The Will of the Empress

14

The party was not going the way Briar had expected it to. He’d certainly come with the intention of luring Caidy into a shadowed corner of the garden for a bit of fun, but Caidy had chosen to torment him first. She snubbed him three times as he approached to ask her to dance, walking off with someone else as he approached. The first two times he simply grinned and asked another girl to dance. The third time, when Caidy smirked at him over Fin’s shoulder as he whirled her away, Briar stopped to reconsider.

This is stupid, he thought. All these people with their jewels on, watching to see who envies them and who doesn’t, who favors who, it’s all a waste of time. What do they accomplish by it? Why do I waste my time on this silly game?

An image of the dead of Gyonxe blotted out the gaudy dancers. Briar could smell rotting flesh. For a moment he heard not music and laughter, but the whistle of the wind blowing over rock. He shook his head to banish the image and pinched his nose to drive out the stench. I left all that back there, he thought fiercely. All I wanted to do was go home and remember what fun is like!

Weary, sweating, Briar looked at the thronged room. All these nice clothes, all these jokes and drinks and food, what good does it do? he wondered tiredly. Tomorrow, folk will be poor and starving and dying with a soldier’s pike in them, and these people will have another celebration, more nice clothes, more jokes, more gems. The suffering is forgotten, or ignored—why sorrow? The war victims aren’t our people. And the wheel turns and suddenly they are our people.

I have better things to do with my time, he realized. Important things.

He eased himself out onto the terrace, ignored by the couples who had picked a strip of shadow in which to kiss, and trotted down the stairs to the gardens. He instantly felt better on the Rhododendron Walk, surrounded by the dark-leaved plants. Even the blossoms looked shadowy in the scant moonlight that reached them. He walked past them, mending a damaged leaf here, making another unpleasant for the insects who tried to gnaw on it.

Somewhere nearby he sensed Tris. He didn’t even bother to check their reformed bond. He didn’t have to. If Tris was close, she was at the highest point close by. There she stood, atop the outer palace wall. The wind off the Syth made her skirts flap. What does she hear up there? wondered Briar. If what I suspect is so, what does she see? How did she learn to see it? And that’s got to be how she knows Zhegorz is seeing things, right? She knew to get Daj’ to make him spectacles. So why won’t she just tell us she can do it?

He grinned. Shoulda known she wouldn’t stay in the ballroom any longer than it would be polite. He hesitated, then silently called up to her, Want to come see the empress’s shakkans? She won’t mind I took you there. She gave me a note saying I had an open pass to the greenhouses.

Tris didn’t even seem surprised to hear from him. Too much up here, she replied. Shaggy white bears, lights in the sky ... Not tonight, Briar.

He was about to walk on when she added, It is a waste of time and money. The dancing and the expensive foods.

Briar flinched. How’d you know? he demanded sharply. How can you eavesdrop and me not know it?

I didn’t eavesdrop, she replied. You’ve just gotten a little more like me since you went away.

I’m not sure that’s a compliment, he grumbled.

Neither am I, replied Tris. Oh, look! An old ship trapped in ice!

Shaking his head, Briar ambled on down the path.

At first he returned to his chambers, where he put his feet up and read for a while. When the palace sounds had died down to the rhythms of sleep, and the plants said that most of the walking flowers—their idea of gaudily dressed humans—had gone into their sheds, he realized he wasn’t a bit sleepy.

He changed to plain clothes, slung his mage’s kit over his shoulders, and left for the greenhouses. He was surprised to find no guard posted. As protective as Berenene was, he’d have thought guards would be everywhere around the costly glass buildings. Then he put his hand on the latch of the door into the greenhouse where the shakkans and orchids were kept. Fire blazed, giving him just enough of a burn to make him pay attention.

Briar scratched his head. Her Imperial Majesty never mentioned warding spells, he thought. Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise.

He let his power flow up to that magical barrier. It was thorough. The workmanship screamed of Ishabal to his senses. About to give up, Briar remembered the pass Berenene had given him. He took the paper out and unfolded it, then laid it against the barrier.

He stumbled as it gave way, leaving enough room for him to open the door and walk through. Behind him he felt the magic close. I hope it lets me out, he thought as he surveyed the miniature trees.

The shakkans clamored for his attention. Pine and miniature forest, fruit-bearing and flowering, they all wanted him to handle each of them, feeling their leaves and trunks and telling them what fine trees they were. Briar did his best to oblige. He never felt he wasted his time with shakkans, whether they stored magic or not. They were their own reason for being, lovely without causing harm to anyone else. Their scent of moss and dirt blotted the ghosts of Gyongxe in his mind. The whisper of their leaves covered the sounds of screams that he kept thinking he’d just heard. When his eyelids finally grew heavy, he lay on the ground under a table with his mage kit for a pillow. He slept deep, and he did not dream.

