When She Reigns

PART ONE

THE HARVEST OF HOPE

CHAPTER ONE

THE GOD SHADOW STRETCHED ACROSS THE SEA, CASTING the city into an early, unwelcome twilight.

I shivered, unable to look away from the length of umbra that darkened everything, or the immense god hunched over on the horizon. Sunlight strained long and golden around his curled shoulders, his bent head, and his lean body—a nightly eclipse that caused a deep, anxious hush to settle across the city of Flamecrest.

Gerel elbowed me. Stop looking at the sun. It’s not good for your eyes.

It doesn’t hurt my eyes anymore. Not since . . . you know. I didn’t want to talk about the dragon rescue. Not here. We were perched on a roof with ten strangers, all of us hoping to see new ships arrive in the harbor below. This was hardly the best time. Besides, the sun is hidden. That’s the problem.

Try not to stand out. Once the ships arrive, we can go back to the hotel and you can be as odd as you want.

I sighed and looked back toward Flamecrest Port. No one could say what—or who—was on the ships rumored to arrive tonight, only that they brought hope. And with the god looming on the horizon, bent in contemplative silence, hope was the one thing everyone wanted.

One god had risen. Abandoned his people. Killed most of them, too.

Any island could be next.

This one, maybe.

Do you think the others had any luck finding Nine? I spoke softly, but Gerel still glanced around with a worried frown.

Fair. Nine was a spy from the Algotti Empire, and it was dangerous to talk about them in public, but no one was paying attention to us. Rooftops and balconies were packed with people trying to get a good view of the port, while the streets were even more crowded. Anticipation knotted through the crush below, with pale blue noorestones dotting the sea of dark faces and bright headscarves. Even with the god-shadowed hush, there was still enough ambient noise to obscure our conversation.

We’ll find out when we get back. Gerel glanced north, toward the Fire Rose Hotel, where we were all staying. I don’t like so many of us being out at once. Altan could easily overpower Chenda and Zara. And Aaru is in no state to help.

She said it without judgment, but just thinking about Aaru and his state was painful. He’d been physically present but emotionally absent ever since the earthquake.

Altan could have left after—I lowered my voice—the battle at the ruins. But he didn’t. He stayed with us. Maybe he’d been compelled by honor, but more likely he still needed something from us. He’d wanted to help us free the dragons, but I didn’t imagine he’d genuinely changed since his attack on Crescent Prominence.

And he’s been useless ever since.

I couldn’t argue with that. While we’d been going out in pairs to search for Nine, we kept Altan locked in a closet. Partly because we weren’t sure what to do with him, and mostly because we needed information, which he refused to give. Like where he’d sent Tirta and Elbena, who’d betrayed me, or Kelsine, the Drakontos ignitus we’d befriended.

What do you think is going to happen when we find that spy—

Nine, I said.

Nine. Fine. Whatever. What do you think will happen when we find them, anyway? Gerel asked.

We’ll ask a thousand questions. To start with. I needed to know more about the Algotti Empire, but that need was impossible to explain to the others. At least right now. Ever since we’d destroyed the ruins above Flamecrest and set the dragons free, something had been different. My dreams—previously just dreams of flying—felt stranger. Older. More powerful.

Gerel just shook her head. I hope you’re making a list.

Of course.

It just doesn’t seem like enough. Listening to gossip. Looking for Nine. Keeping Altan locked in a closet. What are we doing here, besides waiting for the world to finish falling apart?

Trying to find a way to put it back together.

Unless you know something I don’t, I’m afraid that’s impossible. She dropped her gaze to the noorestone in her hands. Nothing better to do, though. I’d rather die doing something meaningful, but I’ll settle for staying busy.

I’d never heard Gerel so morbid. For a moment, I considered telling her about my dreams. The dragon. The moons passing before the sun. But as the god shadow settled deeper over the city, casting the twisted streets into a premature darkness, a child began to cry. Followed by another, and another.

