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Gareth cleared his throat. “So. Howwasthe party, anyway?”

“Abysmal,” Ryder muttered, “as all parties are.”

“But the night wasn’t a complete loss, I hope?”

Ryder tore a hunk from a hot buttered roll and began to eat with relish, a fearsome glare of warning his only answer.

Wisely, Gareth quieted, but he did touch his foot to mine under the table, and when I looked up at him, his expression was kind, not a teasing glance to be found. I felt a rush of gratitude and tapped his foot in answer.Thank you.

Then the doors opened, and Yvaine glided into the room. She looked fresh and calm at first glance—her hair done up in an elaborate knot of white braids, her gown a soft sky blue—but as she came closer, I saw the shadows under her eyes, even deeper than they had been the previous night, and a patch of skin on her lip that bled, freshly chewed. A sheen of sweat shone on her brow. She took her seat at the head of the table with a magnanimous smile, looking around at all of us while servants bustled about with platters and tongs, piling our plates high. Once they were finished, she dismissed them, and we five were alone with our crystal and silver.

“I’m so glad you could all join me for lunch,” Yvaine said cheerfully. Her eyes darted over to me, not quite meeting my gaze. She made no move to touch her food.

Gareth dabbed the corner of his mouth. “Yes, thank you for inviting us, Lady Queen, and our apologies that we couldn’t attend the party last night. We were quite caught up in our research, and before we knew it, the evening had gotten away from us.”

“Research?” Yvaine asked mildly. “Remind me, what sort of research are you conducting?”

“We’re reading everything we can about necromancy, Your Majesty,” Gemma answered, watching the queen carefully. “We’re hoping to unearth spellwork that might reinforce the body of my friend Nesset, who now lives at Rosewarren.”

It was their cover story, and an entirely reasonable one, yet Gemma’s words hung strangely in the air, as if not even the dining room itself was willing to believe what she had said. Yvaine stilled for an instant, her smile frozen. Then she grabbed a fork and speared a melon cube, popping it in her mouth. She looked ill, chewing it. It seemed to take great effort for her to swallow.

“Of course,” she replied. “I remember now. Forgive me for needing the reminder. It’s just that…well, you know how hard I’ve worked in recent months to watch over the city, given the…” She trailed off, frowning, and set down her fork.

“Given the sinkhole?” Ryder prompted.

Yvaine nodded. “Yes, the sinkhole. I’ve been concentrating so hard on reinforcing the beguilers’ work and monitoring the city’s borders, that it sometimes feels as if that is the entire world, and everything beyond is an illusion.”

Absently, she traced the rim of her plate with one white finger.

“And is that…working?” Gareth said carefully. “All is well downstairs?”

The word made me sit up straight.Downstairs.Last night, Lady Goff had retrieved Yvaine from the party, and Yvaine had said,I’m needed downstairs.

And I’d been so distracted by everything—the party, her behavior, Ryder’s nearness—that I hadn’t even thought about what that meant.

“Yes,” Yvaine whispered, “everything’s quite in order. My beguilers are tireless. The sinkhole hasn’t budged in three days.” She looked up at me, smiling. “Isn’t that wonderful, Farrin?”

I felt everyone’s eyes upon me and struggled for what to say. “It is, Yvaine, and impressive. You’ve appointed your beguilers well. But…”

I hesitated. Now that we were alone with her, a thousand questions sat ready in my mouth, and yet I couldn’t forget Yvaine’s warning from two weeks prior:I can’t know anything you’re doing, any leads you’re following. It’s too dangerous—for you, for me, for everyone.

“You want to know about the draft,” she said wearily, misinterpreting my silence. “The Senate is working out the language as we speak. They’re being quite slow about it, and I can’t blame them. Who wants to tell everyone in the country that they must send all their daughters to war against an evil they don’t understand?”

“When will it take effect?” Gemma asked quietly. She was thinking of Mara, as I was.

Yvaine looked suddenly irritable. “I don’t know. When they’ve finished, I suppose. Why do you all look so worried? Has Llyleth grown impatient and come after the Three-Eyed Crown? I warned her to do no such thing. I told her quite plainly, looked at her with my own eyes and watched her quake to hear my voice.”

Llyleth. The Warden. I couldn’t bring myself to feel sorry for the awful woman, and yet it wasn’t like Yvaine to speak so callously of making someone cower, just as she’d bragged last night about making Lady Bethan weep.

“No, the crown is safe,” Gareth began, before a slight jab from Gemma made him fall silent.

Yvaine leaned forward eagerly. “And you’ve been studying it, have you? Both of you? What have you found?”

I cleared my throat delicately. “Yvaine, you told me it wasn’t wise to share such things with you—”

She shot me a ferocious glare. “I remember very well what I told you. But do not think that just because I love you, I will tolerate your interruptions.”

Her words stunned us into silence. Breathing hard, her eyes glittering, she returned her attention to Gareth. Her mouth trembled as if she were fighting back tears.