“I will not be made a laughingstock,” Berenene said. “Not by them, and not by that girl. The entire world will say the chit snagged my lover, and my former lover helped them! Enough. I have been too kind, this summer. You see where my generosity has gotten me. Send orders to my household and to my men-at-arms, to those we trust without reservation. You and I ride south, today. The word for my court is that I am bound for the Carakathy hunting lodge for relaxation. No one must know my true intent. I want all of them to feel my hand on them. If we must raise the magical border to stop them, I will keep all three of those young people in Namorn. Pershan and Quenaill will remember who is the ruler in this empire.”

Isha curtsied. “Very well, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Put a guard on Trisana,” Berenene snapped. “Have her watched. Place your best people on alert. She is not to leave Dancruan, should she be in any condition to try.”

That same day, Tris got out of bed. She ached from head to toe and had to be helped into a bathtub, but she was on her feet. Grimly she made herself walk the circuit of her room twice that day, five times the next. The healers ordered her not to test the healing, ignoring her glare. On the third morning, as she stood on the landing and contemplated the stairs to the next story down, Ealaga came up to her.

“Are you supposed to do that?” the lady asked.

“I’m supposed to be with my family,” Tris replied. She gripped the banister and took one step down. “It’s a very nice bed, Ealaga, and you’ve been wonderful about sharing books, but I do them no good here. None of us believes Sandry will be allowed to dance out of Namorn.”

Ambros’s wife steadied Tris. “Dressed yourself, I see,” she remarked, redoing the topmost button on Tris’s gown. “Come to my room and tell my maid how to pin your braids.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Tris said. For once she did not thrust away the offer of help. I don’t want to admit I can’t walk down on my own, she thought. “I want to visit the palace tomorrow, but when I try to tuck up my braids, I get dizzy lifting my arms.” Tris paused to catch her breath, thinking, Five more steps and then I’ll sit down. I’m in splendid condition for a fight, I am!

“The palace?” Ealaga asked, puzzled. “You aren’t fit to visit anywhere, let alone the palace. Who did you wish to call on? We can invite that person here.”

“I’d rather have my chat with Viymese Ladyhammer somewhere else, if you don’t mind,” replied Tris, taking the next step with trembling legs. “It may not go well.”

“That chat seems like a very bad idea to me.” Ealaga was as full of practicality as her husband. “Surely your business with her is best left undone.”

“It is not,” the redhead answered. “I’ve had plenty of time to pick apart that whiff of magic I smelled before I decided to do bad tumbling tricks on the stair. It was her work. I don’t know what I did to Ishabal to deserve that, and I don’t care. I just want to express my unhappiness in the clearest possible way.” They had reached the second floor. Tris leaned against the banister, her face beaded with sweat from exhaustion as much as pain.

Ealaga helped Tris into her own dressing room. “Well, then, if you’re foolish enough to want to quarrel with a great mage, I can’t be sorry to tell you that your luck is out. Viymese Ladyhammer is not at the palace. She and her imperial majesty left some days ago, to do some hunting.” She guided Tris onto a chair and rang the bell for the maid.

Tris watched Ealaga’s face in the looking-glass. “Do you know where?”

Ealaga met her gaze with sober eyes. “She has a residence in the Carakathy Hills, near Lake Glaise and the Olart border.”

“Where the Imperial Highway crosses the Olart border,” Tris said.

“Yes.” Ealaga beckoned to her maid. “The empress often goes there, Tris. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Tris shifted in the chair so she could meet Ealaga’s eyes. “You don’t believe that.”

Ealaga sighed and took a seat of her own. “It’s said she was in a rage when she left, and Pershan fer Roth was missing. The gossips believe he may have gone to try to persuade Sandry to marry him after all.”

Tris took a moment to explain to the maid how each braid was tucked and the mass of braids coiled before the silk net Tris offered her was pinned in place over them. As the woman got to work, Tris bit her lip, her brain racing. Shan is the empress’s toy, thought the redhead. Her lover. If he went after Sandry—if he was fool enough to do it!—Her Imperial Majesty would feel he’d shown her disrespect. If there’s one thing rulers hate, it’s disrespect. That and the possibility that people might think they’re weak if it looks like someone has defied their will. So now the empress is angry. She’s worried people might say Shan, Sandry, Daja, and Briar are getting away with saying no to her. She’ll want to stop them from leaving, to prove they aren’t defying her.

Tris had spent much of the last three years entering and leaving countries. One thing most had in common was magical walls at the borders, walls that could be relied on to slow an invader and stop an individual. They could not remain up all of the time. It was too costly to do so: Such walls demanded immense amounts of magical power. They were shaped to be raised on command. The mage who did the raising had to be a great one, a mage with the power to raise a shield that held other mages back.