I wish people would take their children inside before sundown. Gerel fidgeted with the noorestone, making light bounce across her strong features. How do you explain to them what happened? How do you tell them the world is ending, and there’s no way to fix it? Better to let them have some peace before the Great Abandonment takes them, too.

Ignorance isn’t the answer. I looked at Gerel askance; she was the last person I’d have expected to advocate for sheltering children, but maybe that was because she’d never been sheltered. But I am glad it isn’t our job to explain what’s happening. It was hard enough telling Ilina’s mother.

Gerel gave a soft snort. Seven gods, that was—

At her oath, we both went quiet, a beat of discomfort drifting between us.

I pushed past it. Even Zara took it better. Perhaps that was unfair to my sister; she’d been uncharacteristically subdued these last five days. I’m sure it won’t be long before her shock wears off and she starts demanding silk gowns to wear to the Great Abandonment.

"I wish we’d sent her on the Chance Encounter with Ilina’s mother. Gerel sighed. But I understand why you said no."

Mother had promised Zara that I’d protect her, and that was the last we’d seen of either of our parents. For all we knew, they were dead, killed when Altan’s warriors attacked Crescent Prominence and destroyed the council house. I might be the only person my sister had left.

I dropped my gaze to the noorestone-lit harbor, where dockworkers bustled around piers to prepare for the arrival of these new ships. Aside from the workers and their supervisors, the port was empty. All the crowds had been pushed outside the gates, held back by fences and squads of soldiers in flame-blue uniforms. Even the berths were mostly vacant; every ship that wasn’t in need of repairs had left as soon as possible, weighed down with medical supplies, food, blankets, and cots—whatever could be spared. It seemed impossible that anyone could have survived the god of silence rising up from the sea, but people had to search. Just in case.

How long will we have to wait? someone on the other side of the roof asked.

No one answered; no one knew.

Then.

I felt it.

Power called to me, and I answered.

I climbed to my feet, careful on the smooth tiles, and strained my eyes to peer farther into the god-shadowed sea. The sunset sky burned like hot iron over the water, and to the south I could just see the barest scrapes of land: Damyan, perhaps—the god of love. It was from that direction I could feel . . . something.

Noorestones.

Not just any noorestones. There was something different about these, something I couldn’t quite identify. Then, what I’d thought was land in the distance grew; it wasn’t land at all, but ships coming closer. They carried noorestones. Loud noorestones.

Most felt alike: they set a hum against my thoughts—making me aware of their presence without becoming intrusive.

But these would not be ignored. They were powerful. Old. Slightly . . . wrong, like a note just out of tune, not quite reaching true dissonance. They drew my thoughts into a current of uncontrollable curiosity, dampening the sounds of the city and surf.

I listed forward, the toe of one shoe thumping on the guardrail.

Mira. Gerel’s whisper was sharp, like it wasn’t the first time she’d said my name. What are you doing?

My heart thundered as I shook back into myself. I’d forgotten she was here; I’d forgotten anyone was here.

It’s the noorestones. My fingers curled around the cool iron rail. They’re on the ships, coming toward us.

As soon as the whisper left my lips, a shock of excitement traveled through the crowd. There! people cried, pointing toward the water, where ten enormous ships slipped into the god shadow. Hope is on the way!

The ships were huge, bigger than any I’d ever seen, save the Star-Touched and the Great Mace. They were ocean-crossing vessels, powered by immense, unstable noorestones that had—in one case—interacted badly with a dragon, causing an explosion that had taken the Infinity four and a half years ago.

But that wasn’t the truth. The imperial spy called Seven had told me the explosion of the Infinity was a test, a way to gauge the destructive potential of these giant noorestones.

He’d also said the Anaheran government was behind it.

Do you think the noorestones are weapons? Gerel’s question drew me back to now.

I glanced around, praying no one had overheard her, but voices rippled all around us, teeming with cautious optimism. On rooftops and balconies, people had lifted themselves up to get a better look at the huge ships. They weren’t just unusual; they were shocking.

