book title

Emara stood before the palace, warm in one too many layers with a fancy golden robe that draped over one shoulder and hugged her around the waist, falling just short of her ankles. She shuffled her feet in the strange cloth slippers as she adjusted the gaudy circlet on her curls with a scowl. Jai stood beside her in his own impractical finery while the crowd swirled around them, their gazes skimming by as they continued on their way.

The outer gate was open to the courtyard, and up the broad stone steps, the same ornate gold doors that Conrad had opened for her only two days ago loomed before them. Where the doors had once stood tarnished and thronged by the Lost, they now gleamed in the morning sun. Emara’s breakfast of biscuits and tea soured in her stomach.

Was that dark fate inevitable? Or was there something she could do to somehow stop all of it from happening?

Perhaps Everard knew. Or Bellaphia. There had to be something she could do.

“You have to smile.” Jai took her arm and curled it around his. He wore a high-necked silver shirt over dark cloth pants and had done something with his wavy hair to pull it away from his forehead. The clothes accented his tall, slim figure, while his styled hair brought out his sharp cheekbones and angled brows. He looked nothing like the street scavenger that he was and every bit a handsome young noble come to call on the court. His every motion was smooth and elegant, as though practiced, and his smile flashed with confidence.

But just because he was handsome didn’t mean he wasn’t still completely annoying.

“These clothes are ridiculous,” Emara shot back. “This isn’t like one of your street shows, Shadmundar.”

“It’s all about attitude and appearance,” Jai said. Her frown deepened, and he let out an agitated sigh. “Look, I’ve been surviving on these streets for the last nineteen years. You are from Odriel knows where. At least allow me the benefit of the doubt.”

The crowd jostled her other side, and Emara took a step closer to Jai. He even smelled expensive today, with the fresh scent of spicy citrus wafting off of him, and she noticed the crowd was actually granting him a respectful berth.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

With an irritatingly victorious smile, Jai patted her arm and strode up to the guard. “We’re here for the commoners’ hearing.”

The guard jerked his head to one side. “Around the stable to the east gate. But there’s a queue of at least 100. I doubt you’ll get in today before they close the doors.”

“Of course, thank you, sir.” He tipped an invisible hat before turning to follow the white gravel path running around the palace, pulling Emara along behind him.

Emara glanced back at the guard, whose gaze had returned to the open front gate. He didn’t even spare them a sideways glance. “Do they always leave the courtyard gate open? That can’t possibly be safe.”

Jai snorted as they sauntered along, as if they were out for a leisurely stroll to drink in the warm autumn air. “And from whom do they need protection?”

“But… Manju mentioned a battle in the west…” Emara’s gaze drifted distractedly around the manicured green lawns and the fruit-bearing periapple trees swaying in the gentle breeze.

“The war has never made it east of the edge of the Naerami, and even if it did, the Rastgol would be no match for the Heirs.” Emara’s mouth tightened at the mention of the Rastgol, and Jai tilted his head to one side. “Do you know of the Heirs?”

They skirted a long stone building edged by paddocks of tall horses with glistening coats. Stable hands in dusty overalls and nobles in fine riding jackets and breeches milled around the building as they went about their business. Were the Heirs among them? What were her counterparts like in this time?

“Um… a little,” she hedged. “There are three, right? Fire, invisibility, and” —she had to force herself not to choke on the last word— “healing.”

“Well, those are the three lines, yes.” Jai smiled at a passing noblewoman atop a horse, and Emara could’ve sworn she batted her long eyelashes at him. “But there are actually eleven Heirs at the moment.”

Emara turned sharply to him, her dark curls jostling her cheeks. “What? How is that possible?” She tried to count. The Heirs’ powers always passed down to their firstborn, so in her time, there were two elder Heirs and two younger… well three younger if she counted herself. And then Aza had mentioned a toddling nephew Dragon Heir as well, but how could they have almost twice as many?

“The Heirs are a long-lived bunch, but then again, I suppose anyone would be with a healer on hand.”

Emara’s cheeks heated with a mixture of shame and anger. Even though he wasn’t blaming her for the deaths of the Heirs in her time, the blow stung all the same. “They must be quite powerful.”

