The Shira who emerged from Melody's room was a different woman entirely from the one I had dragged from Varys's tent. Oh, the bruising was still there, but a dress as blue as robin's eggs that hung from one shoulder, silk perfectly tailored to her, suited her so well that I almost forgot I was not looking at some highborn lady. Melody had helped her with her hair, combing and arranging that mahogany into a complicated bun held by a tortoise shell comb. The easy kindness had restored something of her strength. There was a brightness, an animation to her movements as she signed at Melody and even managed to smile slightly, that had been utterly absent in my presence.

Then they turned to head down the stairs towards me, and Shira hesitated at the top step.

The light in her eyes snuffed out at the sight of me. The loss of it reminded me of the sorrow of a gardener upon seeing their roses cut in the bud. But then again, who could blame her? To a Rusan priestess, I was the Devil incarnate.

It would have been much easier if, in that moment, I could have regretted my kindness, given as cruelly as it was. If I had leaned into my indifference, surely it would have stung less. Yet the thoughts of apple blossoms hurt me still, no matter how much I had steeled my resolve.

She hesitated again when our eyes met, as if she could see the endless ocean of grief.

"Lady Aleyr, how kind of you to join us." Melody's first instinct was diplomacy, to smooth things over.

My mood was still too sour for me to heed her efforts. "My presence has never been a kindness."

They reached me at the foot of the stairs and Melody shook her head despairingly. "You are as dour as ever, my lady. Here I was thinking we would take tea in the solar. Now I wonder if I should ban you from it." Behind her cheerful demeanor, I caught a current of worry. Normally the bitter side of me waned in influence when I entered the Winter Palace. It was my sanctum, after all.

Perhaps for an old friend's sake, I would temper myself. "Forgive me, Melody. It has been a difficult day."

Shira looked at me as if I had grown a second head. It took me a moment to figure out why, but the moment it clicked in my head, I almost laughed aloud.

I apologized to someone she thinks I think is beneath me.

I gestured towards the solar. "Shall we?"

Together, the three of us walked the narrow hall to the small, private dining room I preferred. It directly adjoined the kitchen, warmed by the ovens, and was far more comfortable than the greater dining hall used on the rare occasion I was forced to entertain guests of status. "So how did things go with Luka's little errand?" Melody asked.

"The Shadeclaw was paid the wergild. He and Luka swore a blood oath that their little quarrel was over."

Melody's delicate, ruby lips curved into a smile. "How fortunate for them that you were so diplomatic, Lady Aleyr," she said, apparently unconcerned by the idea of Shira hearing some of the Court's inner workings.

The tea service was already waiting for us. Instead of the silver traditional for Rusan nobles, it was simple ceramic, with a rich blue-green glaze added in the pattern of leaves. I reached for my cup, identifiable because of the chip to one side of the rim. "Neither side was pleased to be reminded of my position."

"Luka is a reasonable creature. Whatever ill feeling he might have will resolve pragmatically."

I grimaced as I poured Shira and Melody tea, serving them before myself. Again, I saw Shira's eyes widen slightly. "That is precisely what I am concerned about." I knew full well that I was irreplaceable, untouchable, but that protection did not necessarily extend to my household, if Luka ever decided to move against me. The idea of any of them hurt made the cold of my anger expand into midwinter.

Shira flicked her fingers delicately in the air, her head turned towards Melody.

"She wants to know if she can ask questions about our discussion. Would that trouble you, Lady Aleyr?"

There was a potential for great harm in it, but Melody would not have brought up politics if she thought it unsafe. "She will be with us for a time. Better that she knows who to avoid."

Again, Shira's fingers danced.

Melody laughed. "I suppose Luka is the least known of the King in Black's servants, at least by the outside world. He prefers it that way, I think. He is a fangwarden, a beast-man, and leads the more subtle parts of the King in Black's power."

"He's a spy." My answer was far blunter than Melody's as I watched Shira's fingers. There was an art to her movements, a delicate precision to her motion. It was also a mystery, something I could not understand.

I resolved to pin down Vex when she returned and learn everything I could of sign. I hated feeling my own ignorance.

"He's much more than that, don't let Lady Aleyr fool you," Melody said, lips curving into a sweet smile. "And the Shadeclaw is a powerful tribal leader. All of the heads of the packs style themselves that way. They surrender their first names and are referred to the way they are to show they have become the pack. Or at least its face."

I settled into my chair and sighed, combing my fingers through my hair. "And he's far more trouble than he's worth."

"Yes, well, I find survival and worth are seldom linked," Melody commented, a hint of stiffness to her movements for a moment.

I thought of the day I had found her, helpless on the beach, surrounded by the bodies of her family. Bloody flesh and ripped wings. I wondered if the scars on her arms still hurt her in moments like these. We were so close in part because we could see our own suffering reflected in each other. "Death takes the best and the worst in their own time."

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Melody arched an eyebrow at me playfully. "How philosophical of you, Lady Aleyr. I wonder if Naltheme's musings are beginning to wear off on you."

"I shudder at the thought," I said dryly. Clearly Haven had been the one to prepare tea, because there were thin, delicate, honey-sweetened biscuits arranged in an artful spiral and the tea itself lacked the little foam fish Melody somehow managed to create.

Melody laughed at that and I saw Shira relax by another degree. The former priestess sketched her next question in the air.

"What is she asking?"

Impish good humor flashed across Melody's face, hiding a darkness whose depths I knew well. "She says it's clear that we've known each other a long time, and wants to know how we met."

