Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Three

Curlinte, Sanbira

Diani rode swiftly along the edge of the headlands, her mount’s hooves so close to the precipice that when she looked down past the horse’s left flank, all she saw was the drop to the cliffs below, and the Sea of Stars frothing and pounding at the dark stone. Her black hair trailed loose behind her and she closed her eyes, trusting Rish to step true.

There was still snow in the northern highlands and even atop the highest ridges of the Sanbiri Hills a mere two days’ ride to the south and west. But here in Curlinte, where the wind blew warm off the sea and the sun shone upon the headland moors, it seemed that the planting had come early. She wore a cloak yet, and a heavy blouse below that. Nonetheless, there could be no mistaking the sweet hint of the coming thaw carried by the mild breeze, or the exuberant singing of the sealarks that darted overhead and alighted to sun themselves on the boulders strewn across the grasslands.

Her father had not approved of her decision to ride today. Her mother had been dead but a turn and a day, and though the castle banners flew high again, and those living in the duchy were permitted once more to open the shutters on their windows, it was, he told her, still too soon for Curlinte’s new duchess to be taking frivolous rides across the headlands.

“The people will look to you now,” he had said, appearing weary and old, as if grieving for his wife had cost him years. “You lead them. You must help them through this time of loss.”

“I understand,” she answered, knowing that he would think her childish and irresponsible. “And this is the way I see through. Mother was ill for more than a year. Curlinte has had her shutters closed for too long. I ride to end the mourning.” She stepped forward then and kissed his cheek. “It’s what Mother would have done.”

His eyes blazed, and she thought for just an instant that he would berate her. Instead, he turned away. She could see from his expression that he recognized the truth of what she had said. He would be angry with her for a time, but he would forgive her.

Her father had been right about one thing. The people of the duchy needed her now. Diani was two years past her Fating, old enough to assume command of the castle and Curlinte’s army. But she had yet to prove herself. Her grandmother had lived to be nearly eighty, so that when her mother became duchess, much of the duchy already knew her. Dalvia had been mediating disputes and joining the planting and harvesting celebrations for many years. Diani had started to do the same when her mother became ill, but there hadn’t been time to visit all the baronies, not with the more mundane tasks of accounting the tribute and paying tithe to the queen intruding as well.

Normally her father would have helped her, but as duke, it was his duty to train the soldiers, and as husband, his place was by Dalvia’s bed, watching as she wasted away.

If this weather held, Diani decided, she would spend the early turns of the planting visiting all the baronies to oversee the sowing of crops. It was important that she be seen, particularly now, and not just in the courts but in the villages and farming communities of the Curlinte countryside as well. Even her father could not find fault with such a plan.

Diani reined Rish to a halt at the promontory, swinging herself off the beast so that she might walk out to the edge. There she sat on the stone and closed her eyes once more, feeling the sun on her face. There would be less time for these rides in the turns to come-the demands of the duchy would tether her to the castle, or force her to ride away from the sea. Either way, these rides to the headlands were about to become a rare luxury. She knew it was foolish, but she begrudged the loss.

It was here that she and her father had scattered her mother’s ashes just a turn before. Dalvia had loved this spot as much as Diani did. Often, before her mother grew ill, the two of them, mother and daughter, duchess and lady, had ridden out together to discuss matters of state, or just to escape the burdens of the castle.

Their last ride together had come on a cold, clear day near the end of Kebb’s turn more than a year before. Her mother had been more talkative than usual that day, perhaps sensing that her health was beginning to fail, and she had offered a good deal of counsel.

“A duchess must marry well,” she had said. “Your father will want you to marry for an alliance-one of the brothers Trescarri I would imagine, or perhaps Lord Prentarlo.”

“I prefer one of the twins to Prentarlo,” Diani said, smiling.

