Hania let out a howl as Anariel held her back. Her sister’s thin hands and arms were wrapped under her armpits. Anariel’s soft voice pleaded for her to calm down. How Anariel was able to hold onto the flailing monkey of a sister that she and Teldris shared was an amazing feat in itself.

“Emme, we’re only gone for a week,” Matthias said. He made the mistake of reaching out to ruffle Hania’s hair.

It was all the proximity the girl needed to find purchase on Matthias’ torso. “Okko,” she screeched, and then wailed. “I want to go with you!”

Tears and snot streamed down Hania’s face. Matthias tried in vain to pry his sister’s grubby hands off his new uniform. From atop her gelding, Yeppon, Teldris had to look away. It was a bit embarrassing as Josan and Liara waited patiently to escort the two of them to Thelos.

Matthias’ shoulders slumped in resignation when he couldn’t get Hania to let go of his tunic. He leaned in to whisper to the girls. Something too low for Teldris to hear. Hania’s sobbing turned into hiccups until it stopped completely.

Teldris tried not to show that it bothered her that her brother could placate their sister so easily. She pulled her pearl-handled knife from its sheath to examine its edge and slid it back in.

Heavy footfalls announced the Matron’s exit from the temple. The doors swung closed behind her and her hands rose up to quickly work her coppery hair, thin braids and all, into a ponytail. She wore her beaten and battered armor for her day in court. Within a month or so, she would send Teldris off with the suit to get it hammered back into decent shape.

At the sight of the Matron, Hania quickly wiped at her red cheeks and eyes and stood straighter, finally untangling her limbs from Matthias. Anariel clasped her hands before her.

“Do you know what to do while we’re gone, Ana?” Alenna asked as she passed over the two girls. Matthias fell in behind her as she made her way to Cassia, a dappled mare grazing patiently on the sparse grass that grew at the base of the temple steps.

Hania nodded, her bobbed hair bouncing up and down over her shoulders. “Go to Weaver Callum and then straight to Sasha and Mia’s after.”

“I asked Anariel, little one.” Alenna lifted herself up onto her mount. Her face held a begrudging smile.

Hania continued on anyway. “Practice with our training swords.” She held out a stubby forefinger before another one unfurled beside it. “But don’t hit any of the village children with them.”

“Hania,” Alenna intoned.

And then another finger. “Clean up after ourselves while we stay with Sasha.”

“Read our prayer books,” Anariel interjected quickly when the Matron’s gaze had turned onto her. “Dispense the morning rites and check for messengers and parcels. And no swimming unless it’s in the bay or the bath house.”

Teldris smiled at Alenna’s nod of approval. Beside her, Matthias climbed onto a sleek Aksaran steed they borrowed from Isaak’s family.

Anariel and Hania peered up at them, looking so small. They staggered back a little to give the riders some room as they spurred the horses into a canter.

Beneath the mounting rumble of hoofbeats, Hania did as she always does whenever she was awake for Teldris’ departure. She chased the company down the hard packed trail just to see if she could keep the same pace as the horses.

Teldris looked over her shoulder, watching as the girl pumped her legs as hard as she could, her cheeks puffed and her face red. Hania became a smaller and smaller figure, Anariel waiting behind her even smaller still, until they descended a hill and the sands rose up to swallow both her sisters whole.

When anyone spoke of the Sahran, there was never a mutual opinion on whether it was truly tamed or not. Anyone who had lost their loved ones to the sands would call it cruel and inhospitable. But told through tales and oral history, tamed is what they called the barren deserts that made up Kvashine.

As a courier, Teldris had traveled through the short stretch of Sahran between Thelos and Penth so often she knew each dune that they crested like the sharp jut and dips of her knuckles.

The Sahran acted like a sea. Just as tempestuous as its watery counterpart, it was prone to harsh storms that could send an unsuspecting traveler off course, or bury them within a mountain of sand. The terrain often shifted, the fine dust suffocating and oppressive, drying the throat and leeching moisture from the body.

On a good day like that early morning, the sands were still, as if the Sahran slumbered until the morning light turned the dark umber sea to a brilliant gold. Then the winds would come and stir the fine grain of its surface.

Thelos both rose and sank before them as they approached its long and winding sandstone walls. They came in from the height of a dune, looking down on the many circular streets that made up the city. Its buildings reached out with plank and rope walkways and scaffolding like many arms seeking purchase out of a sandpit.

Teldris looked away as she always did when she approached. It made her dizzy if she stared at the sprawl of the city for too long. It was like viewing one of the illusionary drawings from Hania’s curious book from Victon. Where it felt like the lines moved of their own accord on the yellowed parchment.

