The bells of the nearby church rang out, penetrating the clamour of Dorg. People, horses, carts, and more packed the wide streets. Travellers and sailors moved between merchants hawking their wares and services—some from hastily assembled stalls, others from more permanent structures, or from the doors and windows of shops. As Felitïa, Nin-Akna, and Corvinian got closer to the docks, the crowds got denser and the noise louder.

Despite the noise and the fact she often had to shout to be heard—especially whenever Corvinian darted ahead—Felitïa found the noise comforting. Dorg was different from Quorge, but it was the most similar to Quorge of any place she’d been in quite some time. She was feeling a little homesick.

But the noise had another benefit: it was almost enough to distract her from the Staff. Shortly after arriving in the city, she had drawn in the walls of the Room to block out the emotions of everyone. In large groups, if everyone started feeling the same way, it could overwhelm her. Blocking everything had blocked the Staff as well. However, it had soon started breaking through as usual.

Felitïa.

She had decided to drop the walls and let everyone in. The ruckus of Dorg—both in her head and the city around her—was calming compared to the Staff.

“I thought Lockanith was busy.” Nin-Akna was looking all about, her head moving in short, furtive motions, and she was making sudden small changes of direction to avoid people she wasn’t in any actual danger of walking into but who came close to her. Mulac was following her dutifully, but the horse’s constant changes of direction were disturbing Xoco, who was getting jittery, and harder for Felitïa to lead.

Felitïa adjusted her grip on the reins to try to keep Xoco in line. Her fingers were still stiff—especially her left pinky—so it was hard to maintain a good grip. “Dorg sees a lot more traffic. There’s both the river and the sea. Plus, it’s just more highly populated than Lockanith.”

“I’ll be glad when we get somewhere less populated,” Nin-Akna said.

“There’s constant traffic along the Tirin. It should be easy to find a ship that leaves soon.” They were taking an unusual route to Quorge, but it was the safest option. Zandrue had suggested it.

Up ahead, a queue of mostly men extended from a stall set up by the side of the street. It stretched well into the street. Corvinian darted forward and pushed between the people in the line like many other people on the street were doing.

“Corvinian, wait for us!” Felitïa shook her head and sighed. “Typical.”

Nin-Akna turned to go around the line. Felitïa turned too, but Mulac followed more quickly than Xoco. The gelding nudged Xoco, and the mare squealed, rearing back. The reins yanked out of Felitïa’s slow-responding fingers. Felitïa stumbled. Lon and Nesh ran across her back.

Xoco started to bolt, but Nin-Akna grabbed the reins. The horse pulled her forwards a few steps, but the young warrior held on. Xoco squealed again and continued to pull on the reins, taking several steps back away from Nin-Akna.

Felitïa rushed over to the horse’s side and placed her aching hands on the horse’s neck. She spoke a few quiet words and released just a small amount of magical energy. Xoco settled and stopped pulling. “There, there. It’s all right now.”

“Sorry,” Nin-Akna said. “I turned too suddenly. I’m on edge and not thinking straight.”

“Don’t worry. No harm done. We’re all on edge these days. Let’s just catch—”

The air behind Nin-Akna blurred. It was just for a moment, but Nin-Akna’s hand shot to her neck. “Ow! Something stung me.”

Felitïa unfolded the Room and tried to sort through the countless presences there. At the same time, she looked about the real world. What had that blur been? “I don’t think that was—”

Nin-Akna lowered her hand. There was blood on her fingertips and neck. “Oh shit.” Panic shot from her, stabbing at Felitïa and overtaking all other emotions in the area. Nin-Akna stumbled to Mulac and reached for her spears strapped to the horse’s side.

Felitïa continued to glance about, trying to watch for a return of the blur. “Are you all right?”

Nin-Akna fumbled at the straps on her spears. Her panic was rising. “I think I’ve been... Oh gods.” She clutched at the straps as her feet slipped out from under her.

Felitïa lunged forward, managed to catch hold of Nin-Akna before she fell. She wrapped her arms around the girl’s stomach and lowered her to the ground. She placed Nin-Akna’s head in her lap to keep the wound raised. Nin-Akna was breathing heavily, her body twitching, drool dripping from her mouth.

