There are no rules when it comes to survival, I reminded myself. But I wished there were. The betrayals seemed never to end. Soon the Komizar would ask me to betray those who had welcomed me, to roll my eyes and fill them with the hope he had conjured, and I was sure it would serve him more than the people.

You will hold your tongue and speak the words I give to you.

I sat on my bed and closed my eyes, blocked out the whickering and stamp of horses far below my window, the clank of gates being closed, the screams of the cook chasing after another loose chicken that wished to keep its head. Instead, I was in a meadow with ribbons blowing from trees, mountains above me tinged purple, rose oil being rubbed into my back, breathing in the sweet scent a thousand miles from here.

This world, it breathes you in … shares you.

Please share me with Rafe. I do this for you. Only for you.

There was a sudden sharp knock at my door. Kaden had left with such disgust painted across his face, I knew he wouldn’t be back so soon, if ever. Was it Ulrix with another order from the Komizar? What would it be tonight? Wear the green! The brown! Whatever I command!

An ugly flash of the Morrighese court shot through me. A different setting, but years of the same orders. Wear that. Be quiet. Sign here. Go to your chamber. Hold your tongue. For the gods’ sakes, Princess Arabella, your opinion isn’t required. We don’t want to hear your voice on this matter again. I grabbed the flask on the chest and hurled it across the room. Pieces of pottery rained to the floor, and I trembled with the truth—one kingdom wasn’t much different from another.

Another knock, this one soft and uncertain.

I wiped my eyes and went to the door.

Aster’s eyes were wide. “You all right in here, Miz? ’Cause I can scoot this fetcher away and come back another time, but Calantha told me to bring him and his cart here, and it’s mighty loaded, but that don’t mean you have to be letting him in your room right now, because you’re looking plenty warm with your cheeks all flushed, and—”

“Aster, who are you talking about?”

She moved aside, and a young man stepped timidly into view. He slipped his hat from his head and clutched it to his stomach. “I’m here to leave fuel for the hearth.”

I looked back over my shoulder at the bin near the fireplace. “I still have wood and patties. I don’t need—”

“The weather’s turning colder, and I got my orders,” he said. “The Komizar says you’ll need more.”

The Komizar concerned about my warmth? Not likely. I looked at him—a rumpled patty clapper—but something about him didn’t seem quite right. The pale brown of his eyes was a bit too sharp. An unbridled energy simmered in them, and even though his clothes were filthy and his face unshaven, his teeth were even and white.

“Calantha told me to come right back, Miz,” Aster said. “Can I leave this fetcher here with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine, Aster. Go along.” She ran off, and I stepped aside, waving the young man to the bin by the hearth.

He rolled his cart into the room but stopped in the middle and turned to face me. He looked at me curiously, then bowed deeply. “Your Highness.”

I frowned. “Are you mocking me?”

He shook his head. “You might want to close the door.”

My mouth fell open. He spoke these last words in Morrighese and had switched tongues without missing a beat. The majority of Vendans outside of the Sanctum didn’t speak the language, and those within—the Council and some of the servants and guards—spoke it with a heavy broken tongue if they spoke it at all.

“You speak Morrighese,” I said.

“We call it Dalbretch where I’m from, but yes, our kingdoms’ languages are almost identical. The door?”

I sucked in a shocked breath, quickly slamming the door, and whirled back to him. Tears sprang to my eyes. Rafe’s friends weren’t dead.

He dropped to one knee and took my hand, kissing it. “Your Highness,” he said again, this time with greater emphasis. “We’re here to take you home.”

*   *   *

We sat on my bed and talked for as long as we dared. His name was Jeb. He told me the journey into Venda had been a tricky one, but they had been in the city for a few days now. They were working out preparations. He asked me questions regarding the Council Wing and the layout of the Sanctum. I told him every hall and path I knew of, especially those least traveled, and the tunnels in the caverns below. I told him who the most bloodthirsty Vendans of the Council were, and about those who might be helpful, like Aster, but that we couldn’t do anything that might put her at risk. I also mentioned Griz and how he had covered for Rafe, but I suspected it was only as a payback to me for saving his life.

“You saved his life?”

“I warned him about a bison stampede.”

I saw the question in his eyes. “I can’t control or summon it, Jeb. It’s a gift, something passed down through the surviving Ancients, that’s all. Sometimes I don’t even trust it myself—but I’m learning to.”

He nodded. “I’ll nose around and see if I can figure anything out about this Griz fellow.”

“The others,” I asked, “where are they?”

He hesitated. “Hidden in the city. You won’t see them until it’s time. Either Rafe or I will give you warning.”

“And there are four of you?” I tried my best to sound optimistic, but the number said aloud had a gravity of its own and spoke for itself.