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The first person Corene recognized was Melissande.

Before the elaymotive had even come to a halt, Corene was on her feet, shouting and waving. “Melissande! Melissande!” she cried. She hopped over the low door and ran toward the palace.

“Corene!”
Melissande shrieked, racing toward her. “I have been so worried! You cannot even imagine!”

They collided just outside the door in a violent embrace and clung together, laughing and crying.

“You do not know—you do not know—so very much has happened,” Melissande panted, still clinging to her.

“Greggorio is dead. Lorian killed him. Your mother has invaded,” Corene replied, equally breathless.

Melissande exhaled a shaky laugh and released her. “Then you do know. The big things, at least. And when we could not find you—oh, we were so afraid. Lorian admitted that he had sent soldiers after you, but we could not find a body, and we have been
wild
with worry. But we could not find Foley, either, so we were a little hopeful.”

By this time, the rest of the occupants had climbed from the car, and Melissande had had enough time to identify their military escort. “I see it is not only my mother’s men who have invaded Palminera,” she said sadly.

“Welchin troops haven’t attacked,” Corene replied. “They’re only here for me.”

“That’s exactly what my mother’s troops are saying.”

“Where is everybody?” Corene demanded. “What happens next?”

Before Melissande could answer, someone else stepped through the door. “Who are you talking to?” Steff asked. “Has there been any word of—
Corene!
”

For the fourth time in this tumultuous night, Corene was swept into a hard embrace, this one almost as crushing as Foley’s. Steff’s cry brought more bodies through the door, and soon she was being passed from Steff to Liramelli to Jiramondi and back to Steff. It was odd how much she enjoyed the experience; she had never been one to seek out casual contact.

“Enough—enough—let me get my balance,” she said finally, pulling herself from Steff’s arms but keeping one hand on his shoulder and one on Melissande’s. “Can we go somewhere and talk? Then you can tell me everything that’s happened.”

TWENTY-SIX

N
elson went off to find the empress, but Jiramondi shepherded the rest of them to a small bookroom on the second floor in the white wing. Foley and Leah followed them up the stairs, as did half the Chialto guard, though none of them stepped inside the room. Melissande fussed over Corene, smoothing back her disordered hair and using a delicate handkerchief to brush smoke and soot from her face.

“And your
hands
!” Melissande exclaimed. “They are so
raw
!”

“I’ll take care of all that later,” Corene said impatiently. She was too tired to stand any longer, so she sank to a chair at a small table, and the other four all followed suit. She demanded, “Tell me everything. Tonight. Lorian. What
happened
?”

Jiramondi nodded and folded his hands before him. He looked thin and exhausted, as if this night had lasted years instead of hours. “Greggorio is dead,” he said, the simple words holding pounds and acres and years of silent grief. Corene knew that his emotions must be too complex to sort out easily. Greggorio had been his rival, but also his cousin; she had witnessed between them competition, exasperation, but also
affection. Behind the deep shock Jiramondi would be feeling a sense of bewilderment and loss.

“I know,” Corene said, glancing at Liramelli. The other girl was leaning back against her chair, eyes closed, cheeks pale with sorrow. Steff reached over to take her hand and Corene saw Liramelli’s fingers close convulsively over his. Here was someone else whose loss too big and too complicated to calculate in a single night. “And Lorian killed him. But how did events get to this point to begin with?”

“We’re still piecing it together,” Jiramondi answered. “And it is so much more complicated than we thought.”

“It seems simple enough to me,” Corene said. “Lorian started assessing the next candidates for the throne and eliminating the ones he didn’t like.”

“Maybe, but he wasn’t the first,” said Jiramondi. “If Lorian is telling us the truth, Morli started this game.”

“Morli?” asked Steff.

“Greggorio’s father,” Liramelli explained, opening her eyes, though she still wore an air of fragility.

“He was the oldest of Filomara’s brothers and always believed he should be her heir. But not only did she intend Aravani to take the throne after her, Morli himself was childless.”

“Until finally his third wife gave birth to Greggorio,” Liramelli said, her voice breaking only slightly when she spoke his name.

“The very year Aravani and her daughters died of a mysterious fever,” Jiramondi added.

“Morli
killed
them?” Steff demanded, his voice thick with horror. “Once his own son was born?”

