“I thought I would never hear from Them again, after . . .” A small palsy passed across the Duke’s face. He never spoke directly of his broken engagement to Queen Peri. “But They have forgiven me.” Reverently, he drew out two identical letters with matching seals, and placed them on his lap. “Their Majesties . . .” There was a world of awe, ache, and longing in the whispered words.

“That is wonderful, Vocado.”

“You never believed They would forgive me, Tamarind,” he added sharply.

“Of course I did.” Tamarind softly stood and moved around behind him so that he could not see her face. Her hands trembling slightly, she lifted his ornate, powdered wig from his head. She took an ivory comb from her hair and ran it through his brown hair, as carefully as if she were calming a dangerous beast. “What do the letters say?”

“They say that I must find the master of the printing press that profanes their good name. And I shall. I shall make harpsichord keys out of his bones for Their Majesties to play when they come back to rule Mandelion. Little white keys for their little white fingers.” The Duke twisted his head to look into Tamarind’s startled face. “I am joking, Tammy.” He gave a sudden, disquieting smile. “You never seem to know when I am joking anymore.”

It was true. Even Tamarind, who had spent her life trying to govern her brother, was finding him ever harder to predict or understand.

“What else do they say?”

“They advise me on how to know my enemies,” he murmured, then looked at her suspiciously over his shoulder. “Why are you so keen to know? You have things on your mind, Tamarind. Someday I think I will open up your head to find out what they are.” He stared at her for a few moments, then smiled to show that he was joking. Above the smile his eyes kept staring at her.

Tamarind’s gaze dropped to the letters on her brother’s lap. With satisfaction she noted the wax seal on each letter, the imprint of the Twin Queens’ insignia. It had cost her considerable trouble and expense to have the signet ring made secretly in the Capital, but she prayed the fruits would be worth it.

“And . . . have they helped you know your enemies, Vocado?”