Princess Paranila clapped her hands together with a gasp. "Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. And how do you feel?"

Standing in the doorway to the dining room, I tugged at the fabric clinging to my thighs and shifted my shoulders to loosen the lace weaving down my back. "If I am pretending to be a potato farmer, shouldn't I look more like one?"

"Ha!" The princess slapped the table in front of her and tipped her head back in a snort. "No potato farmer would attend the Coupling looking like a potato farmer. Don't you agree, Queen Romalda?"

Beside her, Queen Romalda straightened with a crackle of decrepit bones, but the bold wooden chair still devoured her frail frame. She spoke with the smooth sibilance of longstanding noble ancestry. "I should trust your judgement on matters of seduction, Paranila."

"Well, I suppose I did seduce your son." She giggled, and her burgeoning breasts jiggled in time to her tinkling laughter. When she caught Queen's ruched lips, her laughter petered out, and she turned her attention back to me.

"I am so excited for you, Epsa—going on your first big outing!" She sighed and twisted a lock of curly black hair around one finger. "Seeing you in that gown reminds me of when I last wore it. I may not have had the woman's body then that I do now, but I was so young and free."

I raised my eyebrows. "I believe we are the same age, Your Highness."

She propped her elbows on the table before her, set her chin on her hands, and flashed me a saccharine smile. "We are, sweet Epsa, but age is not everything. Isn't that right, Queen Romalda?"

When Queen Romalda leveled Paranila with an icy, motionless stare, the stark contrast between them shone clearer than ever. Skeletal versus voluptuous, cold versus warm, white frizz versus black waves. The rich ebony of their skin proved the only commonality.

Finally, the Queen's head cocked, and her lips ticked up slightly in the corners. "Indeed, Princess. Now if you wouldn't mind, I would like a moment alone with Epsa. As her mother figure, I should provide guidance before she embarks on this momentous occasion."

A strangled gulp escaped me before I stifled my reaction. A mother figure? I had given up yearning for that long ago. Still, a fragile hope sparked in my chest.

"Oh." Paranila sucked her supple lower lip between her teeth as her gaze flitted between us. "Oh, yes, I... of course, Queen Romalda."

She rose from her chair and sauntered toward me, generous hips swaying. I shifted to allow her to pass by, but she stopped in the entryway and leaned toward me.

"You look truly irresistible, Epsa." Her giddy whisper tickled my ear. "You'll do great." Then she cupped the back of my neck and pressed a wet kiss to my cheek.

I fisted my hands to resist wiping away the slobber. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Princess Paranila sidled past me, and I shuffled forward and dropped into the chair beside Queen Romalda.

The Queen slipped a hand down to fumble with a pouch strung to her hips and drew out a glass vial. With trembling fingers, she unscrewed the cap of the vial and tipped some of the clear liquid into her chalice. Clear droplets trickled into amber prak.

I folded my hands on the table before me and spoke in a carefully measured tone. "That must be twice the recommended dose, Your Majesty."

"Good. Then I'll fall asleep twice as fast."

I bit my lip over a protest and watched her tilt the chalice in a circle, swirling the liquid. As she drew the chalice to her lips, I cleared my throat.

"You wanted to speak to me, Your Majesty?"

"Of course not, dear." She sipped the medicine-laced prak and gazed down the stretch of empty table at the vacant chairs and gold-embroidered table mats. "I simply wanted Paranila to leave." 

My chest clenched, a reaction I quickly clamped down on with a scathing self-reprimand. Really, Epsa? What did you expect?

I tucked my feet in closer to the legs of the chair and tapped a pointed-toe shoe against the ground. Though I knew the time had come for me to leave, I couldn't quite bring myself to make an exit yet.

"Then you don't have... any advice for me?"

Her bony fingers rapped the table. "You don't need advice, Epsa. You have always performed your duties flawlessly."

I wanted to accept the praise, but I could not miss the bite beneath her words. I pushed back my chair and rose to my feet.

"Well, I suppose I should leave now."

Queen Romalda raised a quivering hand and tilted her head in a concessive gesture. "Yes, dear. Don't allow an ailing queen to burden you."

* * *

The trees and foliage surrounding the palace quickly gave way to a stretch of gravel road and tiny crooked houses. Grime clung to street signs like festering disease, trash overflowed dented bins, and vermin scuttled in dark corners. My gaze flicked between the houses as we rode, and sadness welled in my chest. King Makapu had worked so hard to build a beautiful Kingdom, but his people obviously did not share this passion.

