The man looks stunned. “Yes, Your Highness. Anything.”

“Your discretion would be required.”

He puts a hand to his chest and he lowers his voice. “Of course.”

I lean in a bit. “What you have heard is correct. The royal family has fled Emberfall.”

The innkeeper’s eyes grow round, and I continue, “Years ago, after the monster attacked the castle and destroyed most of the guardsmen, the King of Disi offered sanctuary, which we gratefully accepted. We are currently in the midst of negotiations so we can finally rid Emberfall of this terrible creature.” I pause and glance around conspiratorially. “We believe the monster is under the control of Karis Luran. Rumor says she has the ability to wield a dark magic, something that prevented our guardsmen from defeating the creature.”

Harper takes a sip from her mug. I watch her absorb every word.

“Goodness,” says Coale. “We had no idea.”

“In truth,” I say, “I was unaware the Queen of Syhl Shallow had begun to advance her forces into Emberfall. When we learned that the monster had abandoned Ironrose to return to its home with Karis Luran, the princess and I came to assess whether the castle could support a neighboring force. We have decided to remain until Disi’s army is ready to move. I am certain you see many travelers. Would you be willing to spread word that the castle will need to be restaffed? I have silver to pay.”

Beneath his beard, the innkeeper has paled. “Yes, Your Highness.” He pauses. “Please—I feel I should beg your pardon for my harsh words last night—”

“No need,” I say. “I prefer honest discourse. I would ask that you always speak true.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

Wind whistles through the shutters. I wonder if it has begun to snow again. “Before you retire, another two mugs of tea, if you please.”

He gives a short bow and moves away.

Harper is staring at me. “You’re too good at this.”

“We shall see. It is good for people to have a common enemy. It breeds unity—and we will need plenty of that.”

“You might be scarier than Grey.”

I nearly smile—but then consider that a time will come, and soon, when I truly will be more frightening than my guard commander. “You should rest. The room is yours if you want it. There will be much to accomplish tomorrow.”

I expect her to refuse, but she grimaces and uncurls from the chair. “All this riding is beginning to catch up with me.”

I stand. “Would you like assistance?”

She gives me a look. “I’ve got it.” For a brief moment, she hesitates, and something like sadness flickers across her face. Before I can parcel it out, she says, “Good night, Rhen.”

There are so many things I want to say to her. Earlier this evening, when I asked Freya to serve as her lady-in-waiting, the young woman nearly got to her knees to kiss Harper’s hands again.

After what Harper has promised to do, I have the same urge.

I do not. I give her a nod. “Good night, my lady.”

I sink back onto the warm stones of the hearth. Another whip of wind cracks against the shutters and I nearly jump.

When Coale returns with tea, he is surprised to find Harper gone. “Shall I take one up to the princess?” he says.

“No need,” I say. “The second is for Commander Grey.”

The night air slices into me when I step outside. Any temperate warmth from the afternoon has bled from the sky, leaving frozen snow underfoot and bitter wind to sneak under my cloak. I do not want to make a target of Grey or myself, so I carry no lantern. The darkness is absolute.

When I told Harper that Grey knows how to keep himself hidden, I meant it—and he is proving it now. I look out at the dark stretch of snow and I’m glad of the bow strapped to my back.

A shadow shifts at the corner of the inn. “My lord.” He sounds surprised—or maybe concerned.

“All is well,” I say. Grey stops in front of me, barely more than a shadow.

I hold out a stein. “Hot tea.”

He hesitates, then reaches for the handle. Steam curls into the air between us. His eyes are dark and inscrutable and his expression is impossible to read.

“Drink it,” I say. “You must be half-frozen. You’ve been out here for hours.”

He takes a sip—and there’s a part of me that wonders if he’s doing it only because I ordered him to. “The cold is no hardship,” he says, taking another, longer sip while looking out at the night.

I wrap my hands around my own stein. I had intended to discuss the night’s events with him, but I find the cold, silent darkness somewhat intoxicating. Peaceful.

We stand quietly for the longest time, until he says, “May I be of service, my lord?”

“No.” Overhead, the stars stretch on forever. When I was a child, my nurse told a story of how the dead become the stars in the sky. At the time, I found it frightening—I remember worrying that they would fall to earth one day, that we’d be surrounded by dead bodies.

Now I find it shameful to think that my father and mother could be looking down, watching my failure season after season.

“Was it always like this?” I ask.

“Like this?”

I glance at him. “Standing guard?”

He seems surprised by the question, but he takes no time to consider. “No. I was never alone. The nights were never this silent.”

There’s a note in his voice that it takes me a moment to identify. “You still miss them.”

“I counted many as friends. I mourned their loss.” He glances at me. “As you mourn your family.”

Yes. As I mourn my family.

Grey and I never discuss the time before. It’s laden with too many wrongs on both our parts. But maybe the knowledge that this is our final season has loosened something in him, the way it has changed something in me.

“Who would have stood guard with you?” I ask.

“Anyone,” he says. “We changed frequently.” A pause. “As you know.”

In truth, I never really paid attention to the operations of the Royal Guard. They were good at being hidden in more than one way. Or maybe I was good at not noticing what was right in front of me. “Who would have been the best?”

“Marko.”

He says it without hesitation, which must mean Grey knew him well. I barely remember Marko. My brain conjures an image of a sandy-haired guardsman. He was one of the few who survived the first attack by the creature—but not the second. The only guardsman to survive the second attack is standing in front of me. “Why?”

Grey looks at the sky as if searching for an answer. “You could find no one better to fight at your back. Terrible at cards, but he always had a good story. Never fell asleep on duty—”

“Fell asleep on duty?” I stare at him, surprised. “Did that happen?”

He hesitates, and I can read in his silence that he’s worried he’s said too much, but he must realize it makes no difference. “Sometimes. That is why the cold is no hardship. Nothing calls for sleep like a warm night and a full stomach.”

Fascinating. “Did you ever fall asleep on duty?”

Even if he did, I don’t expect him to admit it, but I should know better. Grey is nothing if not honest. “Once,” he says. “My first summer.”

“Commander.” My voice fills with mock admonishment. “I should have you flogged.”

“The king would have,” he says, and he’s not teasing. “If I’d been caught.” He pauses, then glances over at me. “But not you, I do not think.”

With that one comment, my good nature sours. He is right on both counts. I frown at my mug and say nothing.

“I’ve angered you,” he says. “Forgive me.”

“No,” I say. “You haven’t.” Or perhaps he has. I’m not sure. “I was cruel in other ways, Grey.”

He says nothing, which makes me think he agrees. When he speaks again, his voice is contemplative. “You were never cruel.”

“I made you ride a full day without food or water, then forced you to fight.” Wind whips between us, beating at my cloak, as if the weather itself seeks to chastise me. “For sport. For my own pride. You could have died. For entertainment. That is cruelty.”

He is quiet for a long moment, then frowns and looks at me. “Are you speaking of the Duke of Aronson’s man-at-arms? When we fought at Liberty Falls?”

“Yes.”

“You did not force me.” He sounds puzzled, almost incredulous.

“I ordered you.” I make a disgusted sound. “That is no different.”

“You asked if I could defeat him. I said yes.” He pauses. “There was no order.”

My anger rises. “Do not split hairs with me, Commander. I ordered you to prove it.”

“You think I would make such a claim without being ready to prove it?”

“Regardless of the outcome, I know what my intent was.”

“To prove the superiority of your Royal Guard? To prove your pride was not without merit?” The first edge of anger sharpens his tone, too. “Do you not think my intent would be the same?”