“So you are Josiri Trelan.”

The voice was younger than Josiri had expected. But then only her eyes were old. He wondered how much they’d aged that day.

“And you are Melanna Saranal. Or is that Ashanal?”

“The former.” She spoke the words hurriedly, then calmed her pace. “It is as my father’s daughter that I speak to you. I believe you understand the duties of an heir.”

“Not as well as I’d like.”

“You must forgive Aedrun’s manner. For him to leave me alone with a heathen is a weighty burden – let alone to leave us within arm’s reach of one another.”

“Lady, I’m weary. My soul is stretched thin. I have kin and companions unaccounted for. If you’ve something to say, let’s have it.”

Melanna raised an eyebrow. Calm. Collected. Josiri envied her poise. He couldn’t have done the same. “My sympathies for your missing blood. A brother?”

“My sister. The Phoenix.”

“We crossed swords. She fought well . . .”

Josiri’s pulse quickened. Crossed swords. Was he even now speaking with Calenne’s murderer? “Where is she?”

Melanna’s lip hooked. White teeth gleamed. “Hear my petition, and I’ll tell what I know.”

Josiri swallowed away his impatience. “I’m listening.”

“Why did you fight for your oppressors?”

The unexpected question took Josiri off his stride. “That’s why you asked to see me?”

“No, but I’m curious. I’ve spent many weeks in your lands. I’ve seen first-hand how your people are treated. And yet you fought for them, as Crovan always said you would. Your kin in the north will keep taking from you until you’ve nothing left worth stealing. Because they can. Because you let them. My father stood ready to give you everything you wanted.”

“Is this the same father who threatened of children enslaved and croplands sown with salt?”

“A lie!” Her eyes narrowed, making her look twice the serpent she had before. But the words were too defiant. Too rote. She believed.

Josiri shook his head, glad to have shivered her confidence. The threat had made his skin crawl when Gavamor had spoken of it. “No. Though I’d made my decision long before I learned of that.”

“Then why?”

“Because my mother’s war is fifteen years in the past. Mine’s here and now, and it’s not the same.”

He fell silent. It really was that straightforward, wasn’t it? Strange how the simplest concepts took longest to comprehend.

Melanna’s mask of unconcern slid back into place. “Never trust a shadowthorn, is that it? I know what your priests teach. That we take root in tainted soil. That we wear the corruption in our souls as proudly as heraldry.”

“An abhorrent belief. One I don’t share.”

“Enough do.”