“I shall be happy to tell you everything,” I say in my loftiest princess voice, “But only in the presence of Riza. If she’s truly here as you say, you’ll take me to her right now.”

The male nods immediately and holds out his hand. “Then come with me, princess.”

This might be a mistake. This male, for all his polite manner, might be Nemeth’s enemy. I could be walking into a trap. And yet…Riza. I think of the notes she’s sent, notes that Nemeth has withheld from me.

I trust Nemeth. I trust him with my life.

But I need to know what’s going on. So I put my hand in the stranger’s grasp and let him teleport me away.

The world tilts, my vision fogging like it always does when Nemeth teleports with me. I blink rapidly until everything settles again, and when I can see, I notice we’re in an unfamiliar place. It’s a house, but it’s unlike Nemeth’s. There’s a winding set of stairs, for one. But everything seems more spread out, more sprawled and open. There’s a stone ceiling high above me, covered with frescoes and held up by carved marble columns, and a fresh airiness to the rooms that I didn’t feel deeper inside the mountain.

There’s also the scent of salt. “Are we near the ocean?”

“Aye,” the Fellian says. “This is my family’s waterfront home. We have another deeper inside the mountain, but my mate prefers it here.”

“Your mate?” I ask as he moves forward, opening a pair of delicate double doors to reveal a balcony outside. It’s raining, because of course it is, but there’s a canopy protecting the balcony itself from the downpour.

And standing under the canopy in the gray sunlight is my once-servant, Riza.

Even though I knew I was coming here to meet her, I still gasp at the sight. There’s a gray streak in her dark blonde hair now, and it frames her face. Her hair is soft and loose instead of the tight bun she always wore back at the palace. She wears a dress similar to mine, a shawl around her arms, and she turns as the Fellian approaches.

Her gaze turns to me and she staggers, leaning against the stone railing of the balcony. “Oh…gods!”

“Riza,” I weep, surging forward to hug her. She puts her arms out and I fall into them, just as I did as a child. “It’s you!”

“Thank the gods,” she breathes, clinging to me tightly. “Oh, Candromeda. You look so different! You’re so thin and pale.” She pulls back and studies my face, cupping it in her work-roughened hands. “I don’t like it!”

I manage a wobbly laugh. “Starving in a tower will do that to you.”

She flinches. “You were starving?”

“Among other things.” I study her dear face. More than even Erynne, Riza is my family. She’s the one that taught me to be a lady, the one that read stories to me at night when I was a child. She’s the one that wiped away my tears and bandaged my scrapes. She’s the one I remember giving me my potion when I was a child, and then Nurse, who came in later on. I remember gentle hands and loving eyes. Her face is tired and a bit more time-worn, but she’s still the same beloved Riza. “I missed you so.”

“You sweet, foolish thing,” she chides. “I’m no one.”

“You’re my family,” I tell her.

Her mouth trembles and she smiles, then pulls me in for another long hug. “Tell me what happened,” she says. “Why are you here in Darkfell and not in the tower?”

So I tell her my story. I want to be brief, but there’s so much to cover. I tell her of how I ran out of supplies the first year, and how Nemeth rescued me. How we became friends and then something more. She and her mate exchange a look as I mention that we’ve married. Perhaps they’re thinking of their own vows.

I keep speaking. I tell Riza of cold and lonely stretches in the tower. The men that broke in to rob us. How we ran out of supplies when no one brought us any and we had no choice but to leave. I tell her of our journey back to Lios, the abandoned villages we found along the way, and her eyes well with tears.

“It’s been so hard for the last two years,” she says. “The villages were empty long before Darkfell came to the capital’s walls. So many starved to death through the long winter.” She shakes her head. “We were broken by the time Darkfell arrived, and some of us were glad. At least here in Darkfell, there are things to eat. Nothing can grow above. The goddess’s tears are never-ending.”

I shake my head, my hands tightly clasped in hers. We’ve moved to chairs just inside the doors, and the large Fellian lurks nearby but doesn’t speak. Instead, he brings drinks and a plate of fresh mushrooms for us to nibble on as we talk. I ignore the food, focusing on Riza. “I swear to you, we stayed in the tower up until the very last moment. It’s only been weeks since we left. I don’t know why the goddess is so angry.”

Riza exchanges a look with the Fellian and then turns back to me. “We have a theory.”

“What is it?”

She shakes her head, then gives my fingers a gentle squeeze. “I should tell my side of the story first.”

“Of course.” I try to hide my unease. I don’t know how long Nemeth will be gone, and I worry what will happen if I’m found speaking to Riza. I don’t want to endanger them…but I also don’t know if they’re my enemy or not.

If I have to choose between Riza and Nemeth, it will wound me to my soul…but I would still choose Nemeth.

Riza takes a sip of the mushroom-and-spices tea that the Fellian has brought to us. She speaks slowly, as if the memories are painful, and tells me of Lios. What it was like after I first left. My sister had fallen into a depression, only relieved by the birth of Allionel, her son.

In the beginning, no one thought there was a problem. King Lionel’s fleet had sailed off to war, and if it was a little rainy, the weather always changed patterns slightly with the arrival of the Golden Moon Goddess. Spies had reassured the queen that Princess Candromeda was safely ensconced in the tower, and all was well. Without Candra to tend to, Riza attended the queen and her baby.

And then came the army’s return, battered and broken. And the rain kept falling, turning to snow in the winter. It was a lean and hungry time, the villages emptying out as people sought food and shelter at the capital. Lionel took the men and went to war again, and the women and elderly stayed home.

And starved. Nurse died in that time, along with so many others.

The next year, Erynne gave birth to another baby, the girl Ravendor, shortly before Lionel returned once more, Darkfell hot on his heels. The enemy appeared at Lios’s gates and conquered them in a pitifully short amount of time…only to put all the males, no matter how young or old, to the sword. The women were collared and taken as slaves to Darkfell to serve the Fellian victors.

“Allionel’s death broke your sister. How could it not?” Riza wipes a tear from her eyes. “He was such a bright, wonderful boy, and the king slaughtered him because if there was an heir, the people would rise up.” She shakes her head. “Erynne wasn’t even allowed to keep little Ravendor. The baby was given away to another and your sister enslaved to Ajaxi. I was given to Tolian.”

She turns and smiles up at the Fellian hovering nearby, and he gives her a warm, affectionate look before heading to the balcony, giving us some semblance of privacy.

“And are we…glad about that?” I ask in a low voice. “Or are we wanting our freedom?”

My friend blushes, smoothing her long hair back. As she does, I see a bite on the inside of her palm, just below the thumb. “I’m happy. He’s a good man, and kind. But I know many of the women here see me as a betrayer for finding some small bit of joy amongst this misery.”

I lift my hand, pointing to my claiming bite as well. “You won’t find judgment from me.”

Her eyes brighten, crinkling at the edges. “I’m glad that you’ve found contentment, Candra. I just wish it wasn’t with one of the First House. I fear the king has lost his mind. We both fear it.” She glances past me, her gaze settling on her mate, Tolian. “Something must change. Quickly.”