A Vision in Smoke: Book 2 of the Until the Stars Are Dead Series

By Allyson S. Barkley

"I am the Princess of Organa. Dear Old Kings, she might have just made the most reckless mistake of her life."

After weeks of travel and several narrow brushes with death and capture, Ari and Ely are finally nearing the end of their unwanted adventure. But Ari let her secret slip to save them and suddenly the stakes of their jo

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atmosphere Press
• Release date: Jul 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781639884490

Book preview

Chapter I.

Thunder rumbled overhead, tumbling through the dark clouds and shaking its way down into the earth, so the young woman could feel it tremble beneath her feet. The wind had picked up and it swirled about her, lifting her near-black curls into the air to twist around her neck and mouth. It felt very late, though it was only evening; Kamir and the cooks in the Eating Tent would call them for supper soon. She stood from her seat on a large stone lion’s paw and walked quickly back into the camp, long grass swishing around her knees as she neared the mass of grey tents. Soon the grass faded to dirt, which puddled into great swathes of mud, two dozen soldiers wide, in the most highly trafficked areas of camp. They were still reeling from the last big storm. The dark-haired woman wondered whether this one would be so severe, or if she might actually begin training the newest arrivals on time. The last batch had spent their first week mending broken tents and the Old Kings knew the recruits were only getting younger and greener every month.

Lieutenant!

She heard a voice shout her name and turned around.

The Generals have called another meeting. A broad-shouldered man stood behind her, a long, heavy sword hanging at his hip. We’re to head straight there. We can eat later.

She took a few steps nearer to him and nodded. I have to run for my training log. I’ll meet you there.

He tapped his fingers on his sword hilt. All right. And fetch Captain Maraquu, if you don’t mind.

The woman kept her expression even, though she so wished to shout at him. She is at the Healing Tent. It will be right on your way.

Hm, he said, and turned away with a curt nod, not before she caught the look of annoyance in his eyes.

Thank you, Lieutenant. Satisfied that she’d had the last word, the woman continued southwest to her tent. The camp was busy, but quiet. Soldiers moved toward the Eating Tent with little chatter, and she saw how their eyes flicked up to the sky, felt how they listened for the growing rumble of the thunder. A pair of her newest trainees hurried past, nodding as they went. Another girl gave her a nervous smile as she bundled a torn canvas into her arms. The dark-haired woman waved a hand and continued on.

She knew all of them. She saw their hearts and knew which were afraid, which were feigning courage, and which had no thought of the storm. She knew where they came from, who their families were, and which sort of work they liked best. The ones that carried swords did so because she had decided it and those who wore quivers wore them as she had instructed. Each one of them – warriors, blacksmiths, cooks, and healers alike – had gone through basic arms training with her. They’d spent hours toiling under the bright Telenou sun, and she’d watched them grow into something wonderful.

Like a doting mother, she loved each of them, and she imagined they would do marvelous things. No – they were already doing marvelous things. There was nothing to do but respect these people who had given up their lives for the cause. There was nothing to do but love them.

Just before she reached her tent, she heard a noise. It was a high, quiet sound and it struck her heart with pity. Slowing her steps, she peered down the row of tents. The whining noise continued and as she grew closer, she spotted a hunched figure, a young woman sitting on the ground, her tears spilling into the dirt.

Naandini?

The soldier looked up at her, horror flickering across her face before she shut her eyes and set her mouth. Quickly, she shoved a crumpled piece of paper into her pocket. I am sorry, Lieutenant.

For what? she asked, crouching down. The soldier’s hair was mussed and her pretty brown cheeks were streaked with salty tears. A square gold locket hung around her neck. You have done nothing to me, Naandini. I just want to know what’s upset you.

Naandini’s eyes snapped open. It’s nothing worth your while. I’ve been foolish to cry over it. In just a moment, her expression had grown fiercer, the face of a woman determined to defeat her foes. Please, don’t let me keep you.

So the dark-haired woman nodded at her, gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, and left her to collect herself. She would check in on Naandini later, see if she was ready to talk more then. It was important that all of her soldiers felt comfortable. It was important that they remain unified. Especially now, so close to the end of it all. These considerations turned through her mind as she walked, and in another minute, she had reached her own quarters.

