By morning, Amastan sits cheerfully in the city's main fortress, which fell without a fight after their granary burned down and their armory was found flooded beyond hope of repair. He sits with his four friends discussing how best to fortify their new acquisition and what to write to his father about the conquest.

  ---

  Across the desert and the less deserted portion of the plains, his brother is having a similar meeting. Amastan looks more fiercely irritated than pleased, although the reports are favorable.

  "Which fool left a guard alive to light the flare?"

  Those sent to take care of the flares are sure no fools were present and all guards were dead. Amastan orders them to punish themselves now that the city is won, which they sincerely agree is fair. The oversight meant more fighting, more damage to the city, and more casualties. The water cities sent a small army to harass and inconvenience them more than anything, so there was no real concern that Amastan’s army would not prevail. The river cities had no loyalty to the falling fortress, just a desire to be left alone when it finished.

  "Tanina, lead a thousand archers to wake them an hour before dawn. If they retreat, let them." He looks between his two best officers. "I'll lead half our men to search the city. Rezki, take the rest towards the desert, and act as reinforcement. If they retaliate, join her."

  ---

  I didn't manage to sleep. I spent half the night glaring at Romauld, sleeping as peacefully on a straw mat as he would a feather bed. The other half, I gazed out the window. His horse slept as soundly as he did.

  I know that stealing his horse and riding off alone is not sensible. I am fairly certain he will not force me to go back, although he may try to persuade me.

  But it is hard to be sensible when his presence killed my sense of freedom as thoroughly as Uncle Ben's rules and castle walls. With him, I feel like I have to live up to something. A royal title, or an old legend. I'm not sure which. So I stare at the horse, and wait to see which will wake first.

  ----

  Kiurral strolls up to the governor's front gate and smiles cheerfully at the guards. Today, he looks like a businessman. "Ask the old fellow to invite me in, won't you?"

  They wave him through, relaxed postures showing familiarity and comfort.

  "I was not expecting you this morning, ambassador." The governor motions for Kiurral to sit and orders a servant to fetch refreshments, which arrive more quickly than the pretend businessman sits.

  Kiurral looks at the prepared table and puts as much effort in believing the lie as the governor did in proving it. "I hope I am not disturbing your plans."

  The governor offers empty reassurance, and they spend a few minutes checking each other’s general well-being and discussing local gossip before acknowledging Kiurral’s purpose. "An unusually distinguished visitor came to my teahouse two days ago bringing news of a serious nature."

  "Indeed?" The governor thinks he would be a much happier man if he had a proper spy installed in that teahouse. (He would not.) Instead, he has to rely on the vague reports from a fabric shop across the lane, or else send someone in as a paying customer and hope their timing and placement is fortuitous. "What news?" He does pay, of course, so he doesn't think to ask about the visitor.

  Kiurral drinks tea to the oversight, controlling his smirk. "My family wishes for me to marry," he says mournfully. "I have come to pay my taxes."

  The governor attempts to maintain an expression that is not bewildered. After a few false starts, he says slowly, "Your taxes are not due."

  "An advance. My replacement may take time to arrive." A lie, each of his teahouses has one loyal business-minded real ambassador to run it in his absence. "Also, General Matthias asked me to extend to you his warmest greetings." Another lie, this one to remind the governor that he forgot to ask.

  The governor tries and fails to show surprise that a distinguished general came to his city without announcing his presence openly, as custom dictates.

  "The general came to escort me, I hope you do not mind."

  The governor finds he does not mind, so long as the general came alone and does not stay long.

  "Our emperor hopes that you know that we are your friends, whether there is sunshine or storms. For the upcoming river festival, some of our young people would be delighted to camp across the bank and join in the celebrations." Kiurral helps himself to a warm pastry as the offer sinks in, and looks tempted to comment on the surprise readiness of the governor's kitchens.

  "Certainly, the river festival is enjoyable for young people." The governor speaks slowly, because he understands the offer for what it is--military reinforcements.

