DITRA LED ME UP TO the entry hall, and then through the large door to her audience chamber. But she did not stop there. She took me to the back, to the doorway hidden behind a stone wall that led to a narrow stairway. I knew that stairway led up to her personal chamber. It had once been my mother’s, and I had no fond memories of it. But I followed her up.

The two guards remained downstairs. But when we reached the upper hallway, I found Maia standing at the door to Ditra’s chamber, his hands clasped behind his back. As I emerged from the stairwell, he gave me a nearly imperceptible nod. Ditra ignored him, striding through the door into her room. I paused for a moment.

“Will you be joining us?” I asked Maia.

“Do I need to?”

That made me deflate a bit. “Of course not. I would never harm her.”

“So I thought,” said Maia. “I will remain outside.”

“Actually, you will fetch us some food and wine,” said Ditra sharply. It appeared she had not entirely gotten over her annoyance at Maia for the earlier spectacle. After a moment she added, “And have some sent to the others in the cell, while you are visiting the kitchens.”

“Of course, my lord,” said Maia. He gave a little sigh and left.

I steeled myself. Painful memories swam to the forefront of my mind, of so many times I had stepped into this chamber and left it in despair, or in tears. But that had been a long time ago. I shook off my thoughts and stepped into the room, closing the door behind me.

To my surprise, Ditra had not taken her seat at the head of the table. Instead she leaned against the nearest edge of it, her hands probing its corner idly. The posture was so unlike our mother that for a moment I could see only the sister of my youth.

“So,” she began. “Tell me about your friends. The truth, please, and not the lie you fed me earlier.”

“Mag was my friend in the Upangan Blades,” I said. “We have been close ever since. Dryleaf is an old man we found in Dorsea not long ago.”

“Very well.” She took a long breath and loosed it through her nose. “There is one matter we must tend to before any others. How are you?”

I stood there for a very long moment, and I am certain I had an utterly buffoonish look upon my face. When the words finally registered, I shrugged. “I … I am all right. I suppose.”

Her jaw clenched, and she shook her head. “I mean after the wending.”

Suddenly I realized what she was doing, and for a moment I could not speak. There is a conversation the family of an ander person is supposed to have with them after their wending, a ritual of long custom, stretching back to the time before time. She was having it with me now.

“Ditra, that was twenty years ago.” I could barely choke the words out. My throat had grown tight.

Her nostrils flared. “And you were not here. How are you?”

I could not hold her gaze any longer. I stared at my feet and shook my head, feeling tears close to bursting. “I am fine,” I whispered.

She came forwards and put her hands on my shoulders. “You look wonderful. Graceful. Like an adult, and not just for the grey in your hair. You were so very awkward as a child.”

Still I could barely choke my answers out. “I had good reason to be.”

From the corner of my eye I saw a smile on her lips, and I saw how sad it was. “You did. I wish to be certain—it is Albern now, correct?”

“It is.”

“Albern,” she said. “As your sister, I am overjoyed. Come, brother. For the first time, let me greet you as the man you are.”

She took me into her arms, and I could not withhold myself any longer. I did not fall sobbing into her grip, as I had done to Mag when I learned of my mother’s death. But still my tears slipped from me, and I held her hard, pressing my face into her shoulder, the way I had done so many times in my youth, when a nightmare had woken me in the middle of the night. And when at last we drew back, I saw tears shining in her eyes as well.

But then she took another step back, and I saw her emotions fade away, not unlike when Mag’s battle-trance slid into place. In that moment she became not my sister, but the Lord Telfer, Rangatira of Tokana. I, too, pushed my emotions to the side.

“Now. I am not only your sister, Albern. I am lord of these lands, and it falls to me to protect them. What is Kaita doing here? And what brought you here to hunt her?”

“I have only guesses for the first question, though I can answer the second easily enough. I am here to kill her. And I know she wishes to kill me as well. But I think she came here because she wants to kill you, too.”

Ditra frowned. “Me? What makes you think that?”

“Many things,” I said. “Chief among them being the fact that she led me across three kingdoms to get here.”

She shook her head. “Kaita is not trying to kill me.”

I was flabbergasted. “You cannot be that naive,” I said. Her eyes flashed, and I went on quickly. “Ditra, I know you and she used to share a bed on occasion, but that was—”

“It was more than some idle tryst,” said Ditra. “She risked her life to be with me.”

“She … she what?”

A knock sounded at the door. Maia opened it, bearing a tray with food and wine.

“Thank you,” said Ditra briskly. “Give it to him, and then leave us be.”

“Of course, Rangatira,” said Maia. He gave us both a quick, surreptitious glance, but he did as his lord bid him. When the door closed again, Ditra motioned me over to the table. We both sat, the tray between us, but neither of us touched anything upon it.

“When you …” Ditra’s nostrils flared again, and she took a moment to master herself. “When you left. Mother sent Romil to fetch you back. She sent Kaita along with her, as a retainer and a bodyguard. Of course, we both know that Romil failed. But on her journey back here to Tokana, she was attacked by Feldemarians. They killed Romil. Kaita tried to protect her, but she barely escaped with her own life. And when she finally returned home, Mother tried to have her executed.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Why?”

“For failing to protect Romil.” Ditra’s expression had gone dark. It was plain that she thought Mother’s decision was wrong, even barbaric. “Mother was enraged. Kaita, who had barely survived the Feldemarian attack, was nearly killed again. But she escaped, and then she came to me, and asked me to leave with her, if you can believe it.”

“She thought you would go with her?” I said. “What kind of fool did she—”

Ditra waved a hand in dismissal. “We were in love, Albern. Or we thought we were, the way people do at that age. But of course I told her not to be ridiculous. Mother’s decision might have been wrong, but I would not betray our family. I promised I would keep her visit a secret, and then I told her to go.”

