She dropped the papers onto the desk, then raised her eyes to his, steady, calm. “There,” she said. “I’ve looked into zilfium. Do you suppose that’s what Mikka wanted?” Then she smiled, her tired face opening with humor, and Giddon was no longer worried, and suddenly happy, hungry for dinner.

“Most certainly,” he said.

“I guess we should write to Raffin and ask him if he can be any less obscure,” she said, taking his arm. “Let’s go eat.”

—

Bitterblue’s Graced spy and half sister, Hava, was at dinner. So was Bitterblue’s cousin Prince Skye, who hugged Giddon just as if they hadn’t had dinner together in this same room a week ago. Like many from Lienid, Skye was demonstrative. Giddon had always welcomed it; it made him feel like he had a brother.

Bitterblue was cutting herself a second piece of sweet vinegar pie when a letter fell out of her pocket.

Skye reached down and grabbed it. “This is Saf’s handwriting!”

“Oh, yes,” said Bitterblue. “I forgot I had that.”

“Did you read it yet?”

“No.”

“Why is he writing to you?”

“How can I know that if I haven’t read it yet?”

“Well, when are you going to read it?”

“I’ll read it now,” said Bitterblue, giving Skye a look, “if it’ll make you stop behaving like a fretful puppy.” She used her knife to break the seal, then pulled out a single sheet of paper written in the most illegible scrawl Giddon had ever seen. No one wrote as badly as Saf, who was Bitterblue’s . . . friend? Giddon wasn’t sure of Saf’s status at the moment, beyond that he and Bitterblue had been lovers once and that he was a reckless, purple-eyed ass who’d decided a few months back, for no good reason, to take work on a ship sailing to Winterkeep. Presumably, that was where he was writing from now. Saf and Skye were great friends, and had spent the last few years sailing together on Pikkian mapmaking missions in the northern Winter Sea. Giddon supposed Skye must miss him.

“Well?” said Skye.

“Give me a minute. It’s ciphered,” said Bitterblue, whose eyes were racing back and forth across the page. Bitterblue had a mind for ciphers; she was the only person Giddon knew who could decipher a letter quickly in her head. And the key she was using to decipher Saf’s letter was certainly “Sparks,” Saf’s nickname for Bitterblue back when they’d loved each other. So maybe they still loved each other. Which was fine.

“He’s in Ledra,” said Bitterblue, naming the capital of Winterkeep. “He’s basing himself there for a bit, while he decides what to do. The first paragraph is about zilfium. Isn’t that a funny coincidence, Giddon?”

“What’s zilfium?” said Skye.