snap to the door. Loud footsteps march in, the ragged breathing of someone who just finished sprinting. I whirl around to find a young man in the deep black-and-red robes of a judge, the rank that makes up all in the Arm of Justice who are waiting to take Méndez’s place upon his death. He’s got thinning brown hair the color of sparrow wings and a ruddy complexion. His brown eyes flare wide when he takes me in. Nearly tripping on robes too long for his average height, he makes a beeline for us.
“Is this it?” he asks. I’ve heard bleating goats with less grating voices. “A real Robári for the Hand of Moria. King Fernando will finally be pleased with our efforts.”
Does he not know I can understand him? My every muscle is tense. I want to smack him for referring to me as it.
“Alessandro!” Justice Méndez snaps. There’s a crack in his calm exterior. And I realize, perhaps the real reason he’s so happy to see me, so ready to present me to the king, is because he needs me. “I do not remember summoning you.”
The young judge takes a step back, stuttering through an apology. He genuflects over and over. The way he grovels makes my skin crawl. But isn’t that what I’m doing? Trying to get back into the good graces of the man who destroyed my life?
“My sincerest apologies,” Alessandro says, speaking lightning fast. Méndez’s face is aghast that this boy is still talking, even though he holds his hand up in a way a king would silence a subject. “I am at your service. I am simply overjoyed that our mission will move forward. I only want—”
“The best for the kingdom,” I say, interrupting him.
“How dare it speak for me.” Alessandro practically recoils from where I sit.
Méndez’s gray eyes slide in my direction, a pleased smile curling his lips.
I want to say, It does more than that. It can rip your memories from your head until there is nothing left of you but a fumbling shell. But that is not the girl I have returned to be. I bite my response and wait for Justice Méndez to speak.
“This is Renata Convida,” he says.
“The girl stolen by the Whispers?” When he grimaces, his neck practically disappears. His eyes dart from Méndez to me, as if only now realizing he shouldn’t have spoken so freely. If there is a rift between the king and the justice, perhaps I can use that to my advantage.
“She has returned to us, Alessandro,” Méndez says, regaining his steely calm. “I would like to speak to her alone.”
“My justice—you shouldn’t be alone with such a creature.”
I breathe deep to stomp on the violent impulses coursing through my bones.
“As you can see,” the justice says, “she cannot hurt me in her state.”
“I would never,” I say.
The disdain in Alessandro’s eyes tells me he does not believe me. When he smooths his hair back, I notice the marriage band on his finger—simple polished wood. No one in the Arm of Justice would want to wear metals associated with the Moria.
He bows once more. “I will return with updates.”
“Shut the door when you leave,” Méndez says.
“The young justices can marry now?” I ask, the moment Alessandro is gone.
Justice Méndez sits back down, returning to the items on his desk. He selects a bandage.
“The king, in his infinite wisdom, has decreed that the next generation of Leonesse must be loyal to the crown. What better place to start than among those sworn to protect the kingdom from its enemies?”
Who will protect the king from me?
Unrolling the strip of cloth, he wraps it around my palm and wrist. When he guides my fingers open again, I have the vague notion that I make quite the marionette girl. Margo’s voice rings in my head. Obedient is not the same as clever. While I’m here, I have to be both.
“There we are,” he says. “All better, for the moment.”
He pulls off his blood-splattered calfskin gloves and bundles them in a piece of cloth to be dealt with by a servant who cleans the justice’s office. He pulls out a sweet from his desk and hands it to me: a stellita. He used to always give me them.
I suck in a short gasp, cradling the candy in my hand. My mouth twitches with the need to smile. I decide that it would be an appropriate reaction.
“I haven’t had one of these in—”
“Eight years.”
“Thank you,” I say as I take