“Irisia, although people don’t call her that now. They all came back, after Vol Karoth had finished with them, to find the world had given them new names to replace their old ones.” The old woman walked up to me, and leaned close, sniffing me. “I knew your mother, watched the Veils flash. You’re just like her. But don’t let them turn you into a cute little pet. Irisia made that mistake. Lions should never love their cages.”

I paused. “Is that so?”

“You think I can’t recognize my own kind? We’re both wild monsters, you and I.” She grinned again. “So Rev’arric thinks he can tame you. Foolish man. My husband thought he’d tamed me too, but I never learned to love my leash. Oh, I made him pay. Isn’t it the prerogative of all unjustly imprisoned, to revenge themselves on their jailers?”

I found myself becoming intrigued, against my better judgment. “Who’s Rev’arric?”

“Did I say Rev’arric? I meant Relos Var.” Her breath smelled like raw meat.

“Who … who are you? Who are you really?”

She leaned back, looking as scandalized as if I’d just asked her to play bed sports. “I can’t tell you that.” She started cackling again. “But I know why you’re here. I know all about you, little lioness.”

I ignored how uncomfortable the entire conversation made me. She seemed quite insane, but that didn’t mean she was lying. Quite the opposite.

“And what do you know?”

“In the stone city of three roads, the lion cub singed with great catastrophe, as the terrible march of death takes the land of plenty. The cub alone lives, cursed with great strength, to be raised by horses.” She backed up and pointed at me. “That’s you, darling.” Wyrga whispered, almost an exhale. “Hellwarrior.”

Before I could respond, the door opened, and Duke Kaen appeared. “Wyrga, what are you doing here? Go back to your animals.”

“Yes, yes, Your Grace,” She gave the man a bow that seemed no more sincere than a hyena’s grin and shuffled out of the room.

“Count Tolamer,” the duke said. “Please, join me. We have much to discuss.”

“Who is that woman? She can’t be—” And then my mouth dropped open as I saw his parlor.

A large bookcase covered the wall I’d entered through, but that hadn’t drawn my attention. No. The Joratese tournament regalia covering the opposite wall had that pleasure. Flags and banners enough to please half a fairground’s worth of screaming, riotous fans.

He hadn’t restricted himself to one team either, although he liked Ferra’s knights, underdogs in so many tournaments. A map of eastern Quur covered the opposite wall. I noticed a pin stuck into Jorat at Barsine Banner’s capital, Mereina. Another at Tiga Pass.

I looked away.