The wound on the back of her neck was small—a short gash, not very deep. There wasn’t much blood, just a thin stream running down to her shoulder blade.

“Help!” Felitïa screamed. “I need help here! Someone! Please!”

Over the years, Felitïa had picked up a few basics of first aid. She’d watched Agernon, and Drummor had shown her how to use many of the medicinal herbs Elderaan had sold in the shop. She had even made certain to take a few of those herbs when she’d left. Some of them would have been useful for certain kinds of poisoning. Unfortunately, even if she knew what kind of poison she was dealing with now, those herbs were long gone, lost somewhere on her long journeying.

She wished Meleng was there. He’d have a better idea what to do. All she could do was keep screaming for help.

Nin-Akna’s eyes flickered closed, her body stopped twitching, and she went limp.

Oh gods.

Felitïa pressed a couple fingers against Nin-Akna’s neck. There was a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Nin-Akna was still alive for now, but her mental presence was quiet.

As carefully as she could, Felitïa shifted Nin-Akna’s body round so she could pick her up. She had no idea if it was safe to move her, but leaving her lying on the ground until she was dead wouldn’t do any good either. She had to find someone who could help. Maybe there was someone at the church they’d passed a few minutes ago.

She continued to call for help. People nearby looked at her, emotions ranging from concern to annoyance, but none came to help. Most people didn’t even notice. The streets were so noisy, her screams probably didn’t travel far.

Nin-Akna was not a big woman, but she was muscular enough to weigh quite a bit more than most people her size, and that weight was more than Felitïa was accustomed to. She couldn’t get a good grip either, as her fingers were still too stiff. It was all she could do to avoid dropping Nin-Akna as she stumbled around the horses.

Gods, how was she going to get the horses to follow her?

Where the hell was Corvinian?

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There was another call for help, and Felitïa looked ahead. Others were echoing her calls, sending the word on. So not everyone was ignoring her.

Up ahead, at the front of the long queue, someone leapt over the stall and ran in her direction. His hand was on the hilt of a sword at his side. Two others followed also reaching for swords.

Dear gods, she didn’t need this now—though it was surprising it had taken this long for a follow-up attack. She titled her head and prepared to put them to sleep.

“How can I help?” the first called.

Felitïa held off on the spell. He wanted to help?

The man slid to a stop in front of her and looked about, his hand still on his sword, but he didn’t draw it. The other two stopped just behind him, remaining just as vigilant. All three of them wore Arnorin military uniforms with an embroidered emblem of a dolphin leaping a bear: Royal Navy.

Felitïa relaxed a little. “She’s been poisoned. I didn’t see who did it.”

“Here, let me.” The man in the lead reached out and lifted Nin-Akna from Felitïa’s arms.

“The wound’s in her neck. Keep it elevated to slow the spread of the poison.”

He was a tall Folith with tanned skin. There were several additional pins on his uniform that Felitïa was unfamiliar with, though she was certain they indicated his rank. “We have medical supplies on my ship. We’ll get her there.”

“Thank you.” It was a little embarrassing that she had jumped to the conclusion they were about to attack her, but people wanted her dead so often these days, and someone had just poisoned Nin-Akna. “My horses...”

“My men will see to them.” He nodded to the two men with him.

“There was a young boy with me, too. I’m not sure where he’s gone.”

“Find the boy, too,” he told the others.

“He’s almost ten,” Felitïa said. “You can recognise him by his hair. The ends are black, but a lighter brown towards the roots.”

“We’ll find him. For now, we need to get this young lady help. This way.” He turned towards the dock and broke into a run. “Clear the way!”

People nearby moved out of his way.

Felitïa ran after him, but he soon began to outpace her and she struggled to keep him in sight.

He continued to bark at people as he ran and people continued to move aside. Many turned to watch him and then Felitïa as they passed. Amidst feelings of confusion, there were also hints of recognition, sometimes awe. People here knew who this man was.

The docks were a maze of quays and piers with ships of all kinds and sizes, from small riverboats and barges to massive sea-faring ships. The man darted along one quay and then another, and then onto a pier berthing several military ships. He ran up the gangplank of a three-masted Porthaven Clipper, barking orders as he went.

