their raucous activities. I learned the names of all the Council—the governors, the chievdars, and the Rahtan, even though so many of their names sounded alike. Gorthan. Gurtan, Gunthur. Mekel, Malich, Alick. Kaden’s name alone seemed to have no close soundalike. The chievdar I had met in the valley, Stavik, was sour beyond measure but turned out to be the most civil of the five army commanders.
The governors were the easiest to converse with. Most were glad to be at the Sanctum instead of the desolate homelands they came from, which perhaps lightened their dispositions. Three of the Rahtan were still gone, but the four who were present besides Kaden, Griz, and Malich were, by far, the most hostile of the Council. Jorik and Darius were the ones who had stood by Malich with their knives drawn when they saw my clan dress, and the other two, Theron and Gurtan, seemed to wear sneers like permanent battle paint. I imagined them as the men the Komizar would have sent to finish the job that Kaden had failed to do—and there was no doubt in my mind, they would have finished it without hesitation. They were the very definition of Rahtan. Never fail. It was hard for me to reconcile that in some twisted way Kaden had saved my life by bringing me here.
Every evening after the meal, the Council was drawn into games of stones or cards, or they simply drank the night away. The precious Morrighese vintages were swilled like cheap ale. The games of stones were foreign to me, but the card games I recognized. I remembered Walther’s first piece of advice to me: Sometimes winning is not only a matter of knowing the rules, but of making your opponent think he knows them better. I watched from afar, parsing out the nuances and similarities to the games I had played with my brothers and their friends. Tonight the stakes for one particular game grew, with the largest stack piling up in front of Malich. I watched smugness strut across his face like a barnyard rooster, the same cocky grin he had when he told me that killing Greta was easy.
I stood and walked over to the players. I decided I was in need of some entertainment too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
KADEN
I watched her saunter over.
It was something about her steps. Her arms crossed in front of her. Her timing. The deliberate casualness of it all.
The muscles in my neck tightened. I didn’t have a good feeling about it.
Then she smiled, and I knew.
Don’t do this, Lia.
But I really wasn’t sure just what she was doing. I only knew no good would come of it. I knew the language of Lia.
I tried to disengage myself from Governor Carzwil, who was intent on sharing every challenge of transporting turnips and bags of lime from his province to Venda. “Lia,” I called, but she ignored me. The governor spoke louder, determined to regain my attention, but I kept glancing away. “She’s fine,” the governor said. “Give her a little rope, boy! Look, she’s smiling.”
That was the problem. Her smile didn’t mean what he thought it did. I knew it meant trouble. I excused myself from Carzwil, but by the time I got to the table, she had already engaged two of the governors. Even though they were two who had warmed to her presence more than the others, I still hovered, sensing something about to spring.
“So, the point is to get six cards with numbers that match? That sounds easy enough,” Lia said, her voice light and inquisitive.
Malich spit on the floor next to him, then smiled. “Sure it’s easy.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Governor Faiwell said. “The colored symbols must be matched too—if you can, that is. And certain combinations are better than others.”
“Interesting. I think I might understand it,” Lia crooned. She repeated the basics back to them.
I recognized the tilt of her head, the cadence of her words, the purse of her lips. I knew what she was doing as sure as I still felt the knot on my shin. “Come away, Lia. Let them play their game.”
“Let her watch! She can sit on my lap.” Governor Umbrose laughed.
Lia looked over her shoulder at me. “Yes, Kaden, I’d like to try my hand at it,” she said, then turned back to the table. “May I join you?”
“You have no stake,” Malich grumbled, “and no one plays for free.”
Lia narrowed her eyes and walked around to his side of the