Kosandion waited in the inner orchard now, the one nobody except the guests and us ever saw. Tall apple trees flanked a wide stone path. They had finished blooming, and their branches bore tiny fruit. The sun shone through the green leaves. Flowers grew between the trees and along the path’s edges, raspberry-colored coras, purslane in every shade from pink to lemon yellow, zinnias bursting with magenta, pink, and crimson, and finally, in brightly lit spots, red yuccas. Ruby-throated hummingbirds hovered near the tiny yucca blooms. The air smelled of flowers and summer grass.

“Could you put up the screen please?” Orata whispered through my earpiece.

I had my doubts about the screen. The date seemed like it should be a private affair, but Kosandion had asked me to defer to Orata’s wishes.

I moved my hand, and a massive branch slipped through the canopy and grew a screen on it. The view of the Ocean Dining Hall appeared on it. We had packed all the delegates into it, with snacks and refreshments. The live feed from the date was projected onto several massive screens, so they would see every moment in real time.

Sean parked himself at the back wall of the dining hall. He wore a gray robe and turned his usual spear into a staff for the occasion. Originally, he was going to chaperone the date, but I was too tapped out to handle a dining room filled with that many creatures right now.

And right now he didn’t have Tony for back up. In the few minutes before the date, I had explained the fake spouse candidate and the corrupted ad-hal encounter to Tony. He’d left the inn to look at the scene of the fight. Very few things could knock a smile off Tony’s face, but that one did. Michael was his best friend. Tony wanted revenge. He didn’t talk about it, but his eyes said plenty.

A stir ran through the delegates in the Ocean Dining Hall. Everyone turned.

Karat entered the room.

Repairing syn-armor was a delicate art requiring years of practice. Karat didn’t have time to fix it, so she didn’t bother. Her once pristine black armor was scuffed. A big rip crossed her chest, and two smaller ones marked her ribs. The injury to the left side of her face had faded from bright red to a less fresh but obvious bruise, and she wore it like a badge of honor.

Dagorkun turned purple, from jealousy or curiosity, I couldn’t tell.

Karat raised her chin and marched to the observers’ table. House Meer practically dislocated their necks trying to get a better look.

“Quite an entrance,” Kosandion murmured next to me.

“Look at Bestata’s face,” I said.

Bestata’s eyes narrowed. She focused on Karat like a tiger who just saw another tiger bleeding from its wounds and was desperately trying to figure out what kind of predator made them.