Jai led them toward a long queue of people in rough-hewn clothing winding away from a palace side door. “Some more than others. The youngest Heirs are barely more than babes, the eldest are one step from the grave, and those in between weren’t all made equal. The second youngest Dragon could hardly be bothered to move a finger most days, and the Shadows as a whole seem like they wouldn’t give a fig whether the common folk live or die.”

He said this matter-of-factly, but Emara had to suppress a wince. While indifference and laziness certainly described the nobles of old, to talk of the Heirs in such a way would almost be sacrilegious. They’d been given the power to guard Okarria, and Odriel knew, in her time at least, they gave every scrap of that power to protecting the land and its people. Often losing their lives much too soon.

The next question forced its way to her reluctant tongue. “W-what about the Time?”

“Uh…” Jai squinted at the now clouded sky, absently smoothing his tamed waves away from his forehead. “The oldest Time is the Queen’s personal healer, the second has been away in the west for as long as I can remember, and I hear the youngest is a bit of a handful.”

“You seem to know quite a lot about the Heirs.”

Jai rolled his eyes. “By no fault of my own, I assure you. It’s the only thing people talk about in this dusting city. You can scarcely get a ‘good morning’ before someone’s telling you one of the Heirs sneezed.” Emara moved to stand at the end of the line, but Jai angled her around it. “Not that way, my darling,” he said with his false posh. “The noble’s entrance is on the north side.”

Emara tightened her grip around his arm. “I didn’t think that was the plan.”

Jai grinned at her, white teeth flashing with unmistakable mischief. “I didn’t tell you the plan.”

Emara followed his lead with a carefully placid expression, not missing a step, but inwardly, irritation bubbled under her skin. “Excuse me, but I don’t think I heard you right, darling.” She lowered her voice. “I thought we were here to see Everard.”

He patted her hand with another grin, his tone still irritatingly condescending. “Indeed we are, my lady, but the high magus doesn’t preside over the commoners’ grievances.”

A worm of unease wriggled in Emara’s gut. “So what’re we doing then?”

They’d wandered into a maze of high hedges now, the greenery around them peppered with the yellows and purples of late blooms. Jai dropped her arm, his stride quickening with purpose.

“And how do you know this place so well?”

Jai’s smile wrinkled ever so slightly as he glanced at her, almost like a shiver of disquiet. He made a sharp turn. “My father was a guard here once, and my siblings and I would play in the gardens with the other children of the palace.”

Father? Emara’s brow furrowed at this. She’d gotten the distinct impression that Jai and his band of misfits had nowhere else to go. She’d seen it more often than she’d care to remember—orphans banding together in the streets, trying to cobble together the family that had been stolen from them, trying to survive where their parents could not.

How she’d longed to belong to one of them, even as she knew her gift, her curse, would only bring them closer to the death they fled. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

Jai cocked an eyebrow with a grim smile. “Because you think they’re dead.”

Emara jolted with embarrassed surprise as they curved around a spiral. “Well, I thought—”

“My father was sent to the western war, and when he never returned, my mother remarried and moved out of the city with my younger brothers and sisters.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

“I was old enough to make my own way. Didn’t need to weigh my mother down with another mouth to feed.” He frowned. “Besides, Anisa needed a hand with the café, and I wanted to stay, just in case…”

In case his father came back, Emara finished silently. She tugged at the wrap of her shimmering robe. “How long ago was that?”

“Eh…” Jai squinted, as if he was trying to think, but it was a bad ploy. She’d bet the last coin she didn’t have that he knew exactly how long it had been.

“Five years give or take.” Jai stopped at a corner of the hedge. “Ah, here we are.” He stuck a hand deep into the green leaves, pulling the thick snarl of branches to one side before disappearing between them.

Emara stopped for a moment, peering after his shadow. She straightened with a sudden realization. They were breaking into the royal palace. This was, without a doubt, the worst idea she could’ve conjured up. What had she been thinking, following him before asking questions? What would happen if they were caught?

Jai’s head popped back through the shrubbery. “Hey, mystery-girl, are you coming or what?”