She made this trip many times over the last few years, ferrying letters and parcels across the sea of sand to the postal office in the center of Thelos. Matthias less often because he found extra work with the fishermen in Penth instead. But they both recognized Exarch Rolan’s upper story suites, nicer and brighter than the rest of the buildings on the outer ring with its gold painted trim.

“Will we pay a visit to the Exarch?” Teldris asked. Personally she always did. It had become a habit after the Exarch had insistently invited her every chance he had. Often showing offense when she failed to. But this time she wasn’t in her own company. It was strange to be there with Matthias and Josan and Liara. She always made this trip alone, visiting Rolan and then Alenna and then stopping by the markets herself to pick up something for her sisters.

“Perhaps,” Alenna said. Their horses shuffled slowly down the bank, kicking up great clouds of dust behind them. The Exarch’s apartments left their view as the walls of Thelos rose around them. “Wardens have much to do and you’ve a lot to learn from us while you’re here.”

“No gambling dens for the lot of you,” Josan said and then snorted in the face of Matthias’ disappointment. Upon catching Teldris’ eye, he swept back the top mane of his hair.

But Teldris instead caught the subtle nudge of Liara’s elbow against Matthias’ arm. She bit the inside of her cheek as she wondered if Matthias would be getting himself into trouble later that night. Matthias caught on quickly enough when he turned to see the slight downturn in the corners of Teldris’ lips. He glanced away, focusing on the city gates instead.

The sounds of Thelos met them at the gates. They dismounted from their horses. No one rode through the city streets unless they had to.

Immediately, hawkers shouted their wares and prices at Alenna and her procession. Bells clamored up and down the streets, competing with each other for every passerby. The streets of Thelos were narrow things squashed between the lower levels. The upper floors always seemed to lean in; balconies and awnings and clotheslines jut over what narrow lines of sky the buildings made, dappling what meager sunlight reached the streets.

Buildings with windcatchers on their rooftops exhaled cool air out into the shaded lanes, bringing the scent of spice, citrus, and dried flowers on a breeze. In some places, especially as they traveled lower into the city, it was cold enough to draw goosebumps along Teldris’ arms.

Everyone knew to pass the spice shop quickly. Except for Matthias, who caught a pepper-scented gale from the store’s windcatcher right in his face. It nearly sent him to his knees. Josan and Liara sniggered while Alenna waited for him at the next intersection with a cotton square cloth dampened with water from her flask. His eyes watered and he hacked up phlegm onto the cobbled ground.

The streets in Thelos curved in concentric circles, each sloping down lower and lower and, as they did, the buildings rose higher and higher. Teldris never saw the center of Thelos. She didn’t know how deep the city truly ran. Populated with smoke and gambling dens, there was plenty of work to be done there by the Order and frequented by off-duty lancers. Josan often brought back complaints about how cold the underground city was during the night. So much that he could see his breath among the herb and incense.

The temple and the court, nestled among the buildings that towered over them, faced each other with a large boulevard in between. The courthouse rose three stories high in smooth sandstone bricks, two narrow wings extending from it in a semi-circle around a depressed courtyard. Men and women shuffled in and out of the halls adjacent to the courtyard, weaving through the tall stone pillars and into the shadowy doorways. Across the boulevard, the temple was a perfect mirror, with its own curving wings.

In the center of each courtyard stood large statues of Malhayar in her goddess and dragon form. The goddess form was similar to but larger than the one that resided at their temple in Penth. And the serpentine dragon coiled and looped, snaking toward the sky. From above her long maw, Malhayar’s reptilian eyes looked down upon Teldris and her company as they made their way to the court.

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Josan and Liara broke away to stable their horses at a nearby garrison. Teldris and Matthias said goodbye to them with an awkward wave. As Lancers, the two of them were closest to the wards. Now with just Alenna, it felt like they were cubs left out in the open space of the courtyard. They scrambled after their Matron as she made her way toward the courts.

Upon entering Alenna’s office, Teldris sat herself at the modest desk. The padding on the chair had worn thin, long overdue for a carpenter to replace its filling. She stretched out her legs as Alenna moved around the office to clear a space for Matthias to sit.

There wasn’t a lot of room to work with. Tall wooden cabinets lined the walls and above them small square windows let beams of light shine through. The drawers were filled with scrolls, some of them unable to close properly with how overfull they were. Paperwork seemed to drown the short Matron in the stuffy room. Her desk was stacked high with it.

“What next?” Matthias asked as he finally settled into a wooden chair that Alenna excavated from a mountain of scrolls. His eyes were still red and watery.

Teldris pushed aside some curled parchment to look at the dates scrawled on the Matron’s agenda. She smiled. It was what she had hoped for. Alenna had several trials due today.

