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should you.”
    A brief silence followed, after which Petr Zhalina asked Baron Eckard for his opinion on trade matters with Károví. Eckard answered politely, and the conversation turned to more ordinary topics.
    Therez picked at her food, half listening to the baron’s views on various treaties, but she hardly tasted the roasted venison with its honey glaze. Her thoughts remained on Eckard and Duenne. A city of opportunity—exactly what she hoped for, though she knew her ideas to be very different from those of an ex-councillor in the King’s Court. Perhaps she could ask him later about the city?
    The servants cleared away the last course; the guests proceeded into the larger salle for dancing. Baron Mann claimed Isolde Zhalina’s hand for the first dance, while Petr and Ehren Zhalina took Lavena Friedeck and Mina Hess as their partners.
    Quite unexpectedly, Therez found herself facing Baron Eckard. “My dear,” he said. “Will you honor me?”
    Whispers rose and fell around them. Aware of the audience, Therez could do no more than murmur a yes. Eckard led her onto the floor as the music sighed into life. Palm against palm, he stepped to the left, and she to the right. Then he lightly clasped her hand and spun her into the first movement of the dance.
    He danced well, was her first surprised thought, as he guided her through the intricate turns and sweeps. He was older than she had guessed, with deep lines etched into his weathered face. Thirty years at Duenne’s famous court. She tried to imagine him as a youth, dancing at the king’s balls. She could hardly picture such a scene or such a place.
    “You are thinking hard,” he observed.
    Therez recalled herself with a blush. “My apologies, my lord. I was thinking about Duenne. And the King’s Court. And, well, what the city is like.”
    “Ah, that is right. Your brother mentioned your plans to visit a while. Next summer, no? Have you alerted all the booksellers?”
    Therez dropped her gaze. “My lord teases.”
    “Not at all. It’s rare to find a young woman who reads seriously. Or perhaps I’m being unfair to young women in general. Tell me … what kind of books do you prefer?”
    “History. Legends. Poetry.”
    “Then you must certainly know about Tanja Duhr.”
    Ehren must have mentioned her love of poetry. But it was true, Tanja Duhr was her favorite poet, and she welcomed the new topic. With Baron Eckard taking the lead, they talked about the woman’s poems and how language had changed in the four hundred years since she wrote them. Then, because Duhr had witnessed the empire’s final years, they talked about the old emperor and his many heirs, all executed for treason, except the youngest daughter. About Leos Dzavek coming to court as a young prince. About his theft of Lir’s jewels, the downfall of the empire, and the founding of Károví. About magic and war and times of great change. There were no constraints, no examining every word before she spoke. It was like breathing for the very first time.
    All around, the dancers flowed between the beribboned columns, and Paschke’s music spun through the air.
    “Duhr wrote what she witnessed,” Eckard said. “Both the larger events and those small intimate stories of lovers and grief and trust and betrayal. And we, who come after, are made richer for her works. But then, I believe we all carry a book within our hearts. Our dispositions. Our ambitions. Our secrets. It takes great trust to let another person read that book.”
    “Have you found such a person?” Therez said.
    His mouth curved into a pensive smile. “Yes, I did. We loved. We married. We had children, and then she died. What about you, Mistress Therez? Have you a favorite book?”
    He had phrased the question so she could answer either meaning. Even so, she found herself tongue-tied a moment. “I don’t know yet, my lord. I enjoy so many different books, but to choose one … I don’t know,” she repeated.
    The dance was