Felitïa.

In the Room in her head, the line of figures extended into the distance, the later ones still blurred beyond recognition.

Felitïa.

It was odd. The voice in this part of the Room overlapped itself so many times that it sounded like dozens of voices speaking against each other, but it was identical to the voice that came from the Staff. They even said virtually the same things. Yet the Room’s voice was comforting, while the Staff’s tested her every drop of patience. Perhaps it was because she could silence the one in the Room or bring it back whenever she wanted. The Staff followed its own schedule.

Felitïa, you must listen to me.

For now, the Staff was leaning in the corner of her room in Lord Padara’s home, while she sat in his study. The distance was far enough that she was reasonably certain it couldn’t reach her here. There was only the voice of the Room.

You will soon forget this, but you must remember.

That was something the Staff had never said, though the Room’s voice said it from time to time. Was it the occasional different word that made it more comforting? Probably not. It wasn’t like she had remembered whatever it was she was supposed to remember. It was something that had frustrated her even before the Staff.

The voice in the Room also called out the names of the people in the line, and she had consider the possibility that was a clue to what she needed to remember.

Zandrue.

Zandrue hovered before her, every physical detail, from the split end of a strand of blonde hair to the tip of a cracked toenail, apparent to Felitïa. There were the recessed horns that Felitïa had somehow failed to notice in the past, and the scar on Zandrue’s back that she had acquired at some point while Felitïa had been on Scovese.

Rudiger.

As the voice called out each name, she moved to that person—or rather, they moved to her? No, there wasn’t any real movement of any kind. Her mind’s eye just focused on each one as if she were standing directly in front. She saw every minute detail. Rudiger had acquired quire a few new scars in Ninifin, but his wounds had healed now.

Borisin.

Borisin looked as he always did. Big. Powerful. She hoped, one day, she would get to spend enough time with horse to find out what he...well...was.

Meleng.

Meleng had apparently hit his head as there was a bump on it.

Corvinian.

She could see the exact point on each strand of hair where the black dye ended and the natural colour began.

Jorvanultumn.

Jorvan was looking stronger, less sunburnt. His broken wing was on the heal. The delicate bones were knitting back together properly. There was a good chance he would not lose his ability to fly.

Quilla.

There seemed to be a sadness in Quilla’s eyes, though that was probably Felitïa’s own projection. She saw physical details on these figures, not mental or emotional ones.

Kindanog.

The odd one out. She had not really met him, only seen him from a distance. The only revealed figure who had not joined up with her in some fashion.

Every time she saw Kindanog here, she couldn’t help think of Maneshka. She’d promised Maneshka the next time they saw each other, she would learn Maneshka’s language. But would they see each other again? She had to see Kindanog at some point, so hopefully that would bring her back to Maneshka, but there was no guarantee. Maneshka and Kindanog spent much of their lives apart.

Nin-Akna.

Nin-Akna had a bruise on her arm that was new. Had something happened?

After that, the overlap of voices made it impossible to distinguish specific names. The next person in line remained a blur. Maybe an inch or two under six feet in height and thin in stature. She couldn’t be sure of anything else, no matter how hard she tried to focus the image. There were more beyond that one, how many she still couldn’t be sure. Every time she tried to look farther down the line, something shunted her vision back to Nin-Akna. She wasn’t even sure how many more there were beyond the first blurred figure. Two? Three? Fifty?

Felitïa, you must listen to me. You will soon forget this, but you must remember.

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If the line held a clue to what she was supposed to remember, she couldn’t find it, no matter how much she looked. All she could do was keep looking and hope one day, she’d notice something she’d previously missed. It had happened before—like Zandrue’s horns. It could happen again.

With a thought, she dismissed the voices and line-up. Instead, she focused on the distant grey walls—another mystery she still needed to figure out.

“Felitïa! Nin-Akna’s here!”

Or that could wait for another time.

Felitïa opened her eyes.

Corvinian stood in the doorway of Lord Padara’s study, Nin-Akna behind him. “She’s better!”

Felitïa stood up and made her way around the crates and piles of books to greet them just inside the door. She hugged Nin-Akna. “I was so worried.”

“Thanks.” Nin-Akna was tense and not relaxed in the hug, and she pulled away from it after only a brief moment. She looked around the room. “What a mess.”

Only the three of them were there at the moment. Lord Padara was attending to matters of state and had taken his wife with him. Harrick, ironically, had returned to his ship to check on Nin-Akna.

Felitïa shrugged. “Lord Padara has a lot of stuff.”

