“No,” Ayla said smoothly. She and Crier had come up with this story, but she didn’t trust Crier to do the lying. “We were traveling along the shores of Lake Thea, just across the border on the Rabunian side, when we were attacked. It was night and they set the carriage on fire. In our panic, we ran for the forest to take shelter. We crossed the border without realizing.”

Shiza cocked her head. “No trouble from the border guards?”

“We believe they were drawn to the carriage fire.”

“Luck was on your side, then. What news do you bring from Rabu? What of the latest chaos—the canceled wedding, the runaway bride, the rise of Scyre Kinok?”

“The rise?” Ayla said, playing dumb. “I’ve heard about the wedding, but not that. What’s the honorable Scyre Kinok up to, then?”

“You haven’t heard?” said Shiza. “Scyre Kinok and his followers have been marching west for days now, toward the mountains. But—come, tell me of the wedding. I love a disastrous wedding.”

From the corner of her eye, Ayla saw Crier’s hand twitch where it lay on the table. Keep it together, she thought, as if Crier would be able to hear her. She didn’t know what would happen if Shiza started gossiping about the broken engagement, the runaway bride.

“Oh, I really don’t know anything about that,” Ayla said, waving a hand. “I don’t listen to court gossip. But I’ve been hearing whispers of . . .” She floundered, trying to think of a way to describe the monsters, the Shades, without offending their host. The Shades had once been Automae, after all. “A . . . new threat? To the north?”

“Are you referring to the creatures with the black eyes?” Shiza asked. “Yes. I know very little. But I have seen blue smoke rising over the trees a few leagues to the west, almost every day for weeks now. I hear the smoke comes from some sort of weapon.” She brought her goblet to her lips again, drinking deeply. When she lowered it, her lips were stained red. “Those woods used to be hunting grounds. All the animals have fled. First because of the creatures, and now the blue smoke keeps them away. The blue smoke—and whatever substance creates it.” Her brow creased, and she stared down into her near-empty goblet as if it held answers, like the magick scrying pools in faerie stories. “I wish I knew more.”

So do I, thought Ayla.

Shiza’s face smoothed over again. She peered at Ayla. “You know nothing of the Scyre’s wedding, and you don’t listen to court gossip.”

“I—” Ayla felt cold. Did Shiza suspect them? Had she recognized Crier? Shiza’s face was blank as fresh parchment, only her eyes piercing. “Yes. It simply does not interest me, but perhaps I can try to remember something.”

“No need,” said Shiza, and Ayla’s heart was a rabbit racing through the underbrush, waiting for Shiza to expose them, to call for a servant, a guard. “But I don’t entertain guests as often as I would like, and I find myself deprived of vapid conversation. Please. If you can’t tell me about the Scyre’s wedding, tell me about your own.”