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She stifled a sigh and lifted her chin and kept walking, though the lights and the performers and the sights didn’t seem quite as magical when she was viewing them by herself. Foley insisted on remaining a few paces behind her, guarding rather than accompanying her, which made her feel even more solitary. She kept scanning the masked faces of the people who passed by, sure she would find Melissande or Liramelli or Nelson somewhere in the crowds, but so far they remained elusive. She wondered if they were all together somewhere, enjoying themselves so much that they didn’t even realize she was missing.

Disconsolately, she paused by a knot of people who were watching a man juggle knives and oranges, deftly changing his grip each time the opposite item fell into his hand. “Any bets that he’ll cut himself?” asked a man standing beside her. He wore a blue cape and a matching mask; his voice was unfamiliar. No one she knew, she was pretty sure.

“No,” she responded. “He wouldn’t be here if he was that clumsy.”

“Too bad. Seems like the kind of crowd that would enjoy blood.”

An odd thing to say. She edged away slightly. “Oh, I wouldn’t think so,” she said. “It’s a pretty civilized group.”

He closed the gap. “On the surface, maybe,” he said. “But you don’t have to scratch too deep to find the savage underneath.”

All her instincts were warning her of danger, and again she stepped away. “I don’t intend to scratch anyone,” she said.

Again he followed. “And if someone scratches
you
?” he murmured, lifting a hand as if he would stroke her cheek.

She drew breath to scream but before she could utter a sound, Foley
was there, knocking the man to the ground. It happened so quickly she couldn’t track the motion. One moment, menace; the next, chaos. All around her were gasps and shouts and coiling bodies as people drew back and the man in the blue cape jumped to his feet.

“If you—” he began with a snarl, and Foley knocked him down again. He moved so quickly, so fluidly, it was as if he only waved or gestured, but the man was sprawling before them, coughing with pain. This time he stayed down, shaking his head and moving his hand along his ribs as if to feel for broken bones.

The bystanders were muttering now, trying to decide if they should intervene, trying to determine who was at fault. Any more uproar and royal guards would appear, Corene thought.

But she didn’t want to prolong this scene. She grabbed Foley’s wrist and tugged him away. “Come on.” The man on the ground didn’t cry out anything melodramatic like
Stop them!
and none of the nearby watchers felt impelled to pursue them, so within a few steps they were out of sight, lost in another bend of the maze.

“Thank you,” Corene said. She was tired of him stalking along behind her, so she held on to his wrist; she was pleased when he made no move to pull his arm away. “There was something unnerving about him.”

“I could tell he made you uneasy. And when it looked like he was going to touch you . . .”

She shivered. “I’m glad you were watching me.”

“I’m always watching you.”

I’m glad of that, too.
Instead she said, “We’ve
looked
at all the wonders, but we haven’t
tasted
any of them. Let’s go try something! You choose. What looked good to you?”

He glanced down at her, his eyes crinkling in a smile behind the mask. “The brew that was on fire,” he said promptly.

She felt laughter bubble up. “I know exactly what you’re thinking,” she said.

“Do you? And what’s that?”

“You’re thinking, ‘I’m a guard and she’s royalty. What I want should have no influence on what we do. But she’s stubborn enough to insist, so I may as well avoid the argument and speak up.’ Is that right?”

Now he was openly laughing. “Close enough. Though I also spared
a second to think, ‘I’d just pick the safest option, but she wouldn’t believe it, so we’d have the argument anyway. So I may as well tell the truth.’”

She slid her hand up to the bend of his elbow and turned toward the fountain, but now he wouldn’t budge. “What?” she said.

He disengaged his arm. “You can’t promenade through the festival with me like I’m some kind of lord.”

“Why not? Nobody knows who you are. Nobody knows who
I
am, when it comes to that.”

“Because I’m a guard and you’re royalty,” he said, giving her own words back to her.

She played a trump to see what it would get her. “But there are so many people,” she said. “I’m afraid.”

“No you’re not.”

This time she didn’t take his wrist or elbow; this time she reached for his hand, and twined her fingers through his. He made as if to pull away, and she tightened her grip. Obviously he could get away if he wanted, but he hesitated.

