“The local tournament is only months away,” Temra says. “I’m sure we’ll have many more customers passing through the city between then and now. Everyone is going to want a Zivan blade.”

She’s trying to make me feel better. I appreciate the effort, but I’m still reeling from the effects of my attack.

“It’s a phase,” Temra says, reading my thoughts. “It will pass eventually.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

But I don’t believe it for a moment.

CHAPTER
TWO

It’s Tuesday, which means we go out for dinner.

I hate going out.

There’s a small relief when I see that our usual table is free. I make a beeline for it, taking the far chair. It’s my favorite spot because my back is against the wall. No one can get behind me, and I can see the whole room.

I don’t like feeling as if people are staring at me, and it’s a sensation I can’t shake off when my back is exposed to a large space.

Temra and I make a show of raising the menus, but we both already know what we want.

The waitress greets us both by name before taking our orders. “I’ll have the cauliflower soup and fresh bread,” Temra says. “She’ll have the lamb and steamed vegetables.”

I nod with a forced smile on my face toward the waitress. It’s an arrangement Temra and I have. We’re both terrible cooks. Everything seems to be burned or soggy when we try. Still, I’d rather eat poor food and be safe at home than out and about where strangers can watch me eat. Temra, on the other hand, loves eating out, so we have a deal. We can eat out for half the week; the other half we take turns cooking at home. And Temra always orders for me so I don’t have to talk to anyone but her.

I place my hands atop the table in front of me and twist my fingers together, a habit I’ve had since childhood. A light buzzing sensation has taken root just under my skin. In an attempt to distract myself from my discomfort, I say, “The governor came by to collect his weapon this afternoon while you were at school.”

“He came in person?”

“Yes.”

“He must be really excited about the mace. How did he like it?”

I try to hide a cringe, but I must not manage it, because Temra says, “He didn’t like it?”

“No, no. He liked it just fine.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“He … invited us over.”

A bright smile fills my sister’s beautiful face. She makes it so difficult to be appropriately upset at times.

“That’s wonderful. Ziva! Don’t you know what this means? We must make a good impression.”

“I tried to say no,” I explain. “The man wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun! A party is just what we need.”

“It’s not a party. I was assured it would be a quaint dinner affair.”

“That’s fine. The governor’s son will still be there.”