“Are you a parrot?” I asked, losing my patience. “No, I don’t. We can’t rule this world if we don’t trust one another. That has to start somewhere, regardless of what our parents have done.”

For a moment, no one at the table said anything. We were the children of rebels, collaborators, and a dictator and queen. I’timad and Khulood shared a glance.

“You’re right,” Khulood said at last. “We couldn’t stand together as children—but we aren’t children anymore.”

No one disagreed with her. In fact, no one spoke as the serving girls returned and laid sweets on the table and refilled our tea glasses.

“He’s quite the rider,” Rabi’a said when they left. “Do you ride, Your Highness?”

“Not so well as my lord husband, to be sure, nor so recklessly,” I replied dryly. I had forgotten he was even riding his horse below amid the tension.

“You don’t approve of the theatrics?” she asked with a smile.

I heard a shout from below and stiffened, but it was only a cry of triumph. Idris had won his race.

“I dislike recklessness,” I replied at last.

Her smile turned to a grin. “You must ride with us when we go hunting, then. You might see the point in recklessness then.”

“You hunt?”

“You don’t?” Buchra interrupted, eyes wide.

“I’m a practiced falconer,” I replied. “But Walili is surrounded by desert—I rarely have the chance.”

“Then you must come to Qarmutta,” Rabi’a said, then turned to the rest of the table. “All of you. There is plenty of hunting ground there. We will take you. And the prince, though I think his prize stallion would not be suited to it.”

I tried to control the surprise on my face. I had not imagined it would be so easy as that. But Buchra’s fear was evidence enough that though her mother had been loyal, they still feared the Vath. An alliance with other Andalaans would do them good, and would protect them in turn. And it might mean that when the time came, they would be willing to extend that alliance to the rebellion.

“I will hold you to that invitation,” I said at last, letting out a small smile.

13

The morning dawned early and clear. I’d become used to the quiet bustle of the estate, the murmur of girls as they moved through one room and then another. And they, in turn, had gotten used to me. I didn’t have to wait for a hot bath to be drawn, or for breakfast and tea. By the time the sun rose I had broken fast, bathed, and dressed. I stood on the tower balcony, facing the ocean, a heavy mantle about my shoulders.