Jiramondi nodded. “Or so Lorian says. Lorian has not admitted that he helped Morli plot the murders—but he was always fond of Morli. Always close to him. It would not surprise me to learn he was somehow involved.”

“But then did Lorian kill Morli, too?” Corene asked. “It makes no sense.”

Jiramondi sighed and rubbed his forehead. “What appears to have happened is that Morli was murdered by Donato—Filomara’s second-oldest brother, who had always wanted the crown for himself. And
Lorian was so heartbroken and enraged by Morli’s death that he poisoned Donato just a day or two later.”

“Filomara’s other two brothers got blamed for the deaths and were banished from the palace,” Liramelli said.

“While Lorian remained at court, now convinced that it was up to him to make sure Morli’s son was the next one to take the throne,” Jiramondi continued.

“Which meant eliminating the other contenders,” Corene said. “Starting with Garameno.”

Jiramondi nodded. “Yes. Lorian admits that he arranged for the accident that left Garameno crippled.”

“Except it didn’t!” Liramelli exclaimed, straightening in her chair and regaining a little animation. “All this time—Garameno has been able to walk! He has been completely whole! Why pretend otherwise?”

Corene could guess. “He needed to appear weak,” she said. “He needed to seem like he wasn’t a threat so Lorian wouldn’t try again to kill him.”

Liramelli looked confused. “So all this time Garameno knew that Lorian was a murderer?”

“I don’t think so,” Jiramondi replied. “He had noticed that everyone near the throne was being systematically eliminated, but he didn’t know who was responsible for the deaths. So he turned himself into an unlikely candidate so that he would draw no unwanted attention.”

“Why weren’t
you
eliminated?” Corene asked him.

Jiramondi responded with the ghost of a laugh. “But I was,” he said. “Lorian is the one who made sure everyone knew I was . . .”

“Sublime,” Melissande supplied.

He gave her a crooked smile. “Yes. Sublime. It was a kinder way to disinherit me than murder, I suppose.”

Steff stirred in his chair. “So, really, up until then, Lorian wasn’t so bad,” he said. When they all looked at him in disbelief, he shrugged. “He killed one person, Donato, who’d already poisoned someone else. He
tried
to kill Garameno, but he didn’t succeed—and maybe he wasn’t trying to kill him. Just to frighten him. So at that point he wasn’t so terrible.”

“Unless he was involved in Aravani’s death,” Corene pointed out. “But even if he wasn’t, his murders didn’t stop with Donato, did they?”

Jiramondi shook his head. “He had made up his mind that Greggorio should take the throne—and he was equally determined that Greggorio should marry Liramelli. Who was also his favorite.”

Liramelli was staring down at the table. “When I was a little girl, he would take me anywhere in the palace I wanted to go. He showed me the jewels in Filomara’s vault. When ambassadors came from Welce and Cozique and Dhonsho, bringing gifts for Filomara, he would sneak bits and pieces of them for me—sweets and ribbons and jars of perfume. I still have an opal from Yorramol that he brought me when I was seven years old.”

“So when Greggorio lost interest in Liramelli,” Corene said. “When he began flirting with Sarona—”

“That poor unfortunate girl.” Melissande sighed.

“Lorian intervened,” Jiramondi summed up. He glanced at Steff. “So now he’s up to at least two successful murders, and he starts to think he can control everything. He doesn’t like the fact that Filomara still relies so heavily on Garameno. The night Nelson Ardelay arrives, Filomara invites Garameno in to assist with negotiations. Lorian decides Garameno is still considered a viable candidate for the throne and must be eliminated—not just crippled, but killed.”

There was a little silence while they all contemplated how badly that plan had gone wrong.

“One thing I don’t understand,” Corene said finally. “What about Steff?”

“What about me?”

“Why didn’t Lorian see
him
as a threat? Why is Steff still alive?”

“Indeed, yes!” Melissande exclaimed. “If I am Lorian, I get rid of Steff the very first nineday he is in the palace!”

Liramelli made a choking sound and clutched Steff’s hand even more tightly, holding on as if she could protect him with her own sturdy body.

“I believe he took other steps to try to discredit Steffanolo,” Jiramondi said.

