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The rest of the meeting continued without incident, and I dozed on my stool from time to time, untroubled by strange dreams. When the Commander pounded his gavel, I was awake in an instant.

  “Last item, gentlemen,” the Commander announced. “A Sitian delegation has requested a meeting.”

  The room erupted with voices. Arguments sprang to life as if the Generals were picking up an old debate right where they had left off. They discussed trade treaties, and quarreled about attacking Sitia. Instead of trading for goods, why not take them? they argued. They wanted to expand their districts and gain more men and resources, ceasing all worries about Sitia attempting to attack Ixia.

  The Commander sat in silence and let the flow of advice wash over him. The Generals settled enough to proclaim their beliefs about allowing the Sitians to come. The four northern Generals (Kitvivan, Chenzo, Franis and Dinno) didn’t want to meet with the delegation, while the four southern Generals (Tesso, Rasmussen, Hazal and Brazell) favored a summit with the Sitians.

  The Commander shook his head. “I acknowledge your opinions about Sitia, but the southerners would rather trade with us than attack us. We have more men and metal. A fact they are well aware of. To attack Sitia we would expend many lives and large sums of money. And for what? Their luxury items aren’t worth the cost. I’m content with Ixia. We have cured the land of the King’s disease. Perhaps my successor will want more. You’ll have to wait until then.”

  A murmur rippled through the Generals. Brazell nodded in agreement, with his thin lips anchored in a predator’s smile.

  “I have already agreed to meet with the southern contingent,” the Commander continued. “They’re due to arrive in four days. You have until then to express your specific concerns to me before departing for your home districts. Meeting adjourned.” The bang from the Commander’s gavel echoed throughout the dead silent room.

  The Commander rose and with his bodyguards and Valek close behind, he prepared to leave. Valek gestured for me to join them. I lurched to my feet. The full effect of the brandy I had consumed washed over me. Giddy, I followed the others from the room. An explosion of sound slipped through the door just before it closed behind us.

  “That should stir things up a bit,” the Commander said with a wan smile.

  “I would advise against vacationing in MD-8 this year,” Valek said sarcastically. “The way Dinno reacted to your announcement about the southern delegation I would expect him to pepper your beach house with sand spiders.” Valek shivered. “A horribly painful way to die.”

  My skin crawled too, thinking of the lethal spiders the size of small dogs. Our procession continued in silence for a while as we headed back to the Commander’s suite. My gait was unsteady. The stone walls blurred past me, as if they were moving and I was the one standing still.

  Outside the Commander’s suite, Valek said, “I’d watch out for Rasmussen too. He didn’t take the news of the change in your successor well.”

  The Commander opened his door. I stole a quick glance inside his suite. The same plain utilitarian style that decorated his office and the rest of the castle was present. What had I expected? Maybe a splash of color, or something a bit more feminine? I gave my head a little shake to banish such absurd thoughts. The motion made my head spin, and I had to put a hand to the wall to keep myself from stumbling.

  “I watch out for everyone, Valek. You know that,” the Commander said before shutting the door behind him.

  Upon entering our suite, Valek stripped off his uniform jacket and threw it on the couch. He pointed to a chair and said, “Sit. We need to talk.”

  I plopped into the chair and dangled a leg over the armrest, watching Valek pace the room in his sleeveless undershirt and formfitting black pants. Imagining my hands helping to ease the tension in the long ropy muscles of his arms almost started a giggling fit. Brandy flowed through my blood, quickening my pulse.

  “Two things were very wrong tonight,” Valek said.

  “Oh, come on. I just dozed for a minute,” I said in my defense.

  Valek shot me a quizzical look. “No, no. You did fine. I meant about the meeting; the Generals.” He continued to pace. “First, Brazell seemed unusually happy about the change in successor and the Sitian delegation. He’s always wanted a trade treaty, but he typically exercises a more cautious approach. And second, there was a magician in the room.”

  “What?” My breath locked. Had I been discovered?

  “Magic. Very subtle, from a trained professional. I only felt it once, a brief touch, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source. But the magician had to be in the room, or I wouldn’t have felt it.”

