She opened her mouth, but then shut it, discarding her complaint. She’d just spent . . . she didn’t know how long running around in a thin, nearly translucent shift that had only covered her to midthigh. She took the trousers and shirts gratefully.

“Please,” she said, turning toward him. “I appreciate this clothing. But can I at least know what you intend to do with me?”

Vasher hesitated in the doorway. “I have work for you to do.”

She shivered, thinking of the bodies Denth had shown her, and of the men Vasher had killed. “You’re going to kill again, aren’t you?”

He turned back toward her, frowning. “Denth is working toward something. I’m going to block him.”

“Denth was working for me,” she said. “Or, at least, he was pretending to. All of those things he did, they were at my command. He was just playing along to keep me complacent.”

Vasher gave a barking laugh, and Vivenna flushed. Her hair—responding to her mood for the first time since her shock at seeing Parlin dead—turned red.

It felt so surreal. Two weeks on the street? It felt so much longer. But now, suddenly, she was cleaned and fed, and somehow she felt like her old self again. Part of it was the Breath. The beautiful, wonderful Breath. She never wanted to be parted from it again.

Not her old self at all. Who was she, then? Did it matter?

“You laugh at me,” she said, turning to Vasher. “But I was just doing the best I could. I wanted to help my people in the upcoming war. Fight against Hallandren.”

“Hallandren isn’t your enemy.”

“It is,” she said sharply. “And it is planning to march on my people.”

“The priests have good reasons for acting as they do.”

Vivenna snorted. “Denth said that every man thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

“Denth is too smart for his own good. He was playing with you, Princess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t it ever occur to you?” Vasher asked. “Attacking supply caravans? Rousing the Idrian poor to rebel? Reminding them of Vahr and his promises of freedom, which were so fresh in their minds? Showing yourself to thug lords, making them think that Idris was working to undermine the Hallandren government? Princess, you say every man thinks he’s on the right side, that every man who opposed you was deluding himself.” He met her eyes. “Didn’t you ever once stop to think that maybe you were the one on the wrong side?”

Vivenna froze.

“Denth wasn’t working for you,” Vasher said. “He wasn’t even pretending to. Someone in this city hired him to start a war between Idris and Hallandren, and he’s spent these last few months using you to make it happen. I’m trying to figure out why. Who’s behind it, and why would a war serve them?”

Vivenna sat back, eyes wide. It couldn’t be. He had to be wrong.

“You were the perfect pawn,” Vasher said. “You reminded the people in the slums of their true heritage, giving Denth someone to rally them behind. The Court of Gods is a hair’s breadth away from marching on your homeland. Not because they hate Idrians, but because they feel like Idris insurgents have already been attacking them.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe that you didn’t realize what you were doing. I assumed you had to be working with him intentionally to start the war.” He eyed her. “I underestimated your stupidity. Get dressed. I don’t know if we have enough time to undo what you’ve done, but I intend to try.”

THE CLOTHING FELT STRANGE. The trousers pulled at her thighs, making her feel like she was exposed. It was odd not to have the swishing of skirts at her ankles.

She walked beside Vasher without comment, head bowed, hair too short to even put into a braid. She didn’t try to regrow it yet. That would draw needed nourishment from her body.

They passed through the Idrian slum, and Vivenna had to fight to keep herself from jumping at every sound, looking over her shoulder to see if someone was following her. Was that an urchin wanting to steal the money she’d begged? Was that a group of thugs, wishing to sell her to Denth? Were those shadows grey-eyed Lifeless, come to attack and slaughter? They passed a waif beside the road, a young woman of indeterminable age but with a soot-covered face and bright eyes that watched them. Vivenna could read the hunger in those eyes. The woman was trying to decide whether or not to try stealing from them.

The sword in Vasher’s hand was obviously enough to ward the girl away. Vivenna watched her scurry down an alleyway, feeling an odd sense of connection.

Colors, she thought. Was that really me?

No. She hadn’t even been as capable as that girl. Vivenna had been so naive that she’d been kidnapped without knowing it, then worked to start a war without realizing what she was doing.

Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe you were on the wrong side?

She wasn’t sure what to believe. She’d been taken in so quickly by Denth that she was hesitant to accept anything this Vasher said. However, she could see signs that some of what he had told her were true.

Denth had always taken her to meet with the less reputable elements in the city. Not only were they the ones a mercenary like him would know, but they would be more likely to prefer the chaos of war. Attacking the Hallandren supplies wouldn’t only make it more difficult to administer the war, it would make the priests more likely to attack while they were still strong. The losses would also serve to make them angrier.

It made chilling sense—sense it was hard for her to ignore. “Denth made me think that the war was inevitable,” Vivenna whispered as they walked through the slums. “My father thinks it’s inevitable. Everyone says it’s going to happen.”

“They’re wrong,” Vasher said. “War between Hallandren and Idris has been close for decades, but never inevitable. Getting this kingdom to attack requires convincing the Returned—and they’re generally too focused on themselves to want something as disruptive as a war. Only an extended effort—first convincing the priests, then getting them to argue until the gods believed them—would be successful.”

Vivenna stared ahead down the dirty streets with their colorful refuse. “I really am useless, aren’t I?” she whispered.

Vasher glanced over at her.

“First, my father sent my sister to marry the God King instead of me. I followed, but I didn’t even know what I was doing—Denth took me on the very first day I was here. When I finally escaped him, I couldn’t make it a month on the street without getting robbed, beaten, and then captured. Now you claim that I’ve single-handedly brought my people to the edge of war.”

Vasher snorted. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. Denth has been working on this war for a long time. From what I hear, he corrupted the Idrian ambassador himself. Plus there are elements in the Hallandren government—the ones who hired Denth in the first place—who want this conflict to happen.”

It was all so confusing. What he said made sense, but Denth had made sense too. She needed to know more. “Do you have any guesses who they might be? The ones who hired Denth?”

Vasher shook his head. “One of the gods, I think—or perhaps a cabal of them. Maybe a group of priests, working on their own.”

They fell silent again.

“Why?” Vivenna finally asked.

“How should I know?” Vasher asked. “I can’t even figure out who’s behind it.”

“No,” Vivenna said. “Not that. I mean, why are you involved? Why do you care?”

“Because,” Vasher said.

“Because why?”

Vasher sighed. “Look, Princess. I’m not like Denth; I don’t have his ability with words, and I don’t really like people in the first place. Don’t expect me to chat with you. All right?”

Vivenna shut her mouth in surprise. If he’s trying to manipulate me, she thought, he has a very strange way of doing it.