“You read my mind,” he said, handing me his bowl.
I smiled back, quaking with nervousness while I maneuvered the bowl under the spout. I turned the spigot too hard, and wine splashed to the floor, spattering him.
“I’m so sorry—” I stammered, horrified.
“No matter,” he said, grasping my shoulder as I bent to brush at the stains. It was a rather firm squeeze, though he smiled still.
I refilled his bowl with shaking hands, cursing myself. “Forgive me, dyonpo Shara, I didn’t—”
He gave me a sharp look. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me. My name is Mara.”
“Oh.” I thought I would faint with relief. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“That’s all right. He gave me that grin again. His teeth were very long and white. “An honest mistake. I’m not nobility, so you needn’t call me ‘dyonpo.’”
I nodded. All the nobility had two names—the second announced their lineage. I couldn’t help noticing how Mara’s smile had tightened slightly as he spoke, so I added hurriedly, “I’m Kamzin, Elder’s second daughter. Are you with River Shara’s expedition?”
“Yes. I’m his official chronicler.”
“His chronicler?” It sounded important. “So you write down everything he does?”
An irritated look flitted across his face, quickly swallowed up by another white-toothed smile. “In a manner of speaking. I make notes, sketches, maps; take measurements; and draft official accounts. It can be dull stuff, but it is important. In the past, the Royal Explorer never traveled with fewer than three chroniclers. River insists on only one.”
I shook my head at this. The idea of being followed around by chroniclers documenting your every move! It would inflate the ego of the humblest person in the world.
Mara’s gaze darted over the room. I could see he considered our conversation over. Most guests came to this decision quickly. I was the younger child of a village elder—that warranted polite small talk, and rarely anything else. I knew I had only a second or two before he made his excuses and moved on to someone more interesting.
“How long have you served as chronicler?”
“These past three years. Since River was named Royal Explorer.”
“I’m sure you’ve faced your share of danger,” I said in a flattering tone. “No doubt come close to death yourself.”
Mara’s brow furrowed. His expression went curiously blank for a moment, as if an invisible hand had scrubbed some thought out of existence, and then he turned his attention back to the room. It happened so quickly that I thought I must have imagined it.
“Naturally,” he said dismissively. “As have most explorers.”
“You must know dyonpo Shara well,” I tried again.
Mara was still staring over my head. “As well as one can.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of this, but pushed on. “Would you be able to introduce me? As I’ve been to Raksha, I thought—”
“Of course.” He fixed me with another smile that told me he hadn’t heard a word I said. “If you’ll excuse me, Tamzin, there’s someone I must speak with.”
He strode back into the crowd, leaving me staring at his back. Muttering darkly to myself, I filled another bowl to the brim and downed the raksi in a single draft. I grimaced as it burned its way down my throat.
“That didn’t go very well, did it?” said a voice behind me.
I turned. A young man was perched on the window alcove, half in shadow, gazing at me with a faint smile that seemed a shade less than mocking. He could only be one of the courtiers. He was just as richly—and impractically—attired as his companions, his dark, gauzy cloak spilling down the wall like the world’s most useless curtain. His unkempt hair, which stuck up on one side as if he frequently scrubbed his hand through it, was vividly blue, and his fingers were crowded with jeweled rings that flashed in the light.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, filling my bowl again. A dragon snuffled up to the barrel and began lapping up the spilled wine. I aimed a kick in its direction, and it darted away, somewhat unsteadily. “We were just talking.”
“He was talking.” The young man waved his hand, and I realized that he was at least partly drunk. “You were drooling. I feel I must inform you that Mara is neither as clever as he thinks he is nor as interesting as you think he is.”
I stared at him, openmouthed.
“Yes, that’s it,” he said. “That’s exactly how you looked a moment ago.”
I felt myself redden with anger. “How is it any of your business? Is eavesdropping on private conversations how all nobles behave in the Three Cities?”
“I only eavesdrop on people who interest me.” He dropped to the floor with unexpected grace. “It’s a compliment.”
I snorted into my wine. “You think a lot of yourself. Where did you come from, anyway?”
“Where did I come from?” For some reason, he seemed to find this hilarious. “Oh—I’ve been here all along. You might’ve noticed, if you hadn’t been so busy flirting with Mara.”
“I was not flirting,” I snarled. “For your information, I have more important things on my mind.”
“Do you? That’s very mysterious.” The young man maneuvered his bowl under the wine spout. When nothing came out, he pounded on the barrel until wine gushed out in a great torrent, overflowing the bowl.
I couldn’t help laughing at him as he stared in dismay at his wine-stained sleeve. He began to laugh too, leaning against the barrel for support.
My amusement faded as I noticed that all the villagers in the vicinity were staring at us. A few almost looked afraid—probably concerned that I was irreparably harming the dignity of Azmiri, I thought, with a mixture of guilt and irritation.
I sized up the courtier. He was a little older than me, perhaps, but not much. I thought he might be handsome, underneath the blue hair and the jewels, though his eyes were unsettling. They were the strangest eyes I had ever seen—one was a warm golden brown that reminded me of the floor of a sunlit forest, while the other was so dark it appeared black. His gaze left me flustered, torn between a desire to stare and a desire to look away.
He seemed to be sizing me up too, his eyes smiling at the corners. Underneath that, though, I sensed a sharp focus. “Was that true, what you said to Mara? You’ve been to Raksha?”
“Maybe.” I raised my chin. “Why do you care?”
“I have my reasons.”
“That’s very mysterious.”
He laughed again. It was an appealing sound, ragged at the edges, as if he wasn’t quite in control of it. In spite of myself, I felt my heartbeat speed up. I shook my head. What was I doing? Laughing and drinking with some strange boy, when I was supposed to be looking for River Shara. The thought brought my nervousness back, and I hastily swallowed the rest of my wine.
“Easy,” he said, and suddenly I was holding empty air. I blinked stupidly at my hand for a moment—he had my bowl, and was spinning it idly in his palm. He had moved so quickly I hadn’t even seen it.
“What do you think—”