Then Kamayin’s blade began to shake.

“They have him, Lady Rielle,” Kamayin whispered at last. “They have my Zuka, and they told me if I kill you, they won’t kill him.”

“I assure you, if you kill me, or even if you try, nothing good will come of it. My country will wage war on yours, as will Borsvall, and possibly others, and then whatever has happened to your friend will be the least of your many problems.”

After a tense pause, Kamayin whispered, “If I release you, will you kill me?”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Rielle admitted, “as it does anytime someone attacks me in my room in the middle of the night and holds me at knifepoint. But, no, I won’t kill you. Then your country would wage war on mine, and I have quite enough to worry about at the moment.”

At last, Kamayin relaxed and lowered her knife. Rielle stepped away, rubbing her throat, and watched as Kamayin sank onto a low cushioned stool, burying her face in her hands. She looked her age again, a frightened girl.

“How did you get past my guards?” Rielle demanded. And how, she thought, did you get past Ludivine?

“There’s a secret passage that leads into this room,” Kamayin mumbled. “Behind the mirror on the wall.”

Rielle inspected the enormous mirror in question, pulling it carefully away from the wall, and discovered that, indeed, it masked a narrow doorway and a dark stone passage. She turned back at the sound of Kamayin’s quiet sobs.

The girl sat hunched on the stool, her mouth screwed up with the effort of containing her tears. Beyond her, the wide square windows revealed a storm approaching across the Sea of Silarra. Lightning danced atop the waves, striking with an alarming ferocity and frequency. A low rumble shook the floor, the walls, the ceiling overhead.

Rielle tensed, listening. Was that thunder shaking the queens’ palace? Or was it something else? She recalled Jodoc’s report in the Sunderlands—the earthquakes in Astavar, the blizzard in southern Mazabat. It had been months since that day, and here they all still stood. No irrevocable disaster had yet occurred.

She walked to the windows and opened one, allowing in a gust of salty air that brought with it the acrid bite of lightning and the bloom of rain. Once again, the strange sensation she had felt when approaching the shores of Mazabat returned to her—the sensation of being watched. And now, accompanying it, was something else. A tug on her fingers, on the crooks of her elbows, on the knobby length of her spine. The charge of the approaching storm? Perhaps.

And yet storms did not frighten her. This feeling did. If she was being watched by a foreign, all-seeing eye, then she was also being urged forward by mighty phantom hands, and she felt they were connected—the eye and the hands, all belonging to the same inexorable body.

Urging her forward. But to what?

She turned away from the storm, her temples pulsing with the thrum of her heartbeat. “Who is it that has your friend, Kamayin?”

“The Obex.” The princess looked up at her, wide brown eyes shimmering with tears. “They hate you, Lady Rielle. They have no intention of allowing you to take Saint Tokazi’s staff. They believe you to be the Blood Queen, and that you cannot be permitted to gather the castings of the saints.”

“And they captured your friend to pressure you into killing me.”

Kamayin visibly fought for composure. “Yes. Zuka is his name. He is an acolyte in the Holdfast and my dearest friend.”

“And if you kill me, they’ll release him.”

“I know it sounds absurd.”

“Indeed it does.” She glanced at the bands around Kamayin’s wrists. “You’re a waterworker, aren’t you? Why didn’t you use your castings? You could have drowned me in my sleep.”

Kamayin hesitated, and in her silence, Rielle found the answer.

“Because you don’t want to kill me,” she said. “You haven’t killed before.”

Miserably, Kamayin nodded. “My mothers have ensured that I know how to fight, but the most I’ve done is break my sparring teacher’s nose.”

“And if you’d managed to kill me, what then? The Gate would have fallen, with no one left alive capable of repairing it, and the Obex would all die anyway.” Rielle waved her hand, turning back to the windows. “They won’t kill your friend, Kamayin. They’re testing me, and using you to do it. They were hoping I would lash out at you to defend myself, perhaps even kill you, and then I would have proven myself to be exactly what they believe me to be. They were willing to lose their princess if it meant exposing me.”

Kamayin straightened, an angry light flashing in her dark eyes—but then, with an explosive smack, something enormous struck the palace, throwing both Rielle and Kamayin to the ground. Every window in the room shattered, spewing shards of glass. Through the empty panes came furious, howling winds and cold spits of rain. Miles of angry flashing clouds roiled across the sky. The sea was a tableau of whitecaps and black waves cresting some twenty feet in the air.

Rielle pushed herself to her feet, dimly noticing Kamayin rising beside her—and the soft buzz of her castings flaring to life.

She touched the princess’s arm. “Don’t waste the energy fighting this storm. It’s of the Gate. You can’t stop it.”

Another slam against the palace sent paintings crashing down from the walls. The floor tipped as if trying to buck them off. Kamayin staggered, catching herself on the nearest bedpost. Rielle found her boots on the floor and tugged them on.

The bedroom door flew open, admitting Evyline and then, an instant later, Tal, flinging his scarlet magisterial cloak over his shoulders. And Ludivine last of all, gazing in despair at the shattered windows.

I didn’t hear her. She sent Rielle a feeling of utter terror. Kamayin. She slipped right past me. She walked through the walls between our rooms, and I heard nothing. I felt nothing.

Rielle went to her, ignoring the terrible sight of her exposed, scarred arm. Was it Corien? He’s shielded me from you before.

Ludivine shook her head. She held up her blackened hand. In the storm’s light, it glittered like a jewel. I think it was this.

Rielle folded the ruined hand into her own. The puckered skin was rough and cold. “I swear to you, Lu, I will make it go away. I’ll tear away your scar and crush it beneath the blade of my will.”

Ludivine leaned her forehead against Rielle’s. “I do not deserve a friend such as you.”

Evyline stopped short at the sight of Kamayin. “Your Highness? Begging your pardon, but how…?”

“No time.” Tal held out his hand for Rielle. “There are shelters underground. The queensguard will escort us there.”