Her mother had glanced at her, a smile tugging at her lips and her dark eyes dancing. “As would I. But my point is this. A marriage based on military might is as fraught with peril as one based solely on your mate’s good looks or skill with a blade. With luck you’ll lead Curlinte long after his hair thins and his muscles begin to fail him.” She stared out at the sea, brilliant blue that day, like a gem. “Marry a man you trust, a man with whom you can share your fears and doubts as well as your triumphs. Your father is still a fine swordsman.” The smile returned briefly. “And I still think him handsome. But I value his friendship above all else. You would do well to marry as fine a man.”

Diani glanced sidelong at her mother. “Choosing a husband seems more complicated than I realized,” she said lightly. “Perhaps I’d be wise to claim both the Trescarris as my own.”

Her mother laughed long and hard. At times it seemed to Diani that this was the last she had ever heard of her mother’s strong, deep laughter. She knew it wasn’t in the turns that followed they managed to share small precious moments that shone like gold and then vanished, as if illusions conjured by festival Qirsi. But it might as well have been the last. Grief had consumed Castle Curlinte ever since. And as much as she wanted to order an end to their sorrow, to banish her mother’s ghost with some sweeping ducal decree, she knew that her father clung to the pain, as if he thought it better to mourn than to live without his love.

She would ride to the baronies to reassure her people. But she couldn’t deny that she rode also to seek refuge from Sertio’s despair.

She heard a falcon cry out, and opening her eyes, saw a saker soar past her, following the contour of the cliff. It was the color of rust, of the rich soil in the hills. Its wings remained utterly still, its tail twisting to direct its flight. The Curlinte crest bore an image of a saker-seeing one, it was said among her people, was a portent of good tidings. Diani watched the bird as it glided up the coast, until she lost sight of it among the angles of the rock face.

From behind her, Rish snorted and stomped.

“I know,” she said, climbing to her feet. “Father will be expecting us.” She stepped to her mount and tightened his saddle before starting to swing herself onto his back.

The first arrow embedded itself just above her breast on the left side, knocking her to the ground. No warning, no sense of where the archer had concealed himself, though she guessed that he must be in the jumble of hulking grey stones just off the promontory.

A second arrow skipped harmlessly off the stone and past her head before diving into the sea below. A third struck her thigh, making her cry out.

She grabbed at the shaft of the arrow in her chest to pull it out, then thought better of it, remembering instructions her father had given her many years before.

“You’ll do more damage pulling the thing out than it did going in,” he had told her. “If you have to break off the shaft, do. But don’t remove it. You’ll bleed to death.”

Right.

“Down, Rish!” she said through clenched teeth, as another arrow struck the stone and clattered over the edge.

She crawled back a bit toward the cliff, flattening herself against the stone, her chest and thigh screaming. The pain wasn’t spreading, though-no poison on the points.

Rish lowered himself to the ground. Diani scrambled over to him, took hold of his mane and the pommel of his saddle, and kicked at his flanks with her good leg.

“Ride, Rish! Now!”

A third dart buried itself in the back of her shoulder and yet another whistled past her ear. But by now she was speeding away from the promontory, clinging desperately to Rish’s neck and steering him from side to side to present a more difficult target. She wasn’t certain she could hold on if she was struck again; if Rish was hit her life would be forfeit. Even as she rode, though, she glanced over her bloodied shoulder toward the stones. She saw her attackers immediately. They weren’t bothering to conceal themselves anymore.

Two men, both with heads shaved, both tall and wearing dun cloaks. They loosed their bows again in unison, but the arrows fell short. She was too far.

Diani shifted her gaze to the shaft jutting from her chest. There were two rings just below the fletching-yellow and blue, the colors of Brugaosa. Of course. The Brugaosans had long been Curlinte’s sworn enemies. They were a patriarchal dukedom within the Sanbiri matriarchy, and had long chafed at the Yserne Supremacy. Unwilling to oppose the Crown openly, however, they had instead sought to undermine Yserne’s strongest allies: Curlinte, Prentarlo, and Listaal. The Brugaosans often boasted that theirs was the finest ducal army in the realm, second in skill and strength only to the queen’s own. Their archers were renowned throughout all the southern Forelands.

