Ericen wore his Vykryn uniform, and I’d changed into a dress along with a thin leather coat and boots. The prince didn’t say a word. When he’d left the arena, he hadn’t gone to the healer’s quarters to get the wound bandaged. It had stopped bleeding, however, the cut much shallower than I’d thought.

I studied him as he studied the city outside. Why had he intervened with Razel? Had he been that eager for a fight with his mother, or had he known I wouldn’t be prepared? Either way, I couldn’t shake the feeling something had shifted between us.

As the door opened, Ericen met my gaze for the first time, and I raised an eyebrow. “I can tell this is going to be a very productive meal.”

He smiled in the way that made me think he might not be as horrid as he seemed. “Stealing my lines is a cheap move.”

“You’re not worth more effort in this state.”

“Fair point. I shall endeavor to be more infuriating.” He stepped out of the carriage, offering me his hand. I climbed out on my own.

We stood at the opening of a massive bridge, easily the width of five normal roads. The river it spanned was nearly double that, with several arches along the bridge’s length letting water through in a multipronged waterfall. Colorful lights reflected off even more colorful buildings, casting a rainbowlike glow across the water. The bridge was a part of the city itself, like the creators had met the river and continued building right across it.

“People call it the Colorfalls. A hundred years ago, the bridge was a gift from Rhodaire to cross the River Ren,” Ericen said as we started toward the bridge. “It was made with the help of your earth crows. All the city’s best food is here.”

Though it seemed strange to imagine, it made sense that Rhodaire and Illucia might not have always hated each other. When had that changed?

The cobblestone street sidewalks were damp from the rain, but people were still out in full force. Giant potted trees lined the street, hung with shards of colored glass reflecting the lantern light. Shops sold everything from thick sheep wool sweaters and scarves to blocks of peat bundled together with dried herbs for different aromas. We passed the open doors of restaurants, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and cooking stew. From a tavern to our right, the music of a string instrument filled the night.

Hanging overhead, strung from one side of the buildings to the next all along the street, dangled countless colored sona lamps. They had glass of deep crimson and purple, bright gold and sunset orange, all casting brightly colored glows on the stone buildings.

I stared at the colors. Sona lamps weren’t cheap; we barely had enough to light the main castle halls in Aris.