Escorting me, a perpetually sniffling servant named Roki rode a bay mare. I caught him glancing my direction and quickly schooled my expression. This was not the time for emotions. I needed to perform my duty and leave.

We cut off the gravel road onto a narrow trail that snaked through a meadow of tall brown grass. After a few minutes, the grass tapered off to packed dirt, and a myriad of vibrant tents formed a circle before us. A lantern hung before each tent, washing dyed animal hides in a flickering glow.

People of every color, shape, and size spattered the field in clusters like coral patches in the Paksha Sea. In the middle of the field, a pan flute piped a fluttering tune above the steady rhythm of a deer-hide drum. Bodies swayed to the music, arms flung out in expressive gestures, and heads tipped back in laughter. Prak cascaded from suspended barrels into outstretched mugs.

A bout of nervousness sprouted in my chest. I straightened in my saddle and glanced at Roki.

"Which one is Izra?"

He sniffled and tipped his head toward the center of the field. "Look for the gap in the crowd."

"She avoids the crowd?"

"The crowd parts for her."

We tied off the horses at the edge of the field. As we reached the outskirts of the crowd, a wave of acrid body odor stung my nostrils, and the raucous conversation rattled my eardrums. At my side, Roki scrunched his face in an aggressive sniffle, but the hubbub around us buried the accompanying sound. Then he squinted and scanned the crowd.

I straightened the sash around my waist and wrestled with the twisted bottom of my gown. "Maybe you should find her first and come back for me."

"What?"

"Maybe you should—"

"There she is!"

Despite the dimming sunlight, she stood out from the herd of moving people like a lighthouse on the shoreline. Glossy black hair slipped over her shoulders and spilled halfway down her back. Her chin, nose, and cheekbones carved angles sharp enough to cut, and one hand perched casually near a dagger handle at her hip.

She was beautiful—tragically so—but it was the jarring, caustic beauty of a storm at sea.

I instinctively reached for the blade normally tucked into my sheath, and my hand slid over the smooth fabric of my gown. Of course, bringing a weapon to the Coupling could have drawn too much suspicion. And I could certainly not risk hiding one under my clothing, since if all went according to plan, the clothing would not remain.

My palms began to sweat.

Three young men stumbled past me, blocking Izra from view. They swung glances around the field, pointing and murmuring. Then the tallest man locked eyes with me and stuttered to a halt. His gaze meandered down my body, and when they returned to my face, he wetted his lips and flashed a slippery smile. Ignoring the exasperated protests of his companions, he strode toward me.

"Well, hello there! Are you looking for someone to show you a good time?"

"No."

"That's a shame. I do like a strong, beautiful woman." He popped his lips in a kissing gesture, and spittle flecked my forehead.

I brushed off my face with the back of my hand and craned my head to look past him. "Unfortunately, I share that preference."

The tall man groaned and swiveled back toward his snickering friends. As they trotted off, I spotted Izra once more.

And froze.

She stared straight back at me, her eyes glittering pools of obsidian.

I've heard her eyes are as black as her soul.

Roki wiped a hand over his dripping nose and then clapped the same hand over my shoulder. "Well, there she is! Guess I'll be off now."

As he ducked back toward the horses, I squeezed my hands into fists tight enough my nails dug into my palms. King Makapu always praised my steadiness and resolve. The task he had given me was not the one I had hoped for, but I would not fail my Kingdom.

I pulled in a slow breath and held it for a few seconds. When I released the air, I forced my fists to relax. Then I cut through the crowd toward Izra.

Her eyes remained fastened on mine, expression inscrutable. As I approached her, the fetid odors around me faded, and my feet barely touched the ground. To look into her eyes was to tumble into an endless abyss.

Several feet from her, I rocked back to my heels. She appeared my same height but significantly slighter. While a life of good food and hard training covered my frame with solid muscle, her silken frock breezed over a narrow waist and skimmed pronounced hip bones. Still, she held herself with the powerful, passionless poise of a killer.

One who could bring down a kingdom.

I pushed out my words before I could lose my nerve. "Good evening. My name is Epsa, and I couldn't help but notice you. May I request your name?"

Her gaze remained empty, but she arched one brow. "Well, aren't you polite. Unfortunately, I have a rule -- no names until after sex. Would you still like to know my name?"

