“The Mettai legends don’t apply to the Qirsi.”

Evanthya turned at the sound of the voice, smiling despite the cold. “I didn’t know that. Is that what the Mettai say, or only the Qirsi?”

Fetnalla tipped her head to the side and grinned, her pale eyes, the color of fire, seeming to gather all the light this grey morning had to give. She had her hair pulled back the way Evanthya liked, and her pale cheeks were touched with pink. She wore a heavy cloak, much like the one Evanthya had left in her room, but even with it draped over her shoulders and tied at the neck, she looked slender and graceful, like the tall white herons Evanthya saw in the shallows of the Rassor during the warm turns.

“It’s common knowledge,” Fetnalla said, walking toward her. “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.”

She stopped in front of Evanthya and kissed her, her lips soft and cool with the mist. Evanthya returned the kiss hungrily, but then made herself pull away, glancing around to see if anyone was watching, though she knew they were alone in the gardens.

“There’s no one here but us,” Fetnalla said, still grinning. “And the high windows are all shuttered.”

Evanthya shrugged, feeling her face color. “I know. But as you’ve said so many times, ‘appearances.’ ”

Fetnalla started to say something else, but then shook her head, appearing to think better of it. “It’s not worth arguing about.” She flashed a quick smile. “Not right now at least.”

Evanthya nodded, knowing what was coming. It had crept into all they shared, hanging over them like a cloud since early in the year. They had danced around the issue for the past few days, since Evanthya first reached Bistari for the duke’s funeral. They hadn’t spoken of it since coming to Orvinti, but Fetnalla had never been one to let a matter drop before having her say, particularly a matter of such importance.

“I’m still not certain I can do this,” Evanthya said, turning to stare at the ravens.

“We can’t stay out of it forever, love. These are Qirsi men and women we’re talking about. It’s not out in the open yet, and may not be for another year or more. But make no mistake, they’re fighting a war for the future of the Forelands. Now, we can watch from the towers of our castles, or we can do something about it.”

She had learned long ago that there was little to be gained from arguing with Fetnalla about almost anything. But Evanthya could be headstrong as well, and in this case she couldn’t stop herself.

“And what about our dukes?” she asked. “You worry about Brail learning that we’re lovers. That’s a trifle, next to this.”

“If we do this right, our dukes will never know.”

Evanthya took a breath. If we do this right. When it came right down to it, most of this burden would fall on her shoulders, not Fetnalla’s.

“We’re going to be paying someone a good deal of gold. People tend to notice such things. Even assuming that we can find enough money, keeping it quiet is going to be hard.”

Fetnalla produced a small leather pouch from within her cloak and handed it to her. It was quite heavy and it jingled like bells on a dancer’s shoe.

“That’s nearly sixty qinde,” Fetnalla said. “It’s most of what I have, so be careful with it.”

“This is your money?”

Fetnalla nodded.

“I can’t take this. There must be another-”

She tried to hand the pouch back to Fetnalla, but the minister merely shook her head.

“Please, love. I’m asking a good deal of you already. I have no choice in the matter. Orvinti is too remote for me to do any more. But at least I can take care of the gold. You may have to add a gold piece or two, but this should cover most of it.”

Evanthya stared at the pouch chagrined at having felt overburdened a moment before. “I’ll guard it with my life,” she said softly.

Fetnalla laughed. “Well, don’t go that far. It’s only gold. Just don’t go wagering it on a game of dice.”

She smiled and looked up, her eyes meeting Fetnalla’s. “I promise.”

“You know where to go?”

Evanthya nodded, the smile leaving her face as quickly as it had come. “There are a few places, one in particular. It shouldn’t be a problem. A person can buy anything in the alleyways of Dantrielle.”

Fetnalla grinned again, the same crooked grin Evanthya remembered from their first meeting in Solkara so many years ago. “I’m counting on that.”

They fell silent, their eyes still locked, and Evanthya longed to kiss her again. But at that moment, she heard a footfall behind her and the jangling of a guard’s blade.

“Good morrow to you, First Minister!” the man called.

Fetnalla didn’t take her eyes off Evanthya, but she raised a hand in greeting. “And to you,” she answered. “Is the duke awake?”

“He is, First Minister. And the duke of Dantrielle also. They’re asking for the two of you.”

She finally looked at the guard, and Evanthya turned as well. He was a large man with a thick neck. Eandi, of course. They all looked the same to her.

“Let them know we’ll be along in a moment,” Fetnalla said.

The man nodded once and retreated into the castle.

Fetnalla gazed at her again. “We probably won’t have another chance to speak alone before you ride. Is there more we need to discuss?”

“Are you sure about all this, Fetnalla? I know you want to do something, but this…” She shook her head, uncertain of how to finish the thought. “There are other paths we could take,” she finally said.

“I know there are. But we’ve already waited longer than we should have. Everything else we talked about would take too long. It’s time, love. We can’t delay anymore.”

Evanthya nodded. She had known just what Fetnalla would say, but she had to ask. “All right then. I’ll take care of it.”

“I know you will. Anything else?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “When will I see you again?”

Fetnalla smiled as well. “Soon.”

Evanthya raised an eyebrow. With the snows coming, it was likely to be several turns at least before one of their dukes traveled to see the other.

“Well, as soon as I can find some excuse to suggest a journey to Dantnelle.”

Evanthya reached out for Fetnalla’s hand and gave it a squeeze, unwilling to chance more with the dukes awake and guards moving about the castle. “Think of something quickly.”

They made their way back to Brail’s hall, where they found the dukes and Orvinti’s duchess preparing for a formal breakfast. As was customary at such functions, the two first ministers were seated together, but both of the women made a point of speaking with their other seating partner. Evanthya carried on a pleasant but empty conversation with Brail’s wife, and Fetnalla ended up speaking at length with Orvinti’s prelate, for whom she had privately expressed nothing but contempt.

By the time they finished their meal, servants had gathered the duke’s belongings and carried them down to the stables where their horses were waiting, already brushed and saddled. Brail and Tebeo kept their farewells brief, leaving their ministers little choice but to do the same, though they had already said their goodbyes.

Evanthya, Tebeo, and the rest of the duke’s party climbed onto their mounts, offered one last word of thanks to the duke and duchess of Orvinti, and rode out the castle gate. The last Evanthya saw of Fetnalla, she was merely standing beside Brail, gazing back at her and looking lovely in the silver-grey light, her white hair, dampened by the mist, clinging to her brow.

The road out of Orvinti wound around the south end of the lake before following the River Orvinti northward toward the Rassor. However, Tebeo chose to leave the road almost immediately so that they might cross the northeast corner of the Plain of Stallions, thus shortening their journey. The company rode in silence for some time, Tebeo seeming lost in thought, though he never strayed from Evanthya’s side. The day remained grey and the wind began to rise again, knifing through Evanthya’s cloak and tunic as if they were made of parchment.