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“Chana must be thrilled that you’re helping with the festival after all,” Mariam said.

They were in Mariam’s bedroom. Seated on a pile of cushions, Mariam was embroidering a micromosaic of seed pearls onto the bodice of a sea-blue dress that spread out around her like a pool of water. Lin, at Mariam’s small worktable, was fulfilling her promise to Chana Dorin—carefully tying off small packets of herbs with ribbons, creating the luck sachets carried by eligible young girls on the night of the Goddess Festival.

“What do you mean,after all?” Lin scoffed. “I was always going to help. It’s my last Tevath.”

“You were always going to hide in the physick garden until Chana gave up,” said Mariam. “You only agreed because she made you feel guilty. I can tell because you make a horrid face every time you finish one of those sachets.”

“I’m just so bad at it,” Lin said ruefully. “And I’m not used to being awful at things.”Because you choose to only do the things you think you’ll be good at,said a small voice in her head. “I’m already dreading the Goddess dance. YouknowI’m not graceful.”

Part of the Festival’s ceremony required the eligible girls—all unmarried women between the ages of sixteen and twenty-three—to participate in a silent, complex, ritual dance. It was actually quite beautiful: As children in the Women’s House, they had practiced its fluid movements each week. Lin was sure she could do it blindfolded, entirely from memory. Which didn’t mean she could do itjustice.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a fine dancer,” Mariam said. “Anyway, your grandfather will be pleased, won’t he? Now that you’re getting along with him better, I’m sure he’ll be proud—”

“He won’t see any of it,” Lin interrupted. “Tevath falls on the same date as Ascension Day this year. They’re having a massive banquet up at the Palace, which I gather Mayesh is required to attend. He won’t even be in the Sault.”

“Oh,” Mariam said softly. “Lin—”

But before she could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. When Lin went to answer it, she found Chana Dorin there, wearing a worried expression. “There’s someone at the gates for you, Lin,” she said.

“A patient?” Lin demanded. But of course, it must be a patient; who else could it be? Her mind raced. She had not been expecting any emergencies, any babies being born. She’d have to get her medical satchel, change her clothes if there was a chance. She was wearing an ordinary day dress, spring green and slightly worn around the sleeves and hem. She’d had it for years.

Chana’s eyes darted to Mariam, and back to Lin. “Yes, a patient,” she said, though Lin was puzzled—what had that look been about? She was even more puzzled when Chana bundled her out of the room and placed a satchel in her arms, draping a shawl around her shoulders. “You’ll have to hurry,” she said. “Everything you need ought to be in there.”

“Chana,” Lin hissed, looping the strap of the bag over her shoulder, “what’s this about? Why the secrecy?”

Chana gave her a dark look. “You ought to blame your grandfather. Now go. Hurry along.”

Lin hurried, feeling slightly resentful.Blame your grandfather?This must have something to do with the Palace, then. Had Kel fallen ill? Gotten injured again? It was all very odd.

She found Mez at the gates, with Levi Ancel, a good-natured young man who’d grown up in the House of Men with Josit. “You lead an exciting life,” Mez noted as she ducked through the gates. He was laughing, but Lin fretted a little, inside. To be summoned to the Palace once had already attracted the attention of the Maharam. For it to happen twice…

But then she saw Kel, and those worries faded. He was standing in the shadow of the Sault walls, near the old cistern. He seemed unharmed, at least, but looked ragged around the edges somehow, like a smudged drawing. She was instantly worried.

“Kel.” She drew close enough to him so that she would not beoverheard—she suspected Mez and Levi were still watching avidly from the gates—but not so close as to cause chatter. He was dressed quite finely in silk and linen, all shades of pale ash and smoke and dark soot. His coat was silver linen, the sleeves slashed open, as was the style, to show the shirt of raw silk beneath. He was not wearing his talisman. “Are you all right?”

His pupils were wider than they should have been, his mouth compressed in a tight line. “It’s not me. It’s him.”

She looked at him blankly. It was a hot night; the air felt thick and heavy. She could see the lights of the Broken Market in the distance. The moon hung overhead, a copper penny, yellowed at the edges. “You mean…”

“Conor,” he said, in a low voice.

She almost took a step backward. “Kel, he forbade me to come to the Palace. If you want an Ashkari physician, we can find someone else—”

“No.” His eyes were wild. “It has to be you, Lin. I’m asking. If it isn’t you, it won’t be anyone.”

Name of the Goddess.Lin knew the answer before she gave it.For a Physician should not question whether a patient is enemy or friend, a native or a foreigner, or what Gods he worships.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll go.”

His shoulders sagged with relief. “We must hurry.” He indicated the black carriage loitering in the road. “I’ll explain on the way.”

Once inside the carriage, she relaxed minutely. At least Mez and Levi weren’t watching. The inside was richly upholstered, cushioning the shocks as they rolled over the pitted surface of the Ruta Magna. Outside the windows, the blaze of naphtha torches created halos of light that cast a blurring softness over the edges of landmarks. Shops and bridges, balconies and flagstones dissolving into a soft wash of gray and black.

Lin said, “Are you quite sure about this, Kel? You didn’t hear Prince Conor when he ordered me out of Marivent. He was quite furious.”

“I am very sure.” A muscle jumped in his cheek. “You are skilled. Very skilled, as I am in a position to know. But there is more than that at work here. You are coming at the express request of Lilibet, because you are Mayesh’s granddaughter. She believes she does not need to worry that you will tell anyone what you have seen.”