Page 29

The cathedral bells chimed in full joyous force at the announcement of the birth of Ithicana’s heir, the sound reaching all the way to the Sky Palace. Virginia had told him that the baby princess was named Delia, for the prior queen, and that both the child and her mother were healthy and strong. His sister was already in the process of arranging a lavish gift to be sent to Ithicana in congratulations, a king’s ransom worth of silver rattles, music boxes, and toys that any child worth their salt would break within minutes.

Ahnna, in contrast, was sending Ithicana an aging and ill soldier. James had no doubt Jor would be the more valued gift.

“I want the route leading to the docks cleared,” James barked at the waiting soldiers. “Everyone alert.”

Yet James barely noticed the nods and salutes as his men moved to obey, his eyes all for the carriage circling down the spiral behind Buck and Brayer. Irritation filled him that Ahnna had chosen not to remain in the palace, where keeping her safe from both the Amaridians and his uncle was possible, though James had known there was no chance that she’d stay in the Sky Palace for long.

His heart beat faster as the mules made their final circuit, for this would be the first time he’d spoken to Ahnna since he’d left her room. The first time he’d stood face-to-face with her since learning that the person who’d tried to have her killed was his own uncle—who might well try again if James didn’t find a way to get Ahnna back to Ithicana. How he was going to manage it, James didn’t know, only that the anticipation he felt at seeing her face was not making the challenge any easier. His pulse roared as the mules emerged from the spiral’s lower gate, the driver stopping near the waiting horse-drawn carriage.

Straightening his uniform, James approached the carriage and opened the door, his stomach tightening at the sight of her.

In a dress.

He frowned, for while there was nothing unusual about the dress Ahnna wore, he did not find that it suited her. She wouldn’t be able to move in her usual way in a gown like that. It was too limiting. “I’d heard that you’d caved to propriety but didn’t believe it. Yet it seems hell hath indeed frozen over, for that, my lady, is a dress.”

“And your dismay at seeing it is understandable,” Ahnna replied, “because should we be accosted, you’ll have to defend yourself.”

“My heart trembles.” He held out his hand to her, noting that she’d regained her color, her cheeks flushed pink as her fingers closed around his. Stepping out, she brushed back loose curls that reached her lower back, and he tried and failed to push away the memory of the feel of that hair tangled in his fingers.

Of her limp in his arms because his uncle wanted her dead. The memory caused him to say, “You should sail with them. Go to visit your niece.”

Ahnna dropped his hand, eyes narrowed. Instead of responding, she stalked toward the carriage, the effect somewhat impeded by the restrictive cut of her skirts.

Sighing, James turned to help Taryn out. “Congratulations on your acceptance to the conservatory.”

“Thank you.” Taryn’s jaw was tight, feelings on the matter clearly mixed. Indeed, James had heard through the servants’ gossip that it had come to shouting between the two women when Ahnna had informed Taryn she’d be joining the conservatory. “Keep my cousin safe. She thinks your men are capable, but that has not been my impression.”

“You have my word.” He hated how much that felt like a lie as Bronwyn ignored his hand and clambered out, striding toward the waiting carriage without speaking. The Maridrinian princess’s expression was a thundercloud—she was obviously no happier about the arrangement than Taryn.

“You going to help me out, too, boy?” Jor asked from inside the carriage.

“Do you need me to?”

Jor snorted. “Not yet, but that day is coming.” He climbed out, straightening his tunic. The marks of illness were still heavy upon the man, but he seemed to have renewed vigor, though whether it was because he was going home or what awaited him when he arrived, James could not have said.

“Take care of her, boy. If I have to come back to deal with your failures, you’ll learn that age has only made me more creative in my punishments,” Jor said as he walked toward the waiting carriage, and instinctively, James said, “Yes, sir.”

The old Ithicanian shot him an amused glance, then shut the carriage door behind himself.

Shaking his head to reclaim his wits, James took Maven’s reins from the groom and swung up onto the tall black mare. He nodded to Georgie, who took the lead of the column through the gates and into the city.