A much amused Berenene woke him around dawn. Briar grinned as he apologized, and excused himself to go clean up. Before he left, he asked her, “Would you object if I did more than just trimming and freshening these shakkan? Some of them need a shape that’s better matched with their natures.”

“As long as I may keep them later,” the empress replied, her eyes on the door to her orchid room.

Briar had his hand on the door latch when Berenene called, “Do you understand that we could arrange things so that you would have authority here second only to mine? You would be the imperial gardener. I meant what I said to you at Dragonstone. You would be a treasure of the empire, famed for your skill. I would pay you richly for it. I would make you a noble, with estates of your own, and a Giathat—what you would call a dukedom. Neither you nor your heirs would ever want for anything.” She waved, and vanished among her orchids.

Bemused by her offer, wondering if her nobles would appreciate having a street rat duke, Briar returned to his room. His manservant was up and nervous that Briar wasn’t in his bed: His face brightened when Briar came in. “Viynain, what is your pleasure?” he asked, bowing.

“Food, lots of it. A hot bath,” replied Briar absently. “And the least smelly soap you can find. My shakkan hated that sandalwood-scented glop I used yesterday. No point in making it jealous.”

The servant blinked. “Viynain?” he asked at last, confused.

Briar sighed. His sisters would have understood. “Just ... soap with as little scent as possible, if you please.”

The servant snapped to his tasks. As if he’s afraid if he stays near me anymore, I’ll turn him into something, Briar thought disdainfully.

After breakfast he read for a while. Normally he’d expect his sisters to be awake not long after dawn—their lives had made all of them into early risers—but after a gathering like last night, he couldn’t blame them for sleeping in. When the ornamented clock in his sitting room chimed the hour before midday, he put his book aside and went in search of Daja.

At first, when he knocked on her door and there was no response right away, he thought she might have gone out. Then he heard female voices, muffled ones.

Maybe the maid will know where she got to, Briar thought, and pounded harder. At last he heard fumbling at the latch. The door opened to reveal Daja wearing only last night’s rumpled tunic. “Sorry,” she mumbled, letting him in. “I couldn’t find a robe.”

Briar smiled at her knowingly and glanced at the open bedroom door. Rizu stood there, wrapping a sheet around herself. Her long curls were free of their pins and dangled to her waist. The sheet only enhanced her buxom figure.

Briar raised his eyebrows at Rizu, then looked at Daja, who scratched at the floor with a bare toe. “Well, that explains more than it doesn’t,” Briar remarked. He told himself, Now I know why I was sure Rizu was never interested in me, or any man. “Daja, why didn’t you say you’re a nisamohi?” he asked, using the Tradertalk word for a woman who loved other women. “What with Lark and Rosethorn, did you think we cared?”

“I didn’t know that I was a nisamohi,” Daja whispered, still not looking at him. She shrugged. “I’ve been too busy, and there was never anyone ...” She looked back at Rizu, who smiled at her with a beautiful light in her eyes.

“I’ll go away in a hurry if you’ve got some of that heavy copper wire,” Briar said. “The stuff you can just manage to bend around your wrist.”

Daja went over to her mage’s kit and hunted until she produced the coil of heavy copper wire. “It’s not spelled, so it should act as you want,” she said, handing the wire to Briar with one hand as she pushed him to the door with the other. “Don’t tell Sandry or Tris yet, please,” she added as she let him out. “It’s just ... so new.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Briar said, but she had already shut and locked the door. Grinning and shaking his head, he headed down the hall to the garden door, tossing and catching the copper wire as he went. So that only leaves one of us who isn’t human, the way Sandry keeps tracking Shan when she thinks no one is looking, he thought cheerfully. And I tremble to think what kind of person Tris might like. They’d have to be all dressed in lightning and rain for her even to look at them, that’s for certain!

Whistling a tune that their adopted mother Lark had forbidden him to whistle under her roof, Briar opened the hall door and passed out into the spring day.

After the upheavals of the party, Sandry was grateful for a quieter day after. The empress took chosen members of her court for a sail on her private ship. It meant that none of Sandry’s suitors could corner her, though it amazed her how, on such a small vessel, she never found herself next to Shan. She gave up trying and stayed close to Daja and Rizu, enjoying the safety of the number of their friends as well as the bright glances and touches they exchanged.

