On the morning after Alina’s inner decision, Ardenthal had not grown any wiser. The sun lay clear above the courtyard, the fields stood green, and in the town the day began with the same sounds as always. Roosters crowed, water was carried, wood was stacked, horses were brushed, and yet every ordinary sound seemed to Alina like a claim no one could prove. It looked and sounded like everyday life, but everyday life had begun to turn against her, not openly and not yet in a way everyone could see, and that was exactly where the danger lay. In the writing room there were fewer letters than usual, but more people. Some had no real reason to be there. One woman wanted to know whether the lists of the missing would be checked again, even though she had asked the same question two days earlier. An older man brought back a letter Alina herself had written and asked for a different wording, because the word wounded might sound too harsh to his sister-in-law. Two girls stood at the edge of the room and pretended to be waiting for their mother. They whispered until Sanna looked at them. Then they fell silent. Alina noticed the glances, and precisely because they were not hostile, they did not become easier to bear. Many people looked at her now as if they carried a question in their hands and did not know whether they were allowed to set it down. Will you go? Will you stay? Does your yes save us? Does your no endanger us? No one spoke it aloud. She still had to answer it, without knowing which answer would do less harm. Sanna sat beside her, sorting old copies from the hunger years. Seraphina had sent them that morning. The documents smelled of dust and old leather, and in some places the ink had faded, as if even the parchment had hoped not to be read again one day. Alina drew out a page on which Kronwacht had pledged to deliver seed grain, while Ardenthal in return promised trade consultation and military coordination. Consultation, coordination, and friendship were words that looked like help in the right light and like hands reaching for something in the wrong one. „There is nothing here about military obligation,“ she said. Sanna bent forward slightly. „Not on this page.“ „But later?“ „Later, consultation becomes obligation, obligation becomes custom, and custom becomes a right no one has to justify anymore.“ Alina set the page down. „That is how one writes chains.“ Sanna looked at her. „Yes. Rarely with the first sentence.“ Before Alina could answer, the steward entered. He was not alone. Behind him stood Veyren’s scribe, a young man with smooth hair and a folder under one arm. The steward bowed briefly. „Your Highness. Lady Sanna.“ Sanna raised one eyebrow. „Lady?“ „The court is learning,“ the steward said. Alina did not trust the sentence. „What brings you to the writing room?“ „A request from Count Veyren. He asks to inspect several public lists of those who returned, especially the wounded and prisoners from Kronwacht. It concerns notifying their families.“ It was plausible. Too plausible to be harmless. Alina laid her hand on the stack before her. „The lists also contain men from Ardenthal.“ „Of course only the relevant extracts would be copied.“ „By whom?“ The steward gestured toward the scribe. „By Master Pares.“ The young man bowed. „Your Highness.“ Sanna drew the stack a little closer to herself. „The lists do not leave this room.“ The steward smiled thinly. „No one asked for that.“ „Good. Then no one has to be disappointed.“ Alina looked at Veyren’s scribe. He did not seem unpleasant. That was exactly what troubled her. Some tools were dangerous because they did not know what they were being used for. „You may inspect the Kronwacht names here,“ Alina said. „Sanna stays with them.“ „Certainly,“ Pares said. The steward inclined his head. „Count Veyren will appreciate your care.“ „That is not the reason for it.“ The steward was silent for a moment, then turned to go. Before he reached the door, his gaze caught on a small stack of sealed letters still lying in the rear compartment of the cabinet. Not long, only for an instant, but Alina saw it, and so did Sanna. After he had gone, Sanna closed the cabinet. „He did not ask about the letters,“ Alina said softly. „Not yet.“ „Why would he?“ Sanna looked toward the door. „Because people who want to find out what someone is attached to do not ask for hearts first. They ask for paper.