“I’m your father’s sister,” said Anonoei. “I grew up in Gray. I don’t want a single man of Gray to die, nor a Grayish wife to become a widow. And now I’m queen of Iceway, too—and I want no dying in that land, either.”

“So you’re here to make peace. Why should I believe you?”

Because I’m filling you with trust and contentment.

Except for the tiny problem that she could only work with desires that were already present. And in all of Frostinch’s soul, she could find no yearning for peace. What an odd thing.

“I know that you care nothing for peace,” said Anonoei.

“Peace is just another word for ‘biding my time,’” said Frostinch. “But give me an inducement, and I’ll bide my time.”

“Let me help you with the definition of ‘biding your time,’” said Anonoei. “I’d like it to mean, ‘as long as you live.’”

“Why not? As long as I live, peace. There. Agreed.”

Anonoei shook her head. “After all your labors in that little room, still you’re full of shit.”

Frostinch shrugged. “I’m eager to please you, because I assume you have a gatemage helping you. How else could you have gotten into this castle undetected?”

Anonoei moved directly behind him before she spoke. “Why do you think I need some mage’s help?”

He was halfway turned around when she moved to the side that he had been facing.

“The woman who came to you before, I know every word she spoke to you. She was a manmage, you know. She took away your own volition. I know you would never have murdered my brother otherwise.”

He stumbled as he tried to turn back around to face her. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“She came to you in your privy. She convinced you that I was a monster. But she finally overreached herself. I caught her once without her gatemage friend and I’m afraid my temper got the better of me. She tried to control me the way she controlled you, but I’m made of stronger stuff. While she turned out to be … flammable.”

Anonoei, having learned to control Bexoi’s magery quite precisely, began to heat Frostinch’s body. Just a little fever. He began to sweat.

“Feeling warm?” she asked. “Is it uncomfortable? Are you coming down with something?”

She allowed him to cool off, drawing the heat away quickly.

He shivered.

“And now … is that the ague? Why are you shaking? Not fear of your own aunt, is it?”

It was easy to make all the candles in the sconces flare up brightly, and then go out. She felt his fear, and knew just how to push him, and in what direction.

She could hear him moving in the dark. Heard a draw of metal.