“The men who tested Steff’s blood!” Corene realized. “Lorian bribed them to say Steff wasn’t related to the empress! I always thought that was Garameno.”

“I thought so, too,” Jiramondi confessed. “But now I think it was Lorian.”

“And yet, another expert certified him as Subriella’s son, so the question remains,” Melissande pointed out. “Why is Steff alive?”

Jiramondi lifted his eyes to give Steff a long, considering look. “I think because he is an untutored, inexperienced country bumpkin who does not understand the impossible complexities of court life.”

“That’s mean!” Liramelli cried.

Steff laughed. “It’s fair.”

Melissande nodded. “We who like Steff see his many good qualities, of course, but it does seem unlikely someone as canny as Filomara would force a crown on his head when he does not seem—entirely—suitable to rule a country.”

“So Lorian had no reason to kill him,” Jiramondi said. “But that could have changed in a year or two if Filomara started to favor him.”

Corene leaned back and surveyed Steff and Liramelli. “Or if Lorian realized that the two of you had fallen in love,” she said.

Liramelli snatched her hand away; her cheeks were bright with color. “What? No! We’re not—we’re just very good friends,” she said.

But Steff, grinning, took hold of her hand again and squeezed it so hard she couldn’t pull free. “So you think he would have gotten rid of me if he thought I was stealing Liramelli from the rightful heir?” he asked cheerfully.

“I think it’s very likely,” Jiramondi said.

“Lucky for you two Lorian will be locked up somewhere for the rest of his life,” Corene informed them.

Liramelli’s gaze dropped to the table and Jiramondi’s expression grew more severe. “No,” Jiramondi said, “he’ll be executed within the nineday. Traitors always are.”

It was not the custom in Welce, so Corene couldn’t help but be shocked. But when she tried to frame a counterargument, she found it hard to come up with reasons why Lorian shouldn’t be put to death.

“I’m sure he doesn’t see himself as a traitor,” she said softly. “He sees himself as a great patriot who was trying to serve his country by keeping its rulers strong.”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of service Malinqua needs,” Jiramondi replied.

Melissande stirred on her chair. “What happens next?” she asked. “I want so very much to stay and find out, but I am certain I will be leaving very soon. An ambassador from my mother arrived with the navy, but I do not think he and Filomara will have much to discuss. We will sail for Cozique in a day or two.”

“And I’ll be leaving for Welce in the morning,” Corene said, feeling equally dismayed about the prospect. “So you’ll have to promise to keep in touch and tell us everything that happens here.”

“I’m not much of one for writing letters,” Steff excused himself.

“
I
will tell you everything,” Liramelli promised.

“It will take some time to pick up the pieces,” Jiramondi said. “And I don’t know what kind of bargain the Coziquela forces will strike with the empress.” He glanced at Melissande. “You might not be leaving after all. Perhaps what your mother will want to ensure peace between nations is a blood treaty. You to marry Garameno.”

“Garameno?” Corene repeated.

Jiramondi nodded. “Now that it’s clear he’s a whole man, there’s no impediment to naming him her heir. Greggorio is dead, Steff is—”

“A bumpkin,” Corene supplied. She couldn’t resist.

“And I am still the abomination with the revolting predilections,” Jiramondi finished up. “Garameno is the only choice to become Filomara’s heir.”

“But perhaps the empress will then want Garameno to marry Liramelli,” Corene suggested.

Liramelli practically flounced in her chair. “I don’t want to marry Garameno.”

“No, and I do not want to, either,” Melissande said thoughtfully. “I admire Garameno, but I do not like him very much. I do not want to be tied to him.”

She sighed. “And I do not want to be tied to Malinqua. I thought it would be a grand adventure to come to a foreign nation and marry a handsome young heir, but I find the prospect less appealing every day. I miss Cozique so much more than I expected. I want to go home.”

“I thought your mother put conditions on your return,” Corene said.

Melissande sighed again. “Yes, indeed. She wants me to marry. She will have picked out a suitable groom for me by now, I’m afraid. But perhaps the man will not be so bad. Or we will be able to come to a certain understanding.” She shrugged.

“I suppose Garameno will be able to find a bride among the women of Malinqua,” Corene said.

Jiramondi hesitated. “I suppose he will,” he said. “Though there are stories—they might or might not be true—”