“ Alina thought of Matthis‘ sealed letter. To be opened only in the event of his death. A letter that officially had nothing to do with her and yet lay in the room like a silent witness. She had not opened it. She had not even touched it since Veyren’s demand had been spoken. But she knew it was there. That knowledge suddenly no longer felt private. During the morning Alina left the writing room earlier than planned. Not because the work was finished, but because the air inside had grown too tight. Sanna let her go without asking a question. That was unusual enough that Alina almost stayed. In the courtyard the day was clearer than she liked. Everything was visible. The pale wood of the wagons, the freshly washed cloths in the north wing, the riders from Kronwacht moving far too naturally between the walls, and the people of Ardenthal who now took their own paths a little differently whenever a dark blue cloak was nearby. By the well stood two women from the riverside village. Alina recognized one of them because weeks earlier she had asked for a letter to be written to her brother. They spoke softly, but not softly enough. „If it brings peace, one should at least consider it,“ said one. The other did not answer at once. „No one should be given away just because everyone else is afraid.“ „But she is not no one. She is a princess.“ „Exactly.“ Alina walked on before either of them noticed that she had heard. The sentence stayed with her all the same, because it was meant to raise her and made something else out of her instead. Something that could be treated differently from other people. At the forge she heard two men talking, both returned, both still gaunt from captivity. One said, „If Kronwacht forgives the debts, perhaps we will finally have peace.“ The other spat on the ground. „And if they take the princess for it, how long will that peace last? Until they want the next thing?“ „You speak easily. Your children have bread.“ „Today. Not if we open the door to everyone who holds out a sack of grain.“ Alina did not stop there either. She did not feel overheard, but scattered. Pieces of her life suddenly lay in other mouths, between well, forge, stable, and north wing. No one meant it entirely maliciously. That did not make it better. Malice would have been easier to reject than fear, memories of hunger, and the wish that someone else would carry the worst decision. When she passed the stables, she saw Orven speaking with one of the younger stable boys. She heard only the last sentence. „A princess cannot love like a maid, and a stablehand cannot pretend he does not know it.“ The boy looked down in embarrassment. Orven had not noticed Alina. Matthis was nowhere to be seen. Alina forced herself to keep walking, although every step went against her body. If she interfered now, she would make the sentence truer than it was. If she remained silent, she left it standing. That was the court in all its meanness. One could feel guilty even through correct behavior. At noon Arvid summoned the council again. This time Veyren was not invited. That did not make the session any freer. His proposal lay in the center of the table, even though the document was not spread open. The steward had drawn up the consequences of refusal. He began with numbers, because numbers had the advantage of not blushing. Debt relief that would be lost. Trade privileges that would never come into force. Possible tariffs on salt and iron. Delays in seed deliveries. Pressure at border crossings. He spoke calmly. He did not speak without sympathy, but his sympathy remained orderly. Cerdan added the military risks. The men had returned, yes, but not at full strength. Many were wounded. Some could no longer fight. The women had proved that Ardenthal was not defenseless, but a rescue party was not an army. Donald did not have to invade. He only had to threaten, close roads, delay deliveries, withdraw Kronwacht from future protection agreements. „And the consequences of acceptance?“ Seraphina asked. The steward looked at his second list. „Political integration into Kronwacht. Greater dependence in matters of succession. Permanent embassy. Possible distrust among the people if the impression arises that the princess was given away against her will.“ „Possible distrust,“ Alina said. „That sounds clean.“ „It is an objective formulation.“ „For filth.“ Arvid lifted his hand, not to silence her, but to hold the room together. The priest turned to Alina. „Your Highness, it is important that you understand how the people will speak.“ „I already hear them.“ „They are still speaking in questions. If the refusal comes and its price becomes visible, some will speak differently.“ „Then they should know what they are asking for.