The civilians were using the news of Ithicana’s new heir as an excuse to stop work early and celebrate, the alehouses and cafés all packed with patrons lifting a glass in the name of the princess. While there had been growing resentment over the bridge’s tolls, it wasn’t enough to overwhelm the long-standing goodwill Harendell had for the Bridge Kingdom, the people delighting in Ithicana’s mystery even as they applauded the nation’s business sense.

What would it be like to see them lift a glass to Cardiff? he couldn’t help but wonder, having spent his entire life watching his people sneer at the mention of his mother’s homeland. Unlike Amarid, which, despite their endless squabbles, was regarded with some level of respect, Harendellians saw Cardiffians as barely more than animals. The only reason he was treated differently was because his father was king. And because James was careful never to do anything that reminded the people that he wasn’t entirely one of them.

Old biases are hard to break, his father always said. People believe these things because they were taught to them by their parents and their parents before them. If they are not given reason to question those beliefs, they never will.

That reason had been his mother’s dream, shared with his father during their ill-fated love affair, and now James’s singular goal. To look north for trade rather than south, to create secure routes back and forth across the border, the ease of commerce and rise in profit gradually destroying the false beliefs and biases that plagued relations between the two nations. Once merchants gained confidence that their caravans were not at risk, they’d flock north, drawn by the allure of keeping their entire profit rather than Ithicana pocketing half.

That the treaty his uncle and father were so close to signing would harm the Bridge Kingdom’s coffers, there was no doubt, but the chance to unite Harendell and Cardiff was worth more to James. It would not happen in one fell swoop, but once his father repealed the laws forbidding astromancy and allowing civilians to be persecuted for its practice, it would be a significant beginning. A beginning that would allow him to look up to the stars and know that he’d done right by his mother.

If not by Ahnna.

Ithicana will be fine, he told himself. It isn’t as though trade will cease. The Bridge Kingdom has always been self-sufficient.

And yet…His eyes flicked sideways to the carriage next to him, Ahnna’s face frowning as she quarreled with her companions, it sounding as though they were all still arguing against leaving her alone. For which he could hardly blame them. Why did she refuse to go home? Was it because Aren had tasked her with funneling more Harendellian trade through the bridge to line his coffers and she feared failing him? Or, as his father believed, that she knew she’d be used to tempt Amarid into a profitable alliance by marriage to Prince Carlo? Some combination? Or was there another reason for the desperation that had risen in her eyes when James had demanded an explanation? Another threat that she hadn’t shared with him?

The question circled his thoughts as they made their way to the western quay, commerce pausing as his men directed civilians and merchants to clear the space. Scanning their surroundings, James dismounted and handed off his reins so that he might open the carriage. He said nothing as Ahnna exited, though the feel of her palm burned through his glove long after she’d started toward the water, her guardsman at her side, Taryn and Bronwyn following.

James walked at a respectful distance behind her. Close enough to come to her aid but far enough that her words to her departing companions were nothing but a murmur of noise.

The passenger vessel they walked toward was grand, with its own guards, something hired by wealthy merchants or minor nobles. The dean of the conservatory abandoned the decks to greet Taryn with great enthusiasm, which, though Taryn deserved it, had likely been purchased by James’s father.

Standing with his arms at his back, James watched Ahnna say her goodbyes, only for a ruckus in the distance to catch his attention. Squinting against the sun, James looked upriver in time to see a procession cross the bridge into Verwyrd. The men were mostly in uniform, a handful of them carrying Harendell’s banner, but one rode a familiar white stallion.

Shit.

“What’s Will doing in Verwyrd?” Georgie muttered. “I thought he was going to Whitewood Hall for the hunts. He should be halfway there by now.”

“I don’t know.” And he couldn’t leave to find out. Not with Ahnna standing exposed on the quay.

James drummed his fingers against his thigh, anxiety pooling in his gut over the reason for his brother’s return. Not only did Will relish the hunts at Whitewood, but everything he was desperate to avoid was at Verwyrd. And everyone.

