“That attack at the teahouse. One shaman got away. First, I need him caught. Then I need to know who sent them and why.”

One corner of his mouth twitches upward into the barest of smiles. “Your queen readies for war. She has sent falcons, demanding answers, to Mirrim. She will not easily forgive this attack. Her accusations have angered the Yalaengs, who already mistrust her for her treatment of the shamanborn.”

The Yalaengs are the Nuvalyn Empire’s imperial family. “Why would they care about the shamanborn?”

“They don’t,” he assures me. “The shamanborn are not Nuvali, and the Empire will not rise to protect them. But the Empire takes offense at her hatred of the shaman race. Evewynian shamanborn or Nuvali, they are all shamans.”

“But if Queen Meilyr is truly ready to go to war with the Empire over this, then all the more reason to seek out the truth.”

“I’ve managed to placate both sides for the time being. We will meet in two weeks’ time at my northern holding to discuss a diplomatic solution. Therefore, I agree to your terms. As you say, I must know the truth of the attack.”

I’m so overwhelmed by his agreement that I’m momentarily at a loss. When I collect myself, I ask, “And the shaman who escaped?”

“I’ve already sent my own soldiers to assist in the search. In the meantime, you must begin learning to summon your craft immediately.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know where to start,” I admit. “I don’t know anything about, um, summoning my craft.”

He sets his teacup on the saucer, gently enough that it doesn’t make a sound. Then he rests his fingers on the tabletop. From beneath the table’s edge, a white spider crawls out. It climbs onto his finger, long legs moving over his knuckles to rest on the back of his hand. I watch it, half afraid it’ll leap across the table and land in my lap.

“You are inexperienced and untrained. We cannot possibly evaluate your capabilities until you learn to use your craft.” He leans over to peer more closely at the spider perched between his knuckles. The angle makes his ears more pronounced. “Would you measure the capacity of a swordsman by their first fumbling duel?”

The first time I tried to wield the dual swords, I nearly cut off my own foot. The other students had laughed. Jonyah, whom I’d only just met, declared that a talentless orphan without a proper upbringing couldn’t be taught.

“No. I would not.”

“Your powers are a question that must be addressed. Much relies on the answer.”

The spider crawls over and down his wrist before disappearing beneath his sleeve. He makes no move to dislodge it.