“ The steward looked at her. „That is precisely the point. They will not believe they are asking for anything. They will believe you are denying something.“ There it was, the distortion, spoken in a sentence that did not even sound malicious. Alina leaned back. „Then the story will be that I chose my freedom over Ardenthal.“ „Not from everyone,“ Cerdan said. „But from enough.“ „And if Matthis‘ name is mentioned?“ Seraphina asked. The room changed. Not much, but enough. The steward looked at her, then at Alina. The priest lowered his eyes. Arvid’s hand remained motionless on the table. Alina felt her heart beating harder. „Why should his name be mentioned?“ she asked. Seraphina did not answer. She had not brought the name into the room because she wanted to put it there. She had brought it because others would do it anyway. The steward spoke carefully. Care in that moment was not mercy, but craft. „There is talk.“ „There is always talk.“ „This talk could damage the decision.“ „My decision?“ „The perception of your decision.“ Alina looked at him. „Say what you mean.“ He breathed in. „If the princess refuses a union with Kronwacht, that can be argued politically. If the court believes she refuses because her heart belongs to a man from the stables, the meaning changes.“ Arvid’s voice grew cold. „Careful.“ The steward bowed his head. „Majesty, I do not speak out of disrespect. I speak out of concern.“ „Concern is a very convenient cloak,“ Alina said. The steward looked at her. „Your Highness, you know I did not invent the situation.“ Cerdan placed a hand on the edge of the table. „It would be disastrous if the impression arose that a personal bond guided a decision of such magnitude. Even those who distrust Kronwacht might then believe that Ardenthal’s future is being weighed against a single man.“ „Not against him,“ Alina said. „Perhaps not by you,“ Cerdan replied. „But perhaps by the story.“ The priest breathed heavily. „The people love stories they can understand. A princess who opposes a foreign realm is difficult to interpret. A young woman who loves a man and therefore says no is simpler. Simpler does not mean truer. But it travels faster.“ Alina looked from one to the other. She hated that they were right, and she hated even more that her own truth did not become less true because of it. „Then make sure the simpler lie does not come from this room.“ „We cannot control what people see,“ the steward said. „But you can control what you offer them,“ Seraphina answered. „And at this moment you are already offering them Matthis.“ The steward did not lower his eyes. „No, Majesty. I offer caution.“ „Caution at the expense of a man who has done nothing except return.“ „At the expense of a rumor that will grow if we ignore it.“ Alina felt the room slowly closing around a name that was not even present. The steward looked at her. „Your Highness, you know I did not invent the situation.“ „No. You are only using it.“ „I am naming it.“ „You are giving it shape.“ „Yes,“ he said. „Because others will do it if we do not, and less kindly.“ That was the cruelty of this court. Sometimes people said things that were both wrong and useful. Arvid closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he looked older. „Matthis has nothing to do with Kronwacht’s demand.“ „Not with the demand,“ the steward said. „But perhaps with the refusal.“ Alina rose. The chair scraped audibly over the floor. „I am not refusing because Matthis exists.“ The sentence was out before she could test it. Everyone heard what lay inside it. Not only defense. Also confirmation. Seraphina looked aside for an instant. Arvid’s face did not change, and that showed how much he was controlling himself. The steward said nothing. He did not have to. Alina suddenly felt the trap close, not loudly and not completely, but palpably. She had defended Matthis and thereby proved that he could be defended. „I refuse this marriage,“ she said more quietly, „because Donald does not want it out of friendship. Because the conditions place Ardenthal in Kronwacht’s hand. Because I am not a seal. Matthis is not the reason. He is only the person whose name you would use to make my reason smaller.“ Seraphina lifted her gaze. In her eyes lay something like pain and agreement at once. Arvid said, „The session is over.