Ahnna’s companions had boarded the vessel, but rather than waiting for them to make way, Ahnna was walking back to the carriage. Saying nothing, he helped her inside, cursing the slowness of the driver as he wove his way back to the tower, the civilians in the streets calling out to Ahnna their well-wishes for her niece.

Maven, nearly always cool as a cup of water, pranced beneath him. She sensed his nerves, and James rested a hand on her neck to soothe her. But his trepidation only increased as they passed through the gates into the stable yard and his eyes latched on Will, who stood laughing with his friends. All three men went silent as the carriage approached, and to James’s everlasting shock, William abandoned his cronies to approach the carriage. Opening the door, he held out his hand to a stunned Ahnna. “My lady.”

A flash of jealousy rushed through James as she took his brother’s hand, allowing him to help her down.

“My most sincere congratulations on the birth of your niece,” he said. “When I saw the riverboat, I half feared you’d abandoned us to return to see the princess without a goodbye.”

Ahnna’s face was smooth, no doubt searching for the slight in his words, but then she said, “Merely seeing off my people.”

“Ah. Well, the baby’s loss is my gain.” Will gave her a smile that James knew had charmed his way up more than a few sets of skirts, though Ahnna mostly appeared suspicious. And no wonder, for this was an exact reversal of how Will had behaved in their last meeting.

“Why are you here, Will?” James asked, handing off his reins. “You should be halfway to Whitewood. Does Father know you’re here?”

Because his father had been very clear that there was nothing to be gained from having Will in Ahnna’s presence.

“I’ve decided not to go,” Will answered. Taking Ahnna’s hand, he said, “I’ve come to regret the way I treated you, my lady. You had no more choice in this union than I did, yet you’ve handled yourself with grace despite my ungentlemanly behavior. It is my hope that as we spend more time together, we might find common ground. Friendship, even.”

Ahnna stared at her hand in William’s, and it was all James could do not to wrench her free, because his brother was spouting utter bullshit. What was motivating this, James didn’t know, but he and Will would be having words later, for there was no doubt in his mind that this would end badly for Ahnna.

“I’d like that,” she finally responded. “Thank you.”

“You honor me.” Will lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “As a peace offering, I’ve a gift for you.”

At Will’s beckoning gesture, one of the grooms approached, leading a tall bay gelding that James instantly recognized as Will’s racehorse, specifically the one he’d backed in this week’s races. The high-strung creature pranced and snorted, eyeing first its shadow and then a fluttering sparrow, viewing both as significant threats. What was Will thinking?

“This good boy,” Will said, taking the animal’s lead shank, “has served me well, but he’s aged out of the races. He’s cut, so I can’t put him to stud, but he’s too good to waste out in pasture. I thought you might like him.”

Beyond, Georgie was in conversation with Will’s cronies, and his friend mouthed lost. James’s jaw tightened on confirmation that this was no gift of the heart, but before he could speak, Ahnna said, “Oh, he’s beautiful.”

She reached out a hand to the horse. The foolish creature snorted and jerked away, but Ahnna only smiled. “What’s his name?”

“Midday Eclipse,” Will said. “Everyone calls him Dippy.”

Rather than recognizing that Will was giving her something he wished rid of, Ahnna seemed entranced by the gelding. Taking the lead from his brother, she again held out her hand, showing no fear as the horse let out a loud snort.

Digging into his pocket, Will set a cube of sugar on her palm, then rested his hand against the small of Ahnna’s back as he instructed her to keep her hand flat.

Dippy—a more apt name, James had never heard—reached out and tentatively plucked up the sugar, crunching happily until the cathedral bells chimed the hour, which set the gelding off. He reared, and Will jerked Ahnna backward to keep her from taking a hoof to the face. She only laughed. “May I ride him?”

“Do you even know how to ride a horse?” James demanded.

“No, I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“Well, if you’re going to be the queen of Harendell, you must become an accomplished rider,” Will said.

“Will you teach me?” she asked.