Her tent was like all the others, a small canvas structure pulled up at four corners and supported in the center by a sturdy wooden pole. She shared the space with one other lieutenant. Charged with defining their Southlands strategy, Lieutenant Olivan was kind, but she was the daughter of a merchant and worked with a very businesslike attitude. The young, dark-haired woman did not mind, as neither of them were there to be friends; they were there for a revolution.

In addition to the wide puddle currently occupying the center of the room, their tent contained two cots, a small table, and a pair of crates for their clothes and personal items. The young woman found her troop log where she had left it: tucked between her spare pants and a small woven box. She pulled it from the pile and flipped it open to triple-check her record of the previous day’s training. It was all there.

Before exiting the tent, she paused in front of a tiny mirror that Olivan had recently hung on her side of the room. It was just a sliver of a glass, nailed almost inexplicably to the supporting post where Olivan always left her extra quiver. The woman leaned in and inspected her face. She rarely saw herself these days, since she’d moved to this camp. Every time she did, there seemed to be a few more freckles brushing her nose and trailing down her cheeks. She thought they made her look more like her brother, and this made her smile. Her dark hair tumbled in waves down over her shoulders, framing a face that she knew to be quite striking. Her nose was a bit sharp and her brows curved in a somewhat haughty way, but she was beautiful, and she had been reminded of this enough times to understand what it meant.

The smile, conjured at the memory of her brother, slipped away, and she rearranged her face into a fiercer, more intense expression. She had long since learned that the world would be no good to her unless she made herself as threatening as possible. Those perceived to be weak were always punished.

Lieutenant! Oh, good. One of her trainees stepped into the tent and gave her an obedient nod. I was hoping you would still be here, the soldier said, somewhat breathless, her short strawberry hair bobbing as she spoke. We received this just a moment ago. You’ll want it for the meeting tonight. She held out a sheet of paper, folded twice over and slightly stained.

The dark-haired woman took it, her face serious and stoic as always. She opened the letter and scanned the page.

32 Zaeran deserters from Tyson. Arriving in five days.

She looked up to find the trainee still watching her. She nodded. Thank you. You may go now.

When the soldier had gone, she took a breath, let the fire fill her chest, and stepped back out into camp.

Chapter II.

My Lady. The fisherman was on his knees, one hand on the floor and one covering his mouth in shock. The two children hovered by his side, confused by their father’s behavior. Ely was completely silent. Please – forgive me for my ungenerous welcome. I –

There is nothing to forgive, Ari interrupted quickly. The bruises on her face – gifts from a Carseile paramilitary group – had continued to swell, and she found it increasingly difficult to keep both eyes fully open. Ely’s tall figure was beginning to look fuzzy in her limited field of vision. Please, do not kneel for me.

She heard her own voice echoing in her ears, her words from mere minutes earlier ringing an ugly reminder. I am the Princess of Organa. I am the Princess of Organa. Dear Old Kings, she might have just made the most reckless mistake of her life.

The fisherman hesitated, his eyes still wide. The hand at his mouth lowered slowly, coming to rest on his son’s tangled curls. He turned his gaze to his children, looking at them for a long, thoughtful moment before glancing over the half door to the open street. The little girl clung to her father, but the boy had already grown bored with the strangers and was waddling away towards a large, sagging armchair in the back corner. The cottage was a small, disorderly space that smelled of fish and dirty clothes and Ari listened to those six words replaying over and over in her head while the fisherman decided their fate.

They execute civilians for aiding revolutionaries.

Ari just looked back at him. The Malavi might be knocking down the door any minute, but this was his choice. There was no use telling him they weren’t revolutionaries or that they wanted nothing to do with the war or the politics. Nothing she could say would sway him, nothing more than what she’d already said. She was sure that they could all hear her heart pounding out of her chest.

We play! the toddler announced, now from a seat on the armchair. He clapped his hands and waved at his father. The girl released her grip on the fisherman’s leg and went to her brother, who emitted a sharp giggle of delight.

Grimacing, the man gave a shaky sigh. He looked to each of his children once more, then down to the clunky sword in his hand, eyes narrowing in focus as if he were seeing it for the first time. He nodded once. Then he pushed himself to his feet and nodded again, fervently.

If you are to be safe, we must hide the both of you for a few days. He moved to the door, latching the top half firmly shut. The Former Military have sounded every alarm in Carseile. They’ll maintain a perimeter for at least two nights and allow no one in or out. He looked around and pointed at the doorway in the back corner. You may stay until then. I should be able to sneak you out when I take the empty fish cart back to the docks.

