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believe it? Not recognizing the High King of Cane. But then, faeries know little of the world outside their forests and their strange moving villages. Isn’t that right, Countess?”
    “On the contrary, my queen,” Rinka said, swallowing her indignation, “I’ve studied your culture and customs for years.”
    The queen seemed surprised, and her eyes narrowed. “Have you? I’ve heard the faery Council has begun discouraging such learning in recent years. That they have been advocating an attitude of isolation.”
    “Some on the Council have, yes,” Rinka conceded. “But it’s not an attitude held by everyone. Many, like myself, think that encouraging education, and cooperation across cultures, is more important than ever during troubled times.”
    “Is that what you consider this to be? A troubled time between our people?”
    Rinka considered retracting her own words, but only for a moment. She trusted candor; it had always served her well.
    “I do, my queen,” she said. “But I believe this tension to be misguided, the result of misunderstanding rather than true discord.”
    The queen gave a small smile that Rinka couldn’t interpret. “And you have come here to correct that misunderstanding, Countess?”
    “I and the others of my delegation, yes. It is our hope to . . .” She paused, searching for the right words. “To build a bridge between our two peoples. We are all children of one kingdom, are we not? Why, then, should we be at odds?”
    “You are frank, Countess,” said Liane, still with that strange smile. “I appreciate that.”
    “Thank you, my—”
    “I’m sure it was alarming, to be in such close proximity to a human man for the first time. I’m sure you found yourself flustered.” And with that, the mood shifted. “Perhaps that is why you found yourself incapable of recognizing your king that day?”
    Rinka managed a smile. What game was the queen playing?
    “I admit it was startling, my queen. They are . . . loud, dirty creatures.”
    The queen laughed, echoed by her handmaidens, and rose. Rinka followed with a curtsy.
    “You are amusing, Countess,” said the queen. “We are all so pleased you’ve come to Erstadt.”
    Then Liane glided away, her handmaidens trailing out after her.
    Rinka sank into her chair, unsteady. Leska hurried out of the bedroom.
    “Well,” said Leska, taking the queen’s vacated seat, “that was certainly interesting.”
    Rinka narrowed her eyes. “It’s low work, isn’t it? Tying braids, fastening gowns? It must be a welcome diversion to listen in on others’ conversations.”
    “Countess—”
    “Tell me, Leska, why did you, a mage apprentice, request to be appointed my handmaiden? It seems an ill match for someone of your accomplishments.” Garen’s pendant, at Rinka’s neck, vibrated in response to her anger—quietly, but even so.
    Leska’s gaze flickered to it and back up. “Do you distrust mages, Countess?”
    “I distrust suspicious appointments. I’ve no reason to distrust mages.”
    “And I’ve no reason to distrust faeries.”
    “Then why? To spy on me?”
    “No. To protect you.”
    Taken aback, Rinka stared. “Whatever for?”
    “Come, Countess,” said Leska gently. “You know why you’ve been summoned here. Unrest is building between humans and faeries, and you are here to see it doesn’t escalate beyond that. But there are those who—”
    “Who want it to escalate.” Rinka rose and went to the window, hugging herself. The city was a dazzling expanse of white. Even considering her delegation’s cool reception, she could not believe this place could conceal the kind of evil her father and Garen had warned her about, the kind of evil hinted at in Leska’s careful words.
    “Do you believe,” Rinka said quietly, “that there really could be war?”
    “Yes, if certain people have their way. I think the rumors troubling your people are the product of a small group of humans and mages making horrible decisions.”