Tseren Degei felt the air change before the scream plunged the room into silence. She would have bet good money in the back alleys of Craioska on how long it would take King Bukidai to start a fight with another part of the commonwealth, but she’d hoped he’d at least keep her out of it. The blows to his ego had been bad enough getting here, with the twins elbowing their way in and his wife refusing to show face, but the man could step on a crack wrong and declare war on Shihoa.

  Bukidai twisted around in his chair, inclining his head towards the stairs. Tseren hesitated. She didn’t trust that man alone, especially when he’d drawn so much attention to her – attention meant talking about her.

  ‘I still need to speak to you, sir,’ she kept her voice low.

  Bukidai waved her away. ‘I don’t need to hear it. Go.’

  Tseren shifted. ‘Sir, it’s urgent—’

  ‘Speak out of turn again, and I’ll hang you from the balcony,’ Bukidai snapped. ‘You’ve been told to go.’

  Tseren opened her mouth to argue, but she knew that look on his face. He was being serious.

  She considered reaching out to a different leader – the Jer?vica people seemed nice, but Bukidai would cut that off too. Besides, if it was revealed why she was really here, that a Mysica had been invited and now stood in the great Shihoan Palace, it would only scare them. Not that anyone had ever been scared of her and her benign ability, but what it could reveal. The Wild Folk might have been banished to their own realm, but the stragglers were here in the Palace, watching, waiting for a chance to strike. They were bold too. One of them hung off the shoulder of the Eldwylle Retainer while he was in conversation with the Prince Heddwyn, sniffing the young boys hair without a care about being seen. Sprites spiked the wine with sour grapes, and shadows danced across each of the balconies, mocking the nobles.

  Tseren knew they would make themselves known by the end of the night. The problem was, Budikai refused to notice any attempts to warn him. If she wasn’t here to notify him of these creatures, then she didn’t want to know why he dragged her here. Anything her mind cooked up made her stomach twist painfully.

  The tribe prince stood partway down the hall, craning to see what waited further down the space. He turned as she approached, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ the prince said. ‘Who screamed.’

  Tseren guessed that much, but there was more to all of it. Magic stained the floor, iridescent streaks that sparkled like morning dew, lines that pulled and sailed along the length of the great corridor. Some broke apart and reached up the walls like small tendrils, trying to reach the domed roof that was much too high to be practical. She never understood why the architecture in Shihoa was so much taller than the people, so grey and pointed like swords.

  The tribe prince said something else, but Tseren didn’t hear it. Instead, she followed the lines of magic. She wished she had her sword.

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  She turned a corner and came to the other set of stairs that led back up to the terrace, at the same moment the Eldwylle retainer came down the stairs, almost crashing into her. He looked tired, tired beyond his years, his sand-blond hair messy and falling over his square face. His green and grey tunic was creased around the lining, and Tseren wondered if someone had grabbed him by the collar. The gargoyle-like spirit that had sat on his shoulder was nowhere to be seen.

  Footsteps echoed across the too tall hall, and both she and the retainer rushed back around the corner, and while she expected the tribe prince, she didn’t expect the tribe woman with him – the one who had stopped the fight. The chief had called her Mala.

  ‘I already told you, there’s nothing here,’ the Prince said. ‘It sounded like it came from upstairs.’

  Mala pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Of all the times you two had to do your usual stuff. Tonight? About hunting patterns of all things?’

  The Prince recoiled. ‘It’s not that—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ Mala snapped. ‘Fuck, Harman. You almost started an incident.’

  Tseren doubted it would be that easy, but she would have paid good money to see an argument between two teenagers be the thing that broke the commonwealth apart. She probably wasn’t the only one either.

  ‘You don’t actually believe any of this, do you?’ the prince – Harman – asked. ‘That the Wild Folk are gone? That the worlds have been separated?’

  ‘Have you seen what outside the Palace looks like?’ the retainer asked.

  ‘As much as we’re not having this conversation now,’ Mala said. ‘If you didn’t scream, then who did?’

  Tseren glanced around, searching for another path the strings of magic had left, though it was clear it moved around in a square, surrounding the terrace above. Not a good sign. Except for the parts where it broke off.

  She made her way back over to the lines, crouching down to see the point where the many lines split apart, fraying like an old rope. Nothing around the break suggested anything that would have snapped it, and the wall was normal stone, solid and firm. Tseren straightened and pressed her hand against the wall, feeling the warmth of the stone, but no sensation that came with magic. Magic always felt different, and she had never been as good with sensing magic as she was with seeing it, but she could almost hear her gran-mama praising her for remembering to try.

  ‘Is there something we’re doing here?’ the retainer asked. Tseren had already confirmed that he wasn’t any kind of Mysica, but the chances of meeting another one after all this time was less than nothing. Still, she’d heard stories of ancient people with similar mystic abilities sharing them. It was worth it to try.

  ‘A hunch,’ she said.

  ‘Can I ask if this has anything to do with me?’ the retainer asked. ‘Since you wouldn’t stop staring.’

  ‘It might,’ Tseren said. These people wouldn’t believe her without some kind of proof. ‘But I wasn’t staring at you.’

  The retainer’s eye’s narrowed, angry.

  ‘Guys.’ Mala stepped up to the wall, then pressed on a nearby door until it swung open. ‘Shouldn’t you be better at this as a retainer?’

  ‘My name is Wil,’ his mouth twisted as he said it. Strange that it was such a sore spot for him. Though it wasn’t any of Tseren’s business. She didn’t want any part of any oncoming conversation, so she pushed past both of them and into the adjoining room.