Ari gave him an appreciative nod. Tell us what to do.

Ely was being eerily quiet.

Regret serves no one. As always, Dav’s voice drifted into her thoughts, low and rough, reminding her to focus. Fortune favors those who learn and look ahead. If there was a lesson to be learned from this, it was probably never to spill her biggest secret again. Now two more people knew who she was. Ari glanced at the curly-haired children curled up together in the armchair. Four people. At this point, it might well be out of her hands.

The man led the way to a hallway attic, a very low channel built behind the wooden cabin wall with a door that opened into the back of an empty bookshelf.

It used to be storage for the grain and seed we kept in the off-season, he explained, pushing the shelf aside and prying open the hatch. No one can afford to both fish and farm these days.

Mama! the little boy squealed, tumbled off the chair, and ran into the dark closet.

Jhess! His father stepped forward but was not fast enough to catch the child, who moved much more easily in the tight space.

Without thinking, Ari ducked into the attic and dropped to her hands and knees.

Jhess, she called down the passage, why don’t you go outside with your father?

Mama, he said again, his voice muffled.

She’s not in here, Ari told him gently. Come back this way.

The child did not answer this time, but she could hear the rustling of what sounded like fabric and then something metal clattering to the ground. Moving slowly towards the noise, Ari crawled along the attic, feeling her way through the dark. She could make out a vague shadow that seemed to be the boy in a pile of boxes. As she moved to reach for him, she felt a sharp stabbing sensation in her left hand. She sucked in a breath and lifted her hand from the ground. The faint light from the hatch behind her was just enough to illuminate a long silver pin sticking straight out of her palm.

Gritting her teeth, Ari pulled the ornament out of her hand, wiped the blood off on her pants, and clipped it shut. On the rounded end was a small gemstone of some kind, set on either side by tiny silver pearls. She slipped it into her pocket and motioned for the boy, who was now halfway deep into a large box of linen dresses.

Jhess, she insisted. Let’s go.

Mama is here, he told her confidently, tugging at a long purple skirt until it came loose from the pile and sent him careening backwards.

Ari seized this opportunity to remove him from the chest. She wrapped an arm around his waist and shoved the gowns back into the box. Before she could drop the lid shut, her fingers touched something cold and smooth. She paused – just long enough to slide her hand around a curved hilt – and then pulled back, taking the boy with her.

Squealing unhappily, the child waved his arms and legs a few times and then went limp, forcing her to half-drag, half-carry him back out of the attic tunnel to the open room. With a grunt, she lifted him before her and placed him in his father’s arms.

Ilayne, put your brother to bed. Now. The man’s voice was thick. Ari could hear the anger that he was trying to push down.

The little girl took her brother by the hand and tugged him along behind her, turning through the door in the corner and disappearing. The fisherman closed his eyes and breathed deeply, then blinked them open and looked at Ari. You should not have troubled yourself, my Lady. He does not know what he is doing.

It took everything in Ari not to cringe at the use of her title. She slipped the silver pin from her pocket and handed it to him. If you sold all of that, you could make a good deal of money.

He stared at the pin like it bore the face of a long-lost friend. It seemed to take him a minute to comprehend Ari’s words, but then he shook his head.

I couldn’t – it’s been too long – you go ahead and get settled inside. His words jumped around in chase of his perturbed thoughts.

Ari watched his expression soften, and had a moment to consider that perhaps the man before her was not the one she had seen when she had leaped through his window minutes earlier. His eyes were a clear hazel color and the lines around his face smoothed into gentle, leathery creases that spoke of wind and water and hard work. It was not a naturally suspicious face. She wondered how long he had been teaching himself to make it so.

I’m sorry, Ely interrupted, "but Ari – Ariana – needs medical attention –"

Ely –

– which she won’t request herself, but she clearly requires because – he turned to her, eyebrows raised – your face looks like it was used for target practice, I’m fairly certain you were hit with an arrow in the street, and you are not fooling me by holding your hand like that.

I’m fine, she told him fiercely. We can’t risk being in the open this long.

Determination masking his lingering shock, Ely grabbed her left hand from where she had balled it up behind her back. "This is not fine. And we’re indoors. I’m sure that our host – sorry, what was your name?"

Finn. The man was watching them with a curious expression.

Finn would not mind giving us some warm water and a bandage, at least?

