PART ONE

ONE

“The problem with being a princess,” Lilah Selenna grumped to Bren, her best friend, “is that it sounds like more fun than it really is.”

Bren shrugged. As far as he was concerned, royalty and nobility were evil, though he admitted that Lilah’s brother Peitar, the new king, was about as good a king as you could get—if you had to have a king.

Lilah went on as if Bren was sympathetic. “You would think it’s fun to always be first going in and out of a room, but while you’re walking in front of everybody, you notice how this noble girl is staring at the splotch on your skirt where you accidentally dropped a peach, or those counts and countesses are whispering about the way your hair sticks up because you forgot to brush it after you climbed down from the tree.”

Lilah flicked her fingers through her short, wiry, rust-colored hair, cut during the revolution a few months past, when Lilah had disguised herself as the palace kitchen’s spit boy.

Bren had shared those days of disguises and desperate actions, but he wouldn’t be a prince if someone begged him. So he just laughed, thinking that so far, Lilah was the same as she’d been all summer—good company, funny, always ready for a game.

“It’s all this talk about duty, but I don’t have any duties yet. Not while Peitar is trying to patch up the government, and the city.”

“And so?” Bren asked.

“And so it’s time to keep my promise,” Lilah said. “To visit the Unnamed.”

“Ah-h-h-h-h,” Bren said. “So why aren’t you doing it, O princess? You can’t be afraid that Peitar will rant and storm like an evil king at you.”

Maybe it would be easier if Peitar did rant and storm. If he ranted and stormed, she could rant right back, and call him unfair, but if he was all kind and reasonable while counting up the reasons why she couldn’t go up to the Delfina Valley to visit the Unnamed, how to answer that?

Maybe it was time to stop worrying about it, and get it over with.

She got up. Bren went back to his sketch of the lake below the palace wall as Lilah walked into the palace, ducking around parties of carpenters, joiners, and other people busy repairing the last of summer’s damage. Where would she find Peitar? Not in the public rooms, for he did crown business right after breakfast until his lunch (if he ate one). It was so late in the day, he either had to be in the private interview room or his new study, which was next to the palace library. He never seemed to take time off. If he was not required to entertain someone, he even took his meals in that study so that he could continue working.

Lilah fumed. Peitar worked all the time.

The odor of paint made Lilah hold her nose as she dodged around the gilders and artists painting panels.

Peitar was not in the interview room, which smelled like wet plaster as two artisans fashioned twined leaves up one of the pilasters. She poked her head in the dining room. The room was empty except for the table with its white linen cloth and the gold-edged porcelain plates she’d had to stack during her time as a kitchen boy.

Lilah ran down the marble hall to the library. She dashed through the quiet room, paused at the closed door to the annex. Uh oh. That had to mean Peitar was inside. Studying. Again.

Lilah opened the door, looked in, and there he was, only he wasn’t studying. He’d fallen asleep, his head down on his crossed arms, which were cradled around an old book.

She stared. Sometimes she felt like she was the nineteen-year-old and he was twelve.

“Peitar,” she exclaimed. “Don’t you ever rest?”

Peitar’s head jerked up, and they stared at one another, both startled.

Peitar blinked the sleep out of his eyes and kept his retort behind shut lips. Lilah was a kid. She had never wanted to be part of government, even as decoration. Even if she wanted to, how could he unload half his responsibilities onto her—responsibilities she was unaware of?

“Lilah,” Peitar began.

“I need to keep my promise,” she said quickly. “Please don’t tell me all the reasons why I can’t.”

She watched anxiously for the averted face of refusal, the narrowed gaze that would mean he was doing exactly what she hoped he wouldn’t. Instead, she was amazed when Peitar’s expression went blank. Then color tinged his cheeks.

“To visit You-Know-Who,” she said, to clarify.

It was dangerous to even say her nickname, Atan, much less her real name, Princess Yustnesveas Landis, the last of the Landis family who had ruled Sartor since humans had come to the world.

Not many things could make a revolution seem small, but Sartor and its problems was one of those things. There were spells so powerful that saying certain names could somehow draw the sinister attention of Norsunder. Atan’s name was one of those.

At the best of times, Peitar could look as if his mind was in another world entirely, especially after being woken up. Lilah had all his attention now.

She began babbling. “You know how we got to be friends, I mean me and the Unnamed, and I did make this promise to go and report how things turned out. Not that uh, the person of whom we speak, would not know already, because of, um, the other person who teaches the Unnamed. They know more than I do, I’m sure. And it’s not like those promises you have to keep, but I want to, because, you know, the friends…”

Peitar raised a hand.

Lilah stopped talking so fast her teeth clicked.

Peitar’s smile was brief and a little crooked. “We both made a friend,” he said. “But you are fortunate in being able to visit. I am not.”

Lilah gawked. “But you’re now the king. You can do anything you want.”

“Not quite. You’ll remember our uncle ended up with a revolting populace because enough people didn’t like what he was doing.” Peitar began to straighten his books, a task that seemed to absorb all his attention. Finally he spoke. “You should probably go very soon, before the snows close the mountains in.” Then he gave her a real smile, more like the brother she knew. “How long was I asleep? I’d better warn you, Aunt Tislah showed up for another visit. She has her neighbor’s great-niece in tow…”

Lilah jumped up indignantly. “Another would-be queen? She might be very nice, but I am not going to sit by while Aunt Tislah tries to kill us with disgusting matchmaking.”

“Death by flirtation?” Peitar murmured.

“Bren and I will make certain there is no threat of romance to ruin dinner.” She made a gag face. “Let me see if I can tear him away from drawing.” She ran out.