Merrick’s mood turned sour. He had seen that play several years ago. While the two thieves depicted in it used different names, he was sure they portrayed Royce Melborn and Hadrian Blackwater. Royce had once been Merrick’s best friend, back when the two of them were assassins for the Diamond. That friendship had ended seventeen years earlier on that warm summer night when Royce murdered Jade.

Although he had not been present, Merrick had imagined the scene countless times. That was before Royce had his white dagger, back when he had used a pair of curved, black-handled kharolls. Merrick knew Royce’s technique well enough to picture him silently slicing through Jade with both blades at once. Merrick did not care that someone had set up Royce, or that he had not known his victim’s identity when it happened. All Merrick knew was that the woman he loved was dead and his best friend had killed her.

Nearly two decades had passed, and still Jade and Royce haunted him. He could not think of one without the other, and he could not bear to forget. Love and hate welded together forever, intertwined in a knot too tight to untie.

Loud noises and shouts from Arista’s room pulled Merrick back to the present. He checked his weapon, then crossed the street.

“Your Highness?” the soldier asked, entering the mayoral office.

Her hair a tangled mess and eyes wreathed in shadow, Princess Arista looked up from her cluttered desk. She took a moment to assess her visitor. The man in mismatched armor displayed an expression of unabated annoyance.

This is not going to go well, she thought.

“You sent for me?” he asked with only partially restrained irritation.

“Yes, Renquist,” she said, her mind catching up with his face. She had hardly slept in two days and was having difficulty concentrating. “I asked you here to—”

“Princess, you can’t be summoning me like this. I have an army to run and a war to win. I don’t have time to chat.”

“Chat? I wouldn’t call you here if it wasn’t important.”

Renquist rolled his eyes.

“I need you to remove the army from the city.”

“What?”

“It can’t be helped. Your men are causing trouble. I’m getting daily reports of soldiers bullying merchants and destroying property. There has even been an accusation of rape. You must take your men out of the city where they can be controlled.”

“My men risked their lives against the Imperialists. The least this lousy city can do is feed and house them. Now you want me to take away their beds and the roof over their heads as well?”