But I didn’t give it to him. Arasgon hadn’t been wrong; the Markreev of Stavira had treated me like chattel. I would never forgive him.

“I never sold her,” the Markreev said. He crossed his arms over his chest, his back straight. No angry fireblood would intimidate him, although his men looked more nervous about the situation. “And where is your master?”

“I haven’t seen her in months,” Arasgon said—possibly true if he hadn’t noticed me yet. “I am—”

The Markreev said, “We have been through this twice already. I will speak to my son on the matter, but what is done is done. You try my patience. Begone before I decide you’re out of line.”

Arasgon snorted and tossed his head before he trotted away from the palace’s front door.

Aroth Malkoessian, the Markreev Stavira, walked inside, and his men followed behind.

Or rather, most of his men. Not everyone fell in line behind the Markreev. I watched as a guard exchanged looks and a significant nod with a gardener who pretended to be busy pruning flowers. I recognized a fireblood lurking near the Green as Sominias, a beautiful mare who had long been friend and companion to the Markreev’s wife, Shiniah.

So the Markreev watched the palace entrance. Easy enough to guess why.

In theory, I served the Markreev. If he ordered me to accompany him, then his son Oreth could organize my Censure at his leisure. It wouldn’t matter Oreth had used bribery to buy the will of Tolamer’s citizens. The protocols would have been observed. And once I’d been cast out? Those same bribes might well convince my people to make Oreth my replacement.

“Well, if that ain’t a fine pack of troubles,” Dorna muttered, next to me. “Do you think Arasgon saw us?”

“Yes,” I said. “Now let’s walk away.”

“Where are we going?” Brother Qown asked.

I sighed. “Home.”

19: ORETH THE SNAKE

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Thurvishar D’Lorus retreated to Shadrag Gor to work on his notes

“So you were engaged to marry this Oreth person?” Kihrin asked.

“The Markreev’s second son, yes,” Janel answered. “But Oreth and I had very different ideas about my place in the relationship. I’m not a mare. I’m never going to be a mare.”

“And mare doesn’t mean … female?” Kihrin wanted to make sure he understood.

Nina laughed. “Not even a little. Mares stay at home and see to the house, yes, but they’re also farmers, teachers, caretakers, organizers. And stallions are the preening, prancing warriors circling the herd in case lions show up. Ask most stallions and they’ll tell you they’re in charge too while the mare who’s making sure everything gets done just laughs.”

“It’s not so simple,” Janel chided. “And not everyone is so labeled.”