Except that even through the pain, even dazed and weak, Diani knew that the Brugaosans wouldn’t make an attempt on her life. Yes, Brugaosa and Curlinte were rivals. There had even been a time within the last hundred years when the two houses had spoken brazenly of going to war. Many, including her father, still blamed Brugaosa for the murder, a bit more than three years ago, of Cyro, Diani’s brother. But Diani saw a darker, more sinister purpose behind Cyro’s assassination, and she felt certain that the same shadowy hand had given gold to the archers whose arrows had pierced her flesh.

An assassination attempt at the promontory implied intimate knowledge of her habits, and such knowledge had to have come from within the court.

“The conspiracy,” she murmured into Rish’s mane.

Which meant that danger awaited her within the walls of Castle Curlinte looming before her.

She whispered a word to her mount, and he slowed. Glancing behind her again, Diani saw no sign of the assassins. She didn’t remember seeing horses with them, and even if they had been riding, they wouldn’t have followed her so close to the castle. If she rode to the west gate or the sea gate, too many people would see her. Word of the attack would spread through the city and castle like the pestilence, and the traitor, whoever it was, would have time to prepare for her arrival.

She urged Rish onward again, steering him toward the south gate, which she could reach without having to ride through the city. She was starting to feel dizzy and cold-she couldn’t imagine that she had ever thought this day warm enough for a ride to the promontory.

Four soldiers stood at the gate watching her approach. They knew her horse, and so it was not until she was quite close to the castle that they realized something was wrong. Two of the men started forward while the other two ran toward the inner barbican.

“Don’t raise the alarm!” she called to them, the effort nearly toppling her from her saddle.

The first of the guards reached her and eased her from atop the mount. There were tears in his eyes. Was she dying, then?

“My lady! Who did this?”

“Assassins, at the promontory.”

“We should send men there. Those are Brugaosan arrows.”

“No, it’s not them.” It was getting very difficult to keep her thoughts clear. “Get me to my father’s chamber. And find a healer, a Qirsi. But be quiet about it. No one but the healer should know I’m here.”

“But, my lady-”

“Just do as I say. And hide my mount. No one should know I’ve returned.”

She made herself stare at the man, his face swimming before her eyes. “Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Yes, my lady. It shall be done.”

Diani closed her eyes, feeling consciousness slip away. “My father’s chamber,” she managed to say again. Then blackness.

She awoke to the sound of bells. Distant, tolling in the city. Her vision was blurred and she didn’t recognize the room. She tried to sit up, but was held to the bed by strong hands.

“What is the time?” she rasped.

“Those are the prior’s bells.” Her father’s voice.

“What day?”

“The same day you rode. The tenth of the waning.”

She took a breath, allowing herself to relax. Slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the candlelight, she recognized the familiar shapes of her father’s quarters. She was lying on her back, so at least one of the arrows had been removed. She put a hand to her chest and then her thigh. All of them were gone.

A pallid face loomed above her, framed by white hair. A healer, one she didn’t know.

“You were fortunate, my lady. The injury to your leg was a small matter, but less than half a span’s difference with either of the other two arrows, and you would have died on the moors.”

Diani exhaled slowly, nodded. “Thank you.”

“She needs rest,” the white-hair said, facing her father. “Have some soup brought from the kitchens and keep her still for a few days. I’ve mended the wounds, but her body needs time to heal. She bled a great deal.”

Her father stepped to her bed and took her hand. “All right.”

The man started to go.

“Wait,” Diani said, making herself sit up. The room spun like a child’s top, and she nearly passed out.

The healer frowned. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“You can’t leave,” she said, ignoring the question.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to remain here until I know who’s responsible for what happened today.”

“But I live in the city. I have family there.”

She glanced at her father. “How many people know he’s here?”