The ship carried them to a cove on the eastern coast where they dropped anchor and went ashore for an excellent midday. On the way back, everyone cajoled until Tris released a breeze that filled their sails. While it carried them along, Tris turned aside the prevailing winds so they could make headway, earning many strange looks from captain and crew. Chime entertained nobles and crew alike. Tris had brought glass-coloring agents along. Chime ate them with glee, then spat glass flames in different colors so that everyone had a flame-shaped memento for the day. She then flew around the ship in loops and spirals, the sun glancing off her wings in flashes of rainbow light. As most of the court watched her, Sandry noticed that Ishabal had drawn Tris over to sit between her and Quen.

Those two certainly have a lot to say to Tris, Sandry thought, watching them. And why does Tris have that polite look on her face? It’s the one most good courtiers learn so they never offend anyone in case they’re bored or angry at what’s being said.

She turned her head and saw Briar leaning against the rail near Berenene. She was laughing. Looking more closely, Sandry saw why. He’d brought a dozen tiny sprigs to life from a plank just under the rail, creating a tiny forest there. Briar looked up and caught Sandry’s eye. He winked, and the sprigs shrank, retreating back into the wood.

“There. How can you possibly say no to my offer?” Sandry heard Berenene ask.

Sandry grimaced and turned her head. It’s not just me she wants to stay, Sandry thought. It’s Briar and Tris. She glanced at Daja and Rizu. Rizu was whispering into Daja’s ear, making Daja laugh. And maybe even Daja Berenene wants to keep here. Why not? Even among ambient mages, they’ve done unusual things, brilliant things. Shakkans and living metal creations have made Briar and Daja rich and famous. Tris could be, if she were willing to do battle magic. Even as a weather mage she would make people think.

Sandry looked down, tracing the brocade pattern of her overgown so she could hide her face from those around her. If my cousin has her way, I might just have to stay here to keep seeing my sisters and brother. What will I do? What will I do if I have to choose between them and Uncle Vedris?

A tear dropped onto the brocade.

With the court dazed after a day in the sun, they were given the evening to themselves. Sandry invited her sisters and brother to supper in the elegant small dining room that was part of her suite. She would have asked Rizu as well, but Rizu had gone with Berenene to a meeting. Sandry wasn’t sure if Briar and Tris knew what was going on, or if they would appreciate Rizu’s presence at a dinner that was confined to their small family.

Gudruny was still setting the table when Briar arrived. He carried his mage kit and a shakkan from the imperial greenhouse. “I thought I’d work on it later,” he told Sandry, placing the shakkan on a side table. “Hullo, Gudruny. Did you see your kids and Zhegorz?”

The maid nodded. “Zhegorz asked me to tell you and Viymese Tris, he followed one single conversation all the way to the green market today. He says to say it was real, bargaining between a cherry seller and a potter. He said he did it after he took out just one ear bead—whatever that means. And I think Wenoura is spoiling my children.”

Briar chuckled. “Good cooks do that. If you worry about this sort of thing, once we get to Summersea, keep them away from Gorse at Winding Circle. Otherwise you’ll have kids that roll, not walk.”

Sandry had inspected his miniature willow while Briar talked to her maid. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked when she had the chance.

Briar grimaced. “See how it’s shaped so it’s bent almost clean out to the side? The bleater that shaped this beauty actually thought the tree ought to be trained up in the full Cascade style. She properly needs the Windblown style, with the trunk more upright. Anyone can see that. The empress had the eye to see it, even if she hadn’t had the time to get to work on her yet.” He caressed the tree’s slim branches, which twined gently around his hand. “Nobody ever asks the tree, do they, Beauty?”

Sandry shook her head. “If only you found a human being you loved enough to talk that way to.”

“Isn’t one of us in love bad enough?” Briar asked.

Sandry knit her brows. “You know, then. About Daja. And Rizu.”

“Couldn’t hardly miss it,” Briar replied, pinching off tiny new leaves. He glanced up at Sandry. “How’d you know?”

Sandry blushed and looked down. “Daja and I reopened our bonds with each other a little while ago.”

“Interesting way to find out,” Briar murmured, his concentration on the tree again. “Don’t hold your breath for me to throw myself down in a heap of contriteness and beg you two to include me in all this joy.”

“I wasn’t going to,” retorted Sandry, her eyes flashing. “Of all the selfish, rude, impertinent boys—”

Briar grinned at her. “Well, I am family.”

Sandry couldn’t help it. She had to laugh as Gudruny admitted Tris and Chime.

“Good to see you two getting on,” the redhead remarked. She came over to look at the miniature willow. “Reshaping her?” she asked Briar. Chime stretched out from Tris’s shoulder, her head at the same angle as Tris’s as they eyed the tree.

