“No, in truth, I do not. But I won’t leave him.”

“Ah. And if a compliant young woman of suitable rank can be found—God help her!—who would agree to be queen and accept you as his concubine? Would you accept such an arrangement?”

Liath frowned, but she owed him this much, that she truly consider such a course of action. Waltharia waited, perfectly at ease as the light from outside faded and the space within the tent darkened until every shape was only a deeper cast of shadow, even her own. From beyond the walls of the tent came the many noises of the camp settling down as twilight fell over them: horses stomping and blowing, men singing or calling out orders, a wagon’s creaking rumble as objects were moved, a dog’s bark, the distant piercing cry of the golden griffin as it soared above. Liath felt herself caught within the inner heart of the camp, unseen but measured as the outer seeming went about its public life.

“No, I couldn’t live with such an arrangement.”

Waltharia nodded. “So be it.” Nothing in her tone revealed whether she approved or disapproved of Liath’s answer. “It can be done, but it will not be easy. You must agree to be patient and to work at this one step at a time.”

“I can be patient. There is a thing he lacks, Lady Waltharia.”

“Is there?” she said with a laugh. “I have not yet discovered it, then. No, I pray you, I am only jesting. What do you need?”

“You see in what manner we are dressed. Sanglant’s road has been a difficult one. He and his army escaped the cataclysm with little more than their weapons and horses and the clothes on their backs. A regnant cannot be anointed and crowned without vestments appropriate to such a ceremony.”

“Yes, it’s well you warned me. I will see that suitable robes are brought, although it will be difficult with his height. Still, it can be managed.” Unexpectedly, she reached out and took Liath’s hand in hers. “Ah. Your skin is warm. Do you have a fever?”

“No. I’m never sick with such things.”

“Is it true?” she whispered. “That your mother was a daimone of the upper air? A creature of fire?”

“It’s true.”

“What does it mean? Do you have a soul?”

“All creatures created by God have souls.”

“Can you fly, as it is said daimones can?”

All at once, grief choked her as she remembered what she had lost. Barely, she was able to rasp out the words, although she didn’t know why she should confess something so dangerous, so terrible, and so private to a woman she scarcely knew. Her rival. Possibly her ally.

“Once I could, but not on Earth. Only in the heavens.”


“Have you walked in the heavens? Have you seen the Chamber of Light?”

“No. Only souls unchained by death can walk there. But I have climbed through the armature of the spheres, I have climbed the ladder of the heavens. I have seen … such things that I weep to recall them. So much light.”

“As in the prophet’s vision. Yet you are here.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“You were forced to return?”

She shook her head.

“Did you come back of your own volition, for him?”

“For him,” she said hoarsely. “For the child.”

“Ah.” She turned Liath’s hand over and placed the tip of a finger in the middle of Liath’s palm, as if reading something from that touch. “That was a great sacrifice. I think even Mother Scholastica does not understand this.”

“Why are you here, Lady Waltharia?”

“Do you think I mean to curry favor for my family by befriending you?”

“I admit … I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I have already told you. Wendar suffers, and Sanglant will be a strong regnant. To support him, I will support you. But you must help me. No more scenes like the one played today in Mother Scholastica’s study. Do not hand them the weapon they can use to pierce you with.”

“Yes, I understand that. I thought she would be my ally. She is a scholar! She ought to want to know the truth!”

“She is a daughter of the royal line and the most powerful abbess in the land. Scholarship is not her first consideration.”

“No, perhaps not.”

“Have you taken thought to what you will do when Sanglant goes to the church to be crowned and anointed?”

“Not yet. A little.”

Waltharia nodded. “If there is aught else you wish to ask me, if you desire my counsel, send the Eagle with a message. My stewards know that she is allowed into my presence at any hour of day or night.”



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