“Only the two of us, and the two guards who brought you to me. After they told me what you’d said, I thought it best to find a healer from outside the castle. They took him out of the city through the sea gate and then around to the south to enter the castle. As long as he’s escorted back the same way, I don’t think there’s any danger in letting him go.”

She looked briefly at the healer. “Forgive me.”

“Of course, my lady.” He started toward the door again.

“I take it you know nothing of the conspiracy?” she said, before he could leave.

“Nothing beyond what I’ve heard, my lady.”

“You know what I’ll do to you if I learn that you’re lying?”

He gave a thin smile. “I have some idea, yes.”

She gave a single nod. “Go, then. Don’t speak of this to anyone, not even your wife.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He opened the door. The same two guards who met her at the gate stood in the corridor, just outside the chamber.

When the healer was gone, Diani lay back down again, closing her eyes and waiting for the dizziness to pass.

“I already have a hundred soldiers searching the moor,” her father said. “But they have little idea of what they’re looking for other than archers. I told them that I’d received word from one of the baronies that thieves with bows had been seen on the roads.” He paused, gazing down at her hand, which he still held. “Did you see the men who did this?”

“Briefly. Tall, shaved heads, wearing riding cloaks.”

“Did they have horses?”

“Not that I saw.” She touched her shoulder gingerly-it was still tender. “You saw the arrows?”

“Yes. Brugaosans?”

“That’s what someone wants us to think.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“Why would Edamo so such a thing, Father?” she asked, her eyes still closed. “He has no reason. With me dead, power would fall to you, a man with nothing to live for but vengeance. It makes no sense.”

“Maybe he wants war.”

“To what end? His army may be greater than ours, but he must know that under such circumstances, the queen would come to our aid. Even Trescarri might fight on our behalf.” She shook her head. “No, this wasn’t Brugaosa.”

“Then who?”

At that, she did open her eyes. “You have to ask?”

He twisted his mouth sourly and returned to the chair by his writing table. “We have no evidence that the conspiracy has been active here in Curlinte.”

“No, we don’t. But Cyro’s murder has never been explained to my satisfaction, and we’ve heard enough from Aneira and Eibithar to convince me that the Qirsi are sowing discontent across the Forelands.”

“Cyro was killed by the Brugaosans,” he said, looking away. “We know that.” She saw the pained expression on his face and felt an aching in her chest. Three years since her brother’s death and still his loss was a raw wound on their hearts.

“Why?” she said, her voice thick. “Because of the garrote? Because Edamo had threatened him after their encounter in the Dark Wood?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

She sat up again, her head feeling a bit clearer. “He’s denied it, Father. If he was going to make such a show of killing him-using the garrote rather than poison, or a dagger-why would he bother denying it?”

“He’s Brugaosan! He needs a reason to He?”

“You know what I mean.”

Her father said nothing and Diani knew that no good would come of arguing the point further.

“Those men who attacked me today were not Brugaosans,” she said again. “I’m certain of it. It was the conspiracy.”

To her relief, Sertio didn’t ask her for proof. “Which one do you think is the traitor?”

“That I don’t know. But I think we should assume the worst.”

Sertio winced. “Kreazur?”

Kreazur jal Sylbe had served as Curlinte’s first minister for six years, and as second minister for three years before that. In truth, though Diani had never cared for the man, she didn’t want to believe it either. He had been her mother’s favorite among all the Qirsi in the castle, and while others, Diani’s father among them, had urged her to look outside the castle for a new minister when Kreazur’s predecessor died, she had insisted on promoting the underminister. Just considering that he might have betrayed Dalvia’s trust in this way made Diani tremble with rage.

“Perhaps it’s not him,” she said weakly. “In which case we’ll try the underministers.”

“But we start with Kreazur,” her father said. It was hard to tell if he was acquiescing to her wishes or acknowledging his own doubts.

“I think so.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Summon him. When he gets here, tell him that you expected me back hours ago and that you’re concerned for my safety.”

“Where will you be?”