Briar nodded. “No willow tree bends over on itself. That was pretty decent of you today, taking some of the load from the sailors.”

“Too bad it only made them uncomfortable,” Tris replied drily.

“It’s just that weather magic and anyone who can do more than control a wind here and there are so uncommon,” explained Sandry. “If you’d brought up a big wave that just rolled us toward shore, they might not even have noticed.”

“But the shore would,” Tris said. “Besides, Her Imperial Majesty and her pet puppy dogs wanted a wind. Can you imagine how His Grace your uncle would react if every time he asked for something, everyone around him asked for the same thing?”

Sandry winced. Uncle Vedris had expressed his opinions of such fawning behavior very forcibly in the past. “They wouldn’t do so more than once,” she said as Gudruny responded to a knock on the door.

Daja came in, looking oddly uncertain. Rizu stood by her shoulder. “I—I told Rizu it would be all right if she joined us.”

Sandry beamed at the pair. “Of course you may,” she told Rizu, glancing back to make sure neither Briar nor Tris was about to make a liar out of her. Briar’s eyebrows were slightly knit; Tris had that same politely interested expression she had worn that afternoon while talking with Quen and Ishabal, but neither one said anything. Sandry continued, “You never asked permission to join us at Landreg Castle, Rizu—why start now? Gudruny?”

The maid was already rearranging chairs and settings for a fifth person at the table. As soon as she finished, they all sat down to eat.

To Sandry’s relief, everyone relaxed once they were eating. They talked about the ball for the Lairan ambassador in two weeks’ time and that day’s sail. Now that they knew more people at court, Rizu could tell stories about them that the others would understand. She and Daja remained for a while after the footmen cleared away the plates, then excused themselves and left.

There was a long silence once Gudruny had retreated to her own room. Briar concentrated on the willow shakkan, Gently he urged it up from its ugly, bent-over stance, raising it to the limit the trunk could handle even with his magic to make it more flexible. Once it was as straight as he could make it for the time being, he fashioned a sleeve of heavy wire to help it keep from folding down again. Tris petted Chime as the glass dragon gave off her singing purr. Sandry peered at her embroidery and waited for one of the others to say something.

At last, Briar sat up. “Just because she has a partner now doesn’t mean the partner is one of us,” he grumbled. “You don’t see me dragging a girl everywhere.”

Tris looked at him steadily. “Have you cared enough about a girl to want us to accept her?” she asked.

Briar couldn’t meet her level gaze. “Well, Evvy,” he mumbled.

“Evvy is your student,” Tris replied quietly. “Face it, Briar, you don’t like any of your bits of entertainment enough to worry if we know who they are.”

“At least I don’t pretend Caidy ought to belong to our circle,” protested Briar.

His words were like a needle’s jab. Sandry looked up.

“We’re not a circle,” she said tartly. “Daja and I reopened our bond. You two don’t even care, so why does it matter if Daja brings Rizu?” Her mouth trembled. “They’re in love. You should be happy for them.”

“In love enough for Rizu not to tell everything she’s heard if the empress asks it?” Briar demanded hotly. “I think not. Rizu’s all right, but I think she belongs to Berenene first and anyone else second.” He looked down at his hands. All the flowers on both had sprouted tiny black roses. “Face it, Daj’ won’t be coming home with us,” he went on. “For that matter, will either of you? I’ve seen that Shan look at you when Berenene isn’t around, Sandry. And you can’t tell me they didn’t offer you good coin to stay on, Tris.”

Sandry glared at him. “The empress isn’t offering you the moon to stay?”

“The whole palace is talking about how you alone have her permission to enter the greenhouses at any time,” added Tris. “The gardeners say she’s never let anyone but herself recommend pruning, but they have orders to take such direction from you. And I’ve heard she’s offered you a bottomless purse and the post of imperial gardener if you stay.”

“You hear too festering much,” complained Briar. “How would you know, when you always hide?”

Tris looked at him over the rim of her spectacles, and tapped one ear.

“Oh.” Briar grimaced.

“These halls are chimneys for drafts and chatter, dolt,” Tris informed him firmly. “Leave Daja and Rizu be. They’ll do as they need to.”

“Daja won’t thank you for saying anything against Rizu,” Sandry reminded him.

“It’s not against her,” protested Briar.

“Is that how Daja will see it?” Sandry wanted to know.

Suddenly she felt the touch of Tris within her magic. Calm down, she said. Sandry could feel that Briar heard Tris as well, though his bond to Sandry herself was still closed. We four will always be one, whether we live together in Emelan or not, Tris told them both. You ought to have more faith.