I shook my head. It seemed I understood at last.

“Ditra,” I said slowly, wondering how I could make her see it. “Kaita lost her position in our household because of me. And then she lost you, her lover, when she tried to run.”

“She should not have had to run,” said Ditra. “If I had been Rangatira, it would never have happened. What Mother did was evil. You should understand that better than most. Kaita was her victim, just as you were.”

“You cannot fix all of Mother’s wrongs,” I said. “If you try, you will doom yourself. Mother was cruel to me, and it made my life miserable—but I shed her cruelty as soon as I could, and I purged it from my life. Kaita has taken that cruelty and made it her own. Now she means to tear the family Telfer down, to raze Tokana and leave no one here to contest her. It is part of the Shades’ strategy in their war against the High King. But for Kaita, it is more than that. She is going to destroy everything we have, and she is going to use the trolls to do it. You have to stop her. You must let Mag and me help you.”

“I did only my duty,” said Ditra firmly. “Kaita was distressed. She might have thought, in the moment, that I would abandon my family, but she could not have truly believed it. This matter between the two of you is something else.”

“She is a Shade,” I said. “I have faced her on the battlefield. She is a high captain in their ranks. They are the ones behind the troll attacks.”

Ditra’s nostrils flared. “You did not know Kaita as I did. You barely knew her at all.”

“Do you honestly think she still—”

“You never knew her, Albern,” snapped Ditra. “You only cared about yourself when you lived here.”

I felt my own anger rising to meet hers. “Well, someone had to.”

“No!” Ditra’s bark made me jump. She stood from her chair, planting her hands on the table as she leaned over me. “You do not get to speak to me that way. Me, of all people. Not after you abandoned your duty to our family.”

I felt like a pouting child again, but I could not help the sullen expression on my face. “What duty is that?”

“You know what. Maia is a fine man, but you should be my lead ranger.”

“I grew up thinking you would be lead ranger, and Romil would be the Rangatira after Mother.”

“So you left because you would not have a title?” said Ditra, staring at me wide-eyed. “You were unsatisfied with—”

“I left because I had no reason to stay!” I snapped. “I had nothing here!”

“You had me.”

“You were my sister,” I said slowly, trying to master my temper. “Yes, we had each other. But Mother … Romil …”

“They are dead, Albern.” Her voice caught. “They have been dead a long time. Yet you never came back.”

I could scarcely speak above a whisper. “I did not know Mother had died until I stood in your council chamber a few days ago.”

She dropped her gaze from mine and stepped away from the table. Scooping up her cup of wine, she went to the window, raising one arm to lean against it, picking with her nails at the diamond-shaped bolts that held the glass in place. “I know. We tried to send word, but we had lost track of you. And there was so much to do, so much expected of me …”

Her voice trailed away. I shifted in my seat. “You do not have to explain anything,” I said. “You were—”

“Mother?”

I stopped, frowning. “What?”

She turned to me slowly. “You said you did not know about Mother.”

My throat had gone dry. I tried to speak, but I could not.

“You said you did not know about Mother,” she said again, fury rising in her tone. “What of Romil? Did you know? Did you receive our letter?”

I could not meet her gaze. I took one of the goblets of wine from the tray and sipped it. “I did.”

“You knew,” said Ditra, her voice toneless, like Mag’s trance. “You knew your sister had died. Yet you stayed away.”

“Whose sister?” I demanded. “How was she my sister? She did not help me. She did not comfort me. She did not care a whit whether I lived or died.”

“She was our sister regardless,” said Ditra. “Or do you think that Thada was not our mother?”

“I do not know what she was to you, after I left. She was never a mother to me.”

Ditra scoffed. “You are being ridiculous. She raised us, she—”

“Raised us? What does that mean to you? She never even noticed my existence until she needed me. Until I was useful to her.” I spat the word. “She never cared about anything we did, anything we wanted, unless it was in her service. You have seen this already.”

I lifted my arm and dragged down my sleeve again to show the family mark. Ditra’s sleeve was tighter than mine, but she ripped it open to show her own mark.

“We both have one,” she said. “But I have not forgotten what mine means, as you have.”

“You were away when she gave me the mark,” I said. “It was during the same trip you were on when I left. Mother decided it was time for me to receive it, whether I wanted it or not. And indeed, I did not want it. So she forced me. She summoned soldiers and had them hold me down so she could carve it into my skin herself. When I fought, she slapped me. No, she was never a mother to me. You were the closest thing I ever had to that.”

But that only made the dam burst. Ditra seized the tray of food and threw it against the wall.

“And I needed you, Albern!” she screamed. “I had no one. No one at all. When Romil died, do you think Mother was there to comfort me? Do you think she took care of me? Consoled me? Do you think she even gave me the cold comfort of allowing me to weep in her presence? After we laid Romil to rest, she called me to this chamber. Do you know what she said? ‘You will be my new lead ranger, of course. Someone will be along to show you your duties.’ Then she dismissed me. That was all. What did you think would happen? Did you think she would see the evil of her ways, and finally love me the way she always should have? You have never been that great of a fool.”

I could not answer. I had no answer to give. This was the true burden of guilt that had hung over me all the long years since I left home. This was what I had never been able to tell anyone, not even Mag. I knew Romil had died, and I knew I should have gone home—not for myself, and certainly not for Mother, but for Ditra. So that she would not be alone.

Ditra’s fury now was more than I could bear. I cast my gaze to the floor, unable even to look at her.

She straightened. “I am done with you. Tell Maia to return you to your cell.”

You might think it was a strange command—ordering someone to have themselves put back in prison. But I did it. I rose, left the room, and said nothing as I let Maia lead me back to my friends.