Prologue
The southern-facing sitting room gleamed with gold, like stars on the polished jet-black walls, intricate lines in the floor tiles, and even the chair legs. Noema knew that if she raised her eyes, the chandelier would glitter with gems dangling from its graceful branches, each holding an orb of trapped sunlight. Her gaze passed without interest. She had learned by now that it was a cage all the same. She kept her eyes low, not daring to risk a slap, enduring the pointed stares of Duvh Kesar’s wives. These women were old enough to be her mother, yet the same wedding ring on her left hand also sparkled on their fingers.
Freshly scrubbed, gray shadow enhancing her flame-orange eyes, she had squeezed into a flouncy green dress designed to entice. The pins, ribbons, and jeweled clips in her straw-blonde hair were to Kesar’s taste, making her no different from the gilded chairs and tables. Heat rose in her cheeks, but she kept her spine straight. Kesar lightly held her wrist at an awkward angle, like one would position a doll, his thumb covering a fading bruise around a fresh pink scar on her still-pale skin from her time in Seclusion.
A boy with dark purple hair in a loose braid wore a comfortable blue surcoat over his training armor, his arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched with interest. His lip curled as he whispered something to a younger girl with the same dark hair bouncing on her toes beside him.
Kesar gestured to them, his cold eyes betraying a hint of pride. “These are two of my children. Milos and Sobeska. Greet your aunt.”
Milos bowed with a flourish, and Sobeska curtsied with practiced ease before calling out that she found Noema pretty. The boy pinched her elbow, and she looked away with a scowl.
“My dear wives, I expect a warm welcome for your new sister. Noema, this is your family,” Duke Kesar Adure said, gesturing toward his wives. The threat in his words made her chest thump in warning. Noema mimicked bobbing as best as she could remember after each introduction. Shaky, but good enough to make Kesar grunt his approval.
When it was Duchess Duvh Sileny’s turn, she reached out. Her hand movement was so graceful that Noema almost mistook it for a flower. She was achingly beautiful, a moon goddess from a fairy tale in her silvery gray gown, with black hair artfully pinned into a loose braided bun. Her finger lifted the edge of the velvet collar that covered Noema’s registration tattoo and traced over the numbers.
“Ten years and nine months. A precious child.” Looking through a window, Sileny paused, then said, “Noema, you may play with Milos and Sobeska in the garden.”
Kesar’s jaw tensed as Sileny gazed back peacefully. Noema bobbed again and gasped as Sobeska grabbed her hand, tugging her forcefully. Sileny’s voice was loud enough to hear as a footman opened the door: “She’s our son’s age. How vile!”
“Careful, Sileny. She’s safer here than where I found her. You don’t understand.”
Noema stumbled on legs stiff from her long confinement as they followed a stone pathway winding between rows of well-tended flowers blooming under a sparkling glass dome. Even out here, gold and jet-black stones were everywhere. Sobeska turned to speak, then scowled.
“Who are you?”
“Sir Jasek, m’lady. I serve as Lady Noema’s guard.” The knight who followed closely, clad in the gold and scarlet of House Adure, bowed respectfully.
“Go away!” Sobeska said. “Go stand with our guards. You’re not allowed.”
“Duke Adure has requested that I never stray over five arm’s lengths away from Lady Noema. Regretfully, I must disobey your orders.” The knight kept bowing low.
“Did you try to run away?” Sobeska asked.
Noema’s heart thumped painfully. Burning with fever until a week ago, she had barely survived. “No, my lady. I would never.”
“Well, he asked for it then.” Sobeska pulled up her dress and undid a belt she had hidden among the layers of silky underdresses. Milos made a sound of disgust as she put it over her hips and stuffed her skirts into it, with only her pantaloons and hose covering her gangly legs. “He just hates that I’m faster than he is. Come along, Auntie!”
Sobeska pulled her around a bend, and then a sharp jerk on her ankles made Noema stumble hard. Her palms skidded onto the pathway, and she breathed shakily through the pain. Red welled up in her hands. All she could think about was the dress and the punishment she would face for ruining it.
Before Sir Jasek could move, Milos stopped him with his hand. “Don’t come any closer! This is enough to kill you twice over.” The knight flinched. Milos produced a handkerchief from his sleeve.
“Her Seclusion is over. She has an Adure’s blood now.”
Sir Jasek paled. “He poisoned my lady?”
“Methodically, until she built up a tolerance. For months.” Milos dabbed her hands gently as she gritted her teeth, then his hand froze. His attention was on the gold glinting on her ankle.
Sobeska let out a cry and pointed. Noema closed her eyes in embarrassment as the girl yelled, “Why is she shackled? She’s a kid!”
“You’re a slave?” Milos asked in disgust.
“I beg for your forgiveness,” Noema said, eyes on the ground as she choked out the words. “Th-they appear when I go too far. I should have known better.”
“How can she play if she can’t even walk?” Sobeska asked, dumbfounded as she tugged the shackles in frustration.
