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Chapters (58)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Part One
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Part Two: Three Months Later
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. Chapter Nineteen
  25. Chapter Twenty
  26. Chapter Twenty-one
  27. Part Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-two
  29. Chapter Twenty-three
  30. Chapter Twenty-four
  31. Chapter Twenty-five
  32. Chapter Twenty-six
  33. Chapter Twenty-seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-one
  38. Chapter Thirty-two
  39. Chapter Thirty-three
  40. Chapter Thirty-four
  41. Chapter Thirty-five
  42. Chapter Thirty-six
  43. Chapter Thirty-seven
  44. Chapter Thirty-eight
  45. Chapter Thirty-nine
  46. Chapter Forty
  47. Chapter Forty-one
  48. Chapter Forty-two
  49. Chapter Forty-three
  50. Chapter Forty-four
  51. Chapter Forty-five
  52. Chapter Forty-six
  53. Chapter Forty-seven
  54. Chapter Forty-eight
  55. Epilogue
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. About the Author
  58. Keep Reading for a Sneak Peek at Umbertouched

Her words fade away, but the tension stays in the air. I scoop the implements off the floor. I do have things to report, but I can’t concentrate. Instead, I keep sneaking glances at Zivah. I can sense every breath she takes, the rigid strain of her muscles. Her back is straight as a spear, and her face has been smoothed of all emotion. But though she’s gazing at the herbs in front of her, I know that she’s not truly seeing them. In fact, I know many things. I know the truth of what she’s said, the extent of her loneliness and pain. I know because Dineas knows. The other Dineas, who’s taken the time to look. And he won’t let me ignore it.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

The glare she shoots me could light kindling, but I continue.

“You say you have no dignity left, but that’s not how he sees you. Not how I see you.” The words are hard to get out, but I’m rewarded by a flash of puzzlement across her face. “He admires you for the things you’ve done, for your kindness and your strength. He thinks highly of you for good reason, and it isn’t because you’ve been making false promises. I know this. I was just too much of a horse’s ass to admit it.”

She searches my face, and I’m not sure what she sees there.

“I would never toy with him,” she says.

“I know.”

The silence between us is a bowstring about to snap.

“I should go to the feast,” she says.

I let out a long breath. “I know.”

Another silence, and then she looks away. “Finish writing your report.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

Mehtap goes into a whirlwind for the equinox celebration. She takes out all her dresses and implores me to try them on. At first I do so because it’s easier than refusing, but her enthusiasm is contagious. At times, she reminds me of Alia, the way she exclaims over a particularly lovely gown or giggles over one that doesn’t fit quite right. When she tries on her dresses for me, she poses like officials’ wives she knows, or dances across the room. After we’ve chosen our clothes, we try different ways of braiding our hair and experimenting with rouge and kohl. Here too, there’s a good deal of laughter when one of us employs too heavy of a hand or lines the other’s eyebrows in red. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a chance to be carefree, and it does help to distract me from everything else surrounding the festival.