  Kiurral's expression is tragic. "I only wish I could be here for it this year."

  "You will be missed, I am sure." (Certainly, his absence would be noticed. It was a yearly challenge for the youth of the city to try to romance the unromanceable ambassador during the lovers' festival.) The governor nods slowly. "It would certainly boost everyone's spirits to have company at a time like this. I will speak to Commander Kai and hear his opinion before any arrangements are made."

  Certainly, the military commander should be informed, if foreign soldiers plan to camp along the border.

  "If you are not here, who will I tell?" the governor asks curiously. Neither his customers nor his seamstress have been able to give a clear explanation of the hierarchy in the teahouse, finding nothing suspicious about any of the waiters, guards, dancers or musicians. The governor is sure, as he regularly complains to the commander, that there must be spies among them.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  In fact, Kiurral also has spies at the fabric store across the lane and among the paying customers of his tea shop. "Oh, sending a message to the teahouse is fine. I'll leave a forwarding address." In his amused expression is a similar curiosity, about which channel would provide the swiftest response.

  ----

  "You didn't leave." Romauld wakes up like a mythological prince, eyes dewy and curly hair perfectly mussed.

  I didn't sleep, and yet my hair is tangled and my face cracking from the dry, dusty air. "It was cold."

  Romauld nods, as if the posthouse walls aren't more cracks than wood and the blankets more hole than cloth, the warm summer air seeping through them. "Did you decide where you want to go?"

  I have the map spread on the table to help, but it's not inspiring. Posthouses aren't marked, so I ask if he can guess where we are now. He measures with his finger, his estimate putting us parallel with the city I was prevented from visiting. "No point in going there then." The next city to the south is a bit farther, but we have a horse. "How about here?"

  Romauld shrugs, his silence clearly intended to annoy me.

  "Give your opinion, soldier."

  "Western forest cities have a reputation for good food and questionable safety. I've never been."

  Or, maybe he really does not care. "I like food, let's go there." I roll up the map and tuck it away.

  "Are you going to make breakfast?"

  I lean close, glad he used the well water to freshen up after his ride yesterday. "Ask me nicely."

  He thinks for a moment. "I'll forage if you cook, Firestarter."

  "You're so romantic."

  ---

  It is worth noting that the efforts of two brothers has paid off, and both will send messengers back to their father's camp to report their success. This information will also arrive at the palaces in the northern and southern empires before the week ends, though only one has a resident emperor to receive the news. For that emperor, it is taken poorly, especially when it is so shortly following a secret message regarding the whereabouts of one princess. ('Unknown.' wrote Captain Romauld. 'Suspected to have left the empire.')

  The other emperor sits in a long canoe, absently strumming the zither on his lap, his genteel pose accentuated by gentlemanly attire and a decorative umbrella. General Matthias holds the oar, complaining to himself about his decision not to retire in the spring. He is dressed as a boatman and cannot remember how he was persuaded into it.

  "It is the most economical way to travel," the emperor reminds him, possibly aware of the resentment. "This river runs all the way to the palace." After passing by the five major river cities and several minor ones.

  "Over a waterfall," the general reminds him, adjusting his hood to protect himself from the heat of the sun. "Into jagged rocks at the mouth of a bear cave."

  The southern emperor looks up at the cloudless sky. "I like the waterfall." He leans back under his umbrella and closes his eyes. "Wake me before the next city."

  General Matthias pretends not to hear him. (If he stays unconscious, the general will have a much easier time getting him home.)

  ----

  The western city is lively and full of bright colors. Everyone is wearing flowing robes and carrying baskets and flowers, their eyes and voices cheerful as they call greetings to friends and strangers alike. Everyone smiles at us, probably because Romauld is so handsome. Woman whisper behind their fans as they pass, and men look once, twice, and a third time for luck.

  Romauld watches for danger as he guides the horse down the busy street. He won't sit with me in town because he says it looks inappropriate. Judging by the friendliness the westerners show each other, they would not notice the difference. If anything, our stiffness sets us apart. The veil I wear to blend in is less useful than his presence, which steals all the attention.

