IT SEEMED AN ETERNITY before the first casualties of the wine, too incapacitated to dance, broke the
moratorium on leaving the festival. Cassia escaped with the drunkards and overtired ladies and made
it back to her rooms before the halls became any more filthy.
Perita was gone. It would surely take her until dawn to congratulate her guard on his
accomplishments in today’s contests. Cassia stood by the remains of the fire and undressed herself.
She freed her scalp from its pinching decoration and discarded the headdress on a chair in a heap of
pins. The ugly bronze festival gown was next. Let her handmaiden serve her purpose and put them
neatly away when she returned.
Cassia once more chose her green gardening dress for her venture. The gown was dark enough that
it wouldn’t stand out in the shadows. Even so, it was a greater challenge to reach the queen’s wing
tonight, for there were so many people about. But with an extra degree of patience, she made it
without being seen by anyone sober enough to pay attention to which way a slip of a woman and a big
dog were going.
By now Solia’s door opened on silent hinges, and even the door out to the derelict garden had
quieted. Cassia’s pulse ran away with her, and goosebumps broke out on her skin, but not the
unpleasant way they had earlier under the king’s gaze. He was floors away in the great hall. He had
no idea she was here. Knight bounded out into the garden as if he heartily approved their new nightly
routine.
“Slow down,” Cassia told him in the silence of the tunnel under the wall. “Don’t get too excited,
or you shall be disappointed when we aren’t doing this any longer.”
When she pushed open the hatch at the end of the tunnels, mist blew across her face. She sniffed as
Knight climbed out ahead of her, then followed him. A full rain might hold off until dawn, but this was
certain to be their last dry night for a while. If she could call a night dry, when its dampness crept
through every seam of her clothes and into her bones.
At least the mist clung close to the ground, and the clouds overhead roiled in and out, never fully
obscuring the moons. She could not risk a torch, and without the moonlight, she would be forced to
give up her explorations.
“Don’t get too excited,” she reminded Knight.
He heeled, but his tail still wagged.
Through the trees ahead of them, the bright circle of the clearing came into view, awash in plenty
of light, as if the figure waiting there drew the moons’ glow to him like moths to flame. Perhaps he
did. He sat on the rim of the basin, lounging with more ease than he had in his chair in the great hall.
“How did you enjoy the festivities?” she asked.
“I am disappointed I did not get to dance. Apparently we Hesperines are too alarming if we do
anything except stand about looking dour.”
“I have suffered through those dances on a number of occasions. I assure you, you were fortunate
to escape the obligation.”
“Was there no one there tonight with whom you would have enjoyed dancing?”
“The king’s daughter does not enjoy anything.”
“I see. Not even cheering for her favorite warriors on the battlefield?”
“I was not at the tournament.”
His lips parted, and she heard him take a breath. “Ah. Another escaped obligation. You were
gardening instead.”
She smoothed her skirts. She hadn’t realized any stains had sneaked under the apron she’d worn to
the temple. Then she realized what his breath had meant. He could smell...
“Magic.” His nostrils flared. He held up a hand. “I have it now. You give your time at the Kyrian
temple that’s near here.”
“The maiden mages would be disappointed to learn the scent of their magic on me is no deterrent
to Hesperines. I’m sure they imagine their holy aura would ward off creatures of the night such as
yourself.”
He sniffed again, smiling. “They smell pleasant. There is kindness in that place.”
She subjected him to her shrewdest gaze. “Is all this information about my activities what you’d
like in exchange for the answers you promised me?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. His limbs did not speak the same language as human ones. His
natural grace made the messages his body sent her hard to understand. But his face said a great deal.
Every word he spoke and his every reaction to hers were written in the tilt of his brows, the angle of
his mouth.
Right now his mouth was relaxed and no longer devoid of color. It was harder to judge color in the
moonlight, but his cheeks and lips that had been so pallid in the great hall now held the natural
variations in hue she would expect to see in any healthy human face. He had transformed from solid
marble to a fair-skinned, rosy-cheeked young man. Was that what a well-fed Hesperine looked like,
as opposed to a thirsty one? So he was negotiating on a full stomach.
“I begin to think your terms are all in your own favor, Lady Cassia.” He leaned forward, and the
moonlight seemed dim in comparison with his eyes. “I demand new terms.”
“Suggest them, and we shall see if I agree.”
He gestured toward the lip of the basin. “Will you not join me at our negotiation table?”
Cassia felt much better standing. But to sit would be a good demonstration of confidence. And a
sign of goodwill. She seated herself out of arm’s reach of Deukalion. Knight draped himself over her
feet, warming her through her slippers.
Deukalion smiled, that same smile that struck her as both friendly and closed. Mysterious. Given
the overall expressiveness of his face, that was noticeable.
She put her finger on why. He never smiled with his mouth open. Well, well. He was hiding fangs.
She might do well to remember that.
He leaned back, as if relaxing on the fountain, and the lower half of his face disappeared into
shadow. “I think we both grow weary of these small, hard-won exchanges. If we are to demand so
many questions and answers of each other, why not establish a broad agreement that covers all
eventualities?”
“Spoken like an ambassador.”
“Initiate ambassador. I am not a master, nor even a full ambassador yet. I only just earned my
cords.” He touched a hand to the silver-and-white silk braid that hung around his neck, which
appeared ready to receive a future medallion of office.
“Oh, you are ruining your image now.”
“I thought it already beyond saving and that I have nothing to lose. Although, to be fair, my position
as an initiate is rather more advanced than that of an apprentice in a temple or a craft.”
“You are here for the next level of your training, then? What a crucible your master has chosen for
a workshop.”
