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“She didn’t sing one to me,” Ashi snapped back. She folded her frost-numbed arms across her chest.

“She speaks the—”

“Just tell me if she lies, Pradoor!” roared Tariic. The old goblin’s blind eyes opened wide. She froze for an instant, then slowly bent her head. Tariic’s gaze came back to Ashi.

“Have you had contact with Dagii of Mur Talaan, then?”

“No.” A shiver of real fear crept across Ashi’s shoulders. If Tariic suspected Dagii, if he questioned him, he’d learn everything. She kept her voice firm. “Why would I jeopardize a friend after what you did to Senen?”

“Maybe you had contact with him before Senen’s treachery was revealed and punished.”

Ashi offered a silent prayer for the warlord’s safety. “I didn’t.”

Tariic’s eyes darted to Pradoor, but the priestess remained still and silent. He rested his chin on his fist and stared at Ashi. “The changeling who posed as Aruget?”

“I don’t know where he is.” The questions were too close. Her dragonmark might foil Pradoor’s spell, but Tariic was no fool. If he saw through her lies, they would all unravel. She had to turn the conversation back on him.

“I want to ask you a question,” she said. “In the hall of honor, when you tortured”—she put a hard emphasis on the word, but Tariic made no reaction—“Senen, Midian told me you were sending him on an errand. I think you sent him to try and kill Geth and the others.” She drew himself up. “Did he succeed?”

Tariic flicked his ears lazily, prolonging the answer. A fear that she hadn’t expected built in Ashi. Midian couldn’t actually have done it, could he?

“Yes,” said Tariic finally.

Her heart dropped. No …

Beside the throne, Pradoor’s expression tightened, and her face turned toward Tariic for an instant. The lhesh didn’t notice, but Ashi did. Tariic was lying—Pradoor’s spell had caught him! She felt her heart start beating again.

No, Ashi. She could almost hear Vounn’s voice. Tariic told that lie for a reason. Show people what they want to see, and they’ll believe it. Ashi swallowed her hope. She seized her despair and held onto it. She dredged up all her memories of loss—Vounn’s death, the death of her father, the realization that she was nothing more to House Deneith than an asset to be traded on—and hugged them close. Under such a burden, it was easy to crumble. Her shoulders went slack. Her breath stopped, then returned fast and shallow. Tears rose in her eyes.

She blinked them away—she’d never let Tariic see her cry, not for any reason.

And he was watching her, measuring her reaction. She found it easier than ever to hate him. “Do you have any more questions?” she asked harshly.

Again he paused before answering. “Those are all—for now.” He had the thin smile of a merchant who’d just come out on the better end of a bargain.

“Then if I may leave you,” Ashi said, taking refuge in formality, “I have duties to House Deneith that I must see to.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just bent her head once, then turned and marched to the throne room door. It was still closed, but she stood facing it, staring at the dark wood with her back to Tariic. After a long while, she heard the lhesh shout, “Open the throne room!”

As soon as the creaking door had risen high enough, she ducked under so quickly her appearance startled Woshaar, and the guard had to run after her. Ashi didn’t look back at him. She walked to her chambers with her head high and her expression hard, a mask to hide the racing energy inside.

Tariic had made a mistake. It was up to her to take advantage of it.

Oraan’s turn as her guard came that evening. No sooner had Woshaar walked away, than Oraan stepped into her chambers, closed the door, and hissed, “What were you doing? What were you thinking? You could have given us away!”

In the chair that had been Senen’s, Ashi glared back at him. “I didn’t exactly go looking for Tariic. He summoned me.”

“And what have I been telling you? Keep your head down and your voice quiet. All of Khaar Mbar’ost has been