Emara crossed her arms. “I think I’m having second thoughts about this brilliant plan of yours. Maybe I’ll just—”

The murmur of approaching voices stopped her cold. Before she could react, Jai’s hands shot out of the hedge and yanked her through it. He pulled her back tight against his chest in the tiny pocket of space between the hedge and the wall. The two voices drew closer, and Emara realized they were going to pass an arm’s length from her nose. Moving as slowly as possible, she tried to push herself further away from the branches, but there was nowhere to go but farther into Jai’s lap. His arms squeezed around her, his gaze meeting hers with a stern command to be still.

She narrowed her eyes in return. They wouldn’t even be in this mess if it wasn’t for his stupid idea. The voices interrupted their staring contest, and together, they froze.

“…thought Everard was supposed to be in that strategy counsel,” said a deep voice.

Emara peered through the leaves and just made out a burly, sharp-faced guard with dark hair cut almost to the scalp. He was probably only a few years older than them, but the way he stalked across the path with a dangerous glower made her skin prickle.

“I thought he was,” said a second, lighter voice, like it was on the edge of a laugh. “But last shift said he’s holed up in his quarters again.” Emara caught a glimpse of another hulking guard, this one with long dark hair tied back from a strikingly handsome face. “You can’t tell me you’re surprised.”

“Bah.” The short-haired one swiped at the hedge with a stick.

Jai lifted his arms to shield them just as the branches lashed back, slicing through his skin and whipping across her cheek. But neither made a sound, and Emara wondered if Jai was holding his breath.

“Oh quit your grousing, Durad. It’s better than minding Prince Merault. Spoiled rotten that one.”

“Well, anything’s better than that,” the short-haired one grumbled, deflating.

The other laughed. “Cheer up, at least you’ll have my charming company.”

Further down the path, Durad let out a begrudging chuckle. “Maybe I’ll just throttle your charming company.”

Scuffling laughter floated back, fainter now. “You’re just jealous I’m the magi’s favorite.”

“Your head’s muddled, Elika.”

Their voices faded as the maze took them away, and Emara sagged with relief.

“Are you okay?” Jai asked, his breath warm in her ear.

Emara looked at him, confused at first, until she remembered the scratch on her face. She lifted a hand to her cheek. The branch had reopened the wound there, and her fingers came away spotted with blood. Wiping it away, she almost laughed. She was so used to dealing with the pain of mortal wounds, she’d barely noticed such a small scratch.

“I’m fine. Is it going to make me stand out?”

Jai took her chin with one of his scratched hands, turning it so he could see the cut. His closeness made her stomach flip. “I think it’s fine.”

His gaze met hers for just a moment too long, and once again Emara was struck by the thought that this was Shadmundar. A cursed ragged cat always ready with a snarky comment or a shard of wisdom. Cynical and abused by the world and yet would still follow a friend into certain death. How much of the cursed cat she knew had started with this boy in front of her? Or, if Shad couldn’t remember his human self, were they the same person at all?

She trusted Shad, but could she trust this boy?

Jai came back to himself, turning toward the wall. “Now to get in.” He moved to one side and revealed a door that looked like it had sunk into the earth, the heavy lock on the handle only a few inches from the ground.

“How did that happen?”

Jai pulled a handful of metal pins from his pocket and slid them into the lock. “The ground beneath the castle is too close to the ocean. Too soft, so it sinks a little every year.” He leaned his head close to the lock and with careful, practiced movements, maneuvered the picks until it gave up with a satisfying click. “It was originally a servant door anyway, so when it sank too deep to use, the servant kids sawed it in half and used it as a shortcut to the cellar.” He took off the lock and pushed the door open just a crack, peeking into the darkness. Satisfied with what he saw, he slipped in through the half door.

Emara peered in after him into the dark cellar. The light from the doorway lit up his expectant face as he held out a hand for her. “Come on. You asked for help. This is the help.”

Emara sighed and took his hand. She couldn’t argue with that.

As soon as she slipped into the darkness, Jai was already pulling off his outer layer. “Time to change. You’re wearing the servant’s clothes underneath, right?”