I may have some beech root as well, the fisherman answered thoughtfully, but you’ll have to do the mending in the attic. The Princess is right about you staying out here too long.

He glanced at the doorway, the top of which was now shut. The Former Military will be starting their sweep any moment now.

How old is the beech?

Two years – perhaps three.

Nodding his approval, Ely pointed at an unlit candle by the ancient armchair. May I borrow that while I work?

Of course.

While Ely went to retrieve the candle, the fisherman walked across the room to a wooden box kept on a long, cluttered counter that seemed to be serving as a pantry of sorts. A bundle of greens and a few potatoes hung from a hook above the table and three skinny fish lay in a bucket of ice on the other end. Scattered around were remnants of bread and cheese, and a handful of dirty goblets that looked to have been left for several days. Ari watched him push these things aside and open the box, carefully sifting through several internal compartments before extracting a short, stubby brown root.

Go ahead. Ely was standing beside her with the candle, which now held a light. He motioned at the open attic. Avoiding his gaze, Ari bent and crawled back inside, this time looking closely for any other sharp objects before she sat. Ely dropped to his knees and squeezed in after her, doubly uncomfortable for his lanky size.

Make yourselves at home, the fisherman told them, handing in the beech root, two beige-colored bandages, and a small bowl of water. As best you can, anyhow. You’ll have to keep quiet, keep vigilant. But this house has withstood a search or two. I’ll rap five times before opening the door again.

Thank you, Ely said.

My Lady. With a brisk nod, Finn shut the hatch and the little passage remained lit by nothing but the gently flickering candle. As Ely set it down between them, Ari crossed her legs and pulled her bag open.

No cleaning, polishing, sharpening, or any other activity until I’ve dressed your wounds, Ely said. There was something sharp in his voice.

I told you, she whispered. I’m fine.

He grabbed her left hand once more and turned it palm-up in the light. There was a clear hole where the silver pin had penetrated her skin, and when Ely let go, his fingers came away bloody.

I’ll wrap it up and then you can forget about it.

Though her eyes spoke her disapproval, she let him take her hand and rinse it in the warm water, then wrap it gently in the smaller of the two bandages. Finishing this task, he shifted to look at the place where her tunic had ripped open, peeling aside the fabric to examine the skin beneath.

Were you ever going to tell me?

She did not meet his eye, instead reaching her right hand into the suede pack to feel for its usual contents. She needed to count it all, to hold onto something that had not changed.

You are a Princess. You could be –

I’m not. Not anymore.

She was Ari. Ari the thief. Ari of Nyin.

I asked you about your family and you lied, he said quietly.

Does that surprise you? Now she looked at him straight on. Though her vision was blurred, she could easily make out his skeptical brown eyes from such a near distance. I never wanted that life and as far as I’m concerned, it never existed. It’s only a lie to you if it’s not the truth to me.

It isn’t that easy, Ari! His whisper rose into something more passionate and she felt her pulse quicken uncomfortably.

And why not? she hissed back. "Whether I like it or not, they took that world away from me. It is gone. It is nothing."

Even as she spoke, she knew this was not completely true. Deep down, she had known that the fisherman would bow to her, that her name might save them.

Ely shook his head, returning her stony look. You are wrong. You saw how Finn reacted. It still means something to him.

I am the Princess of Organa. I am the Princess of Organa. Ari wasn’t sure whether she wanted to vomit or run someone through with her sword. Or better yet, run and run until she could forget all of this mess, forget those horrible words echoing in her head.

And you don’t find that absurd? That he should choose to accept us into his home because of who my father was? A man he never met.

And he might still turn us in, she almost added, but didn’t.

Ely just looked at her, and for the first time in a while she could not say what he was feeling, or discern the thoughts filling his mind. She had become accustomed to seeing his emotions written on his face, his thoughts spelled out by his words. But his expression was a quiet mystery and her nervous heart thumped faster.

His touch was soft and careful on her arm, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Ari finished counting the items in her pack: the spare shirt was there, the now-empty food pouch, the compass… the golden cuff. Her hand paused on the thin band, which she imagined to shine under her fingers. She slid it through her thumb and forefinger, feeling for any dents or irregularities as it spun within the folds of the tunic. It was intact. She thought of the silver pin and the pile of dresses and bit her lip, then shoved the bracelet and compass deeper into her bag and pulled it shut once more. By this point, Ely had finished wrapping the second bandage around her bicep and was inspecting her head, which forced her to sit still and hold her face very close to his.

