threat, but he questioned how much damage one man, far from his home, could do.
But Nori only meant to help. “Thanks for telling me,” he said.
She’d taken a risk in talking to him outside the public eye. Until he was crowned emperor, it was a political gamble to be seen as being linked too closely to him. If he failed to be crowned and Lady Nori was known to be loyal to him . . .
She placed her hand on his. Her hand was soft, uncalloused, and warm. “I just . . . worry about Becar.”
She said Becar; he heard you. He stared into her eyes, barely noticing that he’d stopped walking. “I have every hope that this waiting period will be over soon.”
Her stunning smile spread across her face, and she took a step closer to him. “That’s wonderful news! You’ve located your brother’s vessel?”
He hated lying to her nearly as much as he hated not talking to her. “Not yet. But I have faith that he will be found. There’s a finite number of creatures in Becar, after all. It’s merely a matter of time.”
Stepping back, Nori withdrew her hand. “Time is something you might not have, if the ambassador is actively working against you to prime Becar for an invasion.”
Dar went very still, hating himself for the thought that went through his mind. “Nori—are you asking me to step aside?” He kept his voice as soft as possible, but he still heard the nearest guard hiss.
She looked so appalled that he almost smiled. “Of course not!”
He reached out and took her hand this time. “Sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I’ve been on edge lately. Forgive me?”
She let out a frustrated huff. “I’d never ask you to sacrifice yourself. I merely . . . Dar, just watch yourself around Ambassador Usan, all right? He’s not to be trusted.”
“I will,” he promised.
They reached the aviary doors, and she retreated. He watched her go, wishing the conversation had ended differently, wishing he’d had the courage to tell her how he felt—though a piece of him whispered, She already knows.
She’d risked her reputation and her future safety to warn him. Wasn’t that a sign that she cared? And she wasn’t wrong—the ambassador was a threat. Just low on an ever-growing list of them.
It was worth considering the fact that Ambassador Usan had access to a vast treasury. That was valuable information he hadn’t fully considered. Drawing on a king’s funds, Usan could have afforded a charm to turn a man into a kehok.
The more Dar thought about it, the more he believed it to be possible. If the king of Ranir were planning an invasion, destabilizing Becar from the top would be a brilliant move. Dar had studied enough history to know that Becar’s strength—an emperor guided by the purity of the augurs—was also its weakness. Becar had never been without a crowned emperor for so long. We’re ripe for conquering.
Thank you, Nori, he thought. You may be more right than you know.
She would make a spectacular wife and empress.
He mulled over Usan’s possible treachery as he left his guards and entered the aviary alone. The peaceful quiet, punctuated by birdcalls and the rustling of leaves, descended on him. Centuries old, the aviary used to be his brother’s favorite place. It was filled with lush trees and flowers that wouldn’t survive outside this glass enclosure. All the winding paths were mosaics, and hidden fountains were tucked into the bushes, creating tiny pools for the birds who lived here.
He missed his brother so terribly that for an instant, he couldn’t breathe.
It kept striking like that these days. He’d think he was fine. He’d be moving forward, focusing on the problems of the country or even more simply what to wear that day or whether he liked a particular soup, and a memory would strike him, leaving him feeling as if he’d plunged into a hole.
He walked through the aviary, carrying his grief with him, until he reached a courtyard with a circle of chairs carved to look like waves of water. A river hawk was perched on the back of one.
“Mother,” he said.
Startled, the hawk spread her wings as if to take flight. She only managed a sort of hopping fall to the ground, before scurrying in between the bushes. She’d had her wings clipped. She never seemed to remember him as well as she’d remembered Zarin.
“Your Excellence?” a guard called across the aviary. “Your guests have arrived.”