Gerel tried again. Do you think they plan to use the noorestones to hold cities hostage?

I shook my head. I think, for now, the noorestones are being used to power the ships.

She frowned. Doesn’t this class usually require three noorestones?

Usually. I bit my lip, listening to the excitement build around us; the promised hope was almost here. "I think these will be slower than the Star-Touched or the Great Mace, but they’ll be able to outpace any other ship in any Fallen Isles fleet."

Her frown deepened. I wonder how they’ll match up against the black ships.

If we ever find Nine, we can ask them to race. Right after we found out what they knew about Anahera’s role in the Mira Treaty. Seven had given us what information he possessed, but Nine had been working in Anahera for months.

A short, barked laugh escaped her. I’m sure that’s what spies do in their free time.

Without a doubt. My smile faded as I watched the ships come closer. Remember when we first saw Seven’s ship?

I remember. She crossed her arms over her chest as a sea breeze lifted from the water. Chenda said she thought Anahera was building a new fleet. This is it.

That seems like a fair guess. These were almost identical to the design of our other ocean-crossing vessels, made from wood, rather than metal like the imperial ship. I suppose, I murmured, "my question is why? Why build a fleet of ships this big? What use could anyone have of ships capable of crossing the ocean? There’s nowhere else to go."

There is the Algotti Empire. Gerel’s tone was low, frightened, almost. What if, on top of everything else, Anahera wants to take us to war against the Algotti Empire?

Dread deepened inside of me. Why?

There’s a lot about Anahera that doesn’t make sense. She kept her voice soft so that the Anaherans around us wouldn’t overhear. None of this was the people’s fault, I kept reminding myself. We all had corrupt governments. We’d all been betrayed by the people sworn to protect us. This was just . . . so big.

I let my eyes travel across the city, to the Red Hall. Like most of Flamecrest, the capitol building was made from red sandstone, its upper walls adorned with polished rubies that shone like fire during the day.

That was where High Magistrate Paorah lived. Where he ruled. I’d been to the Red Hall during both of my previous visits to Anahera, and while my movements had been carefully monitored, I knew that much of the building was private, sectioned off not only for the high magistrate and his family, but for other purposes as well. Darker purposes, some claimed.

As the sun set fully behind the god of silence and dipped beneath the horizon, the ships moved into the harbor. They were brilliantly lit—almost cheery—with noorestones covering the decks and masts. Hopeful, at least as far as most people were concerned, but the dark chord of the giant noorestones slipped through the back of my head.

Something was deeply wrong. High Magistrate Paorah wouldn’t introduce this fleet here, now, without some reason. And I doubted hope was his true intention.

Excitement jumped like static through the crowd, intensifying as blue-clad guards bade people back off Revis Avenue, one of the seven major thoroughfares that radiated from the capitol building. Soon, a straight line from the port to the Red Hall appeared, along with fresh whispers about who or what was arriving. Regardless, the high magistrate would receive his delivery tonight, under the eager eyes of his people.

Then, a magnificent horsecarre—painted flame blue and detailed with gold—came down the newly cleared Revis Avenue. A team of white horses pulled it along the cobbled road, and though I couldn’t hear the clatter over the distance and noise of the hundreds of assembled onlookers, I could halfway feel it, rattling in the back of my head, along with the noorestones.

That’s the high magistrate’s crest, said someone on Gerel’s other side.

Another horsecarre followed the first, and then another, until fifteen waited along the road, just a short distance away from the port. Liveried guards stood at regular intervals along the road, their spines straight with attention. Swords gleamed in the steady light as they all faced the port entrance.

The gates opened wide, waiting.

Slowly, carefully, the ships drew up to their berths, glittering with the cool light of ten thousand bright crystals. The crews worked. Gangplanks were lowered. And handfuls of people—it was hard to tell how many from this far away—stepped onto the main decks of the immense, unfamiliar ships.

Whispers grew from our rooftop as people passed around a scope, like the kind Captain Pentoba used on the Chance Encounter:

That one looks Bophan.

