“Right after my parents –”

“Yes.”

“But why cover up Victoria’s death at all?”she asks. “Why not blame it on her health?”

Solomon taps his fez. “Try to think like theChancellor, Miss Nation. A dead Victoria Morgen will bememorialized, celebrated, and glorified. It can only lead toquestions, inconsistencies in the story, which Gabirel desperatelywants to avoid. Especially when dealing with the threat ofinsurgence. A sick Victoria Morgen, however, simply fades from thepublic eye. She will become a distant memory, long forgotten andrarely discussed.”

“So that’s it, then?” she asks. “That’s thewhole story? Morgen wants to avenge his mother, so he joins forcesagainst his father?”

“I would think there is a bit more to itthan that,” Solomon says. “But that is the general idea, Isuppose.”

“Solomon,” Nazirah questions, “do you thinkhe feels guilty about anything he’s done? That he genuinely rejectsthe Medi beliefs? Or is it all just to get at Gabirel?”

“I tend to think the best of people,”Solomon replies, “often to my own detriment. But if his views didnot shift, I would wonder why Mr. Morgen would go through all ofthis trouble, all of this effort? It is, however, a question onlyhe can answer fully. And maybe you will learn something unexpected,if you can gather the courage to ask.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” she snaps.

“I did not say you were.”

“But you think I’m afraid?”

“It is easy to hate,” Solomon says. “It ismuch harder to understand. I think you might be fearful of what hehas to say and what that might mean for you.”

“Why did you ask me here, exactly?” shehuffs.

“Just for some tea,” Solomon says kindly,“the pleasure of your company, and to offer you some hard-learnedadvice, if you are gracious enough to accept it.”

Nazirah nods slowly.

“Forgiveness usually precedes trust,” hetells her. “But in your case, I think it is the other wayaround.”

It makes sense. Nazirah guesses she trustsAdamek in some capacity, believes he’s working towards the successof the rebellion. But she most certainly does not forgive him.“Okay,” she says. “So?”

“So,” Solomon responds patiently, “sinceevery situation is unique, why are you concerned about feeling whatyou think is right … what you think is the appropriate norm?”

“I don’t understand.”

Solomon rises from his seat, patting hergently on the hand. “Just feel, Miss Nation. That is all I amsaying. Open yourself up to emotion, whatever it may be. Allowyourself to experience something besides hate. You may be surprisedby what you let in.”

Nazirah contemplates Solomon’s words. Sheturns around, looking for him, but he is already gone.

#

The next two weeks pass like the calm beforethe storm. The campaign cannot leave the Deathlands until after therebels receive the full support of the Red Lords. The Red Lordswill not endorse the rebels until after their overlord battlesAdamek. Aldrik ignores Adamek, angry that he agreed to fight theKhan without seeking approval. Nazirah avoids them both. Everythingis at a standstill.

Each afternoon, Nazirah takes tea withSolomon in the conservatory. Unlike that first day, Solomon doesn’traise sensitive issues or offer advice. He instead tells Nazirahall about his life, his family history, and his work in the prison.And Nazirah loves to listen, completely fascinated by his magicalworld.

The rest of the time, Nazirah reads on herbalcony. Or she sits there, overlooking the courtyard garden, lostin thought. Or she watches Adamek. And every day, without fail, hecompletely infuriates her.

Adamek doesn’t spend his time preparing forthe fight, training, or working on his strategy … no. Instead, hesleeps. Or he sits in the courtyard and reads. The night before thebattle, Nazirah cannot take it anymore. She is on her balcony, asusual, watching the sunset and feeling increasingly on edge. Hernerves are fried, fired. She spots Adamek lying beside thefountain, relaxing lazily, and something inside her snaps.

Nazirah storms out of her room and down intothe courtyard. Disregarding the tranquility of the cascading waterand the perfume from the flowers, she marches up to Adamek. He isstretched out on the fountain’s edge, in baggy gray shorts and alight blue shirt … reading again. He clearly hears her but doesn’tlook up. A voice in the back of Nazirah’s mind demands to know whatshe is doing, screams at her to let him die. Why does she evencare?

She ignores it.

Adamek casually turns a page. “If you’regoing to continue wheezing at me like an asthmatic grandmother,could you at least move a few inches? You’re blocking mylight.”

Nazirah grabs the book, chucks it into thefountain. The water is very shallow, so it unfortunately doesn’tsink. But it does land with a satisfying splat.

Adamek sits up and faces her. “Was thatreally necessary?” he asks. “Do you always throw a fit when someonedoesn’t give you their undivided attention?”

“Are you serious right now?” she rants. “I’mtrying to be helpful!”

“And destroying my stuff is helping mehow?”

Nazirah plants her hands on her hips. “Youshould be training for tomorrow, not reading for pleasure! Whoknows how many teeth the Khan has added to his necklace, in thelast two weeks alone?”

Adamek’s eyes flash, green with malice. “AndI’m supposed to believe the princess finally descends from hertower, trampling everything underfoot, because she cares about mywellbeing?”

Nazirah takes a menacing step forward. “Ialready told you, I don’t care! You know I came because you’restill useful to us!”

“We have the Eridianfishermen,” Adamek says evenly. “Cayus refused us because ofmy actions. The Red Westwill align with us, whether I win or not. Your brother has completeaccess to my funds in the event of my demise. Slome is a native ofZima, perfectly capable of handling them on his own. He can figureout Osen easily enough. You don’t need me.”

“You’re ‘Renatus,’ Morgen,” Nazirah scoffs.“You’re the love of my life, remember? Of course we need you! Whatgame are you playing?”

“What game are you playing, Nation?” heasks. “I know you want me dead.”

Nazirah opens her mouth, shuts it.

“What, not so chatty now?” he mocks.“Worried that I’m onto you? That I know this whole situation makesyou feel like the coward you know you are?”

“I’m not a coward!”

“Bullshit! You wish you were the onechallenging me … fighting me … killing me. But you’re too afraid.So you’re not.”

“Shut up!”

“Tell me I’m wrong!” he yells.

“I said to fucking shut up!”

Nazirah slams her hands into his chest,pushing him backwards into the fountain. He grabs her arms,dragging her over the edge with him. The two of them wrestle fordominance in the shallow water. She rolls on top of him, stranglinghim. He flips her over, pushing her shoulders down. Nazirah chokesas fluid fills her lungs. She kicks him. Cursing, Adamek pulls herup by the wrists so they are sitting. She stares at him defiantly.The water pounds into her face, blurring her vision.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he repeats, not angry,not anything at all.

“You’re not wrong,” she says. “So don’t dietomorrow.”

“Irri!”

Nazirah wrenches her wrists away as ifelectrocuted. She stares into Adamek’s face, eyes wide, beforeturning her head. “Cato!” she cries.

Her voice sounds unnaturally chipper, likethere’s nothing strange about sitting in the fountain with Adamek,getting pelted by water. Cato stands before them, stunned silent,smile wiped clean. Increasingly aware how bad this looks,especially since her soaked white dress is now clinging to her likea second skin, Nazirah struggles to extricate herself from thefountain. Cato quickly comes to his senses, rushing forward to helpher. He hasn’t changed much in two weeks, save for some stubble andthe bewildered expression. “Hi,” he says, unsure.

Nazirah attempts to hug him. Cato isunderstandably distant. He remains fixated on Adamek, also drenchedand out of the water, soggy book in hand. Nazirah protectivelycrosses her arms in front of her chest. “What are you doing here?”she asks, not knowing what else to say.