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W e manage to finish out the meal without coming to blows and sit through two rounds of entertainment—first, a brace of bardly music, and then the First House’s own performers—a medley of bells and strings and the pulse of drumbeats.

All of it sounds like a coming war to me.

By the time we finally quit our tables and Fortiss releases the gathered fighting men and villagers hastily assembled to round out this welcome meal, I’m ready to crawl out of my skin, let alone the mountain of cloth that seems to conspire to rob me of my breath and my will to live in equal measure.

“Lady Talia, Lord Lemille, and Lord Tennet. Councilors Dolor and Miriam. Warriors of the Fifth and Ninth. Let’s adjourn to my receiving chambers.

” Fortiss’s words carry a shiver of intensity that I feel straight to my bones.

I cast a look across the room, where Caleb and Nazar are in what appears to be idle conversation, but I’m not fooled.

Nazar leans casually over to Caleb, who grins and slides off the bench in one easy movement, dashing off toward the nearest door.

“A second meeting?” Miriam asks. She gestures around the table—there are only the two of them out of the eight councilors that appeared earlier. The rest were left to rest in their rooms or sent on other errands for Fortiss. “We don’t have a quorum.”

“Then how fortunate for us that we will not be determining any matters of state,” Fortiss replies. His tone is light enough, but once again I notice the edge to his manner, an energy I can’t quite place. “Lord Tennet? I can see from your face you have a concern. Please share it.”

Though his request is phrased politely, no one can believe it was anything shy of an order.

Still, Tennet braces one forearm on the table, his other hand drifting to his hip in an unmistakable manner of resting offense.

“There’s no matters we need to discuss beyond the one, Lord Fortiss, and you and I could do that on our own. ”

“Except I should be a part of that conversation, surely,” my father puts in quickly.

Outrage bursts up through me so quick and hot, it’s a miracle of the Light that I don’t erupt into flame right in front of them.

The flash is gone in just a second, but even though he doesn’t look at me, I can tell by Tennet’s smirk that he’s marked it.

The man is deliberately baiting me! For what reason?

If it’s to give me a hint of the pleasures I’ll have in store as some Light-forsaken dutiful wife of the Twelfth House, he’s doing a fine job of it.

I’d sooner race across the plains of the Protectorate and join the band of Savasci at the western border than ride east with him.

“Humor me,” Fortiss says, and if he’s noticed Tennet’s slight or if he even takes issue with the idea that three people who are not me could decide my fate in marriage or in any other role other than as a member of their fighting contingent, you can’t tell it by his manner.

What’s suddenly happened here? I don’t expect Tennet to have the common decency to accord me the respect that I deserve. He’s a man of the Protectorate, and the Protectorate isn’t used to women in the fighting ranks. And don’t even get me started on my father.

But Fortiss? He wouldn’t even be in his exalted position if I hadn’t dragged him all the way up to within inches of his precious, beautiful Divh, the glorious monster his uncle had trapped within the bowels of this pile of rocks.

Without me, he’d still be thinking that his exalted uncle was the savior of the Protectorate, and the arbiter of all that was right and true between a warrior and his Divh.

I haven’t nearly died several times over on the battlefield to be cut to pieces with small slights and indignities at a formal banquet.

I stand, grateful for the short bench accorded to each guest at the main table, vs.

The long low planks accorded to the rest of the hall.

With this much gown weighing me down, I would have ordinarily been trapped, but as it is, I kick the bench back enough to step away from the table with something at least approaching grace.

“I’ll see you in your chambers shortly, Lord Protector,” I murmur, not sparing a glance toward Tennet or my father. Then I turn away from the table and stride away, my head held high, my fingers twitching for my sword.

Caleb is waiting for me in the hallway, and he takes one look at my face and turns around on his heel, hustling off with long strides until we reach an abandoned receiving room, intended for less formal meetups than the one I envision Fortiss planning.

He kicks the door closed as soon as I enter and hustles to the center of the room.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch any of it,” he barks at me as he throws his burden down. “You’re about as impatient as a pregnant sandworm and twice as awkward.”

He races around me as he talks, darting in to unhook my belt and detach the hooks running down the back of my dress, which goes a fair distance toward allowing me to breathe easier. Then he unlaces my sleeves at the shoulder, tossing them onto a nearby table, and returns to unhooking my dress.

“I can do the rest of the dress myself, but untie the laces at my back, if you would. I think Alis knotted them tight enough to bruise me.”

“She didn’t, she didn’t, you’re good, almost—there,” he finishes triumphantly, and I expand my lungs in a mighty breath for the first time in hours.

He turns away as I wrestle off the rest of the clothes, busying himself with folding everything up while I lunge for my breeches and heavy tunic.

Now I look as comfortable as Fortiss and Tennet undoubtedly were all during dinner, minus the short capes they wear as a mark of their station.

I have one of those too, and I throw it over my shoulders, straightening as Caleb returns to me to set the clasps at my neck.

“It’s a good thing we’re not in battle right now, given that it takes two people for me to dress,” I grouse.

“You’d figure it out if we were in battle, and you wouldn’t have a cape, besides. Who wants something like that to get caught on somebody’s lance or a tree branch? Not me, that’s for sure.”

I snort, but as I think about the reality of what he’s just said, I instantly sober.

“We’re trained to fight in tournaments, Caleb.

” I shake my head, reaching down to pull on my boots.

