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liti cally costly
    in some ways . . . but valuable in others. And militarily nec-
    essary. An added benefi t? The military loves me now that
    its general’s daughter will marry my son.
    “I think we understand each other, don’t we? I get a
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    daughter intelligent enough to manage the empire one day,
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    and in the meanwhile I can count on the goodwill of her
    father’s soldiers. You get a crown and absolution from any
    CRIME
    past . . . indiscretions.”
    ’S
    Kestrel lowered her hand, fi st loose, but not loose enough
    to let the coin slip.
    “Your dagger, please, Kestrel.” He held out his palm.
    THE WINNER
    “What?”
    “Give me your dagger.” When she still didn’t move, he
    said. “It’s too plain. My son’s bride must have something
    fi ner.”
    “My father gave it to me.”
    “Won’t I be your father, too?”
    The emperor had just made it impossible for Kestrel to
    refuse without off ending him. She drew the dagger, which
    she cherished. She pressed her thumb once against the ruby
    set into the dagger’s hilt and carved with her seal: the talons
    of a bird of prey. She pressed hard enough for it to hurt.
    Then she gave her weapon to the emperor.
    He placed it in the drawer that had held the coin and
    pushed it shut. He regarded Kestrel, his own dagger gleaming
    at his hip. He touched the golden line on her brow that
    marked her as an engaged woman. “I have your loyalty to
    the empire, don’t I?”
    “Of course.” She tried to ignore the weightlessness of
    her scabbard.
    “Good. And what’s past is past, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    The emperor seemed satisfi ed. “There will be no hint
    of any sympathy you might have toward Herran— or its
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    governor. If you have any, rub it out. If you don’t, you won’t
    SKI
    O
    like the consequences. Do you understand?”
    She did. Kestrel saw now that the emperor hadn’t in-
    tended her visit to the prison to be a mere test or lesson. It
    had been a warning of what came to those who crossed
    MARIE RUTK
    him.
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    4
    KESTREL CARRIED THE JADIS COIN WITH HER
    everywhere. It was in her pocket on the day she surprised
    the prince in her music room.
    She was drawn up short by the sight of Prince Verex
    sitting at a table set with the pieces of an eastern game. He
    glanced at her, then down at the marble pieces. A blush
    seeped into his cheeks. He toyed with a miniature can-
    non.
    “Borderlands is a game meant to be played by two op-
    ponents,” Kestrel said. “Are you waiting for me?”
    “No.” He dropped the gaming piece and shoved his
    hands under his arms. “Why would I be?”
    “Well, this is my room.”
    Within her fi rst days in the palace, the emperor had
    given Kestrel a new piano and had had it installed here in
    the imperial wing, saying that this room’s acoustics were
    excellent. This wasn’t true. The room echoed too much. It
    sounded larger than it really was. Its stone walls were bare,
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    objects that had nothing to do with music: astrolabes,
    SKI
    O
    gaming sets, a clay soldier, collapsed telescopes.
    “Your room,” Verex repeated. “I suppose everything in
    the palace is here for your taking. My father is giving you
    the empire. You might as well have my old playroom, too.”
    MARIE RUTK
    His shrug was tight- shouldered.
    Kestrel’s gaze fell again on the clay soldier. She saw its
    chipped paint, its place of prestige in the center of a shelf.
    The room was a cold, uninviting place for any child. She
    recalled that Verex, too, had lost his