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of them.

At first, the lieutenant looked startled. Her voice cracked. ā€œI am grateful, Your Highness.ā€ She cleared her throat and tried again. ā€œFor the generalā€™s steady hand. Military training, reading and writing. History. Itā€™s an education as good as anyone elseā€™s in Balladaire, and weā€™re better soldiers for it. Weā€”the colonialsā€”almost single-handedly held the Taargens out of Moyenne.ā€ The soldier straightened her shoulders and, for once, met everyoneā€™s eye.

Beau-Sang smiled patronizingly at her. ā€œThatā€™s nonsense. Balladaireā€™s regular regiments were there to support the colonial brigade every step of the way.ā€

ā€œWith respect, sir,ā€ the lieutenant said, leaning forward so that she could see him on Canticā€™s other side, ā€œthe regular regiments were often unfortunately days, sometimes months late with their support. We fought the Taargens and their priestsā€”ā€

The general cleared her throat and glared the conscript into silence. Luca was impressed, though. Whatever the generalā€™s strategy had been training the Sands, it seemed to have worked. The lieutenant was articulate, competent, and restrained. Not the most diplomatic, but soldiers werenā€™t known for their tact.

ā€œI always did say they were trainable,ā€ came a reedy voice from down the table. The dowager de Durfort. ā€œDogs, just begging for a master.ā€

It was crude, and typical of her, but Luca didnā€™t have a chance to react. Cheminade slapped the table sharply. Heads turned and people jumped, causing a wave to ripple across the room.

ā€œEnough,ā€ the governor-general said. ā€œI wonā€™t welcome you into my home and be treated like this.ā€ The look Cheminade gave Beau-Sang was quelling, and the other tables went silent. ā€œAn insult to my family is an insult to me.ā€

ā€œSurely you understand weā€™re not referring to you, Nasir.ā€ Beau-Sang smiled benignly and dismissed Richard with a wave of his hand. ā€œThere are differences inā€¦ quality.ā€

Luca accidentally met the Sandā€™s gaze. A flare of anger flashed across the other womanā€™s face before the Sand lowered her gaze back to her plate and popped the knuckles on one hand, one finger at a time. That brief burst of confidence that had allowed her to speak had vanished. Luca felt a pang of sympathy.

Trying to head off the murderous look in Cheminadeā€™s eyes, Luca stepped in delicately again. ā€œIā€™ve also been curious about the stories of Shālan magic. Iā€™d like to read more of the histories.ā€

Another dismissive wave of Beau-Sangā€™s large hand. ā€œThe time for chasing their so-called magic died with the king.ā€

Lucaā€™s lips thinned in anger, but an embarrassing flush crept up her cheeks. ā€œI was actually referring to the Second City. I want to see the libraries.ā€

Cantic chuckled, wiping her face with her napkin. ā€œNot likely, Your Highness. The bridges and docks to Briga and the Second City were destroyed long before we got here. They call it the Cursed City now. The one time we went through the trouble of sending soldiers, they came back empty handed. Nothing but dust.ā€ As if it was an afterthought, Cantic gestured vaguely toward the world beyond the walls of Cheminadeā€™s home. ā€œWe confiscated books from the temple, and there were some in the buildings we converted into guardhouses. One of the aides can show you at your leisure.ā€

ā€œI see.ā€ Luca was filled with sinking disappointment. Until, surreptitiously, Cheminade caught her eye and winked.

With the practiced grace of a diplomat, Cheminade turned the subject to less consequential matters, like the food and the heat, and Luca let them go on without her. She found herself seeking the boy Richard in the shadows, where he waited with the other lackeys, Balladairan and Qazāli alike. She tried to catch a better glimpse of Cheminadeā€™s companion at the table, too, but all she could see of him was a thick, dark, curling beard from the front, and a bald head and narrow shoulders from the back. The Sand never spoke another word unless spoken to, as if she had been ordered to silence.

After dinner, all the guests retired to the sitting room to mingle. Cheminade deftly encouraged Beau-Sang to find someone else to talk to, while she led Luca and Cantic to a quiet corner. She foisted small silver cups of something dark into their hands. Coffee, a Shālan drink that was already becoming a prized export.

ā€œHeā€™s certainly enthusiastic.ā€ Luca held her steaming cup of coffee, the dark liquid bitter. It cut through the lingering tastes of the meal.

Cheminade snorted. Her face had gone sour during dinner and hadnā€™t turned cheerful again. ā€œHeā€™s enthusiastic about his economic fears,ā€ she said. Luca hadnā€™t thought the governor capable of the quiet discretion with which she spoke now. ā€œNasā€”Nasir, my husbandā€”hates him. As Iā€™m sure you saw.ā€

Luca bit her cheek to keep her surprise from her face. Husband. The governor-general of the Shālan colonies had married a Qazāli.

ā€œBeau-Sang is right to worry. The city isnā€™t safe. While I work with the governor to make it safe, Your Highness, I recommend you stay in the Quartier or the compound,ā€ said Cantic.

Her tone was one used to obedience, and Luca bristled.

ā€œHow do you plan to ā€˜make it safe,ā€™ General? Have you located the rebel leaders?ā€

Cantic frowned, cradling her cup of coffee in strong, leathery hands. ā€œI apologize, Your Highness. Thatā€™s confidential between my officers. Our intelligence must be kept close. Weā€™ve been compromised. The attack was proof. The rebels shouldnā€™t have known you were coming.ā€

ā€œDo you think Iā€™m going to have myself killed? Or worse, sabotage my empire? I came to help stop the rebellion, General, not sunbathe.ā€ Luca frowned. ā€œDid you get anything useful from the prisoners before they were executed, at least?ā€

The generalā€™s jaw flexed with her gritted teeth. ā€œNot particularly. Only a few noms de guerre.ā€ She scoffed. ā€œSo we put them outside to bake before they hung.ā€

ā€œNoms de guerre actually sound very useful, General. Weā€™ll talk further soon.ā€

This morningā€™s attack had startled and, yes, if she had to admit it, frightened her. She wasnā€™t going to tell General Cantic, though, and she certainly wasnā€™t going to let it stop her from fixing the Qazāli situation. Or stop her research.

Cheminade smiled conspiratorially,

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