A splitting headache dragged me awake. I opened my eyes to warm sunlight and Andiya cross-legged at the foot of the bed, staring at me.

“Creators,” I groaned. “That’s unpleasant to wake up to.”

Andiya grinned coyly. “First time I’ve heard that.”

My pounding head took some time to understand her meaning. I pressed my hand over my eyes to block the sun and sighed. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what, lover?” she replied innocently.

“I’m serious. Stop it.”

“I need to have fun sometimes, don’t I? And it seems to bother you so much.” I felt her scoot closer until she was right against my thigh. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re a daemon.”

“Oh, yes. Nearly forgot about that. It must be your personal hang-ups regarding my kind, and not that you can’t keep your eyes off me.” She lay down beside me, propping her head on her arm.

I removed my hand and stared pointedly at the ceiling. “Sorry for the ego blow,” I growled, “but it really is the daemon thing.”

She tapped me on the nose. “Someone’s forgetting that we share a mind. You’re not the only one who can feel lies.”

Too late, I snapped my mind shut. I’d been sleeping, and she’d caught me unawares, and I hadn’t remembered to close myself off.

“No, no. Leave your mind open. I will do the same with mine. Answer a question for me, Rozin, and I will answer something for you. No falsehood.”

I stayed perfectly still. She was too close. Warmth radiated from her onto my thigh. Andiya must have been fresh from a bath—sweet soap wafted from her slightly damp hair.

“You first,” Andiya prodded.

I didn’t open my mind, and Andiya sighed in resignation.

“Just while I think,” I said.

Andiya made herself comfortable—by leaning her cheek on my stomach, curling close. I forced my breathing steady, forced myself not to make this any fun for her. I would not react.

There were a thousand questions I had for her. What I knew about Andiya could be written on my palm. Did she know of her control over lesser orders? What was her life like in Kaelta? For that matter, what was anything like in Kaelta? Her knowledge could bring war to the Canavar. It could destroy nations, topple temples. But right now, I didn’t want to know any of that. It mattered to everyone else except me, whose eyes still burned from crying myself to sleep the night before.

“Do you hate me for it?”

I felt Andiya’s emotions waver, and I opened my mind. Let her feel my regret, my turmoil. She deserved it. The impenetrable fog still surrounded her thoughts. None of them made any sense, even if she was letting me read them.

“I … do,” she replied slowly on my stomach. “I hate you so much I can barely speak. You took everything from me.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“But … I don’t know if I hate you, Rozin, or what you have done. The two almost feel distinct.”

That, I couldn’t understand. In her position, I would never forgive me. I would fight and rage and burn until the day I died.

“I thought about doing that,” Andiya mumbled. “But it gets so tiring. And nothing gets better. I thought I might try and learn who I was bonded to, and what kind of person would be so cruel as to do this to me.”

Andiya’s consciousness sifted through my mind, through the regret that filled every corner of it. But she didn’t go into my memories. She’d not steal the thoughts I still wanted to be mine.

“What I found was someone scared. You hadn’t wanted me. And you were not cruel. My captor genuinely believed she was doing good. Protecting those she loved. And I realised that what you’d done to me was what your people told you was right. You were fighting evil, and to you, that was us.”

Not that it made a difference. It didn’t change what I’d done. I could have lived my entire life thinking daemons were monsters and I would have been happier.

“You probably would have been. But if the Rozin of today met the Rozin of last year, who would you prefer to be? The girl in fear, or the woman who knows the truth?”

“Fear.”

She laughed once against my stomach. “Liar.” Andiya turned, rolling over to face me. Damn that fog covering her thoughts. Too alien, too seeped in an ancient magic I couldn’t understand. I longed to hear her thoughts as clearly as she heard mine. Would I ever be able to make sense of that fog?

Sunlight fell on her face, and I snapped my mind shut like a steel trap. Because Andiya was something from a dream, and I would never wake from it. The sun warmed her hair to burning rubies, brightened her shocking eyes to something so ethereal that I couldn’t look away. I wanted to run my hands through her hair, brush my fingers against her cheek. But I didn’t move.

It bothered me when Andiya teased me because she was right. As revolting as it made me feel, I lingered on her when she spoke, felt my heartbeat quicken when she came too close. Had we not been who we were, I would have been struck dumb at her every word; in another world, my days would be spent pining after Andiya, working up the courage to take her in my arms.

But we were in this world, and all of those thoughts were repellent. I’d bound her. I’d taken away her life, her choice. I would never take advantage of her, of my crime. I wouldn’t even entertain the idea. Just imagining the possibility made my stomach turn, even telling Andiya why I was so bothered by her teasing was a violation. And so I would shut it away forever.

