Ilyria and Thassa entered the palace through an unobtrusive gate further along from the palace gates. The guards there lowered their swords as soon as they saw Thassa, nodding their heads in deference. It was the first time she understood that Thassa was much more than Bonbon’s lover or Madame Skia’s unofficial security. Thassa carried real authority within the walls of the palace. She followed him into the first courtyard of the palace, looking around her at the bustle of activities taking place, relieved to be distracted from the horrors of the execution she had just witnessed. Here, people moved with purpose that felt joyful. They balanced trays overflowing with fruits on their heads; or aired bedding so overstuffed that feathers floated up into the air with each flap; or chased a small dog running off with a bone still dripping with gravy; or stole kisses in doorways; or sharpened kitchen knives while eying the kiss-stealers. She had to smile at the abundant life of it a

It was a moment without breath or movement except for the beating of their hearts and the soft strokes of the dress as it wound itself around Ilyria and Astrapi. The light from Astrapi’s wings glowed luminescent around them. Ilyria surrendered to the warmth of Astrapi’s mouth, to the ripple of muscles beneath his skin and the way her own skin sparked with sensation. He was just a boy and she a girl and if he had asked her then to stay with him, Ilyria would have answered yes with everything she had in her. But he didn’t and slowly awareness returned to Ilyria that they were not alone and not safe. She pulled away and Astrapi released her from his arms. His own eyes seemed to echo her own need. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither seemingly knowing where to begin. A clatter jarred them from their reverie. “The merchants,” said Ilyria. Astrapi dropped his wings and they stood surveying the scene. It was still much as they had lef

Ilyria looked closer at the shimmering feather in Thassa’s hand. It was at once like water and like mist, pale and dark. She felt that if she looked at it long enough, it could transport her away, perhaps even to Zarmej. When she looked up, Thassa was watching her. “It is from the Lightning Bird,” he said, confirming her fear. “But you said it was from Vatra,” said Ilyria. He had made a mistake, surely? “The place of fire, Vatra, it is the home of the Lightning Bird.” “No,” she said. After all, she had seen his aerie, across the desert sands, a place of clouds and silence. Not fire. “That cannot be.” “Whatever you have seen, Ilyria, it was what he—it—wants you to see. The Lightning Bird cannot stay long here. Whenever it retreats, it is to Vatra. That is where the companions are. I am sure of it.” Ilyria grasped for a meaning but all that she could come up with was what she knew Thassa was thinking—the Lightning Bird had had a

Thassa did his best to allow himself to be led by Ilyria. But he would stop suddenly, or abruptly turn at any noise. Once, he stumbled and pulled Ilyria down with him. Her eyes flew open as she fell, her hands bracing for the fall … … and she found herself kneeling at the door to Daria’s chambers where she was conducting a meeting. Ilryia, had been twelve and spying through the keyhole because her twelve-year old self had already begun to mistrust her mother. She knew they were talking about eliminating a competitor. “I will invite him for a drink,” her mother was saying. The merchant laughed and said, “Your drinks are a health tonic, Merchant Daria, but not a good one.” He didn’t notice that her mother was not laughing as well. Ilyria suspected he should watch his drinks too. Then the merchant had begun to walk toward the door. Feeling the same terror in her body though she tried to tell herself this was not real, Ilyria stumbled backwards again, as

Once Ilyria had drawn Astrapi inside the cave, she turned and walked to the bed where she had woken the first time he brought her. The light from thousands of fireflies on the cave ceiling, flickered off Astrapi’s skin as he followed her. He stood before her and like her, seemed to be holding his breath. “Ilyria,” he started to say, and she heard the question there. She put her finger against his lips. It was no longer the time for talking. She thought briefly of the night weeks ago when she was to be married to Dirk. She would have had to have this moment with a man she loathed. She was sure of what she wanted. She wished she was wearing the midnight hued cloud silk dress. She wished it would show her in its way, how to act. She wished she had perfumed her body with oils. Instead, she stood in front of Astrapi in a simple tunic she had changed into after helping to clean the House. What would the dress have done? Something complicated that involved slapping her legs