An elderly woman rushed into the nursery, past the babe who stood crying in her crib, and scolded Cylene, “Were you outside like that? Where is your veil? ”

Cylene brushed past the gray-haired woman and lifted the bawling infant into her arms. “You would think you had nothing better to do than to hover over me and throw veils over my head.” She shushed. “You’re a nurse—so nurse.”

“You ought to remember decency.” The woman reached for the babe.

“I don’t follow the same protocols as the others. You see I am not invited even to go to the bazaar.”

“You had best follow the rules better than they do if you care to keep your ticklish position.”

Cylene’s throat tightened. “I don’t care to keep my position.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Believe me, it could be a lot worse. I remember your mother’s days.”

“So do I.” She narrowed her eyes. “And preferred them.”

The babe stretched her infant arms toward Cylene as she released the child into the nurse’s grasp. “So go the drawbacks of imposing exile.” The nurse surveyed Cylene up and down. “He’ll never let you go.”

Cylene turned away from the nurse’s prying eyes, the infant’s reaching hands.

The King despised the sight of her so much that Cylene almost wondered at his reluctance to kill her quietly and be done with her, except that the King’s father had favored executions of unfavored kinsmen. That probably explained his son’s inclination against the bloody practice.

She went to the window and stared out at the crowds of travelers pouring through the open gates. Her father might be out there somewhere in the anonymous numbers. Handsome. Brilliant. And Ignorant.

Mother rarely spoke of him. Perhaps he knew nothing of her existence. But he would recognize her if he once saw her. Going bare-headed onto the palazzo had nothing to do with flaunting protocols. She had to be seen.