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Ekhaas’s ears rose. “Tariic will be there. Are we ready to face him?”

No one answered her. No one had to.

The great arena lay on the other side of the city. If a crowd had already gathered, they needed to hurry. Dagii wouldn’t waste any time beginning his march north after receiving Tariic’s blessing. She pointed along one of Rhukaan Draal’s crooked streets. “This way.”

The window of Ashi’s tower room looked out over the wide square before Khaar Mbar’ost, too high up to think of climbing down, but more than high enough to offer a spectacular vista of Rhukaan Draal. She wondered if Tariic had chosen the view deliberately. The square was where she and the others had tried and failed to kill him. Vounn had died down there. Ashi almost had too.

When Ashi saw troops parading in the square, she was certain the view was deliberate. Even from the tower window, she could make out the standard of the Iron Fox company. Tariic was taunting both her and Dagii. She could see the arch of the bridge over the Ghaal River as well. When Dagii led his troops north, she would be able to see them leave.

The Iron Fox wasn’t the only company to parade before Khaar Mbar’ost. Ashi recognized the precision of the Kech Shaarat too. They’d been first on the list of companies for the assault of Kennrun. If Dagii was leading the attack on New Cyre, presumably Riila Dhakaan—or more likely Taak—would be leading the attack on the fortress. Ashi felt a flash of hatred for the two Kech Shaarat, over and above what she felt for their role in Senen’s mutilation. She’d almost challenged Taak to a duel in the hall of honor. She wished that she had.

Her deaf jailer brought her food and water once a day, Pradoor waiting behind him with a prayer on her lips in case Ashi tried anything. Her days passed slowly and her nights, cold on the hard floor, even more so. Marks on the wall, scraped into the stone with the buckle of her belt, counted the days ahead to 28 Vult. The day of Tariic’s attack on unsuspecting Breland.

Maybe the Brelish weren’t so unsuspecting as she feared—but she doubted it. Tariic seemed awfully confident that his false aggression toward the Valenar, together with whatever misinformation he was providing through the ambassadors of the Five Nations, had fooled everyone.

Maybe the lhesh had been lulled into overconfidence by the Rod of Kings. Maybe the Valenar had gone to the lords of the Five Nations to tell them they had no intention of attacking Darguun again. Maybe Brelish scouts had slipped into northern Darguun and worked out Tariic’s plans on their own. Maybe Aruget had somehow survived, returning to his natural form to lull Pradoor and Tariic into a false sense of security before escaping from the castle and fleeing to Breland to warn his masters in the King’s Citadel …

“Maybe” could have driven her mad.

On the fifth day of her captivity, Ashi woke, watched the sun rise, and, for the first time since Vounn’s death, did not shield herself with her dragonmark. After so many days of invoking its protection, it felt odd. Her mark tingled as if it wanted to be used. The world beyond her window seemed a little less bright and sharp without its clarity. Ashi felt a bit more relaxed, though. There was little need for the mark. Tariic hadn’t come to see her since that first night, and even if he did come today, she could draw on her mark in an instant.

The irony of Tariic’s forged letter, she reflected as she watched the sun climb into the sky, was that the core of it was true. She would never betray House Deneith, but she certainly didn’t feel welcomed by it anymore. If Breven could turn his back on her, she could turn her back on Deneith. If she escaped Tariic’s trap, maybe she would. There was a lot of Khorvaire she had yet to explore. If she went back to Deneith, Sentinel Tower was all she was likely to see. She’d be more comfortable than in her tower prison, but no freer.

Movement in the courtyard below caught her eye. She leaned over the stone sill to watch as a