And: Is that one Hartan or Daminan? I can’t tell.

And: Those are Khulani clothes.

At my side, Gerel tensed, but didn’t speak.

I wanted to ask the others if we could use their scope, but I didn’t even know their names, and Gerel had permitted me to come on the condition that I didn’t draw attention to myself. She didn’t want anyone recognizing my face, and while the long scar Elbena had given me provided a measure of anonymity—few people would see me as the Hopebearer—it also made me stand out in a new way. So I didn’t ask. I just leaned against the rail, heart pounding, and squinted through the gloom of dusk.

By the time the figures began moving down the gangplanks, full dark had arrived, and the bright glares of noorestones made it difficult to see details.

Without us asking, our hosts passed the scope to Gerel. She held the metal tube to her eye, and her breath hitched with alarm. Seven gods. She handed the scope to me.

For a moment, I saw only a dizzying blur of people and lights and water, but finally I figured out where to aim. And I saw.

There were three Khulani in warrior uniforms—

The familiar profile of First Matriarch Eka Delro—

And the stiff posture of Lady President Dara Soun.

The hope that High Magistrate Paorah had promised was the remaining governing bodies of the Fallen Isles.

The scope slipped from my hands. It would have fallen to the ground, crashing two floors down in an explosion of shattered glass and twisted metal, but Gerel snatched it from the air and returned it to the owner.

He—the owner—shot me a nasty look, but didn’t say anything as he went back to his friends.

Gerel turned to face me, using her body to block me from the others’ view, keeping her voice low. What do you think this means?

I wished I had a good answer, because it should have been such a comfort to see them down there. Given the cheers breaking out all through the streets, most people were comforted. They probably believed our governments had decided to do something about the Great Abandonment and—at last—take real action to preserve what was left of our world.

But they’d had that chance with the Mira Treaty, and they’d squandered it.

He’s using their hope against them. My voice fell flat, muffled under the din of speculation. He’ll tell everyone this gathering is to find a way to stop the Great Abandonment, but—

It will be a lie, Gerel finished.

Below, the officials strode past the guard-blocked crowds, their procession bracketed by delirious applause. Perhaps some were believers in the high magistrate. Most, even, since he’d been elected again and again. But all of these people?

A cynical part of me wondered if he had agents planted within the crowds, meant to guide group reactions.

I stared hard, watching as the officials began to reach the opulent horsecarres the high magistrate had sent for them. They didn’t get in yet, just stood and waved as the cheers escalated. Unease twisted through me as that place in the back of my head—the one that always counted whether or not I wanted to know—ticked off the number of people brought in by these giant ships.

It was difficult to make out individuals without the scope, but there seemed to be a lot more than I’d anticipated. Had the entire Twilight Senate come? The entire Matriarchy?

What a thought—all of the other islands without their leaders. The Luminary Council was gone, as far as I knew. And then there was the Idrisi government—the Silent Brothers—who had died along with the rest of the people of Idris when the god of silence lifted himself from the ocean.

Excitement built in the assembled crowd, hope in their voices. Even the other ten people on the roof with us spoke in eager tones.

Finally, we’ll get some answers.

It won’t happen to us. We’re not like Idris.

I knew High Magistrate Paorah would have a plan. He is so wise.

A shiver ran through me. They didn’t know, I reminded myself. They didn’t know that the high magistrate had effectively made all the other Fallen Isles his, thanks to the Mira Treaty.

Below, at some sort of signal I was too distant to see or hear, the officials began to climb into the horsecarres, ready to go to the Red Hall and join the high magistrate. Strange that he’d chosen to remain there, rather than come greet them.

Maybe it was just his way of putting himself above them. He was too busy, too important, to come down to the harbor. Besides, he’d gotten all of us to come here on his behalf. We were the greeting party.

I think it’s time for us to go, Gerel said. Hopefully we can make it back to the hotel before anyone else has the same idea. We’ve seen all we needed, right?