The next two weeks were a whirlwind for all four mages, not just Sandry. The empress seemed determined to woo them with entertainment and splendor. They were caught up in a myriad of hunts—for unusual flowers and tucked-away picnics, since Lady Sandrilene did not like to hunt game—card parties, rides, breakfasts, and voyages on the Syth. Sandry noticed that even Tris could not evade them all, though she was better than the other three at vanishing. Daja and Rizu were glued together. They hardly seemed to care what they did as long as they did it in each other’s company, as Briar pointed out more than once. Occasionally they joined Sandry, Briar, and Tris for a private midday or supper. Sandry noticed that, despite his grumbles, Briar voiced no objections to Rizu’s company when Daja was present.

To Sandry’s relief, Fin said nothing about her desertion of him that night at the welcoming party. Knowing his tendency toward passion and uproar, Sandry was sure that he would kick up a fuss. She was surprised instead to find he seemed to have forgotten all about it. He continued to court her along with Jak, without making any particular effort to get her alone.

I suppose I’m inconsistent to be miffed that he doesn’t much care, she thought ruefully. Really, it would be a pain if he did get all offended, but he could at least pout a little.

She carefully did not think about Pershan fer Roth at all. It wasn’t that she didn’t see plenty of Shan—she did. He was always at Berenene’s side, or at her back, bringing her delicacies, carrying her falcon until she chose to fly it to hunt, helping her to dismount. Sandry tried not to begrudge her cousin the feel of Shan’s big hands on her waist as she slid down from the saddle, or the way he bent over the empress to feed her a cherry, but the bile of envy was very hard to ignore. If Shan remembered that he had kissed Sandry, he did not show it. The smile he gave her when she caught his eye was the polite one of one noble to another.

Serves me right, she told herself one night, punching her pillows into a more agreeable shape. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Shan and Berenene practicing Lairanese dance figures that day, particularly the one in which Shan lifted the empress high in the air. The man kisses me—punch, punch—and I run like a scared kitten. I bet the empress doesn’t run!

Sandry growled and stuffed her coverlet in her mouth. Now I’ll have to think of a good lie for Gudruny, she told herself. And it has to be really good, because I think Gudruny suspects far too much as is. Not that she would say anything, but she’ll just tell me some bit of woman’s wisdom about how some men are just out of a person’s reach. I don’t want to hear woman’s wisdom, or any wisdom. I just want Shan to kiss me again so I can tell if I got all wobble-kneed because I knew about Daja and Rizu or if it was the way he kisses!

The day of the Lairan ambassador’s ball, the entire palace was in chaos. Dodging servants with their arms full of burdens, Sandry and Gudruny fled the palace. Landreg House was far more peaceful. Sandry could take her midday with Ambros, Ealaga, and their girls while Gudruny visited her children.

Before she left, Sandry went in search of Zhegorz. She found him seated on the balcony outside Tris’s window, facing into the breeze that came over the walls. He had one of his metal ear beads in his hand and his strange metal spectacles on his face. “Don’t trouble yourself about me,” he said with a cheerful smile. “ Viymese Tris visits once a day for my lessons.”

“That’s good to know,” Sandry told him. “Are they going well?” He seems so much calmer now.

Zhegorz, who had been sitting on a tall stool, was getting to his feet. He was frowning as he turned this way and that, the ear with no bead in it facing into the wind. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “Why would sailors be prepared for a midnight getaway?”

Sandry had to smile. “For as many reasons as there are sailors, I should think,” she replied. “I shouldn’t worry, Zhegorz. Unless you know the name of the ship or her captain, there’s nothing you can do.”

Returning to the palace, she napped, then ate a light supper. There would be a larger banquet that night, but Sandry knew she would collapse before then without something in her belly. Afterward, she bathed, then let Gudruny dress her and arrange her hair. After that, she sat down to read. Berenene had said a courtier would bring her to the Imperial Hall, where the ball was to be held.

A rap on the door announced Sandry’s escort. Gudruny opened it to reveal Fin, gloriously handsome in navy velvet and silver. He might have chosen his clothes to complement Sandry’s own pale blue and silver. He grinned at Sandry. “I hope you appreciate all the begging and pleading I did to get Her Imperial Majesty to agree I could escort you to the ball,” he said. “You look glorious, Lady Sandry.”

She smiled and let him kiss her hand. “Careful,” she warned.

Fin raised his brows. He knew what she meant. “Flattery?” He looked at Gudruny. “Do I flatter? Is she not beautiful?”