“I jumped in of my own accord. I am not ashamed to admit I begged him to let me come. We are
making history here. Participating in this embassy is the opportunity of a lifetime, even a Hesperine
lifetime.”
And how long was that, in his case? “You must forgive my lack of enthusiasm for history. I live in
it every day.”
“I can already tell our new agreement will be a success.”
“And why is that?”
“Speaking openly is coming naturally to us already.”
If he thought this was openness, he was more innocent than she had believed. Wasn’t he?
“This is what I propose,” Deukalion said. “Let us make our own Equinox Oath to ensure all is fair
and equal in our dealings. I will promise to speak my mind, and you will promise to speak yours,
with no one as our witnesses but...” He pointed upward. “My protector.” He pointed at Knight. “And
yours.”
Cassia looked up at the moons. They were high overhead, one smooth white, one liquid red,
perfectly matched in size but opposing in nature. “Mortals call the moons Anaklastia’s Mirrors and
imagine them to be made of steel. One is said to reflect her father Anthros’s light and the other the
blood he spills. The myths say the moons wane because Hespera seeks to wrestle the Mirrors from
the grasp of Anthros’s devoted scion. But I know better.”
“Have you seen any real moonstones that have fallen from the sky? They shine even when no sun
touches them.”
“So I would imagine. I am certain the moons shed their own light and belong wholly to Hespera.”
She rested a hand on Knight. “You know where the loyalties of my protector lie. What about yours?”
“She is loyal to all those who seek Sanctuary under her gaze. The Goddess’s Eyes see and keep
secret all that passes under the shelter of night.”
Cassia met his gaze, and this time she did not tease him about his philosophical nature.
He must have seen the challenge in her eyes, for he shook his head. “You have seen I am as good
as my word. I concealed our conversation in the great hall from the embassy.”
“You dared to use a spell in front of the royal mage.”
Deukalion actually chuckled and shook his head. “That was hardly a spell. Walking unseen? For
Hesperines, that’s like...simply walking, or speaking, or singing. Something you do naturally without
expending effort. Effort is what rouses a mage’s curiosity.”
“It required so little effort for you to befuddle the senses of those who tried to look at me?”
“Including a human in Hesperine magic is a more complex matter, but my little tricks in the great
hall were not anything that would draw attention.”
“Yet you said if you kept at it too long, the other Hesperines would eventually realize you were
there. What will you do when they come looking for you here, hoping to share your evening meal? If
we make a habit of this, how can you assure me they will not become witnesses to our
conversations?”
“That is not a concern.” Deukalion sighed. “Truth be told, I am the only member of the embassy
who requires the deer.”
“Is that so. You’d best not let Amachos find out, or he shall suspect your companions of feeding on
the human populace instead.”
“They don’t require humans, either. But on that subject, I must say no more, unless we protect our
mutual revelations with an Oath.”
Cassia could let their conversations end here, the negotiation in balance. Or she could agree to
spill words with him under the moons’shroud.
What did he hope to gain by luring her to speak, as he called it, openly?
Perhaps the best answer to that was, what did she hope to gain?
As long as they both gave themselves the same amount of rope, neither could hang the other
without sending them both to the gallows. As always, they were even.
Cassia drew a deep breath. She saw Deukalion do the same. She suspected his was informative,
while all hers served to do was brace her.
“If you need time to consider my suggestion,” Deukalion said, “I’m happy to wait again for an
answer. You can tell me tomorrow night.”
She could spend another day deliberating, another night wondering whether she would be able to
get away. That would be a wasted chance, a waste of risk. She should press her opportunity tonight
and get closer to the answers she sought.
“No,” she said. His face revealed his disappointment before she clarified, “No, I don’t need more
time. I find your terms satisfactory. We shall both lay our questions and answers on the table...freely.”
She fixed him with a gaze. “And there shall be no consequences.”
He placed a hand upon his breast. “I do so swear.”
She stood long enough to drop him a curtsy. “I do so swear.”
“May this Oath stand till those who come after us stand here again.” He spoke the words with the
solemnity of ritual, but then his smile widened slowly. Kept widening, until she saw a row of clean,
straight, white teeth. The tips of his canines descended beyond, hidden in his lower lip. “You won’t
regret it, Cassia.”
She hoped he was right. And she hoped he wouldn’t regret it either.
He was too eager to trust. He did not seem to realize how dangerous she was to him. If he were
human, he would hang long before she did.
But he was not.
“I believe,” he began, “I ought to answer your outstanding question from last night. What about life
in Orthros would you like to—”
He was holding up his hand suddenly, his expression alert. Cassia had not seen him move.
“Stay here, and no one will find you.” He had hardly said it before he was gone.
Cassia surged to her feet, glancing about her for any sign of him. Knight stood at attention, silent
but with his lips peeled back from his teeth.
There was someone in the woods.
Someone Deukalion had heard—smelled—sensed?
Her mind raced through possibilities, even as she urged herself to make a decision, to act in her
own defense.
She had no idea who was out there or where they were. If she moved now, she might run into them
instead of away from them.
But if Deukalion thought their newfound bargain meant she would sit here and rely on him to
protect her, he was gravely mistaken.
Cassia dropped to her knees and took Knight’s face in her hands, gazing into his eyes. He was
bred, born, and trained to attack a threat head-on and destroy it, not to sneak about in the dark. But she
had never once made a request of him he did not understand. She might never know to what magic the
breeders had subjected Knight’s ancestors, but she had seen more than once the evidence of his
intelligence, his perception beyond even her senses.
So quiet only he could hear, she murmured, “Loma. Hoor.”
Home. Silence.
When Cassia turned to leave the clearing and hasten carefully into the trees, Knight followed
without a growl or a rumble.