There was more as well. He couldn’t quite define it, but she seemed to be looking beyond the horizon. She seemed, in fact, to be looking beyond her years toward distant ages past. But then the look was gone, and she turned to him with a steely glint in her eyes. “There was nothing for me in the desert. I wished to see the world.”

“And yet you told me that you’ve remained here in the capital since your arrival six months ago.”

“That’s true”-she beckoned him with a smile-“but when one finds herself in the very center of the world, is there anything that might compel her to leave?” Upon saying these words, she studied him-she weighed him-deciding whether or not she should approach. She seemed to decide against it, perhaps sensing his mood, and he realized he had best be careful how much he revealed. Arvaneh was no one to fool with, not if what his seneschal had told him was true.

He watched as she took another drink. He mirrored her, if only to keep pretenses up.

She turned back to the garden, jaw set, apparently giving his question more serious thought. “Aleke s ir is calm. Peaceful. Her roots dig deep into the earth. Why would I want to leave?”

“Perhaps there are places you don’t wish to return. Did you leave someone there? In Kohor?”

Her head snapped toward him, her blue eyes cold and judgmental. But then they softened. “The people of Kohor have long since forgotten me.”

“That I doubt.” He finished his drink. “I doubt it very much.”

As she stared, her eyes lost focus, and she shook her head to clear it.

“Do you feel very well?” he asked, taking her nearly empty chalice from her quivering hands. “Would you care to sit?”

She nodded. The bells on her wrists jingled. Her whole body began to shake. She didn’t go three steps before she collapsed to the ground, golden hair splaying across the floor.