“The Assassin took care of these three. Traitors, they were.” Ulrix shrugged and walked back down the hillock.

I turned to Calantha. “Kaden did this?”

“Overseeing executions is his duty as Keep. The dressing up on stakes is done by soldiers. They’ll stay there until the last flesh falls from the bone,” she answered. “That’s on the Komizar’s orders.”

I looked at her, her single pale eye glistening, a weakness to her shoulders that were usually rigid with cynicism.

“You don’t approve,” I said.

She shrugged. “What I think doesn’t matter.”

I reached out and touched her arm before she could turn away. She flinched as if she thought I was going to strike her, and I stepped back.

“Who are you, Calantha?” I asked.

She shook her head, her bored manner returned. “I’ve been no one for a very long time.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

It was a rare cloudless morning of crisp blue sky. Fresh air was warmed with the fragrance of thannis, for though its taste was sour, its scent was sweet. The brightness of the day helped chase away my exhaustion. As if I didn’t have enough to think about, I couldn’t get Gaudrel’s book out of my head. Through the late night hours, I woke again and again, with the same thought: They were family. Morrighan was stolen and sold to a scavenger. Though it might be true that she had the gift and led a people to a new land, those she led were not a noble Remnant chosen by the gods, but scavengers who preyed on others. They had preyed on Morrighan.

“You slept well?” the Komizar called over his shoulder.

I clicked my reins to catch up with him. My sham was to continue today in the Canal quarter, at the washing grounds opposite the jehendra.

“Your pretense warms me,” I said. “You care not one whit how I slept.”

“Except for the dark circles under your eyes. It makes you less appealing to the people. Pinch your cheeks. Maybe that will help.”

I laughed. “Just when I think I couldn’t hate you more, you prove me wrong.”

“Come now, Jezelia, after I’ve shown you every kindness? Most prisoners would be dead by now.”

While I wouldn’t call it kindness, his remarks to me had grown less biting, and I couldn’t help but note he did something my father had never done in his own kingdom. He walked among those he ruled, both near and far. He didn’t rule from a distance, but intimately and thoroughly. He knew his people.

To an extent.

Yesterday he had asked me what the claw and vine design on my shoulder was. I didn’t mention the Song of Venda, and I hoped no one else would either, but I was sure that at least a few of those who had stared at it were digging it up from dusty memories of long-forgotten tales. “A mistake,” I had told him simply. “A wedding kavah not properly applied.”

“It seems to have captured the fancy of many.”

I’d shrugged it off. “I’m sure it’s as much a curiosity to them as I am, something exotic from a faraway kingdom.”

“That you are. Wear one of your dresses tomorrow that shows it off properly,” he had ordered. “That dreary shirt is tedious.”

And also warm. Only that was of little concern to him—not to mention, the dresses weren’t particularly suited for riding, again, inconsequential in light of his greater plans. I had nodded, acknowledging his demand, but I wore my shirt and trousers again today. He hadn’t seemed to notice.

When he wasn’t scrutinizing my every movement and word, I enjoyed my interactions with the people. They provided me with a different kind of warmth that I probably needed more. That part wasn’t a sham. The welcome of the Meurasi had spread to many clans. The moments of sharing thannis, or stories, or a few sincere words gave me balance, if not a few hours of relief from the Sanctum. My gift rarely came into play. A few times I was gripped with a sense of something large and dark descending. I sucked in a breath and looked upward, truly expecting to see a black clawed thing swooping down upon me, but there was nothing there. Only a feeling that I’d quickly shake off when I saw the Komizar smiling. He never missed an opportunity to turn it into something corrupt and shameful. He made me want to smother the gift instead of listen to it. It seemed impossible to nurture anything in his presence.

We reached a narrow lane and dismounted, handing off the reins to guards who followed us.

“Is it this?” he asked, tugging on Walther’s baldrick with his thumb. “Is this what continues to make you so testy?”

I looked at the strap of leather across his chest that I had managed to block from my vision by some magic of will. Testy? By the gods, they had stolen it off my brother’s dead body after they had massacred his entire company. Testy? I looked from the baldrick into his cool black eyes. A smile swept through them as if he saw every burning thought in my mind.

He shook his head, satisfied with my silent response. “You need to learn to let go of things, Lia. All things. Nevertheless…” He slipped his dagger from it, then lifted the baldrick over his head and placed it over mine. His hands lingered on my back as he adjusted it. “Yours. As a reward. You’ve been proving yourself useful these past days.”

I breathed with relief when he finally finished adjusting the baldrick and removed his hands from my back. “Your people already bend at your command,” I said. “What do you need me for?”

He reached up, and his hand gently glided over my cheek. “Fervor, Lia. Food supplies are shorter than ever. They’ll need fervor to help them forget their hunger, their cold, their fear through this last long winter. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”