Yes. But even as the word came out, a familiar figure caught my eye. Tall and slim, dressed in a blue dress that swirled around her legs.

I must have gasped, or cried out, because Gerel straightened and followed my line of sight. What is it?

Confusion spun through my head, and my heart lurched between hope and grief. I’d know her shape anywhere: Mother.

Mother was here.

She was alive.

But where was Father?

I staggered, kept upright only by Gerel’s strong grip.

If Mother was here but Father was not, that could only mean that he was dead. That he’d been killed.

All right, Fancy, Gerel murmured, we’re going now. Give me just a moment.

My fingers ached from clutching the railing, but I nodded and she went to say good-bye to our hosts, thanking them for allowing us onto their roof to watch the ships’ arrival.

My mother’s arrival.

I had to tell Zara. And then I had to get to Mother.

All of the officials had climbed into their horsecarres by the time Gerel returned. Her tone was gentle as she guided me to the ladder. Whatever it is, you’ll be all right. For now, let’s focus on getting back to the others in one piece.

She went down the ladder first, onto the narrow balcony, then held it steady for me.

Three rungs. Four. Five.

Then—

Boom. Shocks rippled through the ground, and I dropped down the last rungs and spun to look toward Revis Avenue.

A spiral of smoke bloomed into the sky, so thick it blacked out the stars.

A house had exploded.

CHAPTER TWO

SHOUTS OF EXCITEMENT SHIFTED INTO HORROR AS, like a plague, panic caught and carried through the people-choked streets. A roar of terror spilled over the night, pierced with screams and the siren wail of children crying.

Dear Fallen Gods, I breathed, stuck in a moment of pure shock—until I remembered my mother was down there, in one of the horsecarres careening wildly down the avenue. I had to help her.

"Let’s go, Fancy!" Gerel grabbed my sleeve and yanked me through the balcony doors. But even before we were inside the house, another great boom shook the city, like an attack of thunder.

This one was nearby. On this street.

Chaos escalated as people pushed and pulled, everyone trying to get somewhere safe. Wherever safe was anymore.

Thousands of terrified screams were sharp on our heels as we raced through our host’s upper dining room, silk curtains fluttering in our wake. Questions flickered through the back of my mind, but right now who and why didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was making it through this alive.

My heartbeat rushed in my ears as we hurtled ourselves down the curved staircase (fourteen steps), through three silk-covered archways, across one braided rug, and past two heartwood end tables. The numbers narrowed my thoughts, focusing me as I followed Gerel through the front door.

The streets were pure chaos. Fear and smoke saturated the air as people ran in every direction, shoving one another to get away from the black plumes twisting into the dark sky. A dirty, bitter scent coated the back of my throat. I gagged, staggering back toward the doorway, but a body slammed into mine, spinning me against the wall. Gerel grabbed my hand and pulled me north, toward the hotel.

She didn’t let go as we pushed through the crush of people. Our progress was terribly slow, and I had to fight my instinct to make way for others. There were too many people, and not nearly enough of us running in the same direction, but Gerel was a force: she didn’t hesitate to shove others aside and drag me along with her.

A third boom rattled the street, and a bright flare of fire lit the skyline ahead of us.

My heart kicked, and I tried to keep close to Gerel, but half the people who’d been running with us now turned and fled in the opposite direction.

Mira, hurry! Gerel was ahead of me, her fingers tight over mine. I pushed harder, trying to squeeze between a pair of burly men, and then—

My fingers slipped from Gerel’s.

One of the men shoved me aside, into another person. We tumbled, staggered, and by the time I looked up, Gerel was nowhere in sight—swallowed up by the chaos.

Gerel! My voice was lost under the cacophony of mass panic. Gerel!

As thousands of people grabbed and pushed around me, I scanned the tallest people nearby, but I couldn’t see her. She was gone.

The air soured with sweat, while dust and ash fell like mist. I coughed and gagged, catching myself as people plowed into me. I couldn’t stay here. I had to move. But Gerel . . .

