Sitara awoke with a start. The cook knelt beside her, holding a bottle of something vile under her nose. The smell triggered memories of working on her parents' farm in the countryside of Freyarr, and the ghastly stench she had waded through every day as a child.

As soon as she stirred, the cook heaved a great sigh of relief. "You gave me such a start." She helped Sitara sit up. "What happened?"

Sitara tried to force her mind to work, but one thought burned so hot she could think of nothing else.

Bajaran is dead!

When she didn't speak, the cook continued, "Now that you're awake, I'm going to fetch Ithai. I'm sure she can help."

Sitara wanted to both scream with terror and laugh hysterically at the same time. She clutched the cook's arm.

"No. Don't bother her. She is busy with the keisara."

"Nonsense. The emperor is with the keisara."

"I'm all right," Sitara insisted. "Please, just help me to my room. My nerves got the better of me. I was so worried about the keisara, and then when you spoke of people dying. . ." Her voice failed her.

The cook patted her arm. "I am so sorry, dear. I didn't realize how deeply all this had affected you."

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Sitara maintained her composure until the cook left her alone in her room. Then she threw herself onto the bed and let the torrent of emotion explode through her, unchecked.

She only managed to keep from screaming by burying her face deep in a pillow. Tears burned her eyes and her throat constricted until she could barely breathe. Great sobs racked her body, and her limbs trembled violently.

Bajaran is dead.

It was unbelievable, so horribly wrong! In one terrible instant, her world had shattered.

Bajaran could not be dead. Ever since he had found her four years ago among the ranks of the newly accepted in her small village, he had remained a constant in her life. At fifteen years old, she had been so innocent, so blinded by the lies of her teachers.

Then Bajaran came and explained her glorious destiny. He’d rescued her, trained her in secret, and revealed the important and dangerous role she would play in the revolution.

He became her secret lover. He brought her to the palace and his subtle influence, coupled with her gifts, obtained for her the coveted position serving the keisara. There she gained critical access to those who held the highest seats of power and the secrets they kept.

He was gone. Her heart torn with grief, Sitara lay there, unable to think. Only after a long time did a new thought penetrate her storm of anguish.

Someone killed him.

She might have failed in her attempt to destroy the keisara, but Bajaran could not fail. He was too great a man for the revolution to falter. The mere thought triggered a wave of rage that burned away some of her overwhelming grief. She wanted to scream in defiance and wreak terrible vengeance on whoever was responsible.

She would discover their name.

If she survived, if she remained undiscovered, she would hunt down the one responsible for his death, and she would kill them. Slowly. She would be strong, for him.

If only she could turn to someone for information.

Sitara sat up and rubbed savagely at her burning eyes.

There was someone.