“By the time I’ve cured one mortal wound, pet, another will have killed him. You can’t delay that sort of thing.”

“You,” Kett said, leaping up and launching herself at him. “You came with us to fight, you came and you did nothing, and if it wasn’t for you, he-”

“He’d have died there in that throne room,” Striker said calmly, holding her back as if she were no bigger or scarier than a kitten. “But I cleared it for you to get out, pet. Thank me for that, at least.”

She stared at him, eyes burning with dust and tears that blurred her vision.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve a whole swarm of soldiers to kill in interesting ways.” He chucked her under the chin. “Have fun, kids.”

“No,” Kett bellowed. “Striker, please!”

But he was already gone, vanished into the dust and the smoke, and Kett was left standing there with blood all over her and no hope left.

She stared out at the fires erupting all over the palace, no doubt Striker’s handiwork. Behind her, Bael was dying and there was nothing she could do.

She’d never felt so angry in her life. Angry because she was helpless, and she hated it.

She fell to her knees by Bael, took his hand in hers, wiped the blood and sweat from his face with her palm. If only she had more time, if she could get him to Chance or even Nuala-

Wait.

Delay.

“Bael!” She grasped his hand. “Can you hear me?”

His lips moved a tiny fraction. His head lolled. Sweat trickled down his face, mingling with the blood there.

Kett grabbed his other hand and put her mouth close to his ear. “Bael, listen to me. If you die, I’ll bloody kill you, you hear?”

The faintest smile touched his lips.

“Listen. When I was hurt, you got me to Nuala. Crossed the Wall. How did you do it? I was nearly dead.”

“Little bit of magic,” he mumbled.

“Magic? Healing magic?”

Bael made an indistinct sound. His breathing was harsh, shallow. Kett felt panic rising higher inside her and could barely keep it down. Tears burned her eyes, stung her cheeks.

“You were hurt too. Your wings. Your ribs. How did you fly?”

Bael licked his lips. “Postponed them,” he mumbled. “Had more important things to do.”

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would break her chest right open.

“You delayed them?” He nodded. “Well, do it now! Until I can get you back to the camp, at least. Until I can persuade Striker to help you. Use those shiny new Mage powers of yours for something besides showing off, would you?” She gripped his hand tighter, her voice ragged. “Bael, do this for me. Please!”

His fingers squeezed hers faintly. “For you,” he whispered-and the blood from the wound in his chest stopped flowing.

Kett prayed to every god she could think of, invented a couple more and rose into the air on desperate wings.

Six months later

“A dress,” Kett said in disgust. “Another fucking dress.”

“Kett,” Nuala protested mildly.

“I’m sorry. Another fucking gown.”

Her stepmother smiled despite herself. “You look beautiful, Kett.”

“No, I don’t. I never look beautiful. I ain’t beautiful.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are. Now, will you be all right if I leave you for a while? Since your father fired his valet, he can’t even fasten a cravat by himself.”

“He fired his valet? Why?”

Nuala sighed, but there was a smile behind it. “Because he’s a Real Man, and Real Men don’t have Poncy Valets.”

Kett covered her mouth.

“I know,” Nuala giggled. “I think this whole thing has done him a world of good. Now, you’re not going to sneak away to see Bael, are you?”

“He’s not even here yet.”

“Well, he’d better be soon. Do you have your bouquet? Good.” She sighed. “You do look so lovely, you know.” A tear gleamed in her eye. “I never thought I’d see this day.”

Kett scowled. “Don’t you have cravats to tie?”

Nuala nodded, beaming, and took her leave, which meant Kett was alone with her reflection.

Ugh. This creation even had bows. There were frills and lace and things. Served her right, she supposed glumly, for letting Nuala and her sisters have free rein.

Poking at the elaborate knots Nuala’s maid had twirled her hair into, she looked around the room for something to do that wouldn’t involve crushing her dress. Or The Dress, as Eithne had taken to calling it. But there was nothing in the room apart from her old, comfortable clothes and weapons.

Outside, a bell tolled. The royal temple, telling everyone who didn’t know that something important was about to go down. Kett didn’t know who in Elvyrn could possibly be unaware. Even blind, deaf mutes knew there was a royal wedding going on.

She sighed, poked at her hair again and tried to avoid her reflection. It was no good; the mirror Nuala had brought in was far too big and had sort of wings that folded around to reflect her from different angles.

She really had to get out.

Striding down the corridor, she ducked into a doorway as a couple of Eithne’s irritating friends giggled their way past. From inside a room, she heard a woman wail, “I look so fat!”

It was Chance, who to Kett’s knowledge had never worn a spare pound in her life.

“You’re not fat,” Dark said, his voice a soothing rumble. “You’re pregnant.”

“But I look fat! Everyone will think I’m fat. And I have a reputation, you know! I used to be a Lady of the Association!”

“Yes, I know,” Dark said patiently, “but you’re not any-”

“I could have lost rank over this!”

“By becoming pregnant?”

“Yes! No! Daa-ark, look at me, I’m a whale!”

“You’re not a whale. You’re still the most beautiful woman in the Realm. You’ll even outshine the bride.”

Kett rolled her eyes and moved on. She began to duck again when she heard footsteps coming closer but paused when she recognized the tread.

King Talis of Peneggan rounded the corner and stopped dead when he saw her.

“Oh my,” he said, taking in her dress.

“Don’t,” Kett warned.

“I don’t think I’ve seen so much decoration since…well, I’ve never seen so much decoration.”

“Blame your sister,” Kett told him, “and nieces.”

“Oh, I fully do,” he said. He brushed lint from his embroidered velvet doublet, which would have looked ridiculous in any other company, but compared to her crenellated dress looked positively restrained.

“Oh, and by the way,” he said, before passing her, “next time you attack a head of state, Kett, could you do it without a battalion of my army in tow?”

“Hey, he sold me down the river,” Kett said.

“Be that as it may, you could at least have gotten them to march under other colors.” Talis winced. “I’m spending a fortune in Order fees, hiring the best diplomats to smooth things over.”

“Do they know he intended to send the king’s step-niece to her death?” Kett asked mulishly, because that was the only thing she could think of that might help.

“That’s the angle we’re taking.” He shook his head. “Did you really hamstring him?”

“Poetic justice,” Kett said.

“Yes.” He glanced at his watch, very nearly smiling. “Look, I need to get to the temple. Promised Nuala I’d get your father there on time.”

“Good luck,” Kett said, because punctuality had never been Tyrnan’s strong point.

“I’ll need it. You know, I’m sure this sort of thing isn’t usually required of kings.”

“Maybe it is when they’re the uncle of the bride.”

“Maybe.” He started past her, tossing over his shoulder, “By the way, love the dress.”

Kett made an obscene gesture that could on some counts be construed as treasonous. The king just laughed.

She continued toward the stairs, hoping to find her brother or maybe Jalen or someone else who wasn’t expecting her to enjoy being dressed in frills and ruffles, but then a familiar scent came to her.