Working to modulate her labored breathing and ignore the sweat dripping into her eyes, Piper strained to offer no sight or sound of her approach. Veering around from behind Senna, she drew her attack into focus, but before she could release it, he turned, almost casually, and launched his own assault with impossible precision—a direct, and utterly immobilizing hit. As if she had been fully visible and banging pots.

She rolled her eyes and groaned softly, waiting for the binding to fade.

“Your skill at concealment is grown quite expert, Ashta,” said the captain of her mother’s guard. “I am more than a little impressed. But that will help very little if your decisions about where to move and how to attack remain so unimaginative. The greenest of my cadets would likely have had no trouble guessing where to aim that counter.”

Piper had regained just enough control of her body to speak. “Can’t we just be honest, Senna—with each other, at least—and admit that I will never have much hope anyway against someone who’s made it past all the martial experts protecting a queen?” She shook out her arms as the tingling paralysis left them, almost enjoying this chance to let her aching body rest. “I wonder sometimes why we even bother with all this.”

“It does seem unlikely—unthinkable even—that our queen should ever be confronted with such naked threat. But such things are only unthinkable until they occur, Ashta. In that unlikely event, your chances might well balance on the ability to buy even one extra moment of time for further assistance to arrive. You are not a dull student. Surely you understand this.”

“I do, but—”

“There is even the possibility,” he interjected, “however unimaginable, that you could, at some point, find yourself exposed to such threat in the absence of protectors altogether—though I can hardly imagine how such a thing could happen a second time.” He offered her a slight, not unsympathetic smile.

Well, yes, she thought. Ten years later, they were all still navigating that mistake—which begged the more salient question: would anyone ever accept such a loose cannon as queen? She could hardly say that aloud, of course, even to Senna, who did understand her, as well as anyone here did. “Well, forgive me for hoping that things here never devolve to the point where a queen must fight hand to hand with one of her own kind?”

“Not so long ago, I too would have laughed at the idea,” Senna replied. “But after all that has happened… I assume you are aware, Ashta, of what’s been reported from the Saddle—since the flooding there?”

“I imagine many of our folk are quite unhappy—knowing, as they must, that this disaster was contrived by one of their own kind.”

Her reply seemed to render Senna briefly silent with surprise. “No one’s told you? …Really?”

“Told me what?”

“From what I hear, Ashta, there is dancing in the streets there. Open celebration—even among those who lost everything.”

Piper gaped at him. “Why ever for?”

“They’ve seen our power used again. As it was in the old tales. That it was used against them as well as against the Andinalloi hardly seems to matter. It was used!”

A wave of astonishment turned to horrified dismay as Piper parsed the implications. Had this blatant travesty really gained Anselm so much traction? This crime? “Does my mother know of this?” She was blushing in embarrassment before her words had left the air, understanding just an instant too late how obvious the answer was, and how it made her look not to have known it.

Her instructor made no reply, of course. What could he have said to such a question? She almost asked aloud why no one ever told her anything, but swallowed that question in time. If such things were told her, who knew what precipitous response she might rush into—before thinking? Who here didn’t understand that even better than she?

“I’m sorry to cut our lesson short, sir, but I must go speak with my—” She was interrupted by a knock at the practice room door.

Senna looked to Piper and, at her nod, called permission to enter.

One of her mother’s runners appeared, bowing her head briefly to each of them. “Pardon the interruption, Ashta, sir, but The Lady requests the Ashta’s immediate presence.”

Piper and her instructor exchanged a look. Her mother’s omniscient timing… Senna really did seem to understand. All too well. One of many reasons she so liked him.

“Is there time to change these sodden clothes?” Piper asked the runner, already following her out into the hallway.

“The Lady did say ‘immediate,’” the runner replied. “She is with the chancellor in her private chambers.”

“I see.” Though she didn’t. What now? Was the Saddle already in open revolt? Were they finally going to tell her about that—because she’d have to claim her mother’s throne within the hour? Piper wondered, not for the first time, how many of her own serving staff knew more of what was going on in this place than she herself did.

Though Piper knew very well how to reach her mother’s chambers, the liveried runner continued to lead, steps ahead, probably instructed to make sure Piper wasn’t distracted or delayed along the way. The matter must be urgent indeed, which cultivated increasingly nervous speculation in her mind as they traversed a labyrinth of elegantly paneled, glazed and mirrored hallways to a grand, Tree-carved doorway, through which they passed straight out into The Queen’s Wood, fog-blown and dripping with dew today.

