Kaden crossed silently to the wooden screen separating his pavilion from the lush garden beyond. Adiv stood in the soft red light of the hanging paper lanterns. The Mizran Councillor appeared fully recovered from his ordeal in the mountains, his dark robes immaculate, dark hair combed carefully back, held in place with a dark blindfold. He was the image of imperial authority. And a leach. And a murderer. Kaden could feel Gabril tensing at his side, and he turned to fix the First Speaker with his gaze, then shook his head slowly. Adiv was flanked by half a dozen soldiers, and whatever Gabril’s skills with those blades, he wasn’t prepared to face a leach.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Councillor,” the woman said. “As you know, we hold the identities of those inside Ciena’s walls inviolate.”

Kaden shifted his attention to the leina confronting Adiv, a tall, voluptuous woman with skin dark and lustrous as wet coal, her hair hanging in hundreds of delicate braids. She looked desperately vulnerable, standing before the armored soldiers in nothing more than a dress of diaphanous silk, but her face betrayed no fear.

She smiled, spreading her hands. “I’m sure you understand.”

Adiv’s jaw tightened. “I’m sure I do.” He glanced around the garden, seeming to look through that blindfold of his from one pavilion to the next. Kaden kept still as the non-gaze passed over him, wondering for the first time whether Tan had killed all the ak’hanath back in the Bone Mountains. He realized he had no idea where the creatures had originally come from, whether Adiv had more, whether they were stalking him even now, scratching at the high walls of the temple, searching for a way in, a way over.

Finally Adiv turned back to the leina. “You know, Demivalle, that I have more men than these six.”

He left the rest of the threat unvoiced, but the leina’s lips tightened a fraction.

“And you know, Councillor, that the citizens of Annur love my goddess. Many worship inside these walls, and the worshippers would be displeased with any disturbance.”

“The citizens of Annur love Intarra, as well,” Adiv replied. “And look what happened to Uinian.”

Demivalle met his smile with one of her own. “Of course, Uinian was a traitor. I am not. I live to serve Annur and all her citizens, after serving my goddess, of course.”

“You’ve always been clever with that tongue of yours, Valle, but you know as well as any that serving Annur is not the same as serving the Unhewn Throne.”

“I wish all peace and pleasure upon the lords of our land.” She cocked her head delicately to the side. “This is a . . . precarious time for the Dawn Palace. I would hate to see the current instability extended as a result of . . .” She paused longer this time, as though searching for the words. “. . . rash and unnecessary decisions.”