She scanned the chamber briefly. She had been in this room thousands of times, but it had been years since she and the other court children played find-the-wraith. There was a small space beside her father’s wardrobe in the far corner of the room. During the warmer turns, when the windows were open, it would have been a poor place to hide. But today, in the cold of the snows, with the shutters locked, the space was only dimly lit.

“There,” she said pointing. “By the wardrobe.”

Her father nodded. “All right. What do you expect him to say?”

“I’m not certain,” she said, shrugging. “I suppose I’ll know when I hear it.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to wait until we find the archers?”

“We may not find them.”

Sertio nodded, still looking uncertain.

She stood and walked stiffly back to the wardrobe. Her entire left side ached still and her thigh was throbbing. It would be days before she could ride again.

Sertio crossed to the door and spoke quietly to the soldiers in the corridor. Then he returned to his table and sat, holding his head in his hands. Diani hadn’t given much thought to him since waking from her ordeal. Seeing her bloodied, with arrows jutting from her body in all directions, must have struck at his heart. They had just recently lost her mother, and for at least a moment he probably thought that he was about to lose his daughter as well.

The knock at his door came sooner than Diani had expected. Her father glanced quickly in her direction, then faced the door again. He looked frightened and she could see his hands trembling.

“Enter,” he called.

She heard the door open, but couldn’t see it from where she stood.

“You summoned me, my lord?” The first minister’s smooth voice.

“Yes, Kreazur. I’m wondering if you’ve seen the duchess since midmorning. I expected her to return from her ride long before now. I’m. . I fear for her.”

“I haven’t seen her, my lord. But I doubt there’s cause for concern. She’s an accomplished rider, and she handles a sword well.” A brief pause. “She learned from the best.”

Her father gave a thin smile. “Thank you, Kreazur. Just the same, I wonder if we shouldn’t send out a party of soldiers.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, my lord. I’m sure she’ll be returning shortly. You know how the duchess loves her rides. No doubt she’s simply enjoying the last few hours of daylight.”

Sertio looked down at his hands, his eyes flicking in her direction for just an instant. Diani wasn’t certain what to do. Even if Kreazur had betrayed them, she realized too late, he would have been expecting to have such a conversation with her father. If they wished to surprise him, they would have to let him see her.

Her father glanced at her again and she shook her head.

“You’re probably right, First Minister,” Sertio said, standing. “Thank you.”

The Qirsi stood as well. “Of course, my lord.” He walked toward the door. “If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters.”

“Very good, Kreazur. Again, my thanks.”

She heard the door open and close, but still Diani waited a few moments before stepping out of the shadows.

“Perhaps it’s not him,” her father said, sounding relieved.

“I’m not convinced of that. We’re going to wait a short while and then summon him again. And this time when he comes, I’ll be sitting right out in the open.”

“Let him see a wraith, eh?”

She grinned.

They waited until the tolling of the twilight bells. Once more Sertio sent the soldiers for Kreazur, and once more they hadn’t long to wait. His knock came just a few minutes later.

Diani had seated herself just beside her father’s table, facing the door, so that she would have a clear view of his face when he saw her.

“Yes, my lor-”

He hesitated at the sight of her, his eyes widening slightly. “Duchess,” he said, mild surprise in his voice. It was the first time he had called her that; she had rarely heard him address her mother that way. Always “my lady.”

“You didn’t expect to see me, Kreazur?”

“Not here, my lady. The guard who summoned me said only that the duke wished to speak with me. To be honest, I feared that you still hadn’t returned. Your father has been worried.”

“Perhaps you thought your assassins killed me on the moor.”

“Assassins? On the moor?” He glanced at the duke. “Are you saying there was an attempt on your life?”

“You knew nothing of this?” Sertio asked.

“Of course I didn’t, my lord.” He looked at Diani again. “Were you wounded, my lady?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m touched by your concern.”

The Qirsi narrowed his eyes, bright yellow in the candlelight. “My lady, I don’t understand. Are you accusing me of being in league with these men?”

