Naya followed Corten’s zigzagging path across the city roofs. When she finally caught up, he was standing on the roof of a large house. She could see the towers of the king’s summer palace not so far ahead, and to her right the dark expanse of the bay. Corten sat down, patting the roof beside him.

“Why here?” Naya asked.

“If we’re going to talk about something as illegal as reaper bindings, I figured we might as well do it somewhere private. And you have to admit the view’s much better here than back at Lucia’s.” His tone was light, but the smile was gone from his face as he looked out across the city’s roofs.

“What about the people inside?” It was a warm night, so it wasn’t impossible to imagine that they’d have their windows open.

“Don’t worry. We’re above an attic. And if anyone inside wakes up, you’ll probably be able to sense them before they hear anything important.”

“Oh, right.” Naya checked the aether and felt only the haze of sleep below her. She supposed she should have been happy about that. No doubt most spies would love to have the trick of sensing when others were nearby. As useful as the skill was, she doubted any Talmiran would be willing to die for it. She sat next to Corten, the exhilaration of leaping across the roofs fast fading. The view up here was beautiful, but she hadn’t come for beauty.

“How far do you think Lucia went with the changes in my bond?” Naya asked.

Corten was silent for a moment. “I’m not sure. We could try some things out, if that’s what you want. But we’d have to be careful. There’s still a lot we don’t know about how soul bindings work.”

“What do you mean? I thought Ceramorans have been performing resurrections for decades.”

“We know how to resurrect people, but a lot of that knowledge comes from ancient texts. We can follow the instructions, but we don’t know why they work.”

Naya’s eyebrows rose, but Corten didn’t look like he was joking. “That’s terrifying.”

“I think the mystery was what drew me to necromancy in the first place.” Corten looked down at his hands. His shoulders hunched and Naya wondered if he was again thinking of what he’d lost. “Anyway,” Corten continued, “some of the changes in the reaper bindings make them dangerous to use. The runes a necromancer carves act like a sort of tool set that allows the wraith’s soul to draw aether and re-create their body. The reaper binding was an attempt to expand that tool set, figure out how to let a soul do more with the energy it can access. The problem is that there’s this dissonance that builds up.”

Corten paused and apparently saw the confusion in Naya’s expression. “Sorry, I’m probably not explaining this very well. Take the way I look.” He gestured at his face. “This is me. I don’t have to think about looking this way any more than I would have had to think about how to wiggle my toes back when I had a body. But if I want to change something…”

Naya drew in a sharp breath as Corten’s hair flickered from black to pale brown, then back again. “Holding on to a little change like that is sort of like carrying a rock in my fist,” Corten continued. “It’s not much work, but I have to pay attention or I might drop it. The kind of things the reapers could do would be more like trying to lift a boulder. Go too fast or lift too much and you’re liable to crack your bones.”

“And that’s bad?” Naya asked.

“Very.”

Naya wrapped her arms around her chest. Did she even want to know what changes Lucia might have made to her? Talmirans had fought and died to keep this sort of power out of the world. But what if she could use it to help defend the treaty?

What if. What if. The questions multiplied, making her head ache. She met Corten’s eyes. “Let’s start with something small. How did you make your hair change like that?”

Corten shook his head. “That isn’t small. Feature shifting isn’t something every wraith can do, and even those who can are careful how they use it.”

“Why? I thought all wraiths were resurrected with the same bonds. Shouldn’t they all be able to do the same things?”

“In theory, sure. But just because someone is born with two hands doesn’t mean they’ll become a master artisan. Remember what I said about a wraith’s bond being a set of tools? Well, having the tools and having the skill to use them are two different things. We know that the way a wraith looks is tied to their will.”

“I’ve already read about that,” Naya cut in. “Wraiths are supposed to be able to exert their will to change the way they look. But I’ve tried that and it never works.”

“Let me guess: Lucia had you read Sellencio?”

Naya nodded. “I think she only gave it to me because she thought I wouldn’t get anywhere with it.”

