“Your war killed many guardsmen, my friend, but not the one who mattered most. My dearest husband, Gala, still lives.” Iltani tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You should be spanked by a long, splintered broomstick for that mistake.”

“Iltani!” I stood and hugged her until she squirmed. “Has he touched you?” I murmured into her hair.

“No. He tried. But in his sickened state”—she pulled away, grinning wickedly—“he was unable.”

Dagan spoke. “But Gala could make you stand trial if you flee from him.”

She waved her hand at Dagan, some of her carefree attitude hanging on to the surface of her, but I knew better. Her eyes were haunted as they’d never been before.

“Do you think me so foolish as to endure the threat of his bed, and the violent sounds of his retching now that he’s been incapacitated, and escape with no good plan? Come now, Dagan. You should know me better than that. I’m here because I’ve been given leave of my dear husband for the evening while he helps with the wounded guardsmen and tries to keep his own bowels inside his body. He knows I’m your friend and says we should have you all over to dine one day.”

She snorted. “He’s the only guardsman as far as I can tell who knows that Arwia escaped the tomb, however. Most of them believe that a band of female warriors are trying to overtake the throne so Assata can rule. They still think Arwia is dead. That’s the rumor that Uruku has spread.”

“Good. Better they’re confused.” I hugged her again, relieved that she’d been spared his proximity this night at least. “While you’re here, do you have any thoughts as to how we could use this?” I held the red bottle of nerium out to her.

“What is it?” She pulled the bottle from my hand and studied it.

“The nerium you stole from that merchant woman. It slows the heart, making people unconscious so as to appear dead. But it has to be ingested or be put directly into the blood.”

She thought for a moment, shaking the nerium powder. Then her eyes lit up. “I have an idea.”

Dagan’s amber eyes, still swollen from grief, looked at her from under his heavy brow. “By all means let us hear it, Iltani, for life isn’t making much sense anymore.”

“I can’t promise it’ll make any sense, but it involves a little nakedness and maybe some idiocy provided by the man who lives in my house.”

“That sounds…ridiculous. But I trust your instincts.” I squeezed her hand.

Iltani looked down at me quizzically. “You trust my instincts? I’m sorry, is your name Kammani? Where is my friend who only trusts in cold, hard, unrelenting facts, which, by the way, are inaccurate half of the time? Can you find her for me? There’s a usurper here, trying to bed this delicious man of hers.”

I rolled my eyes. She wasn’t trying to be mean. She was blunter than she needed to be, but honest nevertheless.