“Allow me—” Sir Jasek began, when Milos stopped him again.
“I’ll carry her.”
Noema got to her feet with Sobeska’s help and, purely from habit, threw her arms around the boy as Milos scooped her up princess-style. Worse, she was staring into his lavender eyes. A subtle flash of orange glazed them between blinks.
“You like this?”
Noema dropped her gaze to his chest, numbed by what she had just done. She held her breath, waiting to be cuffed across the face, the heaviness of fear in her chest. He cleared his throat, shifted her to be more comfortable, and supported her carefully as they walked.
When she timidly withdrew her hands from his neck, he stopped walking.
“I don’t mind them there if you’re worried. If it’s easier, they can stay.”
Noema swallowed nervously and clutched her hands to her chest. “Thank you, my lord. This is already a dream.” It was a dream. She rubbed her raw hands together to compose herself and relaxed her stiff shoulders.
His eyebrow raised, and he looked down at her face in thought. He shrugged and continued walking while Sobeska yelled from the top of a tall stone wall.
Sobeska did a series of back handsprings, climbed a tree and dangled from a branch, then somersaulted into a tuck to impress Noema on their way to a climbing wall set in the garden.
Behind them, Sir Dag teased Sir Jasek as he schooled him in first aid. Sir Jasek became increasingly frustrated at the quips at his expense. Noema watched them from the corner of her eye, and when he sensed her attention, Jasek called to her, asking if she needed anything. Shaking her head, she sank into Milos’s arms, unsure whether to enjoy this attention.
Sobeska did a backflip off a log, and Sir Dag clapped, congratulating her for picking up something Lord Milos hadn’t yet. Sir Jasek stared daggers into him.
“I can do something Sobeska can’t,” Milos said over his shoulder.
“Oh, truly, my lord?” Sir Dag said, elbowing Sir Jasek, who looked away in irritation.
Setting Noema down, Milos smoothed his surcoat and raised his arms as if holding an invisible ball. The sound of trickling water came from nearby, and Noema felt something cool on her ankle. Looking down, a stream of pink-tinged water flowing from his feet startled her, the ends lifting like a fish’s fin and slapping the ground. Little pink frogs abruptly appeared with a few watery pops, their black eyes blinking as they squirmed on the ground.
Noema grabbed her skirts and shrieked, trying to step back as the frogs bounced off her legs. Tripping over, Sir Jasek caught her, now wearing heavy leather gloves.
“I have you, my lady. They won’t hurt you. He’s a paladin.”
“I don’t know what that is,” she sobbed, pressing her hands to her mouth in fear.
“You don’t know what a paladin is?” Milos asked in disbelief, waving his arm. The frogs melted instantly into water and drained away. “How?”
Shaking her head, Sobeska took Noema’s arm. “That’s not as impressive as what I will show you. Have you ever seen someone run up a wall?”
“I don’t understand how she doesn’t know!” Milos said, as Sir Jasek passed him to stay with Noema. Jogging to catch her, he touched her arm. “You’ve never seen a paladin before?”
Noema shook her head. Sobeska pushed her down onto a bench and told her to watch. With what looked like a thousand light steps, she ran up a wall of rough brick, then walked on her hands at the top, giggling with pleasure as Noema waved.
Milos folded his arms, scowling at Noema like a vexing puzzle. “Do you know what a mage is?”
“No, my lord.”
“WHAT? A ranger?”
Noema looked down. “I’m sorry, my lord, I don’t know what those are.”
“A priest?”
Noema almost looked up in recognition and nodded.
Milos scoffed, then looked into the distance. “So, someone healed you. You were valuable enough for that. Strange.”
With deadly swiftness, Sobeska appeared behind Milos before he could react and climbed onto his shoulder, arms and legs wrapped around his neck. His face began turning red as he smacked her arm. His little sister leaned forward, her eyes wide and unsettling.
“Auntie, you and I are friends now. If you ever need my help, just ask. I’m much better than this worthless toe-sucker. Promise we’re friends!”
Sobeska jerked Milos’s head until his eyes rolled back. Even Sir Dag slowly approached, his hands up like he was trying to tame a wild beast. Sir Jasek came between them protectively.
“I promise!”
“Look me in the eye when you say it!”
Breathing hard, hands fluttering in fear, she locked eyes with Sobeska. “I promise! I’ve enjoyed your acrobatics! It’s much better than those frogs.”
“Yay,” Sobeska giggled, her eyes flashing orange for a heartbeat. “I knew you liked me better than him!”
She dismounted Milos’s shoulders, then came to wrap her arms around Noema’s waist while he leaned on his legs, gasping.
“Don’t trust her,” he wheezed. “She’s as insane as Father.”
Noema looked down at Sobeska’s dark purple hair, the same color as Kesar’s. Stroking the girl’s silky hair, Noema swallowed nervously, then timidly rested her cheek on it. When there was no reaction, she closed her eyes, enjoying the girl’s cuddles. She had the same medicinal smell as Kesar and Milos.
“I don’t think she is,” she muttered.