His brother went still, betraying what a farce this really was, though Ahnna was so captivated with the horse that James doubted she noticed. Will recovered quickly. “My father once told me that only a fool tries to teach his wife anything. With our friendship being such a delicate thing, I will defer to his guidance and decline that honor.” Will’s eyes went sly. “My brother is quite an accomplished rider, so perhaps he will stand in for me, as he has in so many other things.”

Will’s tone was disappointed, but James didn’t miss the hint of venom beneath.

“I don’t want to impose.” Ahnna stroked the gelding’s neck and then fed him an apple that one of the grooms gave to her. “One of the grooms could—”

“Nonsense,” William interrupted. “You deserve to be taught by the best. No time like the present, and it’s a beautiful day.”

It was hot, and thunderstorms were brewing in the east, but James bit his tongue as the groom led the horse away.

“I’ve correspondence to attend to, though I would like to dine with you tonight, if that’s agreeable, Lady Ahnna?” Will asked.

But Ahnna was already hurrying after the groom into the stables, missing his words.

Will smiled, then started toward the gate to the spiral. James caught his arm. “What’s all this about?”

For a moment, it looked like Will would give him some flippant excuse, but then he said, “This is my lot, Jamie. Father has made it abundantly clear that he intends for me to marry her whether I like it or not, so I will make the best of it. After all, it’s what he did with my mother, so how terrible could it be? Surely I won’t end up bitter and gray, drinking by noon and deep into my cups by the seventh hour so as to drown out the voice of the woman who has been foisted upon me in the name of good politics.”

“So your solution is to give your future wife a half-broke racehorse that is likely to get her killed?”

“Not sure anything can kill that woman, much less that idiot horse,” Will said, then he gripped James’s shoulders. “I have nothing but total confidence that you’ll bring her back to me in one piece.”

Will walked away to join his friends, the trio bypassing the mules to begin the long walk up to the Sky Palace.

Georgie approached. “The gelding came last,” he said. “Slow off the start and couldn’t rally in the homestretch. Will took it badly. Likely because he lost a great deal of money.”

“I don’t care about the horse,” James snapped. “Do they know why he’s here?”

“Interestingly, it seems he gave his friends the same explanation as he just gave to you.” Georgie watched the trio circle the tower. “Maybe it’s the truth. Maybe he plans to make the best of things, for once.”

“Maybe,” James said, without feeling, because he wasn’t convinced.

The clip-clop of hooves caught his attention. Ahnna was leading Dippy out of the stables, the groom offering suggestions. Sighing, James approached. “Saddle Daisy,” he said, naming Virginia’s placid mare. “This isn’t a horse on which one learns to ride.”

Nor was that a dress suitable for riding, but that he kept to himself.

“I’ll learn to ride my own horse.” Ahnna carefully lifted the reins over the tall gelding’s head, the animal eyeing her with far too much interest.

“He’s only half broke.” James took hold of the reins. “The only thing he knows how to do is a mad gallop around the oval with a boy trained to ride since birth clinging to his back. You’re going to get hurt.”

Ahnna shrugged, the prospect of pain clearly not enough to dissuade her. “He and I will learn together.”

“That’s not how it’s done.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he regretted them.

Especially when she shot him a grin. “That’s how I like to do everything, James.”

“You’d like Daisy saddled, then, sir?” the groom asked.

“No,” Ahnna said, right as James said, “Yes.”

Her smirk turned into a glare. “This is my horse, which means this is the horse I wish to ride.”

Further protest would not dissuade her, so he said, “Fine. If you can get on him, I’ll teach you how to ride him.”

Ahnna didn’t answer, only went to Dippy’s saddle, taking hold of the stirrup.

“Mount on the left,” he said. “Or your weapons will catch.”

“I’m not wearing any.”

“Yes, you are.” He grimaced at the admission he’d been looking at her thighs for long enough to see the outline of a knife, but she made no comment.

Ahnna circled the animal’s rear, dodging as the stupid horse tried to kick her.