I shouted her name again, but it was no use. The calamity was getting worse, and Gerel wouldn’t want me to waste time looking for her. She’d tell me to go straight to the hotel. She was probably halfway there already.

North. I searched for familiar landmarks and pushed through the throng, toward the Fire Rose Hotel. Gerel would be there when I arrived. She would be safe. Ilina and Hristo—who’d been wandering the markets looking for rumors about Nine—would be there already, too.

They had to be.

IT SEEMED LIKE ages that I fought my way north, block by block, pushing myself between terrified people. But eventually, the crowds thinned as others took side streets or ventured indoors. And, when no more explosions sounded, the mass panic began to ease.

Still, a bitter stench smothered the streets, and every crack or shout made me jump. Every flare of light felt sinister. Even the people skittering about the streets seemed filled up with potential danger. If only I had a knife. There were thousands of noorestones nearby, and I could use them to defend myself if necessary, but a knife would be obvious protection.

My heart pounded in my ears as I searched the flat-topped buildings for the Fire Rose Hotel. There. Two buildings down, gold flowers painted on the walls shone in the glow of streetlamps. I slowed to a walk, struggling to catch my breath in spite of the dust and smoke that hung in the air.

The double doors were solid bloodwood, bright with gilt vines growing up the polished surface. Extravagant, Gerel had called the hotel, but Captain Pentoba had warned us that less expensive places would be more of a risk, should anyone working there discover our identities. In Flamecrest, the wealthier innkeepers could afford to be loyal to their guests; they had far less incentive to talk to anyone about the people staying with them.

Of course, if the high magistrate wanted to know, anyone would tell him anything.

One glance over my shoulder—nothing but dust and darkness—and I pulled at the front door, ready to race up the stairs and make sure all my friends were accounted for.

The knob wouldn’t turn. Locked.

New fear spiked in my chest as I balled my fist and pounded on the door, trying not to think about what would happen if I couldn’t get in. Upstairs, LaLa whined; I didn’t hear it with my ears, but I felt it through our bond, which had only grown stronger since we’d rescued those dragons from the ruins.

Go away! a man shouted from the other side of the door. The owner. I recognized his voice; it sounded too deep for someone so wiry.

I’m staying here. Please! A wild note of terror edged my words, but I couldn’t stop it. Tanhe, please!

The lock clicked, and Tanhe peered out. At first, it looked like he didn’t remember me, but then his eyes caught on my scar; he hadn’t commented on it when we’d arrived five days ago, but he’d definitely been curious. Everyone was.

Forgive me. The door opened all the way, revealing the dark lobby. Everything held its breath, still and waiting for safety: the gold silk draped over the reception desk, the velvet covers over noorestones, even the sounds. A hush hung over the building, like everyone here was too afraid to even speak. When we heard the explosions, I feared people would rush in and invade all the rooms, and our guests—you—would have nowhere safe to return to.

I stepped inside, noting the sword clutched in Tanhe’s right hand, and the dagger still in its sheath. He had that backward, given the closer quarters. It didn’t inspire much confidence in his ability to protect his guests. Anyway, we were far enough away from the explosions that it was unlikely anyone would have come here seeking shelter, but no one knew if the explosions would continue, or if they’d spread farther throughout the city.

My boots tapped on the flame-blue tiles, crossing the lines of gold that swept into elaborate lala flowers. Days ago, coming to the Fire Rose had felt like a good omen—as much of a good omen as anything could be, with the god shadow swinging across the city every evening and our entire world falling apart. Now everything felt prickly. Dangerous. Nowhere was safe.

Tanhe quickly shut the door behind me, locking it. You left with a friend, didn’t you?

I did. I glanced at the vine-like staircase that grew in the center of the lobby, like a garden of iron bones. The steps were empty, at least on this level. She didn’t get here before me?

I’m afraid not. There’s been no one.

My heart sank. She should have arrived already. Gerel was stronger, faster. If she wasn’t here yet, she must be hurt.

I’d have to go back out and search for her.

