“I’m off work now. I don’t usually have overnight shifts.”

   I handed her the paper. “Can you take this to Grant?”

   She gave me a look of mock astonishment. “Well, well. I figured you’d just scale down the trellis and do it yourself.”

   “Hey, I’m really not always looking for danger.”

   I didn’t think she believed that, but she took the note anyway. “I’ll stop by on my way home.”

   “Aiana . . .” She put her hand on the doorknob and paused to glance back. “I’m sorry for last night. For causing you and Grant to fight.”

   “You didn’t cause that.”

   “But I—”

   “I know you played a part in the night’s outing, but us fighting wasn’t your fault. It’s what we do. And we usually forgive pretty quickly. I don’t have any brothers, so I suppose this is the gods’ way of showing me what one is like.”

   “It is a lot like that. My brother and I fought a lot, but we never held grudges. And there was nothing . . .” I felt my voice start to crack. “There was nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.”

   Aiana’s dark eyes brimmed with compassion, but she didn’t pry. She just squeezed my hand and said, “I’ll see that Grant gets this.”

   I never heard if she did, and my whirlwind life reset the next day. More suitors, more afternoon excursions. The evening party was held at the home of the governor—the father of Adelaide’s most celebrated suitor, Warren Doyle. The gathering would have an exclusive guest list, and I resolved to be watchful around so many prominent citizens. I’d hoped Cedric or Aiana would serve as our chaperone, but Jasper came instead. On the bright side, he rarely paid much attention to me.

   Warren didn’t either. I wanted to talk to him, not because he was a likely traitor, but because he had the potential to be targeted by them. Supplies for his new colony came into port a few times a week, many of them the basic survival types of items a rebel army would require. I was curious if he’d noticed any shorted cargo.

   He monopolized Adelaide most of the time, though, and when she finally stepped away and provided me with an opening, he barely spared me a glance.

   “Your family’s home is lovely,” I told him.

   “Hmm? Oh, yes, yes, thank you.” His eyes scanned the room, taking in other guests and their activities.

   “I know your father’s been in Denham a while, but this house was recently built, correct?” When he didn’t answer, I prompted, “Mister Doyle? How old is your home?”

   “What? Oh. Ah, ten years or so.”

   Growing impatient, I switched to a more dishonest angle. “You know . . . Adelaide was just telling me she was worried you won’t have a house to match this one in Hadisen.”

   That got his attention, and he swung his gaze back to me. “She did?”

   “She likes you very much, but it’s a risk—not you, of course, but going off to a new colony. Here, you’ve got the backing of your father’s wealth and prestige. But in Hadisen? Well. That may not be the case.”

   “I’ll be its governor,” he exclaimed. “You can’t get much more prestigious than that.”

   “But she’s heard there’s barely a town there, that supplies are short. And I don’t mean luxury items. Even basics.”

   “Things are rough now,” he admitted. “But I’m leading a party there later this month, and we’re flush with all sorts of goods that will help boost the economy. And of course, my home will want for nothing, no matter how rugged everything else is. Make sure that she knows that.”

   “I will. What kind of goods are you—”

   “Ah, Miss Viana, there you are.”

   I turned at the new voice, startled, and saw Cornelius Chambers. “Mister Chambers. I didn’t think I’d see you until you hosted that party you’d promised.”

   He grinned. “I’ll still honor that, but you’re in luck. The Doyles are great friends of ours, and so Father decided to come out tonight. I can introduce you as soon as you’re free.”

   “Of course, that would be—” I turned and saw Warren had moved on. So much for my investigation. “Well. It looks like I’m free now.”

   I’d almost forgotten about this bizarre arrangement and allowed Cornelius to lead me over to a corner where a well-dressed elderly gentleman sat in a high-backed chair. Wisps of gray hair escaped from the tail bound at the back of his neck, and a large triangular-shaped hat rested crookedly on his head. He clutched a cane in one hand and was speaking with a younger man in the chair next to him. Seeing us, the young man stood and bowed before excusing himself.

   “Father,” said Cornelius, “this is Mirabel Viana, the one I told you about. From Sirminica. Miss Viana, my father, Rupert Chambers.”

   I curtsied politely before accepting the vacant chair they offered. Rupert turned to me, brown eyes kind in his wizened face. “A fair maiden from the tranquil land of poets and philosophers, eh? How did a beauty like you end up in such a primitive place?”

   “That land isn’t so tranquil anymore, sir,” I said.

   Cornelius touched both our shoulders. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

   “It’s a shame,” Rupert said, once his son was gone. “What’s become of that country. Is it as bad as they say?”

   “It depends on what they’re saying. Most likely, it’s worse.”

   “A shame,” he repeated. His gaze shifted far away. “I’ll never forget the first time I gazed upon the ruins of the Palace of Senators. Have you seen it? Where the ancient Ruvans made peace with the western league? Splendid. Splendid and humbling.”