“You are all fools,” he said. “There is nothing in me to respect.”

“No,” she said. “You’re the one who makes us laugh, even while you insult us. Can’t you see what that does? Can’t you see how you’ve inadvertently set yourself above everyone else? You didn’t do it intentionally, Lightsong, and that’s what makes it work so well. In a city of frivolity, you’re the only one who’s shown any measure of wisdom. In my opinion, that’s why you hold the armies.”

He didn’t reply.

“I knew you might resist me,” she said. “But I thought that I’d be able to influence you anyway.”

“You can,” he said. “As you’ve said, it’s your doing that I’m involved in all of this.”

She shook her head, still staring into his eyes. “I can’t decide which feeling for you is stronger, Lightsong. My love or my frustration.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “I accept them both, Blushweaver. With honor.” And with that, he turned from her and went to his box. Weatherlove had arrived; that left only the God King and his bride. Lightsong sat down, wondering where Siri was. She usually got to the arena long before it was time to begin.

He found it difficult to focus his attention on the young queen. Blushweaver still stood on the walkway where he had left her, watching him.

Finally, she turned, and made her way to h er own pavilion.
* * *

SIRI WALKED through the palace corridors, surrounded by her brown-uniformed serving women, a dozen worries circling through her brain.

First, go to Lightsong, she told herself, going over the plan. It won’t look odd for me to sit with him—we often spend time together at these things.

I wait for Susebron to arrive. Then I ask Lightsong if we can talk in private, without our servants or his priests. I explain what I have discovered about the God King. I tell him about the way Susebron is being held captive. Then we see what he does.

Her biggest fear was that Lightsong would already know. Could he be part of the entire conspiracy? She trusted him as much as she trusted anyone except Susebron, but her nerves had a way of making her question everything and everyone.

She passed through room after room, each one decorated in its own color theme. She didn’t notice how bright those were anymore.

Assuming Lightsong agrees to help, she thought, I wait for the break. Once the priests leave the sand, Lightsong goes and speaks with several other gods. They each go to their priests and instruct them to begin a discussion in the arena about why the God King never speaks to them. They force the God King’s priests to let him offer his own defense.

She didn’t like depending on the priests, even those who weren’t members of Susebron’s priesthood, but this did seem like the best way. Besides, if the priests of the various gods didn’t do as instructed, Lightsong and the others would realize that they were being undermined by their own servants. Either way, Siri realized she was getting into very dangerous territory.

I started in dangerous territory, she thought, leaving the formal rooms of the palace and entering the dark outer hallway. The man I love is threatened with death, and any children I bear will be taken from me. She either had to act or let the priests continue to push her around. Susebron and she were in agreement. The best plan was—

Siri slowed. At the end of the hallway, in front of the doors out to the court, a small group of priests stood with several Lifeless soldiers. They were silhouetted by the evening light. The priests turned toward her, and one pointed.

Colors! Siri thought, spinning. Another group of priests was approaching up the back hallway. No! Not now!

The two groups of priests closed on her. Siri considered running, but where? Dashing in her long dress—pushing through servants and Lifeless—was hopeless. She raised her chin—eyeing the priests with a haughty stare—and kept her hair completely under control. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

“We’re terribly sorry, Vessel,” the lead priest said. “But it has been decided that you shouldn’t be exerting yourself while in your condition.”

“My condition?” Siri asked icily. “What foolishness is this?”

“The child, Vessel,” the priest said. “We can’t risk danger to it. There are many who would try to harm you, should they know that you are carrying.”

Siri froze. Child? she thought with shock. How could they know that Susebron and I have actually started . . .

But no. She would know if she were with child. However, she’d supposedly been sleeping with the God King for months now. That was just enough time for a pregnancy to have begun to show. It would sound plausible to the people of the city.

Fool! She thought to herself in a sudden panic. Assuming they’ve already found their replacement God King, I don’t actually need to bear them a child. They just have to make everyone think I was pregnant!

“There is no child,” she said. “You were just waiting—you just had to stall until you had an excuse to lock me away.”

“Please, Vessel,” one of the priests said, gesturing for a Lifeless to take her arm. She didn’t struggle; she forced herself to remain calm, looking the priest in the eyes.

He looked away. “This will be for the best,” he said. “It’s for your own good.”

“I’m sure it is,” she snapped, but allowed herself to be led back to her rooms.
* * *

VIVENNA SAT AMONG THE CROWDS, watching and waiting. Part of her found it foolish to come out into the open so flagrantly. However, that part of her—the cautious Idrian princess—was growing more and more quiet.

