A quiet buzz of conversation filled the room as several nobles from last night’s dinner lounged and drank together. A drizzle of rain tapped at the windows, a light haze of fog filling a massive courtyard beyond.

Tension crept into every muscle as my gaze jumped from Illucian noble to soldier and back again. My guard remained stationed at my back, Kiva at my side, both as tense as I was, surrounded by so many potential opponents.

“Good morning.” Ericen’s voice drew me from my inspection as he approached. I stared.

He wore all black leather down to his boots. Black leather straps formed an X across his chest, the hilts of two swords sticking up over each shoulder on his back. Not an inch of pale skin was visible besides his neck and face. He’d become a shadow.

Only the golden head of Illucia’s horse insignia emblazoned above his heart broke up the darkness.

Auma bowed to both of us, then moved deeper into the room, by which point I’d schooled my expression back into neutrality. “Taking down a small army today, are we?”

He smirked. “This is the uniform of the Illucian Vykryns. I didn’t wear it when I was in Rhodaire because it’s a little—”

“Ridiculous?” Kiva suggested.

“Pompous?” I added.

“I was going to say dark for a Rhodairen summer, but I appreciate the compliments,” he said, looking bemused.

“What’s a Vykryn?” I asked.

He straightened. “Illucia’s most elite warriors. It’s a title granted to only a few of the soldiers who graduate Darkward every year.”

My eyes narrowed, my humor gone. Kiva and I exchanged looks. These sounded like the kind of people you sent to cripple an entire nation. The kind that excelled in archery and could kill a crow as it leapt from a burning rookery.

“Good for you,” Kiva said drily. “Do you have a team chant too? Or just matching outfits?”

Ericen’s smile sharpened. “Yes, I suppose they’re not quite as glamorous as the Korovi Miska. Though I suppose you’ve never seen a Miska warrior, have you? Okorn.”

Kiva’s hand flew to Sinvarra, and I seized her wrist a second before she could draw. The room went deathly silent, until only the thunder of my own heart filled my ears. Okorn were what the Korovi called children of banished countrymen.

My voice dropped low enough that only we could hear. “Speak to Kiva that way again, and I’ll put an arrow in you.”

Ericen grinned, actually grinned, as though my threat enthralled him. “That’s not quite what I brought you here for.” And with that, he spun for a glass door in the windowed wall, as if the floor hadn’t very nearly been coated in blood.