How did you really hide it? he asked. Your identity. Enough people had to have known about you as a child. And with Jagger –

They thought I was dead, Ari said, her voice hard. A few people in Nyin… they knew, but everyone that mattered – they thought I was dead too.

I’m sorry –

It was better that way, she cut him off quickly. Dav encouraged the rumors. And eventually, when they have seen so much pain, people can only remember to survive.

Princess Ariana of Organa had died the day her parents did. Even if Ely couldn’t understand it.

Do they know my name?

Ari?

No, my other name.

You are only Ari to me. My fierce, fearless Ari.

What about the other people?

They are not important. As long as we stay together, we will be safe.

Forever.

That’s right. Forever.

Why did your parents leave you with Dav? I mean – why did they pick him?

What does it matter to you? Ely’s face was so close to hers and she resented the way his eyes yearned to look inside and know her. She hated that he had learned her secret, but she did not know which of them she blamed more – herself for telling or him for hearing it.

Now that I know who you are, I might as well know it all.

Is that so? Her voice was cold, and she knew that her anger was creeping in. She could not stop herself from seeing Zaid’s face, the way it had twisted so maliciously as he spoke of killing her for the Malavi, without a care for who she was. And worse, the way he’d made excuses. The way he had reminded her of who they had been.

Don’t pick a fight now, Ely told her, clearly irritated. We’re stuck in an attic, for Rinthorn’s sake.

Ari only glared at him. She felt that her emotions were filling her up, some starting in her toes, others pouring in her ears or climbing from her fingertips to overwhelm her insides. This only made her angrier and she hated herself for feeling as she did, hated Zaid for everything he had done, hated those Zaeran soldiers for taking Dav.

Dav had named her ‘Ari’ and she had left Lady Ariana Debouryne, Princess of Organa, behind forever. He had named her ‘Ari’ and she had become someone new: someone fearless and skilled and strong. It was evil that Zaid had tried to remind her of the past. It was worse that she had let him.

Channel your anger into calm. Let it drive you to victory. As Ely had pointed out, there was nowhere for it to go in that little attic and Ari felt as if she were drowning. Think of Jagger. She closed her eyes for a moment and listened for his heartbeat. It was distant but she could hear it, somewhere south of Carseile. Sea grass tilted in the edges of her vision and soft loamy soil molded into delicate prints under her paws. Wind brushed her cheeks and it felt like freedom. The waters of her anger began to ebb again and Ari caught her breath. She opened her eyes.

I don’t know if it is right – being here. Ely was shaking his head at her cheek as he dabbed it with the beech-soaked rag. Finn and his children will be at risk.

We will be gone before anyone notices.

You don’t care, then?

Ari sat up quickly, pulling away and feeling his fingers sting her cheek as he jerked back in surprise. Do not ever accuse me of that, she snapped. You have no idea what I feel.

I’m sorry, he said. He gave her a long look, his eyes sad and distant.

Rubbing the new bandage, Ari glanced at her hands and said nothing.

If they catch him with us tomorrow morning, they’ll kill him, Ely murmured. Probably his children too.

This bit of pragmatism, however dark, was unexpected coming from Ely and felt welcome in that moment. They won’t catch us, Ari said, somewhat more patiently.

Leaning forward, Ely pressed the cloth to her face again. The cool beech water made her wounds sing and then dull to a low hum.

Parejon looks a bit like this, he said. She should have been used to how quickly he could change subjects, but it still came as a surprise.

What?

All of this land leading up to the coast. We don’t have a coast, of course, and the Hills are taller, not flat like these. But the sky is the same.

She thought of Parejon and wondered whether he really thought it looked the same or whether he just missed home.

The Hills roll so high and they look scruffy, rough from far away, but they’re actually covered in bright green trees. It’s just that the land moves in such a way that the trees appear to be bushes, little shrubs tossed about. And when you ride out there, and stand and look, you can see how low the sky hangs over them.

He paused and gave a kind of sigh. The clouds get so thick, it feels like you could reach up and touch them, or at least the Hills might, and the white and blue against the earth makes everything seem brighter and more beautiful.

I find that the sky is most brilliant at night, Ari said softly.

Pausing with his fingers on the side of her face, Ely looked into her cool grey eyes for a moment, and then looked away again. He dabbed at one last cut with the wet cloth.