Gudruny blushed and curtsied. “You do look so lovely, Clehame.” She curtsied again, and opened the door for them.

Fin placed her hand on his arm and guided her down the hall.

They turned inside the lobby that connected the three wings of the palace and walked until Fin led her through a door into a back corridor.

“But the Imperial Hall is that way,” Sandry protested, stopping.

Fin smiled down at her. “We’ve had a change of plans. Her Imperial Majesty has asked me to take you by a side route to the entrance she uses—she wants you beside her when she greets the ambassador.”

“But isn’t that properly where her heir should stand?” asked Sandry, letting him pull her along.

Fin nodded. “Except Princess Maedryan lives in the eastern empire,” Fin explained. “You will act as her stand-in tonight.”

Sandry frowned. “I hope the princess understands I’m only holding her place,” she said, troubled.

“It’s common,” Fin explained. “You see, after two kidnap attempts, Her Imperial Majesty sent her to live in secrecy. Others have served in her place before, but no one is silly enough to believe that anyone but the princess holds that place in reality. This way.” Fin steered Sandry around a corner.

Sandry turned with him and walked into a damp cloth. Whatever was on it swamped her mind, letting her sink into black sleep.

Somewhere nearby was the living world.

I fell asleep ... when? I did it sitting, with my knees drawn up? Why in Mila’s name would I do that? And when did it get dark?

My head aches so! I must be dreaming yet, because I think my eyes are open, but it’s still pitch-black.

Everything above my chin is throbbing.

Sandry tried to press her hands to her eyes—the throbbing was at its worst there—only to find she had little room to move her arms. When she did touch her eyes, she could feel her eyelids move. The brush of lashes against the inside of her fingers told her that her eyes were wide open ... and it was still dark.

She searched for light, her breath coming faster. I cannot, cannot be in the dark, she told herself. Everyone knows. Gudruny, Briar, Daja—everyone knows I must not be left in the dark, alone. Not ever. Just breathe, Sandry. Slowly. This is all easy to explain if you collect your wits and don’t panic.

There—a faint glimmer: magical signs, written just inches away, over her head, to either side, and on what she could see underneath her. Sandry put her hands out and explored her surroundings. There was a solid barrier some inches before her knees and under her. Her back pressed it. It was inches from her sides and above her head. The silver gleam came from spells that covered it. As she squinted at them, forcing herself to think, to see what they were, she began to recognize them. These were signs to unravel and undo. They had been written in combinations and materials to keep a stitch witch’s power weak and confined. They cast no light. They did nothing to dispel the darkness.

The dark. She was trapped in pitch darkness with no light and no crystal lamp.

With complete understanding came real, uncontrolled panic. She gasped, unable to breathe. Suddenly she was ten years old and trapped below a palace, the dead strewn through the building above her. The only person who knew where Sandry was, who had locked her in this cellar, had been murdered within earshot.

Now Sandry was alone again, and she had no light.

Sandry screamed. She shoved all of her magic outside her skin, fighting to call light to the very fabric of her clothes, only to have her power dissolve. She screamed again, begging for someone to let her out, to light a lamp, to find her. Shrieking till her voice cracked, she hammered at the wooden trap her with feet and fists, ripping her delicate dancing slippers, bruising her hands, banging the back of her head against the unforgiving wood. Again and again, ignoring the pain that shot through her muscles and veins, she dragged at her power, trying to thrust it through her pores. Silk, silk had worked before, it had held light for her before, she was wearing all kinds of silk, but the magic would not come. She finally stopped screaming and wept, shuddering in terror.

She had not been silent for long when someone outside said, “My bride-to-be awakes.”

I know that voice, she thought slowly. I know it ... Fin. Remembering his name started a slow flare of rage in her chest. Finlach fer Hurich. My escort. That “special entrance” he guided me to.

“Come, Lady Sandry,” he said, his voice very close to her prison. “You were lively enough a moment ago.”

He had heard her crying—screaming, like a child lost in the dark. “Tell me—” She stopped. Her voice had been a low croak. She cleared her torn and scraped throat and tried again. “Does my cousin know about this?”

“Why would I trouble her with details?” he asked. “Your imperial cousin appreciates deeds, not promises. Once you’ve signed a marriage contract—with all the constraints required of a mage wife, of course, to ensure you never turn your power on me—I will accept Her Imperial Majesty’s congratulations and praise for my boldness.”

His smug reply set not the frightened child, but Vedris of Emelan’s favorite niece, to blazing. “Maggot-riddled festering dung-footed imp-blest mammering pavao!” she growled, scrambling again for her power and feeling it trickle away. “Bat-fouling dung-sucking base-born churlish milk-livered kaq! Naliz! Amdain!”