“So, my question,” Andiya said. “Let’s hear it. Why does it bother you?” Her consciousness prodded at mine, but there was no longer a way in. “Hey! Open up, we had a deal.”

I slid out from underneath her, forcing my eyes away. “You’re a daemon,” I repeated flatly, and I didn’t care that she could feel the lie. I pulled a robe from the closet and made for the door. Andiya’s indignation lashed at my mind.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

I turned the doorknob. “Get dressed. We should find the princess.”

“Answer me!”

I swept into the hall, where Andiya could not follow me and risk revealing her sentience. I felt her frustration, and it hurt me more than it should. But this small betrayal was better than the truth.

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“I did.”

*

The servants led us to the garden, where Irina and Lady Ilyin were taking a morning stroll. Irina now wore a rich gown of deep blue, her hair done in an intricate pattern of braids. Her face was still a mask of Shrike haughtiness, but this time with a midnight shadow painted on her lids. Servants followed behind her holding paper parasols.

Lady Ilyin smiled warmly as I approached. “I hope we find you in better health this morning, dearest Yulia.”

“Much better, Lady Ilyin. I have you to thank for that.”

Irina stepped in front of Lady Ilyin, blocking whatever she was about to say.

“Are you well enough to resume your duties?”

No warmth, no concern. Irina didn’t need to act very hard to be a Shrike, did she?

“Always, Lady Shrike.”

“Good. Shadow me.”

Andiya and I fell into step behind the servants as they continued their walk.

“As I was saying,” said Lady Ilyin. “I’m curious what your family will do for the Day of Rains, and whether you would do us the pleasure of attending our celebrations tomorrow instead. Even in these troubled times, we shall forge onwards. We cannot let the Crows stop us from honouring the Creators.”

I hadn’t properly celebrated the Day of Rains in a very long time. Most years, I’d been somewhere with Shokarov’s squad on the road, and so our celebrations were limited to a few drinks around a campfire. The Day of Rains was sacred in every country of Itrera. For a single day, all conflict ceased. All old strife was forgotten. The world embraced as we honoured the day that the Creators brought rain to a fallow world, filling it with the first life. Most cities threw a party of some kind—in Barje Vos, families spent months embroidering gowns and slippers to wear to the dances. From sunrise to sunrise, Barje Vos honoured Spring; we filled the town square with drums and strings as every citizen spun in delicate circles, their skirts flaring out like petals.

“I shall attend,” said Irina. “The Creators deserve honour, even here.”

Lady Ilyin must have practiced her smile in the mirror this morning, because her smile didn’t flinch. “Wonderful. Is there anything you wish for us to prepare for your chosen Creator? The Ilyins shall honour Gold.”

Irina scoffed mockingly “Gold, you said?” The servants flinched. Even Lady Ilyin blinked in surprise. Surely Irina wasn’t trying to insult a Creator.

“I did, Lady Shrike.”

“Gold,” Irina repeated mockingly. “Your prayer will drown in the millions. Everyone prays for wealth, for fortune. Why should Gold favour the Ilyins over the rest?”

“They have in the past.”

Irina raised a sceptical brow at the gardens and manor, and I saw Lady Ilyin’s practiced smile crack. I felt bad for her. She had welcomed a Shrike into her home, and was now suffering the consequences.

“It is a weak mind that asks the Creators for fortune,” said Irina. “Why should a god care about the money in your pocket? What does it matter to Sea or Storm if a farmer is fed? The Creators chose this day to raise our world from the earth. They did not do it so that we could mint coins and beg the sky to drop them in our laps. This day is to honour the Creators’ grand design, not insult them. And so the Shrikes dedicate our prayers to Balance. For everything and everyone to know its place.”

Lady Ilyin took a deep breath, her eyes closed. I could see the tension in her neck. “You are absolutely correct, Lady Shrike. As always.”

A servant ran to us with a letter. Lady Ilyin read it quickly.

“Word from my search party. My son’s Sensor has picked up signs of several skirmishes in the woods. One, I assume was yours. Another involves several daemons and iron weaponry. Belonging to whom, we are not certain. Perhaps the Lady Shrike could identify the iron?”

Irina nodded curtly. “Have it brought to me.”

Shokarov’s squad would have carried iron, and they had bonded. Was it them? What had happened? Was Yulia safe?

“You’re not listening,” sent Andiya. “Her son has a Sensor.”

“Do you think we could speak to him, then? Find out more.”

“We need to keep as far away from him as possible. Do you remember the first meeting we held with the princess? That representative from Seo Jie Go—Jiyi—knew what I was. Her daemon was a Sensor, too. He could feel my power.”