Tanhe shifted his weight. He was a tall man, with deep brown skin and a narrow frame, and clearly uncomfortable with his height. His shoulders curled inward, ruining the lines of his fine linen jacket. The two of you went to the harbor, didn’t you?

I nodded, nerves jangling inside my head. And now that we were closer, LaLa’s worry tugged at my heart.

What was on the ships? Tanhe asked. Did you see?

Traitors.

But I couldn’t say that.

Governments. My voice sounded thin—wispy with smoke. I saw the Twilight Senate, the Warrior Tribunal—all the others, except for the Silent Brothers and the Luminary Council.

Mother had been there, though, wearing the same dress as when I’d last seen her. I wished I knew what that meant—if she’d been taken against her will, or if she was being treated well. . . .

Worry darkened Tanhe’s eyes. I wonder if the explosions were meant to harm them in some way.

Perhaps, I said slowly. But no one knew who was coming.

He nodded.

It seems more likely that the explosions were meant to cause chaos among the people. There were thousands of us out there. I didn’t know who would do that, though, or why. Then again, it wasn’t my job to find out. I had more important things to worry about, and surely High Magistrate Paorah and the Fire Ministry would make a thorough investigation. My friend is still out there. I’m going to get someone to help me look for her, but if she arrives before we come down, please make sure she’s allowed in.

He nodded. Of course. It will be my honor.

What a strange thing to say. I narrowed my eyes at him as I moved toward the grand stairs in the center of the lobby.

All of my guests are like family, he said. Those on the third floor especially.

Suspicion clawed at me, but I didn’t waste any more time. I took the stairs two at a time, climbing to the top floor.

Chenda stood in the doorway when I arrived, holding out LaLa’s tether for me. I took the worn leather—and LaLa—and stroked my little dragon’s head. Together again.

Where is Gerel? Worry twisted Chenda’s words into a sharp knot. Is she hurt?

I’m not sure. We were separated during the stampede. What about—

I didn’t have to finish the question. Hristo pushed past her, into the hall, and took in my torn dress, the bitter stench of explosives clinging to my hair and clothes, and the shortness of my breath.

I should have gone to look for you. With his good hand, he took my arm to steady me. Beyond him, Ilina watched us from the parlor, relief clear on her face. I’m sorry.

It’s fine, I said, pulling LaLa closer to me. It’s good you came back here. We’d never have found each other out there.

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press.

We have to go find Gerel, I said. I just came up here to get one of you.

Hope lit Chenda’s eyes, but Hristo was already guiding me into the suite. Not like this. Rest for a minute and give her time to get here. If she isn’t back in half an hour, I’ll look for her.

But—

No. He spoke firmly. Give her half an hour. This is Gerel. If anyone can handle themselves out there, it’s her.

Exactly. And if she wasn’t back yet, then something had clearly happened.

But there was no use arguing with Hristo when he was acting as my protector, and for ten years I’d been told to obey Hristo in emergencies. It was hard to ignore that kind of training. Ten minutes. My knees buckled as I walked. Not much, but Hristo’s grip on my arm tightened, and LaLa squawked with renewed concern. Ten minutes, I said, and then I’m looking for her, with or without you.

He sighed but nodded. Fine. Sit, though. Before you fall.

Chenda flashed me a tight smile as she shut the door after us, but she didn’t move far from it.

I sank into one of the cushioned chairs and focused on breathing. Knots loosened. My heartbeat eased. When Ilina knelt beside me with my bottle of calming pills, I shook my head. I’m all right now. It’s passed.

She squeezed my arm, then went back to her own chair, where she’d fastened Crystal’s tether. The dragons must have been terrified by the noise if Ilina had put their hunting gear on them, but it was probably the best choice.

Zara stood by the window, holding the gauzy curtains closed. She’d been looking outside again, most likely, even though she knew how dangerous it was. But I couldn’t be mad at her, not knowing how relieved she’d be to learn that Mother had arrived on one of those ships and that she wasn’t completely alone after all.

What? Zara wrinkled