“Sellencio’s explanations aren’t wrong, but face shifting is about a lot more than just conscious will. How you look now is less tied to the physical body you lost, and more to how you see yourself. Your perceptions determine the body you shape intuitively for yourself. In order to change that, you have to be able to let go of the idea that your body is unchangeable. You have to be able to look in a mirror and expect something different.”

Naya stared out at the horizon, where the ocean seemed to swallow the stars. Could she let go of what she’d looked like before? She tried to imagine looking in the mirror and seeing a face she didn’t recognize staring back. She turned back to Corten, examining his face. “You can change more than your hair?”

Corten nodded. “I can, but it takes a lot of effort. It’s not something I like to do.”

“So this is what you looked like when you died?”

“More or less.” Corten rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been more than a year now, so I guess I look a bit older.”

“You guess?”

“Most wraiths age, unless they’re trying not to. But I don’t know if how I look now is how I would have looked if I’d kept my body, or just how I think I should have looked.”

Naya wrinkled her nose as she tried to sort that one out. How could someone even know what they’d look like as they got older?

Corten smiled. “See what I mean? This is why I said it’s not a small thing. In order to change your face, you have to start thinking about yourself in a completely different way.”

Naya gave up on trying to imagine an older version of herself. “Still, I want to learn it.”

“So you can run away from Lucia?”

Naya shook her head. “I told you before. I’m not running. Can you teach me or not?”

Silence fell between them, then Corten sighed. “All right. Let’s start with thinning. It takes some of the same mind-set as feature shifting, but most wraiths find it easier. Here, watch.” Corten lifted one hand, and after a moment his fingers faded to a wispy, transparent blue.

A shock of instinctive fear raced down Naya’s back. She pushed it away. “I remember something like that happening just after I woke.”

“That’s common. When a soul is first called back, it can take time for it to adjust to the rune binding.” Corten brushed the edge of a shingle and his fingertips seemed to sink into it.

Naya pressed her own hand against the roof. It felt rough, and undeniably solid. “How did you do that?”

“I reminded myself that my hand wasn’t made of flesh and bone anymore.”

“That’s it?”

“Essentially.”

Naya glared at her hand. She tried to drag up the memory of what her fingers had looked like when they’d slipped through the blanket. Her chest tightened. Monster. It had been one thing to agree to Celia’s demands. But if what Corten said was right, then the only way she’d learn to change her body was by embracing this new form. She wasn’t sure which was more frightening: the prospect of failing and being tossed aside by Valn and Celia, or what she might become if she succeeded.

Corten brushed the back of her hand, then carefully lifted her stiff fingers. His touch was warm and sure and it sent a shiver through her. He pressed his palm lightly against hers so the tips of their fingers just barely touched. Naya froze, trapped by the touch, torn between the urge to pull away and the desire to lace her fingers through his.

“Relax,” Corten said. His hand turned transparent again. The pressure of his fingers against hers lessened until all she felt was a faint warmth, like the glow of a hearth in a cool room. Naya tried to let the rest of her body relax, but it was hard to focus on anything beyond that faint touch. It should have made her afraid. Naya met Corten’s eyes, and the warmth against her palm seemed to flare hotter.

He doesn’t even know your real name. Guilt settled over her like a rain-soaked cloak. Corten wasn’t a monster, no matter what the Talmiran keepers taught. But what was she? Was she callous enough to use him, even knowing he would hate her if he ever found out who she really was? Not callous, practical. Valn is trying to keep the peace. Would Corten be any better off if Talmir and Ceramor went to war? No, he wouldn’t. Just because he might not agree with her methods didn’t mean she wasn’t doing the right thing.

Naya imagined her will hardening like a crystal. Peace was more important than any trade deal she could have hoped to negotiate while sailing with her father. If war came, then thousands of others would die like she had. She wouldn’t stand by and let that happen. She would become whatever she must to preserve the peace.

She focused on her hand. Not flesh and bone. Something more, something stronger. Her skin shimmered. At first she thought it only a trick of the starlight. Then slowly her hand faded until she could see Corten smiling through it.