When I was young, I used to think that the field beyond our house was the entire world. It went on for miles and miles and I could get lost in it if I rode out too far. She could hear the smile in his voice. Now I know that it is a quarter-mile long. Not big enough.

It’s strange that growing a foot taller makes the world a thousand miles smaller.

Maybe that depends on how fast we grow.

She gave him a small smile as he dropped his hand away from her cheek. The movement sent waves of pain across her bruised face. Get some rest.

You should too. Let those injuries start to heal.

Ari did not answer, but as she snuffed out the candle and leaned back against the wall, she could hear Ely draw his knees up to his chest and sigh.

Chapter III.

Neither Ari nor Ely closed their eyes that night. Despite their words, there was an unspoken sort of agreement that this was not the time for sleep. Even if Ari had wanted to doze off for a few minutes, she was fairly certain that it would have been impossible. Every time that she heard the slightest noise or movement, her senses jumped into high alert. Each rush of wind or scurry of a mouse sent shivers down her spine and made her toes tingle, even as her legs were cramping and her hands were seizing from holding so tightly to the silver dagger.

Twice they heard soldiers shouting in the streets outside. Hooves pounded the cobblestones as Malavi riders rushed up and down, locking down the city and herding people into their homes. And in the distance, there was a relentless pounding as the soldiers knocked door after door, searching for the two thieves who had gotten away.

There was no change of light to signal the dawn of day inside the little attic, but at some point, after hours of sitting absolutely still and mentally planning the fastest exit route, Ari heard Finn knock five times on the hatch. She took one deep breath in and then out as he opened the door, enjoying the fresh air that rushed in from the main room of the house.

Your breakfast, my Lady. The fisherman passed two bowls into the attic, then stepped away and returned with mugs of something hot and steaming. They searched the southern half of the town last night. They will probably be here today.

Thank you, Ely told him, his voice weary and rough from the long night. All Ari could manage was a grateful nod.

The door snapped shut again and that blessed moment of light and fresh air vanished. Ari clenched her fists, shut her eyes, and waited for the hoofbeats.

* * *

Ely didn’t think he had ever been so tired. Not when he and Dinar had stayed up all night watching the stars fall and not when he had driven all his father’s cattle to Laadronae alone the first summer after Dinar had left home. This was a new kind of exhaustion, a kind that seeped into his bones, reaching every part of his body and his mind. His brain seemed to move in slow motion, shifting from one thought to another in staggering steps, stumbling and lurching over each disjointed idea.

Ari was a princess. Ari was The Princess. They were being hunted. They were trusting a lone fisherman to save them. Ari was not Ari at all, but the Lady Ariana Debouryne of Organa.

He heard her words echoing over and over, saw that determined look on her face as she spoke them, followed by a flash of fear. And he could feel her anger even now, simmering and humming loud enough to fill the cramped attic passage. He didn’t know how she carried all that anger without burning alive.

Did you sleep? he asked her by way of morning greeting. His throat ached and he’d long since stopped trying to discern why each part of his body hurt.

She shook her head slowly. Not much.

Finn had brought them bowls of rice with a few small pieces of fish. The mugs of tea sent crisp, minty steam curling up into the air between them and Ely felt his heart swell with gratitude. He took the bowl in his hands and ate slowly, savoring the bites of fresh, warm food. His stomach turned, eager for more, more, more to satiate his weary body.

You should eat something.

Ari had not touched the food or drink and sat with her eyes closed, her fingers flexing against her knees. She did not reply.

It is very kind of him, Ely told her gently. I think the Malavi killed his wife. And he still wants to help us.

Her eyes flicked open. She studied him warily, like she knew what he was trying to do. Ely didn’t care. Eat something, he suggested again.

There are weapons back here, she told him instead, nodding down the passage towards the chest that sat against the wall. In that box of dresses. There are a dozen blades hidden underneath.

Do you think they were a part of the revolts?

Ari shrugged, like it didn’t matter and she hadn’t thought about it. But she pulled the bowl of rice into her lap and began to eat. Ely sighed.

I am the Princess of Organa.

How had he missed it? All those signs, all those hints. She was hidden in plain sight and yet her thief’s costume was so convincing he had not thought twice. Randal had known, Ely realized with a start. Randal had seen through it and Ely had been a fool. Twice a fool.