“ The steward wanted to object, but Arvid looked at him, and this time the look reminded everyone that he was not merely wounded. „Over,“ he repeated. The council members rose. Alina remained standing until the room emptied. Then she went, without looking at her father, because she did not know whether she would find protection or fear in his eyes. She could not have endured either. In the courtyard the day was brighter than it had any right to be. Matthis stood by the stables, but not alone. Veyren stood near him, not immediately beside him, but in that small distance that made a conversation public enough to seem harmless and private enough to exert power. Pares stood beside them with a narrow tablet in his hand, along with one of Kronwacht’s riders, whose horse Matthis held by the reins. The animal looked tense, but calm. Alina remained under the arcades, too far away to hear every word, but close enough to read the postures. Veyren spoke kindly. Matthis answered briefly. The rider looked from one to the other. Pares wrote something down. Alina felt cold in her back. Why was the scribe taking notes? A horse did not need a diplomatic transcript. She did not go to them. Not yet. Every step she took would have given Veyren more than he was already taking. She forced herself to stand still and caught fragments the courtyard carried to her. „… a quiet place …“ Veyren said. Then, „… an honor for a man of your skill …“ Matthis said something she did not understand. Veyren smiled, not insulted, not surprised. „… sometimes distance is the noblest form of service …“ Alina went cold. She saw Matthis change his grip on the lead. Not roughly, but more firmly. The Kronwacht rider glanced briefly toward her and away again. Perhaps he had noticed her, perhaps not. Pares went on writing. Alina looked at the tablet in Pares‘ hand, and for the first time she wondered not only what was written there, but what it would be used for later. A name was rarely only a name at court once someone put it in the right column. Matthis, stables, freed, skilled with injured horses, close to the princess, possible offer. Perhaps Pares was not writing all that. Perhaps he wrote only three harmless words. But Alina had read in the old treaties how harmless words later became rights, and suddenly she knew that Kronwacht was not counting only men it could claim back. Kronwacht was also counting people who could be moved, tempted, burdened, or made to disappear. Veyren stepped half a pace closer to Matthis, still polite, still in a posture that had to look like recognition before witnesses. „… no one requires an answer at this instant …“ she heard. „A wise man does not let an open door fall shut out of pride.“ Matthis did not answer at once. The horse beside him snorted, and he laid a hand on its neck, as if at least one of them had to remain calm. Veyren regarded that hand with polite interest. „You are very good at taking unrest away,“ he said. „That is rare. Men who can still calm others after captivity, instead of needing only to be calmed themselves, are more valuable than they believe.“ Matthis looked at him. „Valuable to whom?“ Veyren smiled. „To anyone who recognizes that some abilities have greater effect in a better place.“ „Better for me, or better for those who want to see me there?“ This time Pares did not immediately continue writing. He waited, as though even he understood that this sentence did not belong in every copy. Veyren’s smile remained. „You have a sharp eye for a man who supposedly works only with horses.“ „Horses lie worse than people.“ „Then you are in dangerous surroundings at court.“ The words sounded almost kind. That was why they settled coldly on the back of Alina’s neck. Then Veyren laid a hand on Matthis‘ shoulder. It was a brief, seemingly generous gesture, almost fatherly for anyone who did not look closely. Matthis did not freeze. But Alina saw his fingers close around the lead. Veyren kept the hand there one breath too long, not long enough for an accusation, but long enough for possession. Then he took it away, as though he had honored a man and not touched a boundary. „Think about it,“ he said. „Sometimes one saves others best by stepping aside in time.“ Matthis did not answer. Veyren turned away and, on his way back toward the guest wing, looked at Alina. The look lasted barely longer than necessary. It was enough. There was no threat in it that could have been repeated. Only the certainty that he had seen where her self-control grew thinner. When Veyren was gone, she went to Matthis. „What did he want?“ she asked. Matthis led the horse back to the post, but did not tie it. „To thank me.“ „For what?“ „For helping with the horse. For rescuing prisoners. For the honor simple men bring a country when they stand bravely in their place.“ Alina grimaced. „He said that?“ „Almost.“ „And Pares?“ „Wrote down my name.“ „Why?