But then we stepped down together, and she said, “I’m glad you didn’t bow earlier, when you came in.”

“Oh?”

“You should have seen the way Paorah prostrated himself. It was pitiful, and obviously false. I hated him.”

“You’re far from alone in that feeling.”

She smiled, and there was a moment of each of us wondering if we’d won the other to our side.

But I needed her help more than she needed mine, and she knew that.

There were listening sigils planted somewhere in our suite.

And she had the bones of the first dragon. Here. Displayed.

No matter how she felt about dragons, she’d been willing to let the Fallen Isles die without so much as lifting a finger to help. Empress Apolla was not my friend.

This was no triumph.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A SENSE OF WRONGNESS FILLED THE SUITE WHEN I returned from dinner.

The dragons were perched on the fountain spouts, bouncing quietly as they looked up through the skylight, while my friends and sister had pulled several of the benches close together. They’d all changed out of dinner clothes and into one of the other outfits provided, but no one looked comfortable.

I paused in the entryway, drawing glances and raised eyebrows, but that was the only greeting offered.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Perfect.” Ilina flashed a dazzling smile from where she sat beside Hristo.

“What Feisty said.” Gerel lounged next to Chenda, who wore an expression of practiced pleasantness.

Only Aaru and Zara seemed normal—one quiet, and the other pouting.

“That’s good. How were your dinners?” I stood there awkwardly as they told me about their engagements for the evening, the people they’d met, and all the wonders of the imperial palace. Their hosts had found them charming or sweet or impressive—all that applied to each person—and every word they spoke was filled with flattery and praise.

And then I understood.

They knew they were being spied on.

Well, good.

I excused myself to change into something less expensive, and when I came back, Aaru found my eyes and patted the seat beside him. I slipped my hand into his. ::You told them?::

He kissed my temple, as though in greeting. ::Yes. Careful.::

My skin tingled where he’d kissed. How . . . strange. Not that I minded, but Aaru barely kissed me in private.

Which meant something else was wrong. Something besides the fact that we were being listened to.

I stilled, then asked, ::Can they see us, too?::

::Not sure.::

Which made obvious quiet code hazardous, and writing impossible.

It was a devious plan on the imperials’ part: make us assume that we were always being observed, and we’d keep our conversations pleasant and neutral. The benefit to them was, of course, if we didn’t figure it out, they might catch us conspiring against them. Or, even if they didn’t assume the worst of us, they’d know ahead of time what we planned to use in negotiations; they’d be able to prepare a response for anything we came up with.