“I suppose not doing that again is self-explanatory,” he said, and was rewarded with a glower.

Catching hold of the left stirrup, she lifted her foot, making excellent use of both her height and her apparent flexibility as she maneuvered her silk slipper into the opening. “You should be wearing boots,” he said.

“Well, I’m not,” she retorted, trying to keep her skirt from sliding up her thigh, hold the reins, and grip the stirrup. For a heartbeat, he thought the horse might stand for her and that she’d get it on the first try, but then Dippy snorted and sidestepped, rotating away from her.

Ahnna hopped on her right foot, trying to keep up with the animal as he circled James, skirt sliding up her leg to reveal a very bare muscled thigh, but the horse only shuffled faster. With an oof, she landed on her ass.

James huffed out an amused breath, hoping that would be the end of it.

“You don’t need to look so happy,” she growled, ignoring the hand he offered to pull her to her feet.

“You know what would make me happy, my lady?” James said. “For you to learn to ride on a horse with half a brain between its ears. A horse that is well trained. A horse that isn’t likely to get you injured or killed. But as is your habit, you seem intent on doing the exact opposite of what makes me happy, even if it spits in the face of good sense.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Foolishness for no reason at all, is it?” James huffed out a breath. “Even better.”

“Hold him still.”

James had already prevented the gelding from bolting twice, but keeping an animal six times his size from moving wasn’t in the cards. “He’s not trained to stand, Ahnna. He’s trained to run.”

“You’re not helping.”

He didn’t bother to correct her, only tightened his grip on the racehorse’s reins. And gave every groom watching in the hope of another peek of thigh a murderous glare that had all of them scrambling to find work to do. Never mind that he was hoping for the same.

She tried again, this time not bothering with modesty. Which meant James was treated to a view of stockings that ended just past her knees, the skin above bare and perfect and entirely captivating. Then she was on her ass again in the dirt. She tried again. And again and again. If Ahnna was frustrated, she didn’t show it.

“My lord,” one of the older grooms said to him, keeping his back to Ahnna’s efforts. And her bare legs. “Perhaps the mounting block?”

“What’s that?” Ahnna asked even as James shook his head at the groom.

“A crutch that you won’t have if you fall off alone in the middle of a field.”

She seemed to accept that answer, then her gaze turned sly. “You get on him, James. I want to see if it’s even possible or if I’m truly wasting my time.”

James ground his teeth. He didn’t want her to get on the horse, and he strongly suspected that if he showed her how, Ahnna would have no trouble mimicking him. Except if he refused, he also suspected that she’d only find someone else to show her how. The grooms had returned, enjoying that she’d challenged him, and he’d be lying if he said her tactic wasn’t effective. “Fine. Move.”

Ahnna backed up. James, forgoing the stirrup and moving too quickly for the horse to do much about it, boosted himself into the saddle. Dippy immediately tried to bolt, but James circled the gelding around Ahnna before sliding off the side again.

“Ah,” she said. “I see.”

And immediately replicated what he’d done, skirts bunched above her knees, white stockings stained with dirt, the shoulder seam of her dress split where the muscle had flexed.

For a moment, Ahnna and the horse both appeared stunned that she’d managed to make it into the saddle. And then the gelding exploded into motion.

James cursed, Dippy dragging him a dozen paces toward the open gate before he got him stopped, only to realize that Ahnna was no longer in the saddle but flat on her back where they’d started.

His heart leapt to his throat, and he abandoned the horse to run to her. But Ahnna was already sitting up. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Her tone suggested he was an idiot to think otherwise. “I want to try again.”

James’s eyes latched upon the crimson stain on the back of her now filthy dress, her stitches obviously having broken open. “We’re done here.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Ahnna gave him a look of disgust, pulling her arm out of his grip. “So? I don’t know how things are done in Harendell, but in Ithicana, you keep trying until you can do it.”

He leaned close so that the onlookers couldn’t hear. “If you want to do things the way they are done in Ithicana, go back to Ithicana.”