It had always been what she looked forward to as a child. In fact, she’d learned that many children, though most of them were adults now, had eagerly watched the great Matron fight. That was before Alenna had married the Protectorate. Back when Alenna Darnett was the Third Crown.

Before she became a warden, Alenna fought freely, competing fiercely with the best of warriors on the Kings Ladder. Teldris was never spared the tales of the Matron’s glory days and sometimes she failed to see how that version of Alenna Darnett could be the Matron in front of her. Not when Alenna was soothing Anariel from a nightmare, gentle as can be. Or wiping up the fluorescent sick from her apron when Hania had eaten too many sunglows.

She ran her fingers over the names of the different plaintiffs scribbled on the agenda. A good number of cases took up the day and surely one of them would see a trial by combat.

Alenna caught the rare smile on Teldris. “There’s still proceedings before it even comes to that,” she said. Matthias looked up at them both with bright eyes. Alenna scowled. “They might not even approach combat.”

Alenna was correct in that the proceedings were long and droll. Everything drifted past Teldris in a warm and tedious wind. They sat in the main chamber of the Court of Ashes with a stuffy magistrate whose voice could lull a hummingbird to sleep. The main chamber was one large cavernous room that only served to turn his voice into something hollow and tinny.

The two wards weren’t even afforded a good view of the proceedings as Alenna and the magistrate were seated behind a tall counter that overlooked the rest of the court. Teldris and Matthias craned their necks behind them.

Above them all, a balcony made a ring on the second floor for the spectators. Usually those that were allied with either the defendant or the accuser. Or men and women from the Kings Ladder hoping to find work should a case unexpectedly move to trial by combat. They were usually Crows on the ladder, opportunists hoping to make names for themselves and ascend to the higher ranks. Crowns didn’t have to waste their day listening to a full day of witness statements and lancers list off damning evidence. If there were any.

In her younger years, Teldris had spent enough time listening to Alenna preside over court. It was the worst part of being a warden and she held little interest in it. Matthias, who rarely had the opportunity, watched raptly, soaking in every bit of information he could, even if it was just as fleeting a thing as a single case. A small drop of time in the vast ocean of a stranger’s life.

Teldris’ thoughts wandered to the night before as she watched the torches in the court flicker. In the muffled quiet of the court, it felt like she could still hear the ringing in her ears from the shrieking of the velix. Her thoughts dwelled on the foreigner—someone from the north at least with his sandy hair and green eyes. His skin certainly carried the deep olive color of someone with the mixed heritage of Valian and Kvash. Like her father, she thought idly. Except with light hair instead of Berand’s dark chestnut.

And unlike her father, his eyes were sharp and narrow. Eyes like knives—the way they fixated on her as she danced and the fire shining back through his dark pupils. The kind of man that Alenna had warned her of.

“Are you feeling overwarm?” Matthias asked, jolting Teldris from the previous evening and into the present.

“What?” she asked.

“Is it hot in here?” Genuine concern furrowed his delicate brows. Teldris frowned at her brother. “You’re looking red in the face.”

“I’m not—” It was actually quite cool in the Court of Ashes despite the multitude of lit lanterns in the room. The ceiling domed high above them and round windows ringed the upper story, letting air into the large chamber. “I’m fine,” Teldris said stiffly, trying to will away the warmth in her cheeks.

In front of Teldris and Matthias, Alenna and the magistrate’s voices made a soft drone as they interrogated a witness who stood before them. Teldris looked over their shoulders and down to the man standing in the ring. His sandaled feet trod on a mosaic of their goddess. She wondered who the image was for—the judges or the guilty.

“Anyway, can you believe the injustice over those goats?” Matthias shook his head. He spoke quietly but he was anything but subdued as he smiled. “I wonder if Isaak knows.” Matthias pursed his lips, undeterred by the look she gave him. “Isaak lets his doe loose all the time. We should tell him.”

“I don’t think Isaak wants anything to do with us,” she said with a roll of her eyes. It had been a year since she and Matthias had fallen out with Isaak. Still, her brother was always hopeful.

Alenna and the magistrate rolled through their cases steadily. Each one more disappointing than the last. Teldris looked up to see which side of the court the sun came through to see where the day had ended up. It was the middle of summer, so the light still shone brightly through the western windows, washing the walls in a warm glow and displaying tall shadows of everyone within. There was still hours to go before dark.

Then a resounding clank of metal on stone had Teldris straightening in her chair. Her attention snapped to the space beyond the counter and drew down to the plaintiff and the Crescent who stepped up beside him. The Crescent had been waiting. He was prepared for the fight.