The food was beginning to clear his scrambled mind and he found new order in his thoughts. He looked down at the empty bowl and saw blood on his hands. Leftover from Ari’s wounds.

Oh, he said aloud.

Ari looked up at him. She held her mug in one hand and her dagger in the other. In her lap sat that old, dented compass. He didn’t know when she had pulled it out of her bag or why she needed a compass in a dark attic.

What’s that for? he asked.

What?

The compass.

Nothing, she said.

Ely leaned forward and let a small flame leap from his fingers to the dead wick between them. The candle blazed to life and he looked Ari in the eye. I am sorry for what you’ve lost, he said. And he wanted her to know that he meant it, that the feeling was not because of her title or because he pitied her but because he cared about her and he was starting to understand. Little by little, he was starting to understand. If you want to talk about it –

I don’t. Her voice was cold and sharp.

Okay. Ely took a slow breath, letting his mind settle again. He smiled at her, so she knew that he meant that too. Can I look at your wounds again?

The bruises on her face were so dark they masked the bags under her eyes. Her left eye was starting to open more, but the right was squinted and puffy and the cut over her lip had healed into a nasty scab. She picked at the bandage on her left hand and frowned at him. All right.

Ely smiled again. Great. Let’s look at the hand and arm first.

She offered him her bandaged palm without a word and he went to work, unwrapping, cleaning, dressing, and rewrapping the linen with careful, methodical precision. He thought about how long she must have held onto her secret, about how carefully she had kept her name to herself, building a new identity out of blood and grief. And he thought about what it might mean to her to speak the words aloud, the terrible weight that her title carried – and the power. No matter what she claimed in her anger and fear, Ely knew that she was aware of its power or she would not have used it to save them.

Finishing with Ari’s hand, Ely moved on to the gash on her elbow and then he treated her bruises with the leftover beech root, working slowly, gently. She was absolutely still. The burning anger he had felt was being hidden behind carefully built walls of ice. She is in mourning, Ely thought. She is grieving her secret and afraid of what comes now that it is lost.

He found himself asking the same question. What comes now? Did this revelation change anything for their mission? Did it change anything for him?

He was nearly done when she tensed, a quiet shudder running through her body like a shock. Ely froze, worried that he’d hurt her. Sorry, I –

But she pressed her finger to his lips, shaking her head. Her hand was cold on his mouth and her swollen eyes had narrowed further as she listened to something else… to the hoofbeats outside the cottage.

Ely’s heart dropped into his stomach. The candle extinguished.

Bang-bang-bang. Someone was pounding on the neighbor’s door. Voices rose in the street. A group of people arguing. The door swung open with a loud thud and he heard a high voice pleading, followed by dishes shattering. More crashing and slamming noises, and a few gruff words exchanged as the soldiers exited again.

And then hurried footsteps, whispers, more footsteps. Ari’s fingers were still covering Ely’s lips, as if she could will them both to silence, to invisibility, to sheer inexistence for just a few moments. Ely’s breath was loud in his ears and he thought that they could probably hear his heart beating from outside. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

He turned his gaze to Ari and she was looking right back at him, her eyes still narrowed in concentration, one hand on his mouth and the other on her dagger. Their faces were so near one another, he could feel her breath on his cheek.

Bang-bang-bang.

Good morning. Finn’s voice was gruff but polite at the front door.

Out of the way. It was a male soldier, his tone impatient, aggravated.

You know the protocol, said a woman, as if in explanation. Move it.

There was a shuffling sound as Finn moved out of the way and the soldiers entered. Ely tried to count their boots but he could not make them out through the walls, through the thudding of his heart. Slowly, Ari removed her hand from his lips and held up four fingers. He nodded.

His mouth felt cold and bare where her touch had been and he was afraid to move so he stayed just as he was, bent forward, inches from her face. The boots stomped about the cottage, shoving aside chairs and opening cabinets. A door opened loudly, banging on its hinges.

Please, he heard Finn say desperately. My children are in there.

But the door didn’t shut again and the boots moved onward, overturning and opening and making a racket in the other room. Something very large fell to the floor with a crash. A wail went up. Jhess was crying.

That’s enough! A third soldier’s voice rang out. It was familiar, a bit low and rough, more commanding than Ely remembered it. Ari’s eyes widened in recognition as the woman said, Leave the kids alone.

Dilan? he mouthed. The woman who had captured them back on the Aermosa River. And then promptly been mauled by Jagger.

