Vivenna forced on a smile, but it felt insincere, even to her. For their benefit, she changed her hair color to yellow. The color of happiness and excitement. The people muttered among themselves.

Thame soon returned and waved her forward.

“Wait,” Vivenna said. “I wanted to talk to the common people before we meet with the leaders.”

Thame shrugged. “If you wish . . .”

Vivenna stepped forward. “People of Idris,” she said. “I’ve come to offer you comfort and hope.”

The people continued to talk among themselves. Very few seemed to pay any attention to her at all. Vivenna swallowed. “I know that you’ve had hard lives. But I want to promise you that the king does care for you and want to support you. I will find a way to bring you home.”

“Home?” one of the men said. “Back to the highlands?”

Vivenna nodded.

Several people snorted at that comment, and a few trailed away. Vivenna watched them go with concern. “Wait,” she said. “Don’t you want to hear me? I bring news from your king.”

The people ignored her.

“Most of them just wanted confirmation that you were whom you were rumored to be, Your Highness,” Thame said quietly.

Vivenna turned back toward the groups still talking quietly in the garden. “Your lives can get better,” she promised. “I will see you cared for.”

“Our lives are already better,” one of the men said. “There is nothing for us in the highlands. I earn twice as much here as I did back there.” Others nodded in agreement.

“Then why even come to see me?” she whispered.

“I told you, Princess,” Thame said. “They’re patriots—they cling to being Idrian. City Idrians. We stick together, we do. You being here, it means something to them, don’t worry. They may seem indifferent, but they’ll do anything to get back at the Hallandren.”

Austre, Lord of Colors, she thought, growing even more deeply upset. These people aren’t even Idrians anymore. Thame called them “patriots,” but all she saw was a group held together by the eternal pressures of Hallandren disdain.

She turned, giving up on her speech. These people were not interested in hope or comfort. They only wanted revenge. She could use that, perhaps, but it made her feel dirty even to consider it. Thame led her and the others down a pathway beaten into the ugly field of weeds and trash. Near the far side of the “park,” they found a wide structure that was partially a storage shed, partially an open wooden pavilion. She could see the leaders waiting inside.

There were three of them, each with his own complement of bodyguards. She had been told of them ahead of time. The leaders wore rich, vibrant T’Telir colors. Slumlords. Vivenna felt her stomach twist. All three of the men had at least the First Heightening. One of them had attained the Third.

Jewels and Clod took their places outside the building, guarding Vivenna’s escape route. Vivenna walked in and sat in the last open chair. Denth and Tonk Fah took up protective places behind her.

Vivenna regarded the slumlords. All three were variations on the same theme. The one on the left looked most comfortable in his rich clothing. That would be Paxen—the “gentleman Idrian,” he was called. He’d gotten his money from running brothels. The one on the right looked like he needed a haircut to match his fine garments. That would be Ashu, who was known for running and funding underground fighting leagues where men could watch Idrians box each other to unconsciousness. The one in the center seemed the self-indulgent type. He was sloppy—but in a purposefully relaxed way, perhaps because it was a nice accent to his handsome, youthful face. Rira, Thame’s employer.

She reminded herself not to put too much stock in any facile interpretation of their appearances. These were dangerous men.

The room was silent.

“I’m not sure what to say to you,” Vivenna said finally. “I came to find something that doesn’t exist. I was hoping that the people still cared about their heritage.”

Rira leaned forward, sloppy clothing out of place compared with the clothing of the others in the room. “You’re our princess,” he said. “Daughter of our king. We care about that.”

“Kind of,” said Paxen.

“Really, Princess,” Rira said. “We’re honored to meet with you. And curious at your intentions in our city. You’ve been making quite a stir.”

Vivenna regarded them with a serious expression. Finally, she sighed. “You all know that war is coming.”

Rira nodded. Ashu, however, shook his head. “I’m not convinced there will be war. Not yet.”

“It is coming,” Vivenna said sharply. “I promise you that. My intentions in this city, therefore, are to make certain that the war goes as well for Idris as possible.”

“And what would that entail?” Ashu asked. “A royal on the throne of Hallandren?”

Was that what she wanted? “I just want our people to survive.”

“A weak middle ground,” said Paxen, polishing the top of his fine cane. “Wars are fought to be won, Your Highness. The Hallandren have Lifeless. Beat them, and they’ll just make more. I think that an Idrian military presence in the city would be an absolute necessity if you wanted to bring our homeland freedom.”

Vivenna frowned.

“You think to overthrow the city?” asked Ashu. “If you do, what do we get out of it?”

“Wait,” said Paxen. “Overthrow the city? Are we sure we want to get involved in that sort of thing again? What of Vahr’s failure? We all lost a lot of money in that venture.”

“Vahr was from Pahn Kahl,” said Ashu. “Not one of us at all. I’m willing to take another risk if there are real royals involved this time.”

“I didn’t say anything about overthrowing the kingdom,” Vivenna said. “I just want to bring the people some hope.” Or, at least, I did . . .

“Hope?” asked Paxen. “Who cares about hope? I want commitments. Will titles be handed out? Who gets the trade contracts if Idris wins?”

“You have a sister,” Rira said. “A third one, unmarried. Is her hand bargainable? Royal blood could gain my support for your war.”

Vivenna’s stomach twisted. “Gentlemen,” she said in her diplomat’s voice, “this is not about seeking personal gain. This is about patriotism.”

“Of course, of course,” Rira said. “But even patriots should earn rewards. Right?”

All three looked at her expectantly.

Vivenna stood up. “I will be going, now.”

Denth, looking surprised, laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure?” he asked. “It took quite a bit of effort to set up this meeting.”

“I have been willing to work with thugs and thieves, Denth,” she said quietly. “But seeing these and knowing they’re my own people is too hard.”

“You judge us quickly, Princess,” Rira said from behind, chuckling. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t expect this?”

“Expecting something is different from seeing it firsthand, Rira. I expected you three. I didn’t expect to see what had happened to our people.”

“And the Five Visions?” Rira asked. “You sweep in here, judge us beneath you, then sweep away? That’s not very Idrian of you.”

She turned back toward the men. The long-haired Ashu had already stood and was gathering his bodyguards to go, grumbling about the “waste of time.”

“What do you know of being Idrian?” she snapped. “Where is your obedience of Austre?”

Rira reached beneath his shirt, pulling out a small white disk, inscribed with his parents’ names. An Austrin charm of obedience. “My father carried me down here from the highlands, Princess. He died working the Edgli fields. I’ve pulled myself up by the pain of my scraped, bleeding hands. I worked very hard to make things better for your people. When Vahr spoke of revolution, I gave him coin to feed his supporters.”

“You buy Breath,” she said. “And you make prostitutes of house wives.”

“I live,” he said. “And I make sure that everyone else has enough food. Will you do better for them?”