“You don’t want to break my fingers,” she pointed out.

“I need both hands free,” he said, his voice uninflected, “in case someone attacks you.”

“If someone attacks me,” she promised, “I’ll let go.”

“Corene—”

That was it. Just her name. But it stopped her. He never called her by name—never formally addressed her, really—and she was trying to recall the last time he had needed to get her attention. Did he say “Majesty”? “Princess”? Did he just wave a hand? She couldn’t remember.

“Why did you come with me to Malinqua?” she asked softly. They were standing midway between two displays of light, so they could see each other, but not clearly. And anyway, there were the masks. But she would bet he could read all the emotions on her face. She wasn’t making any attempt to conceal them.

“I told you that the last time you asked.”

“Because you thought I needed a protector.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you want to be that protector?”

He didn’t answer.

“You never asked me,” she said, her voice even lower, “why
I
wanted
you
to come with me on this trip.”

With one quick twist, he broke free of her hold. But he didn’t move away. “Because you thought I was skilled enough to do my job.” When she started to speak, he interrupted. “That
has
to be the only reason. I can’t
do
the job if you say other reasons exist.”

She listened to that closely. He was trying to hold his voice steady, but there was a raw undertone that she found very interesting. “You mean, you’d resign your post?” she said. “You’d leave me alone in Malinqua?”

“You won’t be staying in Malinqua,” he said stiffly. “I would ensure you made it safely home.”

“And
then
you’d resign?”

“If my presence was detrimental to your well-being.”

“What if your
absence
was detrimental to my well-being?”

“I doubt that situation will arise.”

“It will. It has. We’re in that situation already,” she said.

“If that’s the case, then this assignment has already been too long,” he said firmly. “As soon as we’re back in Welce, I’ll ask your father for another post.”

“And if I tell my father that I don’t feel safe with any guard but you?”

“I will explain to him that I fear you’ve grown too attached to me. I think he’ll be happy to see my services redirected.”

“I hope I don’t find ways to get myself in real trouble when we’re back in Welce and you’re not around to protect me,” she said. “Think how awful you’d feel if you learned something bad had happened to me because you weren’t there.”

He just looked at her for a moment, his face entirely unreadable behind the mask. “I feel certain you are too sensible to take dangerous risks just to prove a point.”

She allowed herself a small smile. “Well, we won’t worry about Welce until we’re back in Chialto,” she said. “For now—let’s go sample some of that fiery punch that you admired so much.” Again she tucked her hand inside his elbow. And this time he didn’t bother protesting or pulling away.

He wants to be a hunti stone,
she thought, as they moved through the throngs of people, dodging the drunk ones, smiling at the happy
ones.
But he has a loyal torz heart. I must turn coru and wear away at him, drop by drop, until he is completely exposed. And then I will be the sweela girl who sets us both on fire . . .

It was such a delicious thought that it made her shiver. He glanced down in concern. “Are you cold?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’m perfectly fine.”

They found their destination with no trouble and accepted servings of flaming brew from the footman. Corene had to release Foley to hold the cup in both hands, and she admitted to a little trepidation as she lifted it to her mouth. Foley was watching her, his own glass poised, his eyes narrowed with amusement.

“Are you as brave as you pretend you are?” he asked.

“Are you as impervious?” she retorted, and downed the liqueur in one long swallow. The flame flicked harmlessly at her nose; it was the hot spices that scorched her throat on the way down. She felt her eyes water and her tongue burn, but the taste that lingered was smoky and sweet. “Powerful,” she managed to choke out, “but I like it. Not for every day.”

Foley was sipping his more cautiously, even appearing to roll a mouthful across his tongue. “Probably singe away your sense of taste if you had it too often,” he said. “But I like it, too.”

They finished off the potions and handed their glasses back to the servers. “Now where?” Corene asked. “What else did you want to see?”

“There was a knot of people on the front lawn,” he answered. “I couldn’t tell what they were looking at, but they all seemed pretty impressed.”

“Let’s go find out.”

