“Giddon,” she said, soaking his shirt with her tears. “What if Mikka and Brek died because they were going to tell me that my own nation is rich with zilfium?”

“Then someone in Winterkeep is a murderer and is going to pay,” he said.

“But I sent them there.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated firmly. “It’s your burden. But it’s not your fault. There’s a difference.”

She sniffled for a while, thinking about that. “Yes,” she said. “I see what you mean.” Then, a moment later, she said, “Giddon, did I wake you up? Twice?”

“It’s okay.”

“I haven’t even asked you how it went this time in the tunnels. I’m sorry.”

“It was fine,” he said, though it hadn’t been, not really, for the soldiers in the Estillan forests had been harder to skirt than ever, and the increase was rumored to be at the orders of Lord Joff, home from his trip to the Monsean queen. Why? Also, along with their blades and bows, the soldiers were carrying a flag Giddon hadn’t recognized. One of the refugees had told him it was the flag of the new Estillan regime. It was just a flag—Giddon kept telling himself it was just a flag—but it was eerily like the Monsean flag. Bitterblue’s flag showed a mountain peak rising behind water with a single gold star above, shining in a dark sky. The new Estillan flag showed a similar mountain peak rising behind hills, and a similar star above, except that their star was shaped like a sword with a cross guard. And the sky was red like blood.

“I’ll tell you the details later,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she said, throwing Giddon into another confusion, because he had no home anymore; he spent his life on the road, in the company of strangers. This court was merely where he was staying, until the Council needed him to be someone else, somewhere else.

“I’m going to Winterkeep,” she added, pulling away from him and mopping her face with her sleeve.

“What?” he said, startled.

“I’ve been receiving invitations from the Keepish Parliament for some time now. I think it’s time I went there myself, and made some things clear. Meet the importers on this list who’ve been cheating me, and learn more about the ship that went down. Make sure Katu is really okay.”

“Bitterblue,” he said in alarm. “Aren’t those jobs you can delegate?”

“My last two delegates drowned.”

“Well then, could it be dangerous? Send someone.”

“They’re not going to kill the Queen of Monsea,” she said scornfully.

“All right,” he said, changing tactics, “but aren’t you needed here? Since when do you have the time for a trip like that?”