broken, snow swirling within and piling in the corners. At the other end stood three streltsi in dark gray cherkesskas and kolpak hats, and between them, sitting on the ground, was Ushai, the Aramahn woman who had been treading the dark the last time Atiana had been searching for Arvaneh. She did not cower, but she watched the men closely as Atiana approached. Then she seemed to recognize Atiana, and her eyes went wide.
As Atiana neared, the bruises and cuts on Ushai’s face came clearer. Ushai stared up at her defiantly, but she shivered as she did so, and not from the cold.
Atiana turned to Irkadiy. “What have you done?”
Irkadiy bowed his head. “My Lady Princess, she tried to escape.”
“So you beat her?”
“ Most important, My Lady. Those were your words.”
Atiana lashed out and slapped him.
The muscles along his jaw worked, but his eyes were impassive. “We do what we must.”
It was a common saying among streltsi. “We are not at war with the Aramahn,” she said.
He bowed his head. “As you say, My Lady.”
“Go,” she said.
Irkadiy looked back to the broken section of the wall where they’d entered, but didn’t otherwise move.
“Go!”
“Forgive me, My Lady Princess, but your father said never to leave your side.”
She swallowed, wishing she’d shown more self-control. “You can watch from the entrance, but I will speak with her alone.”
She waited as he stared, perhaps calculating just how far he could push his orders, but then he nodded to his men and they trudged away, leaving her alone with Ushai.
“Ushai, I’m sorry.” Atiana kneeled and stared closer at her wounds. There were abrasions along one cheek, a cut on her lip. One eye was red and swollen. It would blacken within a day. “Did you resist them?”
Ushai’s jaw worked. She stared over Atiana’s shoulder to the streltsi beyond. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Atiana’s head jerked back before she could think to stop it. This was something she hadn’t expected. The Aramahn cherished peace. Or they had. She wondered if this was an indication of what the Aramahn had been driven to or if this was yet another splinter that was forming, one that was not bellicose like the Maharraht but would defend their interests more vigorously. Even a year ago most Aramahn would not lift a hand to defend themselves, even if it meant death for themselves or another.
Atiana paused, feeling small in the face of Ushai’s pain. “I sent the streltsi because I need your help. I go tonight to confront Sariya.”
“That would be unwise, daughter of Radia.”
“Which is why I needed to speak to you. You know of her, and I would have you share it”-she glanced back toward the soldiers-“if you would have her stopped.”
“You will not be able to stop her. She wants you to take the dark.”
“I know.”
Ushai shook her head. “She is no simple qiram who has learned the skills of the dark.”
“Which is why I need your help so desperately. Come with me. Come with me tomorrow night, and together, you and I will break down the walls Sariya has put in place.”
Ushai hesitated. Her eyes were angry, indignant, but after a pause she steeled herself and nodded.
Atiana smiled and held out her hand. Ushai took it, and together they made their way out and into the cold of the Shattering.
The dinner meant to honor the arrival of Atiana’s father was as grand an occasion as she had ever seen. It was held in a room four times the size of the largest ballroom in Galostina, and twice as tall. The light from twelve golden chandeliers cast a warm glow against the filigreed ceiling. Hundreds of men and women milled about the room. The servants-all of them women, many of them Bahett’s wives-had jewels worked into their hair, and wore dresses of the most supple silk. They held trays filled with food. Some offered skewered medallions of cooked antelope with dark red centers, harvested, they said, from the steppes of central Yrstanla. Others brought mouthwatering fruit, bright with color, or cooked tubers-nothing like the potatoes of the islands-marinated in oil and capers and dill. There were dozens of other delectables, but Atiana found herself unable to eat. She was studying the crowd, watching for one particular man that would allow her to complete her preparations for the following night.
She saw him enter as a bell was rung softly from the center of the room-Siha s ul Mehmed, the Kamarisi’s personal envoy. The bell was struck again, and the conversation began to die down as people made their way toward their seats. Atiana intercepted Siha s at the stairs that led up to the raised head table.
When Siha s realized that it was he Atiana wished to speak to, he stepped aside to allow the others access to the stairs. “My Lady Princess,” he said, bowing his head.
“My Lord,” Atiana said, smiling, “I wonder if you might do me the honor of allowing me to sit by your side.”
“You don’t wish to sit with your family? Or with Bahett?”
“Father is always a bore at such things. Of Ishkyna, it may surprise you, I’ve had my fill. And Bahett?” Atiana leaned to her left, allowing Siha s to see where Bahett sat, or more to the point, who sat next to him. It was Meryam, Bahett’s ilkadin. “We are not yet married, and as this is her final dinner with her title, she will sit at his side.”
He smiled and offered her his arm. “Then I would be honored.”
After a slight shuffling of chairs, she and Siha s were seated. Once everyone was settled, the bell was rung again. Shortly after, Father and Hakan and a select few others entered the room and made their way to the head table. Bahett was among them, and he watched Atiana curiously when he saw her sitting with Siha s. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she wasn’t sitting next to him or because Siha s was the man she was sitting next to. Either way, the look was gone a moment later, and he gave her a pleasant smile.
She smiled back, but her attention was soon drawn to Arvaneh. Her golden hair was tied behind her head in a complex braid ornamented with bright amber jewels. The bodice of her dress was aubergine, the skirt layer upon layer of deep reds. It was not her beautiful raiment that drew the attention, however. It was the band of gold across her forehead and the string of crystals that hung down from it, covering her eyes like a veil. Rather than make her seem hidden, it made her stand out. It seemed as though she could look upon anyone without reciprocity. Indeed, she seemed to be staring at Atiana even then. She nodded, and Atiana was forced to do the same.
Arvaneh and Hakan were the last to be seated. As soon as they were, the woman at the center of the room-Ebru, Bahett’s second wife-struck the bell one last time. With her higher vantage, Atiana could see that there were no tables where Ebru stood; they had been cleared in a circle around her. She wore a beautiful, formfitting dress of red. Her fingers bore rings that sparkled under the light of the chandeliers. Dozens of bracelets circled her wrists. She stood, back straight, chin high-the pose of a dancer-and brought the mallet high above her head, ready to strike. As she snapped her arm into place, the bracelets made a sound like the rattle of coins, and when she did, others around the room did the same. Bahett’s other wives, now free of their trays, had bracelets as well, and they had brought their arms high in time with Ebru.
Small gasps of pleasure came from the room as the guests looked around them, understanding at last what was happening.
Ebru struck the bell-it rang more faintly than before and yet still filled the room-and then she snapped her arm to the ready position. The others snapped their arms in response, taking a long, sinuous stride forward.
Again the bell was struck, and again the women strode. As they moved in unison toward the center, more servants, all of them men, wound through the tables, bringing the first course-an intoxicating mixture of sugared sage and salted pear. As the head table began to eat, Atiana leaned in and spoke low to Siha s. “I know it was you who came to me by the willow.”
The sounds of forks clinking against plates, of the bell and the shink of the dancers’ arms, came to Atiana clearly, almost dreamlike, as she waited for Siha s to respond.
When he did not, she spoke again, “I know it was-”
“I would not say that so loudly if I were you.”
Atiana had made sure that those to her right and to Siha s ’s left were engaged in conversation. “If I speak too softly, good Siha s, it will attract more attention.”
