“Viska.”

Aha. “And what did Viska have to say?”

“I won’t spill no secrets in front ofher.”

“Boden, if you suspect her of doing the dark deed herself, I’m not sure how it can be considered a secret.”

The boy jerked as if startled, then folded his arms as his lips twisted in thought. “Maybe it was her accomplices.”

“By what evidence?”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Viska says the assassin left his daggers behind. And they’re imperial. All curved and wicked sharp-like, with an imperial dragon on the blade.”

Karreya did not appear noticeably concerned. If anything, her lips curled slightly in a dismissive smirk.

“Something to add?” Vaniell inquired mildly, when it became clear she was feeling amused by this all-too-serious news.

“Is your king’s guard truly so incompetent that they will believe any false trail that presents itself?”

He couldn’t really answer that, and at his silence, her smile turned thin and sharp.

“Allow me to assure you that no imperial assassin would be so clumsy and crude as to leave behind such ridiculously obvious clues to her identity.”

“Unless your empress wanted us to know who had done it.”

Karreya’s eyes were coolly mocking. “If she wanted you to know, Abreian, she would not use a hidden blade in the night. The Imperial Fleet would swallow this harbor whole and spit out the broken bones of your city. Your petty kingdom would be crushed beneath her heel, and there would be nothing you could do to stand in her way.”

Her reasoning followed his own, and yet it seemed far more ominous coming from one who might have reason to know. Who might have seen it happen.

For a moment, Vaniell allowed himself to wonder whether his instincts had played him false. Whether he’d permitted himself to be distracted by a hauntingly beautiful face, and failed to recognize an enemy when she was right in front of him.

And yet, the more he considered it, the more unlikely it seemed. The most beautiful women in Garimore had been throwing themselves in his path for years, and his head had remained unturned. He’d been too focused on protecting his family, staying one step ahead of the monster he’d been forced to call Father.

Whatever this woman’s intentions were, he knew she was not his enemy, and that certainty brought him an odd thrill of satisfaction. Perhaps even exhilaration.

“So you admit you are, in fact, an imperial agent,” he said lightly, turning to refill the kettle and rummage in his limited larder.

“I… was.” For the first time, Karreya sounded hesitant. Almost lost.

“And you are also a mage with some skill in detecting enchantment.” He kept working, wondering how she might respond to such an accusation.

“Just because I do not like to lie does not mean I will always answer your questions.”

“Then perhaps you would agree to answer simply because I am charming?”

Vaniell’s grin was met by a glare, and he almost laughed aloud.

He’d missed this verbal fencing. Ever since he left court, life had been composed of running and hiding, counting his losses and retreating, doing his utmost to save what he could and begging for miracles at every turn. He’d been free of the pretense, but he’d had no one to match wits with. No one who saw the value of levity in the midst of darkness. A pity, really. He’d discovered many years ago that humor and wit were the most effective disguise for even the darkest of human emotions.

No one spoke for the next few moments as he doled out food to the boy and the cat. Then he held out a plate of dried fish, brown bread, and hard, crumbly cheese to Karreya, with an almost challenging smile.

“I feed my allies,” he told her. “Perhaps not very well, but you won’t go hungry. And you can explain what you need from me as we eat.”

For a moment she simply watched him, and Vaniell found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

Would she accept it… No, would she accepthimjust as he was? Without knowing his complicated history or asking about his magic?

After a moment more of wordless glaring, she reached out and took the plate, stepping back from him afterwards like a feral cat unwilling to get too close.