  “When?”

  “During Tesso’s long-winded dissertation about corn.” Valek’s posture had relaxed a little, as if the act of talking out a problem helped him deal with it. “About the same time your snoring could be heard halfway across the room.”

  “Ha,” I said rather loud. “You were so stiff at that meeting I thought rigor mortis had set in.”

  Valek snorted with amusement. “I doubt you could have looked any better sitting in that uncomfortable dress uniform all night. I imagine Dilana sprayed on extra starch with malicious glee.”

  Then he grew serious again. “Do you know Adviser Mogkan? He eyed you most of the evening.”

  “I know of him. He was Reyad’s primary adviser. They also hunted together.”

  “What’s he like?” Valek asked.

  “Same kind of vermin as Reyad and Nix,” I said. The words poured off my lips. I slapped both hands over my mouth, but it was too late.

  Valek studied me for a moment. Then he said, “There were a number of new advisers at the meeting. I guess I’ll have to check them out one by one. It seems we have a new southern spy with magic abilities.” He sighed. “It never ends.” He dropped onto the edge of the couch as weariness settled on him like a coating of dust.

  “If it did, you’d be out of a job.” Before I could stop myself, I squeezed behind Valek and started to massage his shoulders. The alcohol had taken complete command of my movements, and the tiny sober section of my brain could do nothing but yell useless admonishments.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Valek stiffened under my touch. Was he expecting me to strangle him? I wondered. As my hands kneaded his muscles, he relaxed.

  “What would you do,” I asked him, “if suddenly the world was perfect and you had no one to spy on?”

  “I’d be bored,” Valek said with amusement.

  “Come on, seriously. A change in profession.” I dug my thumbs into the muscle at the base of his neck. “A fire dancer?” A rush of warmth radiated as brandy pumped through my blood.

  “No. An arms teacher?” Valek suggested.

  “No. It’s a perfect world. No weapons allowed.” I moved my hands down his back. “How about a scholar? You’ve read all these books lying around, haven’t you? Or are they just to make it difficult for someone to sneak in?”

  “Books serve me in so many ways. But I doubt your perfect society would need a scholar on murder.”

  My hands paused for a second. “No. Definitely not.”

  “A sculptor? I could carve extravagant statues. We could redecorate the castle and liven things up. How about you?” he asked as I pressed my fingertips into the small of his back. “What would you do?”

  “Acrobatics.” The word flowed without conscious thought. I had thought I left acrobatics behind with my fire amulet, but it seemed my excursion through the trees had reawakened my desire.

  “An acrobat! Well, that explains a lot.”

  Aroused by my contact with Valek’s sculpted body, I slid my hands around to his stomach. Reyad be damned. The brandy had relaxed me past fear. I started to unfasten Valek’s pants.

  He grabbed my wrists, stopping me. “Yelena, you’re drunk.” His voice was hoarse.

  Valek released my hands and stood. I sat, watching him with surprise as he swooped down to lift me from the couch. Wordless, he carried me to my room a
nd laid me on the bed.

  “Get some sleep, Yelena,” Valek said softly as he left the room.

  My world spun as I stared into the darkness. Placing a hand on the cold stone wall next to my bed helped to steady my thoughts. Now I knew. Valek had no interest in me other than my job as the food taster. I had allowed myself to get caught up in Dilana’s gossip and Maren’s jealousy. The ache of rejection throbbing in my soul was my own fault.

  Why hadn’t I learned by now? People turned into monsters. At least the people in my experience. First Brazell, then Rand, although Reyad had stayed consistent. What about Valek? Would he transform into one or had he already? Like Star said, I shouldn’t be thinking of him at all, not as a companion, and not to fill the dead place in my heart.

  As if I could. I laughed. A drunken sound, tattered and ragged, the music of my thoughts. Look around you, Yelena, I chided myself. The poisoned food taster who converses with ghosts. I should be thankful that I breathed, that I existed. I shouldn’t long for more than freedom in Sitia. Then I could fill the emptiness. Dismissing all sentimental, weak thoughts, I focused on the business of staying alive.