By the time Felitïa reached the deck, the man was bent over, clutching his thighs and breathing heavily. The crew on deck were returning to their regular duties. There was no sign of Nin-Akna.

The man straightened up as Felitïa approached. “She’s with my physician.”

Felitïa was breathing heavily as well. She gasped at her words. “I hope we’re not too late.”

“He’s very good. If anyone can help her, he can.” He held out a hand. “Forgive me for not introducing myself, but the situation was desperate.”

Felitïa held out her hand to him. He bent over, took her hand, and kissed it. The whiskers of his short, trimmed beard tickled her sensitive fingers. The edge of a red tattoo was just visible above the collar of his uniform.

“Harrick Padara, Captain of the Silhouette. Welcome aboard.”

“Harrick Padara?” Amar Padara was Lord of Orwin, but Felitïa didn’t know the names of everyone in his family. However, Harrick’s sounded familiar.

“Yes,” he said. “Grandson of Lord Amar, but on this ship my naval rank is more important, not my birth station. To whom do I have the pleasure?”

Felitïa had been using her childhood alias of Asa since leaving Ninifin, and had intended to continue doing so until she reached Quorge. It helped her to avoid the local nobility. There was no way to be sure how they would react to her presence. Yet now, she hesitated to give the name. If she recalled correctly, the Padaras did not have a lot of love for her mother, so they might be more accepting of her, and getting in to see Lord Amar could have its advantages.

“Is there a problem?”

Felitïa gulped. “No. Sorry. I just...” To hell with it. She didn’t feel comfortable lying to this man after what he’d done to help Nin-Akna. Would he believe her though? “I’m Felitïa Asa Folith, daughter to King Wavon and Queen Annai.”

Harrick straightened his back and snapped his feet together.

Well, that answered that question.

“Your Highness! I didn’t realise. My apologies.” He made a low bow.

Felitïa held up her hand. “No, that’s all right.”

“Royalty on deck!” he barked, and others nearby relayed the order across the deck. The crew began to snap to attention.

“No, really. That’s all right. You don’t—”

“It’s protocol, your Highness. We must maintain proper discipline. Gabriella hates it too, if that’s any consolation.”

He knew Gabriella? “Of course. Now I remember who you are.”

The crew had now all snapped to attention. As one, they all bowed. Felitïa sighed.

“Return to work,” Harrick bellowed. While his command was related across deck, he faced Felitïa again. “Remember me now, do you? I supposed I could be hurt you didn’t know who I was right from the start, but there’s no reason you should have.”

“You’re courting Gabriella, right?” Felitïa asked.

Harrick clasped his hands behind behind his back. “Actually, we’re engaged now.” He grinned. “Let me guess, you never thought of Gabriella as the marrying type.”

Felitïa shrugged. “Honestly, I never thought anything. I haven’t seen Gabriella in years.”

“Ah yes, the whole running-away-from-home thing.”

“That would be part of it, yes. However, I was in Arnor City earlier this year. Gabriella wasn’t there. I believe she was here visiting you, so I didn’t see her.”

Harrick chuckled. “It seems you continue to have bad timing. She was here until only a couple weeks ago, so you just missed her.”

Felitïa shrugged. “I’ll have to continue missing her, I’m afraid. I’ve been banished from the Royal Palace and Arnor City.”

Harrick nodded. “Yes, I heard something about that. Word is, you’re responsible for the war we’re now preparing for.”

Felitïa groaned. “I was involved, though probably not in the way you’ve heard. The Volgs were pushing for war regardless.”

“I’ve heard a bit about that, too. Whatever the case, it helped you today. War preparations are why I was in the city signing new recruits.”

Felitïa smiled. “So that was the reason for the queue.” There wasn’t any disgust, disapproval, or dislike emanating from him, so perhaps revealing her identity hadn’t been a bad decision.

“Forgive me, your Highness,” Harrick said, “but before we continue, we should discuss what happened to your friend, so we can make an effort to catch whoever is responsible. Perhaps we should go to my cabin?”

“Of course, though I doubt there’s much you can do at this point. I didn’t see who did it.”

“We shall see. This way.”