The dark indigo mail hauberk shimmered with iridescence as if spawned from night and rainbow, fire dancing below the blue-black metal surface. Not brass, iron, or steel but shanathá—the metal for which the Quuros Empire had conquered Kirpis and cast out the vané. Shanathá metal was all but illegal for civilians to own, even if they could afford the cost.

Joratese nobles, technically still Quuros military, were exempt.

“‘In’?” Dorna demanded. “What do you mean by fight your way ‘in’?”

The count smiled as she picked up more clothing from the ground: a burgundy arming doublet so dark it looked black and a worn cloak that had seen better days, its true color indecipherable. “The timing couldn’t be better. The baron is young and inexperienced.”

Ninavis snorted. “What are you? Seventeen?”

The count scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Brother Qown glanced sideways at Janel and cleared his throat.

She looked abashed. “I mean, I reached my majority three months ago, just before we left Tolamer.”

Ninavis’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, I see. You’re right. What was I thinking. You’re sixteen. Obviously, that’s different.” She glared at Dorna and Brother Qown as if daring them to correct her.

“Young in years,” Janel said, “not in misery.”

Ninavis met her eyes. Whatever she saw there made her swallow and look away.

“And what does this have to do with what you have planned, colt?” Dorna had lost her patience.

Count Janel didn’t seem to mind her nurse’s ill temper. She seemed pleased to see the subject turned from her age, young by anyone’s reckoning. “Tamin isn’t our target. Dedreugh is. And unlike the baron, Dedreugh is accessible; he’s fighting in the tournament. Although after what I saw, I’d be very surprised if he does much fighting after this. His opponents will withdraw and give him victories by default. Since no one wants to share Sir Xia’s fate, he’ll win—but make no mistake, for the baron to legally kill Nina’s men, Dedreugh must win. Those prisoners don’t belong to the baron otherwise.”

“But … the accusations of witchcraft against them?” Brother Qown hated to bring up the point but felt obligated.

Janel shook her head. “Also decided by the tournament. Tamin will combine the normal contest of judgment with the tournament outcome. It’s not unprecedented. But again—for the baron to prove them witches, Dedreugh has to win.”

“But who’s going to fight him?” Ninavis asked. “My leg’s broken, and you’re a titled noble. You’re not allowed to fight in the tournaments.”

“No. No, I am not,” the count agreed as she shrugged herself into the arming doublet. “As Count Tolamer, I may be represented by a knight in a tournament, but I would never be allowed to participate myself. It’s not allowed.” Humor hinted her voice. She’d told a joke but hadn’t delivered the punch line.