  Escaping to Sitia would break no bonds with Valek. Once I obtained the antidote to Butterfly’s Dust I could set my plans into motion. Determined, I reviewed lock-picking techniques in my mind until I fell into a deep alcohol-induced sleep.

  I woke an hour before dawn with a pounding head. My mouth felt like an abandoned spiderweb. I imagined dust blowing from my lips with each exhaled breath. Moving with extreme care, I inched out of bed. Wrapping my blanket around my shoulders, I went to get a drink. Valek liked cold water and always kept a pitcher outside on the balcony.

  The crisp night air blew away the lingering fuzziness of sleep. The castle’s stone walls glowed, eerily reflecting the moonlight. I located the metal pitcher. A thin film of ice had formed on the top. Breaking it with a finger, I poured the water into my mouth, gulping.

  When I tipped my head back for a second drink, I noticed a black spider-shaped object clinging to the castle wall above my head. With growing alarm, I realized the shape was descending toward me. It wasn’t a spider but a person.

  I searched for a hiding spot, but stopped when I realized that the intruder had probably already seen me. Locking myself in the suite and waking Valek seemed a better plan. But before I could enter the pitch-black living room, I hesitated. Inside, the intruder’s dark clothes would be hard to see. A locked door no longer gave me a sense of security since my lock-picking lessons with Janco.

  Cursing myself for leaving my switchblade inside, I moved to the far end of the balcony, clutching the water pitcher in my hand.

  The wall climber jumped the remaining distance to the balcony floor. The effortless movement triggered recognition.

  “Valek?” I whispered.

  A bright flash of white teeth, then Valek removed a pair of dark glasses. The rest of his face was hidden behind a hood that covered his head and was tucked into a skintight body leotard.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Reconnaissance. The Generals tend to stay up late after the Commander leaves the brandy meeting. So I had to wait until everyone had gone to bed.” Valek went into the suite. He removed his hood. Lighting the lantern on his desk, he pulled a paper from his pocket.

  “I hate a mystery. I would have let the identity of the Commander’s successor remain a secret, as I have for fifteen years, but tonight’s opportunity was too tempting. With eight drunken Generals sleeping it off, I could have danced on their beds without waking them. Not one among them has any imagination. I watched all the Generals put their envelopes from the Commander right into their briefcases.” Valek motioned for me to join him at the desk. “Here, help me decipher this.”

  He handed me a stiff piece of paper. A jumble of words and numbers were scrawled on it. He had copied the eight different pieces of the encrypted message by stealing into each General’s room. I wondered why he was confiding in me. Too curious to question, I pulled up a chair to help him.

  “How did you break the wax seal?” I asked.

  “Rookie trick. All you need is a sharp knife and a tiny flame. Now read me the first set of letters.” He wrote it down then reordered the letters until he had created the word siege. Opening a book, he flipped through the pages. Symbols like the ones on my switchblade’s handle peppered the document. The page Valek stopped on was decorated with a large blue symbol that resembled a star in the middle of three circles.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “The old battle symbol for siege. The dead King used these markings to communicate with his Captains during times of war. They were originally created hundreds of years ago by a great strategist. Read me the next set. They should be numbers.”

  I told him the numbers. He began to count the lines of text.

  It occurred to me that I could borrow this book and figure out Janco’s message on my switchblade. Eventually, my ass. Won’t Janco be surprised.

  When Valek reached that number, he wrote a letter down on a clean page. After he had finished deciphering the message, Valek sat as still as a held breath. Unable to wait any longer I asked, “Who is it?”

  “Guess,” he said.

  I looked at him. I was tired and hungover.

  “I’ll give you a hint. Who was the happiest about the change? Whose name keeps popping up during the most bizarre situations?”

  Terror swept over my body like a cloak. If something happened to the Commander, Brazell would be in command. I would probably be his first order of business, and wouldn’t live long enough to see any changes he might implement in Ixia.

  Valek understood the look on my face. He nodded. “Right. Brazell.”