“How in the world do you fight with Divhs on the open plain? You saw what happened in the melee. It was utter madness, and it’s only by some miracle that more warriors and villagers on the ground didn’t get trampled. ”

“Not a miracle.” He holds up a hand. “They stamp, did you notice that? They stamped together in a rhythm. Pound, pound, pound. I’d show you here, but I don’t know who’s below me, and Nazar said that you were supposed to be in some sort of meeting, right? So we better get you to that.”

“Right, right, but—what? They stamp?” I press as he hustles me out the door. He’s left my gown behind, but as far as I’m concerned one of the servants can take it and sell it in the marketplace. I hope I never have to wear it again.

“Look, you may not have been paying attention because you were bleeding out and all, but try and keep up,” Caleb says with a grin as we head off down the corridor.

“When the Divhs hit this plane, they did so with a boom. Anyone who wasn’t on the battlefield for a reason, meaning they weren’t a banded soldier or one of Rihad’s fighting men, they fell back.

It was if the ground rose up and slapped them hard enough to send them sprawling out of the way.

Granted, they were on the fringes to begin with, so if a battle broke out in the middle of Trilion, I’m not sure how successful the Divhs would be at clearing the ground of innocent bystanders.

I’m telling you, though—this wasn’t their first battle with a bunch of ordinary people running around. They’ve done this before.”

“But they haven’t done it in what, five hundred years? I’ve never heard of a tournament staging a melee like this. It’s simply not done. For exactly the reason why it was such a bad idea this time. We lost so many warriors, Caleb. We lost Divhs too.”

“And got some new ones,” he points out. “I’m training them every night. They’re solid, and with enough time, they’ll be assets in battle.”

I shake my head, grimacing as we stride quickly along the corridor. “But they’re smaller, right? They’re matched to their warriors. Much like Gent changed from the monster he was for the Tenth House when he was banded to Merritt to the goliath he became when he banded with me.”

“First-blooded and firstborn,” he agrees. “Those will always make a difference. And Gent is better for it, no? He’s stronger, and your bond is tight.”

“Yes, but he was going from a second son to a first born. Most of the men we lost…they were the best of the best. Where do you go from there if you’re a Divh and not being handed on to the next generation?

Are their monsters roaming around the plane of Divhs, lost?

Do they mourn the soldiers who held their bond?

Or are they just as happy to be rid of us?

And why is it that nobody seems to know these answers ?

Not you, not you.” I wave off his reaction as my mind churns through these thoughts.

“I know you’ve been banded just about as long as I have.

But I’m not getting the impression that anyone knows anything about our Divhs other than they come when they call, and they do what we say.

What sort of arrangement is that? These creatures aren’t a herd of barnyard animals waiting at the gate to be fed.

They think! They go into battle, they kill, and they die for us. How is it we don’t know them better ?”

“I…” Caleb exhales a long breath, slowing down as he considers the question, but not stopping entirely.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Nazar says they haven’t had Divhs in the Imperium for going on a couple of generations.

There might be more information there, but if there is and they still decided to get rid of them, to break apart the bonds and banish the warriors…

I mean, maybe they know something we don’t? ”

“Or maybe they were too stupid to take the time to learn.”

I use my foul mood as fuel to carry me all the way to the long hallway that leads to Fortiss’s inner chambers, and Caleb salutes me with a reassuring grin as he remains on the stairs.

He’s not a warrior lord or the master of his own house—at least not yet.

I sorely wish he was, so I could have him by my side in meetings such as these.

One day.

But for now, he has his own work—returning with Marsh to the coliseum to train the newly banded warriors of the Protectorate and their mighty—if not gargantuan—Divhs.

Since these Divhs don’t stand higher than the walls of the coliseum, and that structure is far enough away from the heart of Trilion that their training won’t scare anyone, he’s been able to make progress quickly without disturbing the peace.

Caleb’s strict no-roaring rule has also helped.

Almost reflexively, I glance up to see the huge glass doors that lead out onto the overlook of the First House.

On this side of the castle, a wide deck sticks out over a sheer cliff, giving any who have the opportunity to stand there access to the open plains that stretch from the First House all the way to the coliseum.

In the intervening weeks since the Tournament of Gold, the long grasses of that plain have rebounded, making the plain into a constantly moving ocean beneath the starlit sky.

One night not too long ago I ran down this corridor out onto that deck and into those stars, praying with all my might that Gent would be there to catch me.

I feel worlds apart from the girl I was that night.

My problems haven’t gone away, though. They’ve just gotten different.

Gritting my teeth, I turn into Lord Fortiss’s inner chambers, nodding at the guards that stand respectfully to either side of the door.

I remember this short hallway all too well, the alcove where I hid, terrified, as I first saw the creatures summoned by Rihad’s dark magic.

That night, Rihad was alone in his chambers by the time those creatures were summoned, and I knew he was the enemy.

This time the councilors are assembled with Fortiss, as well as representatives of the Fifth, Second, and Ninth Houses.

Warriors all, not house leaders. All of them are men save for Miriam, and all of them turn to look at me in my warrior’s garb with reactions ranging from hostility to interest, with something far more dangerous in between.

My problems have definitely become different. Different…and decidedly worse.

“Lady Talia, good. We’re all here,” Fortiss says, giving me a hard, intent look that feels like a hand reaching out to me—as a warrior? A comrade? Or maybe something more? Questions that will have to wait as he glances around the room. “It appears we’ve run out of time.”