He wore hard leathers for armor. He was Kvash—skin dark and mottled with decorative scarring. A long sword with a wicked curve hung at his hip, and Teldris could see the pommels of several knives throughout his person.

With a sigh, Alenna rose from her seat. The chairs were so tall that the woman dropped to the floor. Her boots made a heavy thud as she landed. The buckles on her gambeson and the sword belted at her waist jangled as Alenna made her way down the steps to the arena.

She cast her shadow on the wall alongside the tall Crescent. The long rectangle of stamped steel gleamed between them. They drew their swords.

Alenna moved quickly, a small grunt as she launched her compact form toward the Crescent. The torches wavered as her sword swung through the air. The clash of steel seemed to ring in Teldris’ core, and she vibrated as if the domed court had become a bell.

Matthias leaned forward anxiously, his fingers gripping the polished edge of his stool. His shoulders hunched up so much that he reminded Teldris of a snapping turtle off the shores of Basan.

Teldris watched, her attention rapt as she poured over every move the Matron made. She could almost predict the woman’s next swing.

Alenna held a solemn expression, almost placid as she struck out in a way that Teldris would dare to call lazy. Teldris squinted past the counter and into the arena. She watched as Alenna paced a circle around the Crescent with exploratory jabs of the sword to test his defenses.

Teldris shook her head and Matthias caught it. He turned to her.

“You think you can do better?” he asked.

“I know I can,” she said, glancing his way.

This time Matthias shook his head. “She looks bored.”

“Does she?” Teldris turned her gaze back to the fight.

Teldris caught the opening before the Crescent did—she winced—and his elbow came across Alenna’s jaw with a loud crack. The Matron fought with skill but the woman was careless that day, almost sloppy. Without missing a beat, Alenna fought on, spitting out a thick slurry of what looked like gold dust and blood onto the floor. It pooled into the grooves of the mosaic.

She moved quickly to parry an almost-fatal jab to her underarm and a knee came up, her leg shooting out to land square on the man’s thigh, shoving him off-balance. The Crescent staggered backward and he roared as Alenna’s buckler came crashing down on him. He raised his arms to ward it off.

Teldris grinned. She recalled what kind of force Alenna could put behind the buckler strapped to the woman’s off-hand. She’d fallen victim to it many times and she reached up to rub at the phantom pain in her shoulder.

Beneath the force of the blow, the Crescent fell to his knees. He swept his leg out to swipe at empty air, Alenna was already shifting around him. Her buckler knocked him upside the head and the metal plinked against the studs in his skullcap. He scrambled to his feet. Alenna was a furious flurry of movement now. Firelight glinted off the small buckler as it whipped through the air over and over, smashing into the man; his face, blood spattering the white column walls; his shoulder, the metal bands sewn into his leather armor denting under the thin edge of the shield; his arm, his sword clattering to the ground.

The Crescent’s grunts and groans heralded his defeat as Alenna silently went to work with grim and silent determination. It was over. She stood over the man, breathing heavily as she finally lifted her sword and pressed the tip of it against his neck.

He whispered something and Teldris had to lean forward to try to catch it. Matthias frowned but it was lost as the magister boomed: “By decree of the ancestral kings, Noyes of Sim has been declared guilty.”

Noyes Sim, who stood between two lancers at the foot of the tall counter, brought his chained hands up to cover his face. His guards didn’t give him very long for the sentence to sink in as the magistrate spoke. The scribes in the room were already scratching away at their parchments, some comparing notes and nodding to one another.

Matthias let out a long exhale that was punctuated by a nervous chuckle. His brows were upturned in a sympathetic look as he watched Noyes Sim escorted out in his chains. The doors slammed open before the departing group, and Noyes Sim rattled as he backed away to save himself the added punishment of a broken nose.

A lancer squeezed past Noyes Sim and the other lancers who gave one another a small nod. Alenna had barely wiped the blood of her buckler when she turned to face the newcomer.

Teldris didn’t recognize this lancer as he saluted his warden. She glanced over at Matthias and he shook his head. The lancer was a transfer then, and she would shortly come to know him as well over time. Teldris rose from her seat and Matthias stuttered a moment before he hopped down from his stool and followed her down the steps of the dais.

They came just close enough to hear the report before Teldris came to an abrupt stop. Matthias stepped on her heel and she hissed, glaring at him from over her shoulder.

“ —a disturbance in the upper city,” the lancer said, wiping his brow with a white square cloth. He was a full head taller than Alenna but he radiated with a nervous energy as he stood before the warden. “I can’t—I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Alenna asked, raising her brow at the man. She sheathed her sword and crossed her arms as she waited.

Teldris could almost hear the green lancer swallow back his nerves.

“I think they’ve been murdered.”