Not giving her the chance to voice whatever argument he could see rising in her eyes, he rounded on the grooms. “Stable him.” He could feel her glare burning between his shoulder blades.

As James turned to tell Ahnna to get into the carriage so that the mules could take her back to the palace, it was to find her already stomping through the gates into the spiral. She was clearly intent on walking up on her own two feet, the guards he’d assigned trailing after her.

Biting back a curse, James broke into a run. “Why are you so goddamned stubborn?”

“Because pissing you off brings me joy.”

His cheeks burned. “That’s not the reason.”

“Character flaw.”

“Try again.”

She blew out an angry breath. “Because of my grandmother. If you ever have cause to meet her, you’ll understand.”

This was the second time she’d spoken about her life in Ithicana, and James had not forgotten that the first time ended with him kissing her. Yet his curiosity to know more about her life refused to be denied. “You mentioned she was a healer of some renown.”

“Yes. But she’s a real bitch, if I’m being honest, which is probably the only thing Lara and I can agree on. Everything had to be perfect. I had to be perfect, no matter how hard I had to work to achieve it. Aren’s shadow, my life dedicated to supporting him, which half the time meant doing all the things he was supposed to be doing.”

God help him, but James knew what that felt like.

“I never begrudged my brother that,” she said. “I’m not complaining. Only explaining why I am the way that I am.”

“I understand.” He hesitated. “Are you close with your brother?”

“I used to be.” Her jaw worked from side to side. “We don’t see eye-to-eye on much anymore.”

Sensing he shouldn’t press the issue, James let silence reign as they circled higher and higher up the spiral, it broken only when Ahnna said, “I met Lestara.”

James tensed, his mind immediately leaping in a thousand different directions, all spelling disaster.

“Your sister’s ladies are incredibly cruel to her. They treat her like a dog. No… worse, because those women treat their dogs like children.”

“Lestara is a convicted traitor,” he responded mechanically. “Her decision to betray Maridrina to Petra Anaphora resulted in many deaths, and she is fortunate that Keris Veliant chose exile over execution.”

“That was no mercy.” Ahnna sucked in a breath. “Keris knew exactly how she’d be treated. Knew it would be far worse than a quick death because her mistreatment would slowly eat at her mind until she found a way to end it herself. In his own way, he’s every bit as ruthless as Silas ever was.”

“You don’t think she deserves it?” James asked the question despite knowing that he should steer the conversation away from anything to do with Cardiff. Ithicanians were notoriously ruthless, taking no prisoners, and often known for dumping the heads of those who attacked them on beaches as a message for any who might consider doing the same. Mercy was unexpected.

“No, I don’t,” she said. “I’m a firm believer in clean executions.”

A practical sense of mercy. “Virginia and her ladies may have been harsher on Lestara for your benefit, given your ties with Maridrina. They might have thought you’d appreciate them taking her punishment seriously.”

Her voice was acidic as she said, “I highly doubt it was for my benefit, given they don’t care about what she did. They treat her as they do because she is a princess of Cardiff, not as punishment for her crimes.”

Change the subject, prudence screamed from inside his head, but James said, “That troubles you?”

Her head snapped around, hazel eyes locking on his. “Doesn’t it trouble you ?”

James looked at the smooth stone beneath his feet. “Why should it?”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the howl of the wind in the spiral, and then Ahnna said, “Because you’re half Cardiffian.”

“I was born in Verwyrd and raised Harendellian.”

“But your mother was Cardiffian. Doesn’t it bother you that Harendellians treat Cardiffians as if they are less than human? I find astromancy as peculiar as the next person, but it seems a weak reason to burn women at the stake. Amarid is the nation that causes Harendell grief, but Cardiff bears the animosity? How is that warranted?”

It isn’t.

He desperately wanted to tell her how much he hated the way Harendell viewed Cardiff. That his greatest wish was to change the nature of the relationship between the two nations that had given him his blood. That he wanted to make Cardiff and Harendell allies in every possible way. Except his dreams came at a cost to Ithicana, and if she were to learn what he was trying to achieve, loyalty to her homeland would cause her to do everything possible to destroy what he was working for. Which meant he couldn’t risk it. “My preference is that my people behave with civility, but my desires carry little weight.”