They strolled around the outer edge of the temporary labyrinth to the very front of the palace grounds, where a throng of people had indeed gathered around some mysterious attraction. A half dozen lanterns hung from nearby poles, but the crowd was so thick that Corene couldn’t tell what they were examining by the cheerful light. Trying to be polite about it, she pushed her way forward, squeezing past lovers and drunkards and squirming children.

When she got close enough to see the prize, she laughed and waved Foley closer. “A smoker car!” she cried. “Nelson
said
there was one on the boat that brought him over.”

A few of the admirers overheard her and crowded closer. “What did you call it?” asked someone she took to be a young man. She could see a thin beard covering what portion of his face wasn’t disguised by his three-quarter mask.

“A smoker car. An elaymotive,” she replied. “It runs on compressed gasses, so it doesn’t need a horse. It was invented by a crazy man who lives in Welce.”

“Is it fast?” asked a man.

“Three or four times as fast as a horse, I think.”

“Is it dangerous?” asked a girl. “Could it catch fire? Explode?”

“I don’t think that happens anymore.”

“Any
more
? It
used
to?”

“Well—a few times—”

The first young man spoke up again. “Can you drive it?”

She glanced back at Foley. Oh, how much she wanted to say yes. The truth was, she could, but she wasn’t very good at it. Barlow and Jaker had taught both her and Josetta, and she’d practiced a few times on her father’s vehicles. This one was one of the smaller models, roofless and compact, made to carry only four people and only in good weather. She could probably maneuver it around the palace grounds without knocking down too many spectators. Of course, she had no way of knowing if there was any fuel in the tanks; it might not even be operational.

But if it was—Foley could drive an elaymotive. She’d trust
him
to tool around the fairgrounds without killing anyone. She raised her eyebrows at him in a silent question, but wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. Stealing someone else’s property wasn’t on Foley’s list of acceptable behaviors.

“No,” she said regretfully. “I wonder if the empress imported a driver along with the car.”

“
I’d
like to learn to drive it,” the bearded young man said.

One of his friends answered him, and pretty soon Corene had lost the crowd’s attention. She could tell it was making Foley edgy to have her standing in such a mob, so she apologized her way back out through the press of people and took his arm again. He didn’t even bother protesting.

“That was fun,” she said. “What else would you like to see?”

“What’s around back?”

“Let’s find out.”

They skirted the outer edges of the displays until they made it to the back lawns of the palace. Here among the flower and vegetable gardens, the layout was much less formal. No labyrinth replica, just clusters of furniture and banks of candles set up amid organized activities. These included everything from archery contests to foot races, which meant the mood was more boisterous and it was harder to hold a conversation. Corene supposed that was a relief to Foley, but she didn’t mind. She kept her light grip on his arm with one hand, and with the other pointed out sights he might have missed.

They’d never caught up with Nelson or Melissande, Steff or Liramelli, but now she rather hoped they didn’t. She was enjoying herself much more without them. She did catch a glimpse of Lorian, prowling through the gardens with a trio of footmen at his back. He wasn’t masked, and his face was drawn in its usual serious lines; he appeared to be patrolling the festival to make sure everything was going smoothly, and he looked ready to dispatch servants to fix anything that went amiss.

“Do you want to try your luck in the archery contest?” Corene asked Foley, but he shook his head.

“I’m not very good with a bow. Better at close combat.”

“Maybe they have wrestling matches somewhere.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t want to be distracted.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t press. She would save her persuasions for when they mattered.

The crowd thinned out and the noise died down as they moved farther and farther from the palace. The night grew darker as well, since there were only a few lanterns hung from low branches or clustered around arrangements of benches.

By the time they reached the hedge maze at the back of the property, they appeared to have left every other fairgoer behind. Lorian apparently hadn’t expected many people to walk the maze when there were so many other delights to explore, because he had barely bothered to light it. Corene could spot a single white lantern glowing in the very center of the maze—probably swinging from the doorway of the gazebo—and four more were hung at strategic spots to shed dim illumination across all of the tangled pathways. Even so, the walk would be mostly in shadow.