  "Is that food?" I spot a stall of colorful fruits. "It smells sweet."

  Romauld offers me a hand down so I can buy my own snacks, making a face like he does not get paid enough for this.

  The fruits are cooked in sugar, too hard to be enjoyable as candy and too mushy to be good as fruits. "Try one."

  He obediently eats one from the stick, eyes still wandering. His disapproval shows through his distraction.

  "Should I open a candy shop? I think I could do better."

  His arm automatically moves me closer as a group of cheerful youths pass us. His focus and my veil protects him from my pointed smile. "Cold, Dear?"

  He lets go. "How long are you planning to stay here? This isn’t even that far from…"

  I glare at him over the top of the lacy fabric. "Long enough to taste something delicious and new, and see something cultural." I remember why I don't want him along: he has opinions. And not even useful ones, like what the local specialties are or where to find the best clothing. "Be a dear and find us a restaurant."

  ----

  "Shouldn't we be heading back?"

  Ash claps his friend on the back. "And waste this opportunity to enjoy the flower festival? The weather is fine and I have had a very good week. It's a perfect day to kiss a stranger." He smells the fragrant breeze and smiles. "I feel lucky."

  "I could be kissing my lover," Aksel complains. A short stick decided his day, so he knows the rest of it will be equally unlucky.

  The flower festival is concentrated on one main street, so these two groups arrive at an outdoor restaurant in the center at midday and choose tables on opposite sides. After ordering, they make themselves comfortable and look around, noticing each other at almost the same moment.

  Ash rises with a smile, but I indicate my guard with an expression of exaggerated alarm and he sits back down.

  "You're making a weird face," Romauld observes.

  "I wanted to see if you would notice." As a swordsman, I know that strength and skill are not equal. Ash does not look weak, but Romauld is one of the best fighters of his generation. Uncle Ben's officers might best him in a fight, but they would be sore and regretful after.

  "I noticed. It looked like one of your diseases was coming back." He studies my face over the menu.

  I flutter my eyelashes at him. "Get a doctor. I'm dying."

  "That's not funny."

  "I suppose not." He was there when Adison died. I only came after, to end lives and make threats. I let him order and try to hide my embarrassment, pouring the access heat into my tea cup. Is there anyone we both know who is still alive? Not my parents, not his or the emperor's. Not Adison. “Considering everything, it’s not surprising my cousin wants to marry me off to the desert.”

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you..."

  Ash watches me, his eyes asking if I need help again. I really don't want Romauld here, so I can’t help nodding. "It's fine. It's not like we have any good memories between us to think about."

  "Ad--" he catches himself, though I cannot tell if he was going to speak my name or my brother's, the one good memory we do have between us.

  "I don't want to talk about it." I close my eyes, thinking of an excuse to send him away. "I want something sweet." I hate that my voice sounds weak. And that the humid air means it's true. How long has it been since it rained? The air smells of it, like a threat to ruin my escape.

  "Okay." Romauld stands, picking up his sword and strapping it to his back.

  "Not the fruits."

  "Okay."

  I open my eyes to watch him go and find Ash in front of me instead, his hand ready for mine.

  It's stupid and it's crazy, and I don't feel even a little guilty as I take it and run with him. The skies open above us, rain sending everyone running for cover and umbrellas and providing us a perfect escape. A few streets away, breathless and laughing for no reason, he pulls me under an awning. No one follows.

  "Aksel will slow him down." Ash assures me, brushing water from my hair.

  "Your friend?" I hope Romauld doesn't kill him. "Is he sensible?"

  Ash laughs. "Enough." Behind us, we hear the sounds of conflict. Taking my hand again, he leads me down side streets, always heading south. We find another roof to shelter under and listen.

  "I think we made it."

  I smile up at him, still breathless from running. I feel free.

  Rain in our eyes, he holds my cheek and kisses me, and I don't even mind that I think he lied about his name.