“Endearments,” he replied. “You’ll find better ones when we’re married. Once you’ve put your signature to the contract, and your kiss, too, marked in blood for surety, I will even let my uncle give you control of your magic again. Not until then, of course. Not until you know that if you ever defy me, I will turn the marriage spells on you until you crawl to beg for my forgiveness. The men of Namorn know how to handle mage wives.”

“If you think my cousin will congratulate you for kidnapping me in her own palace, you don’t know her,” Sandry retorted. “She’ll free me of your precious contract and your precious uncle!”

“Not if she wants your moneybags to stay in Namorn, which she does,” Fin reminded Sandry. “And my uncle is head of the Mages’ Society for all Namorn. I think even Her Imperial Majesty will have to swallow any vexation with me, once I have the mages’ backing and your wealth at my command. What?” He was answering a question from someone outside Sandry’s trap. “No, she will be well enough. I must show myself at the ball, so no one believes I had anything to do with her disappearance.” The sound of his voice came closer to her prison. “Don’t fret, my dear,” he told her. “Later you may write to your friends from our honeymoon nest. Oh—if you’re hoping for rescue? You’re belowground. No wind will carry word of you to that redheaded terror. You’re in a room without plants, so the green lad can’t find you. And if you’re waiting on the handsome and clever Pershan, even if he could find you, he wouldn’t dare. Her Imperial Majesty knows her lover’s attention has been straying.”

Despite her fear, Sandry gulped. Shan and Berenene? She could be his mother!

Fin continued: “She’s watching him. He hasn’t been allowed to leave her side for two days without her knowing exactly where he goes. Poor Quen was getting all excited, thinking she would get rid of Shan and turn to him again. Instead, she’s clutching Shan tight. It shows how much she wants to keep you here—normally she just dismisses the girl from court.”

“You’re disgusting,” Sandry croaked. “Making up such foul lies about people.”

“Oh, I’ve made you unhappy, ruining your pretty little dreams. Get used to our marriage, if you please,” retorted Fin. “Once you present me with an heir, I’ll be happy to leave you to your own devices. Until later, my dear.”

Then he was gone. Without Fin to hate, her fear of the dark swamped her again. Sandry screamed until she had no voice. When that was gone, she slid down and slammed her feet against the side of her prison over and over, until her back was bruised and her knees and ankles were on fire. Only when she could no longer kick did she curl up into a tiny ball, shuddering. The dark overwhelmed her for a while.

The sound of people banging around outside brought her to herself again. It seemed Fin’s helpers were settling down to a game of cards nearby. Oddly, their voices gave Sandry’s mind something to latch on to. She wasn’t quite lost, not if she could hear rough men cursing each other’s bets and cards.

What am I without magic? she asked herself dully, forcing herself to sit upright. Just a game piece, like Zhegorz said. Just a pretty ... Zhegorz. Daja. Briar, Tris.

Wait. Wait. I have bits of Briar’s magic in me, from when we were kids. And Tris’s, and Daja’s. I spun us into one magic, but then I had to weave us into four separate people again. Still, we each kept some of one another’s power so we could go on seeing magic, and hearing conversations. What’s around me are spells only for thread magic, not green or weather or metal magic.

It was hard to ignore her terror and her very real pain. First she had to rip pieces from her linen shift to bind up her bleeding hands and feet. Her throbbing head was hard to ignore, too. Somehow she forced herself inward, thrusting her awareness of the dark from her mind. She even made herself forget those voices outside her trap. Slowly she sank down into herself, into the core of her power.

She was shocked to find it in disarray. When did I tend it last? she wondered, seeing a mess of threads and connections where she was accustomed to finding a spindle of fiery thread. Oh, cat dirt—not since we reached Dancruan, I think. I never used to be this sloppy, she thought as she poked through the tangle. I shouldn’t get so distracted that I don’t straighten things up. For one thing, here at least I can see light.

She found the crimson thread that was her bond to Daja. She gave it a few sharp tugs. She waited, but no response came. She bit her lip to keep from wailing as her grip on her power started to melt. Daja was blocked off, which meant that she must be with Rizu. There would be no help from her.

For a moment, darkness surged back into Sandry’s mind. She kicked the wall again, then cradled her throbbing foot, tears streaming from her eyes. She had forgotten her bruised and bloody feet.

