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happen, and then sail home. They can’t get rid of me forever.”
    â€œThey’d
like
to get rid of you forever,” said Lornis. “And they will if they can manage it. To fight back against the kind of power they have, you need to swallow your pride and find yourself a strong ally.”
    Rayn cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you proposing I actually go through with this trade agreement?”
    â€œYes,” said Lornis. “And you should seriously consider the marriage as well.”
    â€œThey sent me here to get rid of me, not because anyone actually expects the trade agreement to happen.”
    â€œSurprise them,” said Lornis. “Make it happen. Make them regret sending you.”
    â€œI do not make deals with Kjallan warmongers.”
    Lornis shook his head in exasperation. “There is no family more powerful and more resourceful than the Kjallan imperials. If they back you at court, the balance of power will shift in your favor.”
    Rayn sniffed. The Kjallan imperials were frightening. Also peculiar. The emperor and empress were obsessed with some war game, plus the empress was a former assassin trained in combat and other techniques that were the subject of tawdry speculation. Celeste was apparently writing a math treatise. Lucien’s cousin Rhianne, now married to King Jan-Torres of Mosar, seemed to be the exception to the family’s peculiarity. Rayn had met her a few years ago and liked her. But she was from a slightly different bloodline, as he understood it, and not a representative example.
    â€œAre you listening to me?” continued Lornis. “You had better get used to freckles. This opportunity has landed unexpectedly in your lap, and you will not throw it away.”
    Rayn looked him in the eye. “Would
you
marry a woman for the good of your country? If she were the daughter of a murderer?”
    â€œI would do it in a heartbeat,” said Lornis.
    â€œA woman, Lornis?”
    â€œI would do it,” Lornis insisted. “And for you, she’s more suitable than she would be for me. Your objection to freckles aside, I saw you casting your eye at her. You like her.”
    Rayn sank onto the couch with a growl of frustration. He could never fool Lornis; the man saw through him every time. And he ought not to bait the man. Lornis hated traveling alone and pretending he was a bachelor just because foreign dignitaries might not approve of his lifestyle. Yet he did so, for Rayn’s benefit and no one else’s. Rayn’s trust in the man was absolute.
    Still, he was never going to ally himself with the Kjallans. The trade agreement for brimstone was worrisome enough. But the marriage? He was not going to share a bed with the daughter of the man who’d murdered his aunt, no matter how beautiful and smart she was. “Sorry, Lornis. You’re wasting your breath on this one.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Celeste headed along the footpath to the Imperial Stables, trailed by her bodyguard Atella. She shivered in the cold. As a girl, she’d been curious why the stables, when viewed from a distance, swarmed with activity, yet when she arrived, the grooms met her at the doors idle and ready, with the aisles cleared, as if they had nothing in the world to do but attend to her needs. Even at that age, she could not let a mystery go unsolved. She’d discreetly observed the stables and learned that they employed a spotter, always the least senior groom, who sat high in the hayloft and watched for approaching imperials. The lesson had stuck with her: because of her rank, the world presented to her was distorted. Sometimes, to see things as they truly were, she had to cultivate relationships with people outside the palace’s inner circle and come at things a little sideways.
    Since she was shy by nature, this was difficult. But as an imperial princess, she could not afford the luxury of isolation. She would