“Is that so? Powell… coerced?” Elyu’s eyes sank like stones into deep water as he read. “He’s a traitor. Where’s the proof his word holds?”

Medith said, calm as falling snow, “The people of Sia City and we can attest it. He told the truth. Without his covert help, we’d have lost already.”

“But it doesn’t add up.” Doubt pricked like thorns before Elyu spoke. “If it’s all as he said, why didn’t he go to my father from the start? With their old friendship, and this intelligence, he could’ve convinced him. None of this would’ve turned into today’s mess...” He looked at a stack of files like a paper wall, the air smelling of ink and dry grass—Powell’s recent intelligence on Segireneto.

Most was conjecture, mist over a lake. The hard pieces barely filled a few paragraphs—troop estimates, identity guesses, motives, and the like.

Medith went quiet, brows knitting like storm clouds. After a long pause, she said, “Maybe… he didn’t dare. He had no confidence he could accuse the ones behind him with only this.”

“What? Ha!” Pride flared before Elyu lifted his chin. “In Eunomia we rule by rite and code. My father is just and farsighted. Hand him this, he’ll act. At least he’d pull a few thousand elites to shore up our lines. How could—”

“Your Majesty…” Delaia’s fingers tightened together, nerves taut as harp strings.

…

Curiosity bubbled up before Iling spoke. “Sister Sais, what do you think Medith and the others are discussing? Why won’t they even let us in?” Her body had healed, and now she was devouring food to refill her strength.

Sais shook her head, hair like fire in a breeze. Thinking was never her strong suit, less so when Medith was involved. Her mind kept circling the same worry—that Medith would “take on trouble” again and drag herself into this war.

Fear pricked first, then the memory arrived—Medith fallen in blood, a vision she’d never unsee in this life.

Milia gnawed on a glossy mutton shank, oil shining like molten amber. The townsfolk were warm to a fault; she’d said she was starving, and they’d nearly emptied their pantries to feed her. Even so, they’d “requisitioned” a small army of cooks and ingredients.

She gave the leg a shake. Fat dripped onto the cloth like rain. “This is serious. The siege was only bait. What’s behind it is tangled. Haven’t you felt it?” Her eyes sharpened; she switched to wind-speech.

“All the arrows point to Prince Paris.”

“What?!” The girls jolted, plates clattering like startled birds. Luckily only maids were near. They cleaned in a flurry, then slipped out and shut the door.

“Why the prince?” Sais replied in wind-speech, her voice a hush in the leaves.

“It’s a guess.” Milia’s appetite fled, the meat suddenly ash. “Each event looks separate, looks like chance. But each begins with Prince Paris. Maybe it’s coincidence. But think of the marquis’s panic and his tone. It’s not impossible it’s the prince.”

“Eunomia… is the sky about to change?” Iling and Phiby stared at the grapes’ emerald leaves, lost in their veins of light.

…

“Your Majesty, Prime Minister Paris told me of this almost a month ago.” Delaia’s words were careful, like feet on frost. “The prince has many eyes and ears. Him having intel is normal. But all this is too coincidental. Don’t you feel it?”

Medith held her tongue. This was top-secret state deliberation. To hint at the prince in the dark was no small thing. She shouldn’t even be here. Elyu had given her face; to press further would be unseemly.

“But… isn’t this normal for Paris?” Elyu’s temples throbbed before he rubbed them. “If it were me, I’d meet you in secret too, even slip in myself to investigate. You can’t chase shadows.” In his mind, Paris’s gaze returned—like a god stepping down from the clouds—and with it the night Ostos spoke of, when he and Paris discussed [Men and Gods].

“Your Majesty.” Medith finally spoke, the weight of fate in her tone. “We’re not accusing His Highness. I believe he feels this deeply, and prays for Sia City’s people. Just keep an extra eye open. Speak with him about it. I’m sure you’ll hear the answer you seek from his own mouth.”

Elyu’s face tightened. After a long beat, he nodded, heavy as a sealed decree.

…

November 22, 15:13. Steam rose from tribute tea like pale mist. Elyu and a circle of Sprites drank and laughed when Kailon came in with a smile bright as sunlight on steel.

“Your Majesty, good news. An elder from Medith’s clan has come with people to receive her,” Kailon said.

“What?! Who? Which elder?” Phiby all but sprang from her seat.

“He names himself Euticles. You should know him, Medith.” Kailon didn’t mince words; he called her by name.

“Oh-ho? He’s here?” Medith bloomed into a grin. The girls rose together, skirts swaying like ripples, to meet the elder.

…

Joy bubbled in Iling’s chest before she blurted, “How did the elder know we were here?” She hadn’t seen her own folk in so long.

Sais flicked her fiery hair. “Doesn’t your Commander fear That One might worry? Once That One got Medith’s letter, I bet her crown nearly fell. If the elders hadn’t held her back, she might’ve marched the whole city’s forces here.”

“That’s… that’s exaggerated. Why do you sound so snarky?” Medith winced, caught out, and sniffed in embarrassment.

“There’s always a hand that tames the tiger…” The girls hid their smiles. Medith the untouchable still sat tamed by Sais. Of course, that was on calm days. Once Medith burned, there was nothing more terrifying under heaven.

Just then, Medith turned with ghost-god eyes. The girls nearly jumped out of their skins, clapped hands over their mouths, and dared not leak another word.

…

They reached the city gate and found familiar figures there. Hundreds of Sunset Soldiers stood in two ranks, hands clasped behind them, spines straight as pines. The black sun on their white coats burned stark and dark.

“Elder.” Medith took three steps as one and stopped before Euticles.

He plainly started. “Medith? By the gods—are you really Medith?” His tiger-bright eyes swept her up and down, and for a long moment he didn’t dare believe.

The Sunset Soldiers stared too, eyes round as moons. Medith was a dragon who showed the head and hid the tail; they’d only glimpsed her when welcoming Haidra and at departure.

Now her hair was white.

Sais sighed, a soft wind through flames. “Elder, it’s complicated. The letter couldn’t say it all. Sit with us, and we’ll tell it slowly.”

The elder looked at Sais’s fire-red hair, mouth falling open, then closing on the words.

“Kailon, please settle my men.” Medith’s tone warmed, pride a quiet ember. “They’re the most important people I have. Oh, and have them spar with the Dike Guard. I want to see how far these pups are from the ace corps.” She stuck out her tongue, playful as a spring kid.

Kailon understood. “Commander, rest easy. It’s all on me.”