Enough, she ordered herself as the pain ebbed. Enough. I have one tiny setback and I go to pieces. Gudruny held on for ten years. Zhegorz survived for fifty. Daja floated in the sea five days thinking she was lost forever, and she let a forest fire go through her, and walked through burning buildings. From what Rosethorn said, she and Briar were in a war. I get locked up by one silk-breeches noble and I just collapse? Enough.

Forcing herself to be calm once again, she sank down into her power to find her connection with Tris. It wasn’t as strong as the bond with Daja, probably because they’d only used it once, and that recently. Sandry shoved herself through the thin strand, questing for the redhead.

A monstrous jolt shocked her clean out of her concentration. She leaned her head back carefully, tasting blood where she’d bitten her lip.

“Of all times for her to play with lightning,” she croaked, feeling for her handkerchief. Not many people would rather shroud themselves in storms than attend a brilliant party, she added silently, so she wouldn’t hurt her lip or her agonized throat.

What is the time? When will Fin come back? She had no idea of the hour. She wasn’t sure that much time had passed, but it was impossible to tell with her magic loose and floppy, and Tris and Daja both unavailable. He could be on his way back here now. Sandry wasn’t sure how much longer she could endure this tiny, dark space and be sane. If she was going to be in any condition to rip him to shreds when she was free, she had to escape.

That left Briar, who had not allowed her back into his mind. Her tie to him was dull gray. Too bad, Sandry told herself. This is no time for niceties.

She reached into the pouch at her neck and took out her precious thread circle. She found Briar’s lump in it easily. It blazed green in her magic, with filaments of Sandry’s, Tris’s, and Daja’s powers mixed in. Plunging through it, Sandry shrieked silently, BRIAR!

Images shot through her mind: lace-trimmed skirts, Caidy’s wild eyes, a thud on the floor, Briar helping a livid Caidy to her feet.

I told you to keep OUT! he roared at her down their connection. Oh, cowpox, he said, recognizing the thread circle as it blazed in her mind and her hand. You’re using the string. I thought you said you’d never make us do this. “Your own free will,” that’s what you said. So just shut ... He slowed, spreading himself through her mind. Say, what’s all this? You’re in a box with magic in it.

No, do you think so? demanded Sandry, fighting to keep her mental voice from shaking. Here I was thinking it was the empress’s chambers. No wonder I feel so cramped.

Don’t bite my nose off, he said absently. How did you get into this thing? Where’s your night lamp?

I jumped in. For good measure, I pulled the top on and put locks on the outside. I decided I needed a challenge!

What’s the matter with you? Briar asked, so caught up with Sandry that he barely felt it when Caidy slapped his face. It’s Tris who’s the grouch, remember? “Good-bye,” he called absently as Caidy walked away from him.

Sandry made herself take a breath. If I’m grouchy, it’s because I need rescuing, she said reasonably. Losing her temper, she cried, And I hate needing rescue!

I guess so, Briar replied, walking outside into the gardens. Rain soaked him instantly. He ignored it. Now, where are you?

He said the room was plantless so you couldn’t find me, Sandry replied, fighting not to sound forlorn. He left men to guard me, or help him smuggle me out of here, wherever “here” is.

I don’t need plants—I can follow our tie. Who’s “he,” anyway? Briar set off down a promenade through the rose garden, keeping an eye on the thread that shone silver through the dark and the pouring rain.

Fin. He was supposed to be my escort, and he lured me into a very well-laid trap. He was ready for this, Briar. He had drugs to put me to sleep and there are binding signs for my thread magic on this box as good as anything we could make. His mage uncle helped. Fin said he’s got a house that’s the same. A tear dripped from one of her eyes; Sandry ignored it. At least talking to Briar helped her keep the dark from overwhelming her, barely. He said Berenene didn’t know, but that she admires boldness in a man.

The Sandry-thread led Briar back inside, through a side door with freshly oiled hinges. He found himself in an older wing of the palace, where the thread took him to a small back hallway. The good news is that you’re still in the palace, I think, he told her. There were signs of neglect everywhere. Human footprints marked the dust on the floor tiles, leading him to a small door. You said you’re guarded? I’d better get reinforcements.

They’re blocked off, Sandry replied glumly. Probably Daja and Rizu are together. Tris was playing with lightning. I think I have a scorch mark on my power.

Briar grinned at the thought. Well, the stormy part’s over. He reached out along his newly strengthened connection with Tris.

What? the weather mage demanded. Briar got the impression she was back in her chambers, changing into her nightclothes. I was busy—

Briar opened his mind, trusting her to know what to look at and what to leave alone. It took Tris only a glimpse of what lay before his eyes, then Sandry’s eyes. The redhead put her book aside. I’m coming, she told them.