  For two days the Commander met with each General in turn. My brief and periodic interruptions to taste the Commander’s food created uncomfortable moments of silence. The tension around the castle was palpable as the Generals’ retinues snarled and fought with everyone.

  On the third day, when I arrived to taste the Commander’s breakfast, I found him absorbed in conversation with Brazell and Adviser Mogkan. The Commander’s eyes were glazed, his voice a monotone.

  “Get out of here!” Brazell barked.

  Mogkan pushed me into the throne room. “Wait here until we summon you,” he ordered.

  I hesitated outside the door, uncertain if I should heed this unusual request. If it had come from Valek or the Commander I wouldn’t have doubted, but being expected to follow Mogkan’s orders rankled. My worries grew as I imagined Brazell attempting an assassination. I was about to search for Valek, when he burst into the throne room, his expression hard as he hurried toward the Commander’s office.

  “What are you doing out here?” Valek demanded. “Haven’t you tasted his breakfast yet?”

  “I was ordered to wait. He’s with Brazell and Mogkan.”

  Sudden fear crossed Valek’s face. He pushed past me into the office. I followed. Mogkan was standing behind the Commander with his fingertips pressing into the Commander’s temples. When Valek appeared, Mogkan stepped away. He said smoothly, “You can definitely feel, Sir, that this is an excellent way to ease a headache.”

  Animation returned to the Commander’s face. “Thank you, Mogkan,” he said. Glaring at Valek’s intrusion, he demanded, “What’s so important?”

  “Disturbing news, Sir.” Valek stared daggers at Brazell and Mogkan. “I would like to discuss it in private.”

  The Commander rescheduled their meeting for later that day, then dismissed them.

  “Yelena, taste the Commander’s breakfast now.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Valek watched me taste the food. An intense expression lined his face, making me nervous. Did he think the food was tainted? I rechecked the cooling tea and lukewarm omelet, but detected no foreign substances. I placed the tray on the Commander’s desk.

  “Yelena, if I have to eat cold food again, I’ll have you whipped. Understand?” The Comm
ander’s voice lacked passion, but the threat was genuine.

  “Yes, Sir,” I replied, knowing an excuse was useless.

  “You’re dismissed.”

  I fled from the office, barely noticing the bustling activity in the throne room. Walking past the entrance, I paused. “Hungry,” said a flat voice in my head. My stomach growled; I was ravenous. I headed toward the kitchen.

  When I rounded a corner, Adviser Mogkan stood there, blocking my path. He linked his arm through mine and guided me to an isolated section of the castle. Going with him seemed natural. I wanted to pull away. I wanted to be afraid, terrified even, but I couldn’t produce the emotions. My hunger had dissipated. I felt content.

  Mogkan steered me down a deserted corridor. A dead end, I thought, still unable to conjure a reaction. His silky gray eyes stared at me for a moment before he unhooked his arm from mine. His fingers traced the line of black diamonds down my uniform sleeve.

  “My Yelena,” he said possessively.

  Fear blazed up my arm and exploded in my chest the second physical contact with Mogkan was broken. My emotional ennui had dissolved, but I couldn’t move. The muscles in my body wouldn’t obey my mind’s frantic commands to fight.

  A magician! Mogkan had power. He had used it during the brandy meeting, tipping Valek off. But further contemplation on this revelation was cut short when Mogkan stepped closer.

  “Had I guessed you would cause such trouble I never would have brought you to Brazell’s orphanage.” He smiled at my confusion. “Didn’t Reyad tell you that I found you?”

  “No.” My voice was husky.

  “You were lost in the jungle, only six years old. Such a beautiful, bright child. Such a delight. I rescued you from the claws of a tree leopard because I knew you had potential. But you were too stubborn, too independent. The harder we tried, the more you resisted.” Mogkan cupped his hand under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Even now, when I’m locked into you, you’re still fighting me. I can command your body.” He raised his left arm, and my own left arm mirrored his movement. “But if I tried to control both your mind and body, you would eventually thwart me.” He shook his head in disbelief, as if the whole concept amazed him.