be wearing—”

Zekiah reached behind Yvet and pinched Aster. She pulled her shoulders back, catching herself. “It’s only a story,” she said. “But Elder Haragru likes to tell it over and over. You know.” Aster knocked on her head and rolled her eyes.

I stood and chewed on my lower lip. “I have no way of paying Effiera for all these clothes. I’ll have to send them back with you—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. These can’t go back,” Aster said, working herself to a worry. “Effiera said they were a gift. That’s all. You don’t owe her nothing more than a kiss to the wind. And she’d be sorely hurt if you didn’t like them. Sorely hurt. They all worked real—”

“Aster, stop. It’s not the clothes. They’re beautiful. But—” I looked at their faces plummeting from elation to disappointment, and I imagined Effiera’s and the other seamstresses’ faces doing the same if I refused them. I put my hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry. The clothes will stay.” Their grins returned.

I looked at the display covering every free surface in the room. One by one, I lifted the garments, running my fingers along fabric and fur, chain and belt, stitch and hem. They weren’t only beautiful, they felt right, and I wasn’t even sure why. I turned back to the first one I had looked at, sewn from leather scraps. It had one long sleeve and the other shoulder and arm were left bare. “I’ll wear this one tonight,” I said.

*   *   *

Aster and Yvet helped me dress. Zekiah bashfully turned around and fiddled with Kaden’s wooden swords in the corner. Yvet ruffled the thin strips of trailing fur with her small hands while I attached my single tethered bone around my neck. Aster was just lacing up the back when the lock rattled. We all startled, waiting. The door swung open, and Calantha stepped in. The sword in Zekiah’s hand fell to the floor, and he scrambled to Aster’s side.