By noon, the one hundred Teshlors had returned across the Bernum River and marched unopposed into the imperial city of Percepliquis and up the Grand Marchway. At their head strode Princess Farilane myr Nyphron. Her long blond hair, lit by the bright sun, whipped in the wind. The full force of the Teshlor Guild, clad in armor and streaked with the blood of their enemy, arrived in perfect formation at the steps of the palace. The imperial guards said nothing—did nothing. They became statues, unwilling to so much as move.

Farilane stood with one foot on the first step, Kolby to one side, Kile to the other. She made no announcement. She didn’t need to. Her family knew she was home.

“I take it Manuel delivered the message?” Kolby asked.

“Nothing but death will stop me,” Farilane said. “You know, I was the one who invented that particular coded declaration of trust.”

He nodded. “According to guild legend, you said it just before the battle up in Fairington against the giant Ozhor.”

“According to guild legend? You weren’t there?”

“I was eight at the time. I’m just glad you remembered. Didn’t want you to think you’d been abandoned and became so frightened that you fainted.”

She responded with a glare.

He grinned. “I’m surprised you never asked how we did it. How we got there so fast.”

“You were already there,” Farilane replied. “You crossed the night before and waited in the forest.”

Kolby looked disappointed. “But you can’t possibly know how we—”

“Kile told you.” Farilane faced him. “But he lied to you as well.”

“He lied?” Kolby looked puzzled. “How can you know he—you don’t even know what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he overheard—”

“He lied.”

Kolby looked flabbergasted and offered his palms to Kile. “Tell her that—”

“She’s right. I lied,” Kile admitted.

Kolby stared at the scribe, baffled. “You did? But you couldn’t. It happened just as you said.”

“He lied about how he knew,” Farilane explained. “Mostly because you wouldn’t believe him if he told you the truth.”

Kile stood beside her, his head bowed. If it had been anyone else, she might have asked after his health. Farilane didn’t possess the knight’s skill for reading body language, but at that moment, Kile looked sick.

“You haven’t asked about the prophecy,” the scrivener said softly.

She reached out a hand and took hold of his. “I didn’t want you to go away again. And I suspected that was the sort of question that would make you disappear.”

“Farilane, I—” Kile began as the palace doors opened.