I made a small gesture with one hand, nodding my head slightly to Melody. If she wanted to tell the story, that was up to her. I was only the beachcomber, not the beautiful shell found amongst that devastation.

"There was a shipwreck in a storm, and I ended up battered against the rocks, then stranded on shore," Melody said smoothly, glossing over so much. "Lady Aleyr saved me. As you are no doubt well aware, she is quite good with bandages."

I sipped from my tea, watching as Shira glanced down at her wrists, still bandaged. I made a mental note to check them later, distracting myself from the old anger. The men responsible for those broken shells, for the cracks in Melody herself, had paid for their revenge a thousand times over.

Shira's brow furrowed slightly as she considered Melody's story. It was innocent enough with the relevant points left out. After a moment, she wove her hands into a few thoughtful signs.

Little creases formed at the corners of Melody's eyes. I knew then that she liked the priestess, at least enough to show an amusement as sincere as that she gave me. Their talk as Shira was fitted had clearly gone well. "A fine guess. You are correct: Melody is a nickname, not my actual name. Medesicaste was a bit much for many in this city to pronounce correctly. You should have seen Lady Aleyr try. It was abominable."

A faint little smile curved at Shira's lips and for a moment, when she glanced my way, I saw that spark of life again. It vanished just as quickly as it had come and she signed her next question.

"Ah, one for you, Lady Aleyr," Melody said. I heard the note of weight to her voice and knew it would not be a question with an easy answer.

"Oh?" I tried to keep my tone as bland as possible.

"She wants to know why you are treating her like this."

I raised an eyebrow at the priestess, who was studying her tea intently. As much as I wanted to respond sharply, to ask if she would prefer being kenneled like a hound, I reminded myself that she was not mine to abuse. "There is a certain courtesy that I feel prisoners are due."

Shira looked up sharply. I saw anger, not fear. Her fingers snapped at the air.

Melody went still.

"Translate." As much as I cared about Melody, I was not above compelling her to do as I wished.

"She wants to know how the Butcher of Stonepoint can say such a thing."

I remembered that day well. Two thousand prisoners executed in full view of the walls, their blood mingling with the dust in a river of crimson. "That was a different situation," I said, running a fingertip along the edge of the cup. "I demanded that their commander open the gates or see his men die. He refused, and I am a woman of my word."

Shira's eyes blazed as she turned to face me. I could see her frustration in the twisting of her lips. She wanted to speak so badly, to try and strike me with words. The only thing stopping her was her vow to her god, that promise of silence. Her fingers stabbed at the air like the knife of an assassin.

"She says they were conscripts, boys from poor families. She says you had no right to take their lives away," Melody translated softly, her dark eyes on me instead of Shira.

"They were," I agreed before tipping back my cup, swallowing the tea in one gulp as the two thousand had the water I gave them before I ordered their execution. "I take it you had a family member there, Shira. Or was it a lover I killed?"

Her eyes burned more fiercely and the words beat themselves to death against the inside of her lips. Her fury was beautiful, though I could not help but regret that it was essentially fangless. If she tried to act out some vengeance, I could so easily crush the life out of her or cut her to ribbons with the small knife sitting on the tray of treats. The unfairness of it all seemed plainly laid out for me: the universe had given her such a righteous anger, but stripped her of any knowledge of how to use it.

You mean to make an assassin for yourself? Vex had said so incredulously. Now that very idea took a deep root in my heart.

If the gods of light had not provided Shira with the knowledge to use her strength, I would. If she came to turn that against me, I would relish the challenge of a heart beating with the power of an enemy that could be my equal. No prophecy, just naked hatred and vengeful purpose. That was something I could respect.

"I will not apologize for Stonepoint any more than I will apologize for any other battle." I met her gaze without fear, without deception, without feeling. The armor around my heart closed again, as if it had never been open at tea. "I am who I am."

Melody stayed quiet. I think she understood how closed off I was and how little her diplomacy would soothe it.

Before Shira could sign again or lunge across the table at me, I rose to my feet and stepped to the side, sliding my chair into the table. "Enjoy your tea."

I knew Melody wanted to call out to me, but there was no chance of that changing my course. I headed for the training room, trying to mentally hunt for a weapon that would suit her.

Vex was waiting in the main hall, covered from head to toe in dried gore. I stopped on my path, turning to face her. "You stink."

"Isn't it wonderful?" Vex said with undisguised pleasure. I knew she reveled in all the aspects of her hunger, in all the ferocity of her version of undeath. She was the devouring demon that even the most hardened soldier would flee before. "I suppose you wish me to bathe, my lady?"

"You know that I do. And once you've finished, I have a task for you."

"My lady?"

I smiled faintly. "It's about our prisoner."

"The morsel?" Vex tipped her head to one side, cocking an ear like a devoted hound.

"She needs to learn how to fight properly. That requires a great deal of conditioning for a human."

My faithful wight sighed in disappointment, no doubt crushed that eating Shira was off the table. She would take some small solace in the fact that she could probably make the priestess wish she had never been born. "Respectfully, my lady, I fail to see the wisdom in arming a foe."

I put a hand on Vex's shoulder, ignoring the crust of dried blood and bile under my fingers. "Trust that I have my reasons."

"I trust you, my lady," the wight promised, black eyes meeting mine. "With all that I am."

It didn't matter that Vex was undead, that she could feel nothing but that ceaseless hunger for mortal flesh, that her mind worked in ways I could barely comprehend at times. I appreciated her intensely. "Then do as I have asked."

"Now?"

I pulled my hand back and looked down at the filth clinging to my ivory fingers. "No. Now, you are taking a bath."