Ahnna huffed with disgust. “Does your father know how they treat Lestara? Is he content with it?”

“Nothing goes on in the Sky Palace that he doesn’t know about.” This conversation needed to end. “He has set rules, and Virginia will follow them.”

“But don’t their prejudices trouble him?” she demanded. “ Obviously, he’s not like-minded, or you wouldn’t exist. Or did he not know your mother was Cardiffian until later?”

Bloody hell. “He knew.” No point lying, given that the truth was well known.

“So is it the case that he doesn’t hold the same prejudices as most Harendellians, or was he just willing to overlook your mother’s beliefs because he loved her?”

A question James had asked many times, and one to which he didn’t have a certain answer. He did not know how much of his father’s motivations were a desire to make change for the better and how much of it he was doing because it had been what James’s mother had wanted. “According to Alexandra, my mother cast a spell on my father, so perhaps that is the answer.”

Ahnna snorted. “I don’t believe that nonsense.”

As James blinked, he saw the leaves at the bottom of the teacup. Saw death written in them.

“Who killed her?”

He twitched, it seeming as though she’d read his thoughts. “Pardon?”

“Your mother. Who killed her? Because everyone seems to believe it was Alexandra, and that makes little sense to me because your father would have executed her for it, no?”

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his madly racing heart. “He’s never been able to prove the identity of the culprit. If he had, they’d be dead.”

Lightning flickered in the distance, and Ahnna mercifully ceased interrogating him and moved to the spiral’s railing, resting her elbows against it, eyeing the thunderstorm. Most people feared the height, but Ahnna leaned over the railing as though she wouldn’t fall but take flight. “I’ve heard about Harendell’s twisters. That they tear through the open plains, destroying everything they touch.”

“This storm will bring only rain,” he said, watching the clouds. “It’s not warm enough for twisters. Or at least, it’s unlikely.”

“Have you seen them?”

“Many times,” he said. “It’s said that the Sky Palace was built in mimicry of them.”

Ahnna leaned so far over the railing, he almost lunged to grab the back of her dress. “Yes,” she said. “The spiral. I see it now.”

“If a twister comes, the only place safe from them is underground. They follow you.”

“They sound sentient.”

His mouth twisted. “Careful. That’s what they say in Cardiff. That the storms are demigods that find their way to earth to punish the God worshipers.”

“That’s interesting, given that in Ithicana, we say the storms protect us from those who’d do us harm. It was a typhoon that spared Eranahl from Silas’s fleet.”

He was still angry from her line of questioning, and that anger made him say, “We heard it was Lara who slayed Silas in a duel, ending the battle. They say Lara is the savior of Ithicana.”

“That’s what they say,” Ahnna repeated, her tone suggesting his barb had struck true, though he didn’t feel any satisfaction in one-upping her.

But before he could say anything to temper the jab, the sound of running feet caught his attention. A sweating soldier rounded the spiral behind them, breathing hard as he panted out, “Major General, sir. We’ve just received word that a mob has imprisoned a woman in Marickshire under the accusation of astromancy. Her husband is born and bred Harendellian, and he claims that the accusations are false. He’s begged aid from the crown, but the mob is already building the pyre.”

James grimaced. The small hamlet was at least an hour’s gallop away. He’d never make it in time. But he had to try.

Inclining his head to Ahnna, he said, “If you would excuse me, I must attend to this.”

“They don’t mean to burn her, do they?” she demanded. “Without trial?”

“That is the way of it.” The words came out from between his teeth. “Though as her husband is Harendellian, I have an obligation to interfere until certainty of her offense might be obtained. Enjoy the rest of your day, my lady.”

Not giving her a chance to answer, James turned on his heel. The moment he was out of sight, the howl of the wind in the spiral drowning out all noise, he broke into a run.