He felt as though he’d been climbing all his life, working his way up a punishing and vertiginous trail, only to find, as he neared the summit, that he had chosen the wrong mountain. Worse, if he started back down now, even if he abandoned the truth of the Shin, there was nothing to take its place, no knowledge of politics or military tactics, no network of personal ties, no wealth, no worldly wisdom, nothing. The board was filled with Adare’s white stones and he had nothing to play in response.

“I won’t take part in their game,” he said quietly. “I can’t.”

“So . . . what?” Triste demanded, eyes wide with anger and fright. “You just walk away? You just give up?”

Kaden shook his head, turning to Morjeta. “How many of these nobles come here, to your temple?”

She spread her hands. “The ones who can. The ones worth knowing.”

Kaden took a deep breath. “I’m losing the game, which means I have three choices: cede, fight back . . .” He hesitated, wondering if he was seeing the options clearly.

“Or?” Triste pressed.

Then, for the first time since arriving in Annur, Kaden smiled. “Or break the board.”

35

The sun-splashed clearing was, Gwenna supposed, as good a spot as any to die. The farm on which she’d been raised had backed up to woods like this, a mix of hemlock, pine, and fir, dark green needles shoved aside by the odd birch shouldering its way up through the gloom. Wood-peas chirruped in the high branches, while blackbirds hunted over the mossy ground, heads stabbing down for the bugs and seeds. It was a peaceful spot, but the Flea wasn’t paying much attention to the birds or the trees. After Sigrid and Newt had dragged Pyrre and Annick down to the other end of the small meadow, he turned his dark eyes on Gwenna.

“Here’s how it’s going to work.” His voice was quiet, almost weary. “I’m going to ask questions. You answer them. If you lie, I’ll kill you. Start fucking around, I’ll kill you. Leave out anything important, I’ll kill you. When we’re done, I’ll talk with my Wing, see what your friends said to them, and if your stories don’t match, I’ll kill you.” He didn’t sound like he wanted to do it, but he didn’t sound like he was bluffing, either.

“And if they do match?” Gwenna asked.

“Then maybe we can talk about something other than killing.”