Denth’s people had found her when she’d been hiding in the slums. She’d probably be safer in the crowds with Vasher than she ever had been in the alleyways, particularly considering how well she now blended in. She hadn’t realized how natural it could feel to sit in trousers and a tunic, brightly colored and completely ignored.

Vasher appeared at the railing above the benches. She carefully slipped out of her seat—someone else took it immediately—and walked toward him. The priests had already begun their arguments down below. Nanrovah, his daughter restored to him, had started by announcing the retraction of his previous position. He currently was leading the discussion against war.

He had very little support.

Vivenna joined Vasher along the railing, and he quite unapologetically elbowed open a space for her. He didn’t carry Nightblood—at her insistence, he had left the sword behind with her own dueling blade. She wasn’t certain how he’d managed to sneak the blade in the last time he’d come to the court, but the last thing they wanted was to draw attention.

“Well?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “If Denth is here, I couldn’t find him.”

“No surprise, considering the size of this crowd,” Vivenna said quietly. There were bodies all around them—hundreds lining the railing alone. “Where did they all come from? This is far more jammed than the other assembly sessions.”

He shrugged. “People who are granted a one-time visit to the court can hold their token of entry until they want to use it. A lot of them use those at a general court assembly, rather than one of the smaller meetings. It’s their one chance to see all of the gods together.”

Vivenna turned back to look over the throng. She suspected it also had to do with the rumors she’d heard. People thought that this session would be the one where the Pantheon of Returned finally declared war on Idris.

“Nanrovah argues well,” she said, although she was having trouble hearing him because of the crowds—the Returned apparently had messengers relaying transcripts. She wondered why someone just didn’t order all the people to be quiet. That didn’t seem to be the Hallandren way. They liked chaos. Or, at least, they liked the opportunity to sit and chat while important events were in progress.

“Nanrovah is being ignored,” Vasher said. “He’s changed his mind twice now on the same issue. He lacks credibility.”

“He should explain why he changed his mind, then.”

“He might, but I don’t know. If the people knew his child had been kidnapped, it would make some more afraid and they would decide that Idrian instigators had been behind it, no matter what he said. Plus there’s that stubborn Hallandren pride. Priests are particularly bad. Mentioning that his daughter had been taken, and that he had been pressured into changing his politics . . .”

“I thought you liked the priests,” she said.

“Some of them,” he said. “Not others.” When he said that, he eyed the God King’s pedestal. Susebron had yet to arrive, and they had started without him.

Siri wasn’t there either. That annoyed Vivenna, since she’d been anticipating checking in on the girl, if only from a distance.

I’ll help you, Siri. For real this time. The first step has to be stopping this war.

Vasher looked back at the floor of the arena, leaning on the railing, looking anxious.

“What?” she asked.

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. “Tell me.”

“I just don’t like leaving Nightblood alone for too long,” he said.

“What’s it going to do?” Vivenna asked. “We locked it in the closet.”

” He shrugged again.

“Honestly,” she said. “You would think that you’d admit that bringing a five-foot-long black sword out in public would be rather conspicuous. It doesn’t help, mind you, that said sword bleeds smoke and can talk in people’s minds.”

“I don’t mind being conspicuous.”

“I do,” she replied.

Vasher grimaced, and she thought he’d argue some more, but he finally just nodded. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “I’ve just never been good at being unobtrusive. Denth used to make fun of me for that too.”

Vivenna frowned. “You were friends?”

Vasher turned away and fell silent.

Kalad’s Phantoms! she thought in frustration. One of these days, someone in this Colors-cursed city is going to tell me the whole truth. I’ll probably die of shock.

“I’m going to go see if I can find out why the God King is taking so long,” Vasher said, leaving the railing. “I’ll be back.”

She nodded, and he was gone. She leaned down, wishing she hadn’t relinquished her seat. Once, she would have felt stifled by the large mass of people, but she’d grown used to the busy market streets, and so being surrounded by people wasn’t as intimidating as it had been. Besides, there was her Breath. She’d put some of it into her shirt, but she’d held onto a portion—she needed to be of at least the First Heightening to pass through the gates into the court without being questioned.

Her Breath let her feel life as an ordinary person felt the air: always there, cool against the skin. Having so many people in such close proximity left her feeling a little intoxicated. So much life, so many hopes and desires. So much Breath. She closed her eyes, drinking it in, listening to the voices of the priests down below rise over the crowd.