“It’s hot!” Katerina exclaimed.
“It’s lore,” Amber said. “When you say the special word, the ruby lights up and gets hot.” Katerina looked on in awe as Amber named the deactivation rune. “Tuhlanar.”
The runes faded, and the ruby dimmed. Amber handed Katerina the ring.
“You have to be very careful. If you use it as a light, be careful about the heat, and if you use it to make a fire, make sure you are far away from other trees and buildings. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Katerina said gravely. “They teach us about fire. Vezna has a lot of trees.”
“Good,” Amber said. “Can you remember the special word?”
“Tuhl . . .” Katerina struggled with the strange pronunciation, but she eventually got it right. “Tuhlanas.”
The ring came to life.
“Now, how do you make it stop? It’s the same but with an ‘ah’ sound at the end.”
“Tuhlanar!” Katerina said, looking at Amber proudly. The ruby went dark.
“Well done,” Amber said. “Now, if ever you can’t remember how to turn it off, just throw the ring in a bucket of water. It isn’t strong enough to make all that water hot. Can you remember that?”
“Yes.” Katerina grinned as she placed the ring on her middle finger. Amber didn’t have big hands, and the ring fit.
“You’re a good girl,” Amber said. “You’re nearly grown up, aren’t you? I have a son, but he isn’t as old as you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Tomas,” Amber said.
“Tomas,” Katerina said. “That’s a funny name.”
Amber laughed. “Don’t say that to him. You might hurt his feelings.”
As Amber sat with Katerina, she saw movement on a distant third-story balcony. Sergei Rugar stepped out dressed in somber dark clothing with orange trim. Another man in uniform was at his side, and they were deep in conversation.
Spying Amber, Sergei waved, and Amber waved back.
Katerina soon forgot about her ring and went back to her weeding.
“Katerina? Where are you my love?”
High Lord Grigori appeared from behind a wall, his boots and hands dirty from spending time with his plants. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Amber with his daughter. “My Lady,” Grigori said, nodding.
“High Lord.” Amber returned his nod, feeling foolish at the mud on her knees, but realizing the Veznan high lord was just as dirty.
“Look, Papa!” Katerina cried. “Amber gave me a gift.” She displayed the ring proudly.
“I hope you thanked the lady,” Grigori said.
Katerina’s mouth popped open, and she turned. “Thank you, Lady Amber,” she said earnestly.
“You’re welcome, Princess,” Amber said. “I should be going now. I’ve had a lot of fun playing with you.”
“See you at dinner!” Katerina called, turning back to her weeds.
Amber stood and walked back toward the palace, feeling the high lord’s eyes on her back.
10
“Someone to see you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Osker intoned as if speaking a eulogy.
Killian took his eyes off the rows and columns of carefully written figures and closed the book, thankful for the interruption. When he saw who it was, he rose to his feet, grinning.
“Carla. How are you?”
“I am well, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Lord Osker frowned; she hadn’t hidden the mockery in her tone.
“Please leave us,” Killian said to Osker.
He waited until Osker had left the room. “Not you too.” He sighed in exasperation. “Call me Killian, Carla. I’ll have you on charges if you don’t.”
Carla came forward and they awkwardly embraced. She held his palm a little longer than was necessary, squeezing it as their hands parted.
“Please sit down,” Killian said, indicating the cushioned sofa across from his own. “How did you get past Osker? You haven’t lost your charm. He normally doesn’t let anyone past.”
“Brrr,” Carla said, ignoring Killian’s question. She looked at the cold hearth, occupying an entire wall of the cavernous sitting room. “It’s warm outside. Why is it always cold in your palace?”
“It’s big,” Killian said with a grin.
“If you can’t afford heating stones, surely you can afford a fire?”
“Budget cuts.” Killian laughed.
“You look weary. You need to relax. What are you reading?” She picked up the book and flicked through the pages. “‘Province of Aspar,’” she read, “‘granary stores at seven thousand imperial drams.’ Exciting.”
“Terribly,” Killian said. “How goes the search?”
Carla’s expression grew pained. “A drinking house in the Tenamet is looking for waitresses.”
“Sounds promising.”
“Required skills are dancing, long legs, easy morals, and”—she tapped her long nose—“a pretty face.”
“Don’t say your face isn’t pretty,” Killian said. “I like it just the way it is.”