I hadn’t realised. Jiyi’s daemon had meant so little to me amongst all this mess, I hadn’t bothered to think about how he had discovered Andiya’s true nature when no one else could. Sensors were normally small, used more for espionage and tracking than anything else. Most were meant for detecting specific things—temperature fluctuations, changes in heart-rate, magic, a scent. Sensors were also extremely rare, and therefore exceedingly expensive. I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

We walked along the garden’s outer edge. Outside the garden, we saw bunches of small stone houses surrounded by green tents. In front of those, groups in rough dress washed clothes and relaxed in the bright sun. None of them crossed the delicate iron fence that marked the pleasure gardens. As we passed, the people smiled and bowed at Lady Ilyin. She waved gently back.

“We’ve been flooded with victims of Crow attacks, as of late,” said Lady Ilyin. “Our guest houses are full, and now even our lawns. We’ve begun pitching tents in the orchards.”

There hadn’t been any other guests in the main house. The generosity of Titled had a limit when it came to common people, clearly.

“Have you contacted the crown?” Irina asked.

“We have, but we’ve not received any reply. Rumour says the princess is not taking audiences at the moment.”

Irina did not react. “In mourning, I’ve heard.”

Lady Ilyin bark-laughed, the first rude thing she’d done yet. “Mourning. She felt well enough to increase our taxes the moment her father killed himself. Whatever that bitch is doing now, she’s not crying in her bed.”

My muscled stiffened. Ready to jump in the middle if Irina started a fight.

“Killed himself, is that so?” Irina said with mild disinterest.

“It was only a matter of time. The old fool must have known his people wouldn’t let him reign much longer. So he took the easy way out.”

“The crown released a statement that it was a daemon attack.”

“Which sounds like a more dignified way to go, doesn’t it? But think, Lady Shrike. A daemon attack on the Korongorod? They’ll likely use the same pathetic lie when his daughter drinks poison.”

“Your words constitute treason, Lady Ilyin.”

“And I shall deny them if the Crown should ever bother to remember the Ilyins exist. When they are not robbing us blind or maiming my son, of course.”

*

I didn’t have a second alone with Irina all day. We dined with Lady Ilyin that night, servants bringing us plate after plate of expensive cuts of beef and venison, spring greens, thick squash soup, and endless glasses of apple wine.

One of Lady Ilyin’s scouts returned with a canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

“For your guest’s inspection, my lady.” Servants pushed aside our dishes and helped him lay out the bag’s contents.

First, several iron knives. I recognized those—I’d had one myself. Standard issue for Canavar soldiers.

“From the unknown battle,” said the scout.

Next, an ironbow with a snapped string. Standard again. Then a canteen. A boot. A glove. My skin went colder with every item.

“What do you think, Lady Shrike?” asked Lady Ilyin.

“Canavar soldiers. The iron weapons are under one of our sub-contracts.”

As Irina should know. She’d probably helped pick the standards herself.

The scout tossed a few arrowheads on the table. “Crow-made. Same as the rest of the attacks.”

Then he took out a torn shred of a red scarf, and it took everything in my power not to gasp.

Yulia.

“Some personal effects. A scarf maybe, a hat, a few underclothes. Not much to go on.”

It was Yulia’s. Bright red, the rest of the scarf so long it could wrap around her head five times. I knew it was hers because I’d given it to her, and I’d watched it fly in the icy wind of the Teeth just weeks ago.

“Calm down,” Andiya sent.

“I can’t. That’s Yulia’s—”

“I know. You’re screaming that at me right now. But your eyes are screaming it to the rest of the table. We’re not soldiers. We can’t give them the connection. Why would Lady Shrike know these people? Why would you?”

“We have to go after them.”

“And abandon Irina?”

My thoughts scattered. Treason. It was treason. I was an Eon. If I left the princess here and went after Yulia, I would be put to the sword. They might do the same to Yulia, for good measure. What I needed was a plan. There had to be a way.

“Tonight. Go find what you can. Please, Andiya. Find her.”

“On my own?”

I didn’t care about the risk. I didn’t care that Andiya might not come back, that I would be forced to track her down and drag her back by the bond. This was my only chance, and I’d slow her down.

“Yes.”

There was silence in my head as she thought. Everyone around the table was discussing what might have happened, where the soldiers might have gone. I couldn’t focus on them.

“I heard you, before,” said Andiya. “You weren’t certain what you’d do if I ran.”

“I’m still not.”

“I think you’d chase me. You’d drag me back with everything you had. Because you need me, Rozin. Just as you need me to save your friend.”

“You’ll do it?”

“In exchange for one thing.”

“Yes. Whatever it is, yes.”

“You answer one question truthfully. Not now, maybe not even tomorrow. But when I ask it, you must answer, no matter the pain it might cause you or me.”

My consciousness and hers met openly, showing each other the earnestness of our promises. Andiya was telling me the truth.

“Thank you,” I said, because they were the only words to express to what her promise meant to me.

“Not yet.”