“I always got the impression Folith nobles lived in bigger, fancier places than this,” Nin-Akna said. She stepped carefully about the room. “This place is big compared to a noble villa in Ninifin, but still not as big as I imagined.” She looked back at Felitïa and smiled, but stress, annoyance, and anxiety emanated from her.

Felitïa nodded. “It is small compared to most noble palaces. Lord Padara likes a simple life, apparently. Are you okay?”

Nin-Akna turned her head aside. “No hiding things from you, as usual. I was attacked on the way here. They were Darkers. I interrogated one, but didn’t learn much. I did learn Mister Speedy’s name, though. It’s Omer Ebwood. It doesn’t help us much because he moves around. The guy I interrogated said he waits for Omer to contact him. He said Omer wants me dead.”

“I think he wants us all dead,” Felitïa said. “At least we have something to call him other than Mister Speedy.”

“Why did you leave me alone? On a strange ship with a bunch of Folith strangers?”

Felitïa lowered her head. “Sorry about that. After you were poisoned, I called out for help. The person who answered turned out to be Lord Padara’s grandson, Harrick. He’s my...I’m not sure the correct terminology. Step-cousin? He’s Cerus’s cousin, though the relationship is through Cerus’s mother, not mine. Anyway, he took you to his ship where his physician looked after you. Lord Padara invited me here. I delayed coming until I knew you were stable, but I didn’t want to cause offence at my absence. Turns out he’s pretty easy-going as far as I can tell, and wouldn’t have taken offence, but I didn’t know that at the time. Sorry again.”

Nin-Akna shrugged. “It’s okay.” She turned away again and continued looking around the room. Annoyance was still flowing from her. “So what’s the plan? When do we get moving?”

“Lord Padara has offered me the use of his library here. It’s a long-shot, but there might be something of use. I’m going to spend tomorrow going through what books he has. We’ll only stay a day or two. We’ve been invited to dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, with Lord Padara and his family.”

“I didn’t think they let non-Foliths have dinner with Foliths.”

“Some places they don’t,” Felitïa said. “But Lord Padara really seems a nice, old man. He expressed concern for you even though he’s never met you. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to make some contacts if you’re going to be Ninifin queen one day.”

“Ninifin queens don’t usually have much contact with the outside world.”

“You could.”

Nin-Akna looked back at Felitïa and frowned.

“Or not. Your choice. But I would like it if you came to dinner with me and Corvinian tonight.”

Nin-Akna shrugged. “Sure. You’re right. It’ll be a good experience.”

“You’ll need formal wear, of course.” That was something Felitïa hadn’t thought of until now. “So will I.” She didn’t have any formal wear with her. She’d lost most of her clothing in Ninifin. “Maybe we can borrow something from someone, though maybe not. There probably aren’t many women your size and build amongst the Padara women.”

“That’s fine,” Nin-Akna said. “I have formal clothing.”

“Oh?”

Nin-Akna indicated what she was wearing. “My uniform and armour as part of the Youth Guard. It is both practical and formal wear. In fact, nothing is more formal.”

Felitïa smirked. “That’s not quite what I meant by formal wear, but okay.” It always amused her when noble traditions got challenged a little. Besides, she got the impression Amar Padara would not be offended. She was tempted to forgo formal clothing herself, but decided against it. Nin-Akna showing up in armour might not be the formality expected, but it was still formal. Felitïa would be snubbing formality entirely. No, she’d better find something to wear.

“Want to help me find a dress?” she asked Nin-Akna.

Nin-Akna stared a her, then looked away. “I don’t...that is, I wouldn’t be much help. I’ve never worn a dress. Youth Guards don’t wear dresses. Even if we did, they wouldn’t be Arnorin dresses.”

“I know,” Felitïa said, “but I could use the company. And the moral support. I’m about to ask a bunch of people I’ve never met if I can borrow their clothes.”

Nin-Akna peered back at her and smirked. The annoyance coming from her was starting to ebb away. “I can understand that. All right. I’ll go with you.”

“Can I come too?” Corvinian asked.

Felitïa had half-forgotten he was there. He had a way of doing that—being there in plain sight, but going unnoticed. It was probably his lack of a mental presence, though Felitïa wondered if that was all it was. She should remember to ask Zandrue if she had noticed the same thing—except Zandrue wasn’t there. She should ask Nin-Akna.

“No, you’ll need formal clothes too. I’ll ask Harrick if he can find something for you, and you can go with him.”

Corvinian frowned. “Fine.”

Felitïa offered Nin-Akna her arm. “Shall we see what we can find?”