So I just hammered this update out in two days and I have no idea how I feel about it. I'll probably hate it in the morning but oh well I'm just going to post it now and be done with it. Next chapter is back to O'otani, where there will be lots of angst, drama, and more angst. Prepare accordingly. Pack a backpack or something. And as always, thanks for reading. Legit surprised anyone stuck with this novel for so long.

- Swpoet

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I'm still bent over the letter, reading my mother's words for again and again and again, when the knock comes at the door. I notice my surroundings for the first time in what must have been hours; day has bled into night, the soft golden haze of twilight falling into a darkness broken only by starlight.

"Come in," I call, folding the letter up and slipping it into a drawer. Somehow I don't want anyone else to see it, as if the sanctity of the words would be disturbed by another's eyes.

Irei walks into the room and sits down in an open chair across from me, folding his hands in his lap. His eyes are still very serious, though the tension in his mouth has relaxed some in the intervening hours.

"What did the letter say?" He asks.

"The general outline is she's going east," I sigh, unable to keep my voice from sounding tired. "To Raclen. She thinks Queen Misarys might be convinced to go to war."

"So the Yi'ili were telling the truth," he says, his expression mingled surprise and admiration. "I knew Somitu was bold, but going to the mad queen of the east when she has no power left and not a penny to her name?" He shakes his head. "That woman is a force of nature. Always has been."

"She's mad, is what she is," I retort bitterly. "Of all the countries, she had to choose Raclen! A place where she might be murdered before she even crosses the border. And if she makes it to the palace to beg an army, she'll have to deal with a woman known for mysterious poisonings. Imagine entering into an alliance with Misarys, of all people!"

"Misarys of all people might be your saving grace," Irei says after a second of quiet consideration. "It's a dangerous plan, for sure, but there's some promise in it."

"Promise?" I repeat, with some pique. "You think dealing with a madwoman has promise?"

He nods. "The north was a dead end. They're too broke to fund anything. Brekkah disbanded their war council, and Yi'il refused her. That leaves the east. Of all the eastern countries rich enough to fund a war, Mirrenova and Raclen have the closest trade ties and the longest history of diplomatic involvement with Shikkah. And I bet Misarys is quicker to give her an audience than the Mirrenovese Council of Elders any day."

"And so what if she gives her an audience?" I challenge. "She's just as likely to kill my mother as help her, as mad as they say she is. And even if she does deign to help us, do we really want to tie our boat to a woman called Misery?"

"You might have to, if you want your country back."

I sigh. "It's just- Raclen is too much a risk. There has to be another way."

"Maybe," Irei answers. "But if none of us can see it, what does it matter?"

"Maybe it doesn't," I admit. "But when I think about putting my trust, my hope, in Misarys, it just- it feels unholy." I shake off a small shudder. "It feels perverse."

"You can be an idealist, or you can be a king," Irei answers with a shrug. "The path to power is rarely paved with moral acts, Shira. Do you think Aramizsa conquered Shikkah in the first place by pair play? No! She slaughtered anyone who got in her way and built her capitol on the smoldering ruins of a Harrowin city. You want Shikkah back, you need an army, and if you need an army, you need Misarys."

"I really think she might give you your army, too," Irei says contemplatively. "Do you remember when she went to war over the Kolkovides?"

I shake my head. It sounds vaguely familiar, probably a lesson my tutors tried to force into my head that fell out the other side, or faded with time passing.

"Well, I suppose you were too young for it," he says. "Misarys went to war over a string of islands off the coast of Mirrenova. They were worth absolutely nothing- just rocky, uninhabitable places with no plant life, no resources, and no strategic value. But they belonged to Raclen historically, and she took some odd fancy to reclaiming them."

"What does this have to do with Shikkah?" I ask.

"It proves she'll fight for a trifle, if she has some vested interest in it," he explains. "You just have to get her interested- Misarys is a creature of whims, of violent fancies. I have a feeling any appeal based on honor or duty will fall on deaf ears with her, but if she can only be interested in the affair, she'll give you what you need."

"So this is where we've come to," I mutter. "Hoping our misery is interesting to a madwoman. We're her entertainment."

Irei sighs. "It's not ideal, but it's the best you can hope for right now. Who else in the east would fight for you?"

"I- no one." I admit. "At least, we'd have to have a vast sum of money to bribe them with, and we are penniless."

"Exactly," he says decisively. "So pin your hopes on Queen Misery and forget the rest for now. Now, what else did the letter say? Any other news?"

"Not really," I reply, brushing my hair from my eyes. "I mean, there was a reminder to claim my birthright, and another five to have faith in the goddess, but nothing much besides that."

"The goddess," Irei snorts. "Yes, I almost forgot your mother's faith."

