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“Yes. To find Bryce. Get our gear ready. And check on some saddle birds. I have to see Rannon.”

He nodded, turned to do as I had bid, and halted again as the bronze-banded door to the apartment swung open and Rannon stepped inside with Rhandh the Vlih at her shoulder.

“Ruenn,” she said, running to me.

I would have taken her in my arms but she caught my wrists instead, her dark blue eyes searching my face.

“My father! You!”

“We had a disagreement,” I said.

She shook her head. “More than that. He’s furious. He told me....” She kept watching my face as she let a slim hand reach to touch my chest. “He told me that you were a coward. Or worse. That—” Her gaze dropped. “That you didn’t love me.”

My heart hurt itself against my ribs as she spoke. There was something very wrong here, something worse than mere anger behind Hurnan Jystral’s words. It was as if he had been poisoned against me and I did not know how. Or when.

I caught Rannon’s hand, held it.

“And do you think me a coward?” I asked. “Do you think that I don’t love you?”

“I’ve seen you fight,” she answered. “You are no coward.” But I noted with a sickness inside that she did not respond to the more important question.

Then she glanced at Rhandh and Kreeg and her message was clear. They obeyed it and left us alone.

After the door closed, Rannon looked at me with no smile on her face and said, flatly: “My father claims to have proof that you are a traitor to Nyshphal.”

A knife would have been kinder than those words from the lips of the woman I loved. I could not help but defend myself.

“Just because I wish to find my brother?” I blurted. “In finding him I will serve Nyshphal. He is somehow mixed up with those who are attacking us. I can—”

She stopped me with a hand to my mouth. And shook her head again.

“No. It is no longer about the search for your brother. My father knows of Bryce’s involvement with our enemies. Though I did not tell him. And, he has this.”

From the belt of golden wire that gathered her linen gown at the waist, she withdrew a thin roll of ivory parchment. I took it, unfolded it, glanced at the symbols incised on it in dark ink. There were two messages on the sheet. The second was in Nyshphalian script and I could see that it translated the other. The first message was in English, and I read it with a growing horror and sense of despair. Then I looked up at Rannon and started to speak into her saddened face.

At that moment, the doors were thrust back and guards poured quickly into the room, imperial guards in bronze breastplates and scarlet cloaks, with their hands on the hilts of bastard swords. At their head stood Kuurus Jystral, Rannon’s brother.

The parchment fluttered from my hand.

“Arrest Ruenn Maclang,” Kuurus shouted. “For treason against the empire and its princess.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

BETRAYER

“Arrest Ruenn Maclang,” Kuurus had shouted.

And I stepped suddenly back from Rannon, heart speeding with shock, glancing from Kuurus to his sister—the woman I was to marry.

Where was Kreeg? Why hadn’t he warned me?

Rannon’s eyes met mine. And I understood where Kreeg was. I understood why Rannon had brought her Vlih bodyguard with her and why she’d sent him from the room with my friend. Rhandh’s job had been to get Kreeg out of the way.

I saw it. I knew it. From Rannon’s eyes. And the knowledge ripped me like a talon.

The guards started forward, in step, not yet with weapons drawn. Rannon’s face grew haggard under my gaze, a dampness welling in the lush darkness of her lashes. She started to speak.

“He was supposed to—”

But I did not listen. I drew my sword, brought it out with a whickering sound. Light flashed from the mirrored steel. The guards saw, tore their own blades free of the lacquered sheaths that swung from scabbard-hooks at their belts. They socketed their shields into place on their arms.

Rannon gave a tiny despairing cry. She leaped forward to grab at my wrist.

For an instant I hesitated, wanting to fight, wanting to hurt—not Rannon but some surrogate for her. But she was there in front of me, a wild blueness