“The what?” Emara groaned even as she shucked off the golden outer robe to reveal the white knee-length tunic underneath. “I thought it was some sort of silky undergarment. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“You have to be flexible, mystery-girl. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what the plan was. The idea is to have options and to take the best path as you go.” Now wearing a rich purple vest, Jai stashed the silver shirt behind the barrels in the corner, sticking out an impatient hand for her discarded robe.

She shoved it behind the barrel herself and looked up to find Jai with a gold platter and a long-necked bottle in hand.

“For you, palace servant.”

She took it with a frown. “And what about you?”

He flashed a folded parchment between two fingers, complete with an official looking maroon seal. “I’m a courier, of course. Follow six paces behind me and try to look like you know what you’re doing.” Jai reached up and closed the courtyard door, plunging them into darkness.

Emara immediately reached out for him, seizing his tunic as her heart started to pound in her chest. “Go… quickly. Go,” she whispered urgently, her throat already feeling like it was closing up.

Jai’s hands pulled her protectively to him. “What’s wrong?”

“The dark.” Her voice shook as her mind buzzed with the wrongness of it. No stars or sliver of half-sun, no fire, no lantern, just all-encompassing dark. Just like it would be when Idriel finally took the land. “It’s too dark.”

She half-expected him to laugh at her childish fear, but instead his arm wrapped around her shoulders as he guided her through the cellar and up the short stairs to another wooden door. “It’s all right. It’s just a cellar full of exceedingly expensive and rather sour wine. We’ll be out of here in just a second into a nice, bright servants’ corridor.”

Sweat beaded on her temple as he cracked the door open much too slowly, and she suppressed the urge to throw it wide. He looked both ways before easing the door wider, and then pulled her out into a lantern-lit hall.

Emara sucked in deep breaths, the terror receding as quickly as it had consumed her.

“See, here we are. Nothing to worry about,” Jai said. “Are you going to be all right?”

She nodded, placing the wine bottle on the plate. “I’m fine.”

“We’ve got to move quickly, then. Remember, six paces behind.”

With that, he padded off swiftly, moving almost silently in his strange cloth boots.

Emara counted his steps, swiping her damp brow with her long sleeves and taking slow breaths to steady her heart. The tales said when Idriel rose fully to power, he would plunge the world into complete darkness. The thought had terrified her when she was small, and she’d always insisted on sleeping under the stars or with the windows open wide, even in frigid weather. She couldn’t believe the stupid childish fear still held such power over her.

With another breath, she started after Jai, trying to mimic his easy, purposeful steps. As they wound through the servant halls, they passed other servants and couriers rushing this way and that just as they were. Emara kept her eyes focused in front of her, ignoring any curious glances that caught on a new face in the palace. But even focused as she was, Jai seemed determined to lose her as he strode up and down stairwells. Did he even know where he was going?

She rounded one corner and nearly ran into him where he’d stopped in the middle of the hall while an older servant held him by the elbow.

“Forget that,” the servant snapped, his nose only inches from Jai’s. “I need this now. Take these instructions down to Rolanda in the kitchens and tell her…”

Odriel’s Teeth. Emara tried not to react as she wove around them with quick strides until she could dart around the corner and glance back. Would they know he was a fraud? Would they kick him out? How would she find Everard in this maze without him?

Jai gave a small bow to the older servant. “Yes sir, right away.” He glanced briefly toward her before turning on his heel and walking in the other direction.

Emara cursed inwardly, and then cursed again as the older servant stalked toward her. “And you there, why are you lollygagging?”

This time, Emara didn’t try to disguise her panic. “I’m so sorry, sir.” She bobbed her head, the words coming out in a rush. “I’m new, and they told me to send this bottle to the high magus’s room, and I thought I knew where I was, but then I got here, and they all—”

“Enough, enough.” The harried servant ran a hand through his thinning gray hair, already tired of her babble. “It’s the second one on the left, there. Deliver the bottle and get out. Everard doesn’t take kindly to brainless servant girls, and if he turns you into a blusheep, I’ll have to train more help.”

“Yes sir, right away.” Relief coursed through Emara as she moved to the door while the servant hurried past her. With another deep breath, she pushed out of the servant corridor and into an opulent sitting room.

There, sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, was the high magus, Everard. The same man she’d watched die at her hand in the throne room of this very palace.