Here more than anywhere, one could forget that all of this was deep underground. This Wood—a greater work of art and artifice than any earthly cathedral—seemed indistinguishable, even to Piper’s finely tuned senses, from any real forest under any true sky. Carpets of fern and trillium to either side of the path were ruffled by a loamy breeze as they passed by. It had always been her favorite part of the keep, though on this occasion, she could not avoid recalling that, among its many pleasanter functions, it also served as a vast buffer of ‘secure space’ around her mother. There would be no ‘surprising’ The Lady here. Nothing visible or invisible passed through any smallest part of this broad and tangled forest unobserved—or unobstructed, should The Lady wish it so.

After a long, winding ramble between tree trunks broad as temple columns, and across star-flowered meadows, chattering brooks and tumbling waterfalls, they came within sight at last of her mother’s lovely nest. It rose within a stand of towering cedars: a graceful tangle, half palatial tree house, half actual tree. The artful outcrop of living rock on which it rested was carpeted with poems of thick moss and delicate foliage to make the finest Japanese gardener swoon. Gold and orange light shone from several of its windows, as the misty daylight in this literally enchanted wood faded toward evening.

A lovely echo of her people’s long-vanished ancestral world.

Only one other place, hidden at the very heart of this one, had ever brought Piper more joy, peace, warmth or inspiration—which, on this occasion, just intensified her resentment of the anxiety twining up within her.

When they reached the entrance to her mother’s house, the runner bobbed her head and departed for some other task. Piper passed inside and began the winding climb through often roofless rooms and airy galleries latticed in carved and polished woods. Decorative windows framed lovely views, even where there seemed no real walls to hold them up. By the time she reached her mother’s innermost reception chamber, resentment had sufficiently outpaced her anxiety that she didn’t bother to knock—not that her mother would require any warning of her approach. She simply stepped into the room as Rain and her mother looked up, and said, “My combat instructor informs me that the Saddle is celebrating Anselm’s prowess in the streets. It was a bit embarrassing not to have learned this before he did.” She shot a glance at Rain.

“I apologize for failing to keep you better informed, Ashta,” Rain said with toneless calm—one of his signature specialties. “There has been so much to process at such a rapid pace since the flooding that, I confess, quite a few important tasks have escaped me unaddressed. I am genuinely sorry to have embarrassed you.”

That was it? Not even a thread of censure? …Scarier and scarier. “I can well imagine,” she said more gently. “I apologize for…my abruptness.” She turned to her mother, and bowed her head. “Senna has left my reserves somewhat depleted this afternoon.”

“As they should be, if he’s doing his job,” her mother said, not trying very hard to hide a sympathetic smile—though whether it was meant for her or for Rain, Piper couldn’t tell. “There is a mounting list of things to inform you of, dear, which is why I asked you to come.” She gestured at a carved and curving maplewood chair between Rain’s and her own, in which Piper sat, trying not to look like a schoolgirl already in trouble. She’d just been rather rude—to both of them—and no one seemed to notice, much less care. There was clearly a tiger waiting somewhere here.

“So, what has happened?” she asked quietly.

“What hasn’t?” Rain sighed. “On the list of things I should have told you days ago, Ashta, allow me to begin with the looting of our Ashilm repository in the Saddle, which seems to have occurred while the area was inundated.”

For the second time in half an hour, Piper gaped. “How? …Who could have—in all that water? What of the wards?”

“We are seeking answers, I assure you,” Rain replied. “Without much luck, so far, though I should imagine that Anselm would be needing to renew precisely such resources rather badly after such a display of power. The more troubling puzzle is that the repository was not unguarded for longer than moments, if even that, during the flood. Our standing arrangement with your father insured that a well-trained detachment of martial riverines was deployed around the facility as they arrived on the flood’s leading edge—precisely to guard against any such incursion during the chaos.”

“Which means,” Piper mused, “that someone among my father’s elite guard is traitorous, which I find difficult to believe, or…that the repository had been robbed before the flood even began? Probably with help from someone within our own ranks.” She looked back over at Rain. “Perhaps the same traitor who betrayed our letter into Anselm’s hands?”

Rain nodded. “Those were my first theories, yes, though I cannot so swiftly rule out the possibility of some operative within the River King’s household. The river folk suffer the effects of Andinol incursion as much or more than any of us, and Anselm’s stunt has given the river back to them in some rather powerful ways. Momentarily, at least.” He leaned back in his chair, as if to stretch. “Sadly, however, it seems we have an even greater problem to address, also involving your father.”

“Greater than the loss of an entire warehouse of Ashilm?” Piper asked. Here it comes, she thought. Whatever it is. “Surely my father hasn’t decided to back Anselm now as well?” She meant it for a joke. It was obviously a joke…

“Not that I’m aware of,” Rain said. “But he has just sent us a private message, delivered by the captain of his own personal guard, who came to us in disguise.” He leaned forward, gazing at her almost as if he thought she’d understand what any of this could possibly mean. Her mother’s attention was no less riveted on her.

