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“Not an emergency, quite,” said the girl. A gold pendant winked at her throat as she turned to glance at Mariam, who was waving at Lin. “But something of interest to you. It concerns a mutual friend, Kel Saren.”

Lin tried to hide her surprise. Mayesh had told her Kel’s real name when he had told her of his true occupation. Still, she had the impression that very few people knew it, even those who worked at the Palace.

“He was attacked the other night, by Crawlers,” continued the girl. “The way you healed him was impressive. The king wishes to speak to you of it.”

Lin was stunned. “Theking?”

“Yes,” the girl said, pleasantly. “The king.”

“I don’t mean to cause offense, but you don’t look as if you work for the Palace.”

The girl only smiled. “Not everyone who serves the king wears his livery. Some prefer a more subtle approach.” She gestured toward a black carriage some distance away. A driver was perched on theupper seat, dressed in red and looking bored. “Come, now. The king is waiting.”

“But,” said Lin, “the Prince forbade me from returning to Marivent.”

The girl’s smile widened. “The wishes of the king supersede those of Prince Conor.”

Lin hesitated only a moment longer. The idea that the rarely seen King Markus wished to see her made her more nervous than excited. She could not imagine what he wanted. But beneath that nervousness was the sure knowledge that her return would irritate the Prince, and there would beabsolutely nothing he could do about it.

She thought of the arrogant way he had waved his signet ring at her, as if he had expected her to kiss the stone in gratitude. “All right,” she said. “Just let me bid my friend goodbye.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You cannot tell her where you are going. This summons is to be kept secret.”

Lin nodded her agreement before darting off to tell Mariam of her change in plans. A sick patient, she explained, in the Lark Street district. Mariam was understanding, as she always was; as the black carriage drew away from the square with Lin and her companion inside, Lin glimpsed Mariam chatting away merrily to her waggon driver.

The carriage cut its way through the crowded square, a shark gliding through a crowded shoal of fish. Lin’s companion had fallen silent. She was gazing out the window, her face blank of expression.

By the time they turned onto the Ruta Magna, Lin could stand the silence no longer. “Will you tell me your name?” she said. “You know mine. I feel at a disadvantage.”

“Ji-An,” said the girl. Though Lin waited, she added no family name.

“Are you in the Arrow Squadron?” Lin asked.

“I am not a soldier. I serve the king directly.” Ji-An touched a hand to the pendant at her throat. It was shaped like a gold key. “Years ago, the king saved my life. My loyalty to him is absolute.”

Years ago? Lin’s companion could not be that old—perhapstwenty-five? And King Markus had been in seclusion for ten years at least. Had he saved her life before she was twelve?

“King Markus saved your life?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Ji-An calmly.

Lin’s heart began to beat faster. The carriage had jounced off the Great Road and onto a smaller street. They were heading into the Warren, the largest neighborhood in Castellane, where tradespeople, merchants, and guildmasters mixed with barbers, clerks, and publicans. It was an old quarter; every once in a while a grand white building would rise from among its wood-and-brick neighbors, a memento of the days of the Empire. An elegantly tiled calidarium sat between a noodle shop and a knife sharpener’s, while a porticoed temple to Turan, God of love, cozied up to a squat inn called The Queen’s Bed.

“This is not the way to the Palace,” noted Lin.

“Oh,” Ji-An said, her tone pleasant, “did you think I meant the King on the Hill? He is not the king I serve. I meant the King in the City. The Ragpicker King.”

The Ragpicker King?Lin’s mouth fell open. “You lied to me.” She put a hand to the door of the carriage. “Let me out.”

“I will,” Ji-An said, “if you want me to. But what I told you was true. The Ragpicker Kingdoeswish to speak to you of Kel Saren. He heard that you healed him and was astonished to learn of your skill.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t that bad an injury.”

“It was,” said Ji-An. “I saw his wounds myself. I did not think he would survive them.”

“You saw his wounds?”

“Yes. I am the one who brought him to the Palace gates. I knew someone who was injured like that, once. She—the person suffered for many days before they died. But Kel Saren will live.”