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false safety we had here. The rebels needed leverage. Everywhere there were spies. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe Raemon didn’t have people within the palace’s walls.
    “We’re no safer here than we were in Medeisia,” I mumbled.
    Lochlen held me away from him, his narrow face strong and resolved before he moved away. He paused at the door.
    “No, we are not. Regardless, a prince once looked at a group of rebels in a forest and told them that the reason we would win this war was because we had something no one else did. We had the phoenix. A scribe with the powers of a mage.” Lochlen opened the door, his back to me. “You are seventeen turns today. Did you think it would be forgotten?”
    With that, he shut the door.
    Oran jumped from the bed and nuzzled my hand with his cold nose, snuffling. “The armoire, Phoenix.” I glanced down at him, and he growled, “Go.”
    I went, my fingers closing on the wood before pulling it open. I hadn’t told anyone it was my birthday, but it was easy to forget that Lochlen had known my mother, had been privy to my birth.
    There within lay two parcels wrapped in bright cloth, one large and one small. Pulling them free, I undid the ribbon on the larger. What fell into my hands made me step back. It was a beautiful green tunic and amber breeches made out of the same strange material I’d often seen on Lochlen.
    “Dragon skin,” Oran said. “The skin found under a dragon’s scales. It’s an honor, Phoenix. No human has ever been offered clothes made from dragon skin. None.”
    I stared at them, holding them out reverently. It was surprisingly soft material, but they looked form fitting, and the tunic wasn’t long. “It isn’t proper.”
    Oran snorted. “And you care about proper?”
    My lips curled in amusement. “Not much these days, I’m afraid.”
    The wolf padded across the room. “Now the second gift.”
    Lifting the parcel, I perused the blue fabric that covered it. Across the front, there was a falcon, its wings spread in flight.
    My fingers trembled as I pulled the navy satin ribbon holding it closed free. A chain and pendant fell into my hand, a silver pendant. It was Henderonian, the silver forming two knots that circled a small clear orb. Inside the orb was a tiny lock of black hair.
    I lifted the necklace and pulled it over my neck, my face hot with tears. I knew before I even read the note within the parcel who it was from. A gift , the note said, that will remind you why you fight .
    I clutched the pendant. I knew that hair. It was Kye’s. The prince of Sadeemia wore a similar pendant, only it held three intricate knots, no hair.
    Glancing down at Oran, I breathed, “We need more spies.”
    The only answer I got was a growl.

 
     
    Chapter 6
     
    Another week passed, and I never saw the prince. I donned the clothes made of dragon hide, a brown cloak tied around my neck, and the silver pendant resting against my skin beneath the clothes. Stares followed me through the palace, rage-filled comments made by the nobility, but I ignored them. I was not standing on formality. I was suited up for war; it made training with Cadeyrn’s warriors easier.
      The pigeons had returned from Greemallia and Henderonia thinner than when they had left. They had flown fast and sure, carrying small glass tubes with replies from the kings. The double wedding was to proceed and quickly. The tubes wouldn’t hold documents, but there were hasty official contractual words etched in the parchment that solidified the alliances. Both kings would be making separate trips to Sadeemia to sign the final official documents for the scribes. It wouldn’t do to have two kings away from their throne at the same time.
    “I never understood all the pomp and circumstance the nobility put into marriage,” Maeve groused as we stood upon the castle’s ramparts, our eyes on the gathering festivities below.
    “It’s a show for the people,” I replied, my feet taking me down the