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“No hand wields my sword but mine,” said Ashi.

An uneasy feeling crept up Midian’s back, and he looked around. Others nearby had started to notice the confrontation. Not that a dozen similar exchanges hadn’t already happened around the hall. Challenges and posturing weren’t uncommon whenever hobgoblins gathered, but none of the previous exchanges had spilled over into actual violence. Those involved knew better. But a warrior of the Kech Shaarat and a human of Deneith …

Tariic had wanted Ashi introduced to Taak and Riila. He didn’t want an open fight. Trying to find soothing words, Midian edged a little closer, fingers stiff and ready to deliver a numbing poke if words weren’t enough.

Riila, however, spoke before he could. “Taak, stand down! Respect our host.”

Her tone left little doubt about who was in charge. Taak didn’t seem to resent the reprimand. His ears flicked again, more vigorously this time. His thin lips twitched as well, and he tipped his head to Ashi in the tiniest of nods.

Riila moved in to take his place. “Taak honors you,” she said.

“And I honor him,” said Ashi. “The skill of the Kech Shaarat is legendary.” Her hand finally left her sword. Onlookers turned away with an audible grumble of disappointment. Midian let his fingers relax.

Only to tense them again as Ashi asked, “What brings Kech Shaarat to Rhukaan Draal?”

The question was innocent—but something in the way it was asked brought Midian’s eyes back to Ashi’s face. Still hard from confrontation, it revealed nothing. Fortunately, neither did Riila’s, though Midian caught Taak’s quick glance at his counterpart. Riila ignored it and answered smoothly, “We come to celebrate Lhesh Tariic’s victory over the elves of Valenar, ancient enemies of Dhakaan. We extend the friendship of the Kech Shaarat to a great leader of the dar.”

Someone less attentive might have missed the suspicion that flickered across Ashi’s face—but Midian saw it and alarm crept up his back again. Maybe she knew something after all. Delicate as a spider testing its web, he said, “Kech Shaarat are frequently in Rhukaan Draal, Ashi. We saw Kech Shaarat bladedancers in the arena during Haruuc’s funeral games.”

Ashi looked down at him. There was calculation in her eyes, and Midian felt an answering stir in his guts. Maybe Ashi could stare down Taak, but a game of deception wasn’t one she was going to win. He smiled sweetly at her.

“You’re right,” she said after a moment, and looked back to Riila. “They fought very well too. But I didn’t mean you or a handful of bladedancers. I was out in the city today, and I saw quite a number of Kech Shaarat. Are you all here to celebrate victory over the Valenar?”

For a moment, their little group seemed like a bubble of silence among the noise of the hall—then Taak snorted again. Loudly. He gave Ashi a huge grin. Riila smiled, too, though she showed fewer teeth doing it. Midian even found himself smiling. The game was over before it had begun.

“Ah, Ashi,” he said and it was difficult to keep the purr out of his voice. He felt almost ridiculous for having worried about what she might or might not know. Ashi’s face turned red beneath her dragonmark. Her mouth opened briefly, then pressed into a narrow line. Midian took her hand, holding tight when she would have pulled away. “You worry about entirely the wrong things.”

As if the gods had decreed its timing, the butt of a staff struck against the floor near the door. Midian couldn’t see her through the crowd of taller figures, but he heard Razu, the mistress of rituals, call out, “Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn comes!”

The entire crowd turned to the door in unison. Any noise that had filled the hall before was like a whisper compared to the thunder of voices calling Tariic’s name and fists thumping against chests in salute. Midian thumped his chest, too, and if there was some small part of him that said that this wasn’t right, that a Zil shouldn’t be cheering for the ruler of Darguun, he didn