My eyebrows shot up as a thrill sizzled down my spine. "If you'd like to share it with me."

"Follow me."

Then she turned her back to me and slipped off into the crowd. She moved with sharp precision, arms and legs snapping forward in exact opposition to everyone else—a perfectly placed syncopation. Around her, heads swiveled to watch, conversations withered, and feet shuffled back to make way.

When she threw a glance over her shoulder, I realized I still stood motionless. I forced my feet into motion and jogged after her, ignoring the eyes following me.

A minute later, Izra halted before a tent of crimson-stained deerhide. I wondered what dye could create such a vibrant color. Blood-red.

Izra rotated one foot and jutted her hip to half-turn toward me. As I met her soulless gaze, I forced a smile.

"Lovely tent."

"It has served me well. Do come in."

She pinched the side of the flap door and drew it back. I dragged my gaze from her face to the sliver of dark behind the flap. With a quick intake of air, I trudged into the tent.

The inside of the tent appeared surprisingly innocuous. A small lantern hung from a hook on the wooden post at the tent's center, basking a pile of worn furs and a rickety wooden chair in a soft glow. But when the lithe figure dipped through the flap behind me, her chilly stare leeched the warmth from my chest.

In a quiet, steady voice, she said, "Give me your hand."

"What's this? A geography lesson?"

"A hand can reveal more than just the map of our nation."

"Like what?"

Izra lifted her left hand palm-up between us and waited. The innocuous gesture belied a dangerous undercurrent—the stillness of a viper before it strikes. But if my Kingdom asked me to crawl through a den of vipers, I would drop to my knees without question.

I extended my hand toward hers.

She swept her fingers under my wrist and tugged my hand toward her chest. Her olive skin paled beside the deep bistre of my own. When her right hand hovered above my palm, I noticed the knob of her wrist bone, the sharp angles of her knuckles, the slight point of her fingernails.

I've heard she has claws for hands.

Two fingers settled on my palm, and the gentle pressure snatched the air from my lungs. She traced the dark lines that creased the lighter skin there and spoke in a quiet, even tone.

"You have very defined calluses."

My gaze locked on the rigid edge where my palm met my fingers. "I plow potato fields."

"Is that so? My parents used to farm potatoes."

My stomach lurched in a nasty flip, and the gown constricted over my chest. I had researched potato farming enough to provide a reasonable cover, but I had no confidence I could fool an actual farmer. I searched for a neutral response—something neither evasive nor encouraging.

"Then you must have calluses, too."

"I do have calluses... but mine come from something else." Her eyes dipped to the dagger tucked into her own belt and lingered there for a moment before returning to my hand. 

"Your palm is sweaty. Do I make you nervous, Epsa?"

My heart knocked several times against my ribcage before I pulled in another breath and managed a response. "To be honest, this is my first time at the Coupling."

"Oh, I know."

"You do?" My throat tightened around the words. "Is that written on my palm, too?"

"If you had ever been to a Coupling before, I would have noticed you."

My eyes darted between hers, searching out the sentiment behind the measured tone. Her glassy black gaze glimmered like the lagoon at night, revealing nothing below the surface. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth briefly before neutralizing my expression.

"Then I take it the attraction is mutual?"

"Hmm." She trailed a single finger up my forearm, and my muscle flexed against my will. "Are you interested in me solely for my body, Epsa, or do you hope for something more?"

I hesitated, not sure what she wished to hear. However, the secrets I needed to uncover were not etched on her skin.

"I am... open to something more, perhaps."

She released my hand and jerked one step back. "Get out."

I blinked at her. "Did I do something wrong?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I don't trust you, and our goals do not align."

Disappointment and relief tangled inside my chest. I had failed my very first mission, but perhaps when I reported this failure, King Makapu would assign me a task better suited to my skills. "Alright," I said, ducking my head. "As you wish."

I swiveled toward the door and made it two steps before her voice froze me.

"Epsa."

I turned back once more to see Izra still unmoving, hands propped on her hips and sharp jaw jutted. A few moments passed in silence before she spoke again, tone softer than before.

"My name is Izra."

The subtle shift in her voice tickled my chest with an irritating itch. For a moment, I sensed something real and alive buried inside the dark void.

For a moment, she sounded almost human.

I cleared my throat. "I thought you had a rule about no names until after sex."

A tiny smile teased the corners of her lips. "I never follow rules."