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"Goddesses preserve me," she whispered, sinking into her chair. "I'm making decisions based on feelings now?"

A bitter laugh escaped her. If anyone knew she was relying on intuition rather than evidence and logic, she'd be dismissed as exactly what her detractors already claimed—a foolish female who was unfit for leadership, ruled by emotions rather than intellect.

But her gut had never led her astray. Not when she'd sensed her brother's growing instability, not when she'd pushed for peace with the Dothveks against all advice, and not now, when it told her that Zexx spoke the truth.

Which meant she had just accused the one person truly loyal to her of treachery while defending those who actually plotted her downfall.

The realization sank in her gut like a stone. She'd lashed out at Zexx not because she didn't believe him, but because she didn't want to believe him. Because accepting his warning meant accepting that she was surrounded by enemies, that the stability she'd worked so hard to build was an illusion, that her trust in her advisors had been misplaced.

"I'm such a fool," she groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

The memory of his face as she'd thrown her position in his face—And don't forget, Ambassador, that in this city, I am your superior—sent a wave of shame through her so intense she tasted bile in the back of her throat. She had hurt him deliberately, cruelly, when all he'd tried to do was protect her.

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. She had to find him. Had to apologize, to tell him she believed him, to make this right somehow.

Her feet carried her swiftly through the corridors of the tower, past startled attendants who flattened themselves against walls to let her pass. She rarely moved with such urgency or lack of decorum, and she could sense their curious gazes following her as she took the winding ramp down to the level where Zexx's quarters were located.

She pounded on his door, not caring who might see or what they might think. "Ambassador," she called, loud enough to be heard through the thick wood but not so loud as to draw attention from the entire floor. "Please, open the door. I need to speak with you."

Silence. She pressed her ear against the wood, hoping to hear movement inside, but there was nothing.

"Chancellor?"

She whirled around to find K’Nar standing behind her, his expression unreadable.

"Have you seen the ambassador?" she demanded, not bothering with explanations or pleasantries.

K’Nar's brows rose slightly. "He left, Chancellor."

"Left?" Her heart stuttered. "Left for where?"

"The city, I believe," K’Nar replied, his tone careful. "He departed through the main entrance some time ago. Alone," he added, clearly troubled by this breach of protocol.

A cold weight settled in her stomach. Zexx was wandering the Crestek city alone? Despite the success of the reception, despite the progress they'd made in fostering acceptance, there were still many who resented the Dothveks. Who might see a lone ambassador as an opportunity to strike a blow against their former enemy.

"We have to find him," she said, already moving toward the ramp. "Now."

"Chancellor, you can't simply run into the city after him," K’Nar protested, hurrying to keep pace with her. "It's not safe, and it's certainly not appropriate for someone of your station."

"I don't care about appropriate," she snapped, taking the ramp at a pace that made her formal robes swirl dangerously around her ankles. "If anything happens to him, if he's harmed by my people, the peace accord could collapse. We could be looking at renewed hostilities with the Dothveks."

It was a political justification, one that K’Nar would accept, but it wasn't her true motivation. The thought of Zexx in danger, alone and possibly still upset from their argument, filled her with a fear so profound it made it hard to breathe.

"At least allow me to summon the guards," K’Nar insisted, his shorter legs working overtime to match her stride. "We can organize a proper search party."

"There isn't time," she replied, reaching the main level of the tower. The guards stationed at the entrance straightened as they saw her approach.

K’Nar muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse—unusual for her proper adjunct—and then grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop.

"Chancellor, wait," he said, lowering his voice so the guards couldn't hear. "If you insist on this madness, at least let me fetch cloaks that will not betray your position. You cannot walk the city streets as the chancellor. It would cause chaos, and you would be instantly recognized."

He had a point, loath as she was to admit it. She nodded tersely, and K’Nar disappeared for what felt like an eternity. He returned with two beige cloaks, the kind worn by middle-tier Cresteks—neither the elaborate garments of the nobility nor the rough cloth of the common folk.

"Here," he said, draping one around her shoulders and pulling the hood up to obscure her face. "Keep your head down and follow my lead."

She nodded, surprised and somewhat impressed by K’Nar's efficiency in arranging their subterfuge. Perhaps her adjunct had hidden depths she hadn't suspected.

They passed through the tower entrance, the guards too well-trained to question the chancellor but clearly puzzled by their hasty departure and concealing garments. The afternoon sun hit her face, warm and somehow accusatory, as if reminding her that she'd driven Zexx out into its harsh glare.