“What was the message?” she asked, alarmed and confused. “By all the powers, Rain, just tell me what has happened!”

Rain and her mother exchanged another look, and The Lady shook her head, and leaned back, sighing in obvious relief. “She doesn’t know.”

“Know what?!” Piper all but shouted. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” said Rain. “We’re not trying to torment you, but we were fearful…” he shook his head. “No matter. We are informed that a riverine was summoned at the height of the flooding to aid an Andinol lad drowning in the Saddle. It was done by means of not one, but several geist-stones cast into the water there—all bearing the River King’s personal sigil. The riverine could not have ignored such a summons even if she’d wanted to. But neither your father nor any of the very few other people who should have access to such devices seems to know who used them, or why. And here’s the really troubling part, for us. The River King’s investigator has tracked down that Andinol boy, and his name turns out to be Dustin Clarke, previously known as Dusty Bennett.”

Piper’s mouth fell open for a third time.

“I hope now you will forgive us,” said Rain, “for fearing that you might have made…another hasty decision to help a friend in trouble. You are the only one left that we could think of who should have possessed such geist-stones.”

“Oh…no,” Piper whispered, shaking her head in dismay—which the others clearly mistook for denial. 

“The first thing we must know,” her mother asked with almost brittle calm, “is whether your father knows of your brief acquaintance with the Bennett boy. Have you ever spoken of that encounter with the River King or any of his household? Or are Rain and I the only ones who know? Please think carefully, for if he does know, I’m not sure even I will be able to convince him that we weren’t responsible for what occurred the other night.”

“Oh gods,” Piper moaned, bringing a hand to her mouth as unwanted tears began to cloud her vision.

Rain rocked back in obvious alarm, shooting a look at Piper’s mother. “She does know—something.” He looked down and shook his head. “I knew it.”

“Tell us.” Her mother’s voice was as rigid as her posture. “Every detail, dear. Your honesty is crucial.”

Piper gathered herself, wiping her face dry. This was no time to act like the child everyone thought she was. “He is still in the city,” she said. “Now, at least, we know it.”

“Who?” Rain leaned in again, studying her intently.

“Matthew Rhymer. …Watching over his friends, quite closely, it seems.”

Now Rain’s mouth fell open. “What are you taking about?”

“He threw those stones into the river, I’m quite sure of it. To save Dustin Bennett. Again.”

“How could Matthew Rhymer have gotten his hands on—” Rain’s eyes grew wide, then shot toward the ceiling. “Blood and ashes, girl! When?” he growled.

“Ten years ago. Just before we dumped him on the street.” She was too ashamed to speak above a murmur. “He was so frightened. What we were doing to him seemed so dangerous…so cruel. I feared that something terrible would befall him, and he’d have no way of finding help.” She glanced up to find the others staring at her; Rain looking as if his mouth were full of turpentine, and her mother with an even more unbearable look of sadness. Piper looked quickly back down at her own knotted hands. “I told him to use them only if his life was in danger. …And to tell whoever came that…I had summoned them.”

No one spoke for quite a while after she fell silent. Nor did she find the courage to look up at them again.

“Need I ask if you secured your father’s permission to do this?” her mother inquired at last.

Piper shook her head.

“If you will forgive my presumption, Ashta,” Rain said with such unexpected gentleness that Piper was startled into looking up at last, “I fear you may be too good-hearted to have much success as a queen.” He sat up straighter, drew a deep breath, and gazed at The Lady. “But if any hope of testing that concern is to remain, we must decide quickly what to do—and what to tell the River King.”

“If you will forgive my presumption, Chancellor,” Piper said, “I would also suggest we have Dustin Bennett watched now—and the woman, Anna, too. If Rhymer is that close, we may still find him, in a careless moment. He may even know more than we assumed about the contents of our letter.” She saw something almost like respect creep into Rain’s expression, and offered him a pale smile. “Even the elusive Matthew Rhymer must slip up occasionally. Who does not, from time to time?”

“Then again,” Rain said grudgingly, “you might still surprise me, Ashta—and survive all this. What you suggest is admirably perceptive, and already done, actually. The moment we received the River King’s message, I dispatched someone to go watch the boy for all those very reasons. Sadly, however, it appears we are the late ones to this party. According to his recent emissary, your father has already sent someone to spy on him as well, who apparently found one of Anselm’s creatures already at the same task.” Rain looked back at Piper’s mother. “The sharks are circling very tightly now, My Lady. I hope your wish to seek him out proves sound, for it seems suddenly that he might be found after all.” He glanced again at Piper. “On the upside, it would seem we are still the only ones who know precisely who we’re looking for. Let us hope that helps us spot him first.”