“Does it surprise you that I should have figured it out?”

“There is nothing to figure out! I didn’t have anything to do with this!”

He appeared genuinely alarmed, which only served to make his deception that much more galling.

“You deny being party to this conspiracy wreaking havoc across the Forelands? You deny paying these men to kill me?”

“I do! My lady, I have served your house since you were but a child, years from your Determining. I never gave your mother cause to doubt my loyalty. What cause have I given you?”

“Today’s attempt was cause enough.”

“You’re certain it was the conspiracy?”

“Of course it was!” She propelled herself from the chair angrily, gasping at the pain in her shoulder and thigh.

“You were wounded.”

She said nothing, refusing to look at him.

“She was struck by three arrows,” her father said. “Two near her shoulder and one in the leg. The healer who attended her says she’s lucky to be alive.”

Kreazur exhaled through his teeth. “I’m sorry, my lady. Truly. And I swear to you, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

She faced him, schooling her features. “What if I told you that we’ve captured the men, that they’ve already confessed to working on behalf of the Qirsi, and that they named you as the man who paid them?”

“I’d say they’re lying.” His voice didn’t waver, nor did his gaze. Not that she should have been surprised. He would have had to be an accomplished liar to have managed to fool her mother all these years. Or perhaps he just knew that she was lying.

“You expect us to believe you over them?”

“Yes, my lady, I do,” he said, pride and anger in his tone. “These men have just tried to murder you, while I have served House Curlinte faithfully for nearly ten years. How is it that they’ve earned your trust and I haven’t?”

Because they’re Eandi and you’re Qirsi. She couldn’t say it, of course. She couldn’t even believe she was thinking it. But there it was. With the conspiracy killing nobles throughout the seven realms, she realized that she would have been more willing to trust Eandi assassins than her mother’s first minister.

Kreazur seemed to sense the truth that lay behind her silence. He turned to Sertio.

“And you, my lord. Do you believe me a traitor as well?”

“I don’t want to, First Minister. Please believe that. But the men who attacked Diani used Brugaosan arrows and had their heads shaved like-”

“Father!”

He stared at her briefly, until Diani finally lowered her gaze.

“They had their heads shaved as Brugaosan warriors do.”

Kreazur shook his head. “The Brugaosans wouldn’t risk a war by killing the duchess. They have too much to lose.”

“Precisely,” the duke said. “Which leaves us with the conspiracy.”

“I see. But there are other Qirsi in Castle Curlinte. Why assume that I’m the traitor?”

“Because no other Qirsi in Curlinte wields as much influence,” she said, rounding on him. “Because no one else knows as much about my habits. Because no other Qirsi is paid so well, or is more likely to have allies throughout the Forelands.”

“So it’s precisely because I’m first minister. My reward for serving your mother so well is to be the most suspect in your eyes?” He shook his head. “That makes no sense at all!”

“Perhaps not to you. It seems perfectly reasonable to me. To whom else would the leaders of this conspiracy turn?”

“Even if they had turned to me, my lady, I would have refused them. If you can’t see that, then you’re far less wise than your mother believed.”

She felt her face color. “How dare you!”

“First Minister,” her father broke in, “perhaps you should leave us for a time so that I might speak with the duchess alone. We’ll summon you again shortly.”

“No!” Diani said, her wounds throbbing. Had that healer done anything more than close her skin? “He’s not to leave, at least not alone.”

“Diani!”

“I’m duchess now, Father-such matters fall to my discretion. Under Sanbiri law an attempt on my life is tantamount to an assault on our castle; it is, in essence, a declaration of war, and I intend to treat it as such.”

“A declaration by whom?” the minister asked.

“By the conspiracy. You yourself said that the Brugaosans wouldn’t have done this-and I came to the same conclusion while their arrows were still in my flesh.” She turned toward the door. “Guards!” she called.

An instant later the door opened and two guards entered the chamber.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I want the first minister taken to the prison tower.”

