You asked to go to Delphie, to work with the scholars and excavate ruins rather than learn lordship at Father’s right hand. Why would you do that? Why, Julian? And the worst question of all, the one she didn’t have the strength to ask—how could you leave me too?

Her brother heaved a long sigh and tightened his grip. “I did—I do. But—”

“But? Has something happened?”

“No, nothing at all. Good or bad,” he added, and she could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “I just know she won’t leave court if I’m here with Father. I can’t do that to her. This place—I won’t trap her here in this pit of snakes.”

Coriane felt a pang of sorrow for her brother and his noble, selfless, stupid heart. “You’d let her go to the front, then.”

“There’s no let where I’m concerned. She should be able to make her own decisions.”

“And if her father, Lord Skonos, disagrees?” As he surely will.

“Then I’ll marry her as planned and bring her to Delphie with me.”

“Always a plan with you.”

“I certainly try.”

Despite the swell of happiness—her brother and best friend married—the familiar ache tugged at Coriane’s insides. They’ll be together, and you left alone.

Julian’s fingers squeezed her own suddenly, warm despite the misting rain. “And of course, I’ll send for you as well. You think I’d leave you to face the Royal Court with no one but Father and Jessamine?” Then he kissed her cheek and winked. “Think a bit better of me, Cori.”

For his sake, she forced a wide, white grin that flashed in the lights of the palace. She felt none of its gleam. How can Julian be so smart and so stupid at the same time? It puzzled and saddened her in succession. Even if their father agreed to let Julian go to study in Delphie, Coriane would never be allowed to do the same. She was no great intellect, charmer, beauty, or warrior. Her usefulness lay in marriage, in alliance, and there were none to be found in her brother’s books or protection.

Whitefire was done up in the colors of House Calore, black and red and royal silver from every alabaster column. The windows winked with inner light, and sounds of a roaring party filtered from the grand entrance, manned by the king’s own Sentinel guards in their flaming robes and masks. As she passed them, still clutching Julian’s hand, Coriane felt less like a lady, and more like a prisoner being led into her cell.

Three

THREE

Coriane did her best to pick pick pick at her meal.