Who I am? She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling in the dark. Is it me they’re after or someone else? She wondered. If only I could ask my mother. Not the mother who’d loved her and raised her, not Iris—the other one, the faceless woman who’d died before she’d had a chance to remember her. The woman who’d borne her and been murdered, her only legacy a mess of—

She glanced sideways. Roland was asleep next her her, his face smooth and relaxed, free of worry. I’ve gone from being completely independent to this in just two weeks. Never mind Brill and Kara back in the palace, the weight of Angbard’s expectations, the Clan’s politics…Miriam wasn’t used to having to think about other people when planning her moves, not since the divorce from Ben.

She glanced at the alarm clock. It was coming up to seven o’clock—too late to go back to sleep. She leaned over toward Roland’s ear. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispered.

Roland mumbled something into the pillow. His eyelids twitched.

“Time to be getting up,” she repeated.

He opened his eyes, then yawned. “I hate morning people,” he said, looking at her slyly.

“I’m not a morning person, I just do my best worrying when I should be asleep.” She took a deep breath. I’m going to have to go find that lever to move the Clan,” she told him. “The one we were talking about last night. While that’s going on, unless we can find out who’s really got it in for me, we may not be able to meet up very often.”

“We can’t talk about this publicly,” he said. “Even if Olga keeps her mouth shut—”

“No.” She kissed him. “Damn, I feel like they’re all watching us from behind the bed!”

“What are you going to do today?” he asked diplomatically.