The Qirsi gaped at her. “What?”

She ignored him, keeping her gaze on the guards, who were eyeing the minister with manifest unease. As large and powerful as these men appeared, she knew that they feared Qirsi magic. She also knew, however, that Kreazur posed no real danger to them. Like most Qirsi, he was weak, and though he wielded powerful magic’s gleaning, mists and winds, language of beasts-they were not of a type to harm the soldiers.

“He can’t hurt you,” she said. “He wears a dagger on his belt, but I doubt you’ll have any trouble taking it from him.”

“You can’t do this!” the minister said, a plea in his golden eyes.

Her father took a step toward her. “He’s right, Diani. You mustn’t go through with this. We don’t know for certain that any Qirsi was involved. Imprisoning Kreazur won’t accomplish anything. Indeed, for all we know, you’re punishing an innocent man. That isn’t the Curlinte way.”

“What am I supposed to do, Father? Pretend that nothing happened today? Wait for them to try again?”

“The men who attacked you are lying, my lady,” Kreazur said. “I had nothing to do with this. Don’t you see? They’re trying to weaken House Curlinte by sowing distrust between us.”

Diani and her father exchanged a look.

“You should at least tell him the truth,” Sertio said, his voice flat.

She cast a quick look at the Qirsi.

His entire body appeared to sag. “You were lying. You haven’t captured the men. You’re acting on your mistrust and nothing more.”

She stepped to the hearth, her back to the soldiers and her minister. “Take him to the tower. He’s to be treated well. Fresh food from the kitchens, as many blankets as he needs, and whatever else he requests, within reason.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You’re making a terrible mistake, Duchess. Even if these men were paid with Qirsi gold, it didn’t come from me. Imprisoning me will only deny you a faithful servant and make you that much more vulnerable when they make their next attempt on your life. I could help you find the traitor in your castle, if only you’d let me. But like a willful child you heed no counsel but your own. I fear for you, my lady. But mostly, I fear for Curlinte.”

“Take him now!” she said, steel in her voice.

“Yes, my lady.”

She heard the minister turn, the rustling of his robes like dried leaves in a chill wind. A moment later the door closed, and she and her father were alone once more.

Diani turned to him, allowing her anger to show on her features. “You shouldn’t contradict me like that, Father. Certainly not in front of my men. Mother is gone and I’m duchess now.”

“No one knows that better than I, Diani. And I’ll show you as much deference as I did her. But when your mother acted the fool, I was always the first person to tell her so. And I’ll do no less with you.”

“Kreazur is a traitor.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know anything for certain!”

“I know that I nearly died today!”

He grimaced. “Yes. And I know how frightened you are. To be honest, I am as well.”

She wanted to deny it, to tell him that she wasn’t afraid, that she truly believed this the best way to meet the Qirsi threat. But the words wouldn’t come, and he probably wouldn’t have believed them anyway.

“But fear doesn’t justify this,” he went on. “A leader who acts out of fear and suspicion is far more likely to make mistakes. Kreazur is right: there may be a traitor in the castle. And who better to find the real renegade among your Qirsi than the first minister?”

Listening to her father, she suddenly knew what she would do to fight her enemies. She wouldn’t have considered such a thing before today, but as long as she lived she would remember the sensation of that first arrow piercing her flesh. She was not the same woman she had been yesterday.

“I don’t need Kreazur’s help,” she said.

Sertio raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are there any shapers among the healers and other ministers?”

Her father hesitated. “I don’t believe so. Why?”

“Because I intend to confine all the Qirsi to the prison tower until I find the traitor, and I don’t want any of them shattering the walls that hold them.”

Sertio stared at her for so long without responding that Diani began to wonder if he had even heard her. At last, though, he shook his head and looked away, his brow creased.

“I had wondered when it would come to this, when Eandi nobles would begin imprisoning Qirsi for no more reason than the color of their eyes. But I never believed that Curlinte would be first. I certainly never thought it would be you who started it.”