I narrow my eyes at him in warning. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that she's good at hiding behind divinity when it suits her," he answers, his fingers tapping slightly against the edge of my desk. "She always has been."

"She's not hiding behind divinity, Irei!" I snap. "She's choosing to have faith! Not all of our gods are dead, you know!"

"I suppose not," he says. "Though sometimes I think it would be better if they were. They give us hope, but they also terrorize us."

"How do they terrorize us?" I ask, intrigued despite myself.

He sighs. "Your mother was once convinced Zsavina was punishing her for her sins. It almost drove her mad. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, could only pray, and pray, and pray. She almost lost herself because she believed a vengeful spirit was staring over her shoulder, ready to take all she loved away as penance."

I think of my lonely nights laying awake, wondering if Zsavina exists. I think of all the times I've folded my hands to pray, then unfolded them in time, because the holy words stuck in my throat like hot tar. Was I terrorized? No, not terrorized, I decide. Haunted.

"What sins?" I ask. "What could she possibly have done that would drive her to such extremes?" And then I think of it. "Oh," I say with a sigh, reaching up to trace my face with my hand. "It was me, wasn't it? She broke with her family, her bloodline, and had a child out of wedlock. Had a child with a man she barely knew. That was her sin, wasn't it?"

"No," Irei says, a little too sharply. "No, Shira, it wasn't you. Ask her when she comes back from the east and I'm sure she'll tell you, but by the shattered one, don't think it was you. You were never anything but a blessing in her mind."

"What happened between you two?" I ask, for what feels like the fiftieth time. I remember Taís's hand hovering in front of my face, reaching out across a chasm of years to touch me. I hear her voice whispering 'from some angles you look so much like the past it almost breaks my heart.'

Irei sighs. "You know I can't tell you, Shira."

"No," I reply with a scowl. "I know you won't."

"I might not love your mother any more," he answers calmly. "But I respect her enough not to tell her secrets. I disagree with her methods, but you are her son, and it's not my place to go behind her back and tell what she wants hidden. It's up to you to ask her, and for her to share." He leans back and crosses his legs. "I told you before, I keep my vows. And once upon a time I vowed to let the past stay in the past."

I sigh, fed up with his opacity. "Fine, then," I mutter. "Be inscrutable. But stop mentioning the past to me if you're never going to fully explain yourself. It's unfair."

"You're right," he responds. "I'm sorry. It just- it slips out of me sometimes. Especially now that you're here."

"You're too complicated sometimes," I remark, somewhat sullenly.

"Me?" He asks with a small laugh. "What about you, Prince of Shikkah?"

I smile when he imitates Afzul's booming greeting. "What about me?"

"When I agreed to let you come I expected a weak, broken thing to drag itself to my doorstep. I expected a child who did nothing but rage, and cry. I expected an entitled brat raised with a golden spoon on his tongue. But instead I got you."

"And what am I?"

"Oh, sometimes very childish," he explains. "And by times impetuous, rash, cold, even arrogant."

"Thanks," I reply coolly. "You're too kind."

"But you're also smarter than most men I know," he adds. "You're hardworking, idealistic, and kind. You cling to beautiful things because you want to believe the world is good. You shoulder more tragedy than anyone I know and you still sea the beauty in flowers, in small things. Somehow you haven't become bitter, or warped."

"I'm not so sure about that," I answer quietly. "Sometimes I feel- I feel very warped. I'm not the same as I used to be."

"Of course not," he tells me. "How could you be? But you're still hopeful. You're still good." He shakes his head, closing his eyes in memory. "When I lost my brother, I folded in on myself. I lost so many friends because I just didn't care enough to keep them. I pushed all who tried to comfort me away. I saw the world as bleak and ugly, and I was bleak and ugly in turn. But you- some spark inside of you has survived, and that's impressive."

I blush. "You're too kind."

"I'm not," he says. "I'm just telling the truth. When you came to me, I expected to hate you. And now I find myself liking you. When they talked about taking you to Quar'assam, I realized I didn't want you to go."

"I thought you would be glad to get rid of me," I say. "With all the risk I bring, I put you in danger. I mean, if the Grand Council ever learned I was here, you could lose everything!"

"Well, I did consider washing my hands of you," he jokes with a tilted smile. "I mean, you're right. You are a lot of risk. But you're such a help to Tyro, what with all the filing, and I've gotten rather used to having a cards partner each night."

"Oh yes, the filing," I laugh. "Goddess, what would you do without me?"

"I don't know," he says, suddenly serious. "I think- I think I would miss you."

I blush. "You would miss having someone to listen to you lampoon the council members behind their backs."

"Yes," he admits. "But it's more than that. I would miss you."

"I- I would miss you too," I stammer out in a quavering voice.

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AND THAT'S ALL FOLKS