Ari nodded once.

So the soldiers were not just Malavi, but paramilitary too. Ely was sure that Ari was running through every consequence of this information, every factor that might play into an escape or a confrontation – or another capture. How many were Former Military and how many were paramilitary? Was Marla with them? Was Dilan out to get even for the leg injury? Were there more of –?

Bang.

Ari blinked, the only sign that she was startled. Ely couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

One of the soldiers was at the bookshelf, apparently trying to shove it aside. Perfect place to hide a pair of criminals, he said. Help me move it.

In an empty bookshelf? Dilan asked, skeptical.

Should he use his magic to defend them? Should he use his sword?

You volunteered for the search, the other female soldier sneered. Stop complaining.

If they were spotted in the attic, they were as good as dead.

She volunteered so she can get a step up on Marla, the first man laughed. Don’t fool yourself otherwise.

Who was he kidding? He’d probably burn the whole house down if he tried to use his magic right now – in this tiny space, in this state of mind.

Ely heard the bookshelf slide out of the way, heard a hand grasping for the attic door. Then more arguing, but Ely could not understand the words because all he could think was this is the end, this is the end, this is the end.

If they were caught, they were all dead – all five of them. He and Ari were dead. Finn and his children. He would never see Dinar again. He had hoped to find her one day, and now he never would. His mother – oh, he missed his mother deeply, terribly. How would his father raise Tomaas alone? They were all going to die. It would be Ely’s fault. And all of the things he’d hoped –

He felt a hand on his cheek. Ari stared into his eyes, that icy blue fire burning even through the dark. She cupped his face in her fingers and shook her head slowly. No, her look said. You cannot do this. You cannot panic. Stay here with me.

And he believed her. As he always had – inexplicably, faithfully, absolutely. He believed her. He took a slow breath and the voices outside flooded in again.

Shove off, Boras, Dilan was saying. If you can’t be bothered to handle yourself appropriately, I’ll be checking the attic.

The door cracked open and a sliver of light slipped in down the passage.

Suit yourself, Boras replied snappishly. I don’t want to crawl around in there anyway.

The hatch opened wider and Dilan’s head and shoulders appeared, a dark silhouette framed in golden light. Ely imagined himself a statue of cold, immobile stone. He imagined himself invisible. He imagined himself anywhere else.

It’s all a waste, Boras carried on, his words ringing louder now that the door was fully open. They probably breached the perimeter before we locked it down.

The woman looked left at the chest, the pile of clothes. She considered the large box with the linens spilling out, skirts and sleeves draping over the sides. There’s nothing else here, Ely prayed, as if he could will her to leave. Only old clothes. Nothing this way.

Dilan turned and looked right, directly at them. Ely felt Ari tense, felt all of the air leave his lungs. Dilan’s eyes met his for just a moment and in his mind flashed a picture of a blade in Finn’s heart, two tiny bodies bleeding out. But her gaze roved over them, peering into the darkness beyond as if she hadn’t found anything.

And then she was retreating, shutting the hatch, and saying, Another dead end. On to the next one.

Ari and Ely did not move. Not as the soldiers stomped back out of the house. Not as the door shut behind them. Not as Finn whispered to his children, sweet words of comfort and reassurance and love as he tidied the mess.

Only, after twenty long minutes, when Finn knocked five times and asked, Everyone all right? did they sigh, lean back, and begin to breathe.

Chapter IV.

As far as days went, the last three had been some of the worst of Ari’s life. She had been stuck in a dark, crowded attic without Jagger, forced to drink strange mint tea and relieve herself in a bucket. And worst of all, she’d had nowhere to look but into Ely’s sad, curious, pitying eyes. She had almost wanted the Malavi to find them so she’d have an excuse to escape that piercing gaze.

So when Finn knocked and opened the hatch at last, Ari believed that the fresh air was just about the best thing she had ever tasted.

Good morning, my Lady, Finn whispered gruffly. The perimeter is down. My neighbor heard that they sent search patrols west towards Aguela. We must move quickly.

They crawled out and stood. Ari’s knees popped and she gritted her teeth, then regretted it when jabs of pain shot through her head. The swelling had gone down and she could see clearly out of both eyes, but she knew even without a mirror that her face was several shades of black and blue.

I soaked the beech root in the water before I cleaned up your face. Ely was watching her with a