“ Matthis looked at her. „Are you asking because you do not know, or because you want me to say it?“ She was silent. Matthis loosened the lead again, only to have something to do with his hands. „He offered me a position.“ Alina felt the ground beneath her feet become unreliable for a moment. „What kind of position?“ „Not directly with him. At a stud farm in Kronwacht, near the border. Good pay, my own room, advancement if I prove myself. He even spoke of training men who have to deal with skittish and injured horses. He said a man who knows horses and captivity could be more useful in a quiet place than in a court full of talk.“ „And Pares wrote that down.“ „My name. My origin. My previous work. Perhaps also that I was not yet stupid enough to appear grateful.“ „Matthis.“ „Forgive me.“ „No. Do not apologize for that.“ He looked briefly toward the guest wing. „It was well done. Not like an order. Not even like bribery. More like a hand helping someone out of a burning room, except the man with the hand had poured oil on the floor himself.“ „Protection,“ Alina said. The word tasted bitter. „Yes. He called it that as well.“ „For you?“ „For me. For you. For Ardenthal. He was generous enough to protect all of us at once.“ Alina stepped closer, noticed it, and stopped. „You did not accept.“ „No.“ „Did he press you?“ „Not openly.“ „Of course not.“ Matthis looked toward the guest wing. „He said some people get hurt when they stand too close to things larger than themselves. And that a wise man recognizes when distance is not loss, but dignity.“ „He sent you away.“ „He permitted me to go by myself before someone commands it.“ The sentence hit harder because Matthis said it calmly. Alina wanted to go to Veyren. She wanted to tell him to his face that Matthis was not a piece to be taken from the board so the greater figure would fall more easily. She did not. That was precisely the point. „The council spoke your name,“ she said. Matthis looked at her. „Who?“ „Seraphina first. So the steward would not.“ „Did it help?“ Alina swallowed. „Not enough.“ „What was said?“ „That my refusal can be politically justified. But if people believe I refuse because of you, it becomes something else.“ Matthis nodded slowly. No astonishment. No hurt that made itself more important than the danger. „Princess places stablehand above Ardenthal.“ Alina closed her eyes because he found the sentence so exactly. „Yes.“ „And you?“ „What I believe?“ „What you fear.“ She opened her eyes again. „That they will use you to make me smaller. Or use me to remove you.“ Matthis looked down at his hands. „Then they are already doing it.“ For a while they stood in silence. Around them people worked, horses snorted, somewhere someone laughed briefly and immediately stopped. The courtyard was not the place for this conversation. But there was no safe place anymore. „Perhaps you should go,“ Alina said. The sentence hurt before it was fully spoken. Matthis looked at her, not surprised, but struck. „Do you mean that?“ Alina wanted to say yes, because yes might save him. She wanted to say no, because no at least would have been honest. Instead she stood before him and understood that protection sometimes sounded like betrayal before it became one. „I do not know.“ „Then do not say it as though it were a decision.“ „If you stay, they can harm you.“ „If I go, they can too.“ „How?“ „By making you believe you sent me away to save the country. By making me proof that you are right. By saying now the path is clear for reason.“ Alina said nothing. „I will stay if you send me away,“ Matthis said softly. „I told you that. But you have to truly want it. Not because Veyren frightens you.“ „And if I am frightened?“ „Then I am too.“ His voice grew even softer. „But fear is not an order.“ She looked at him and knew she loved him in that moment in a way that offered no comfort. Because he did not make it easy for her. Because he neither demanded nor withdrew. Because he held the door open and did not step through it as long as she had not decided herself. A stable boy came out of the row of boxes and stopped at once when he saw them. Matthis took a step back. Alina did as well. The boy pretended to have noticed nothing, which proved that he had noticed something. „I have to go,“ Alina said. „Yes.“ „Tonight.“ „Where?“ „Not the river. Not the stables. Not the writing room.“ He waited. Alina thought quickly. „The old storeroom beneath the west tower. Where Seraphina keeps the treaties.“ „Is that wise?“ „No.“ „Then it suits the day.“ She almost smiled. It did not quite work. „After the last watch.“ Matthis nodded. „I will come.“ Alina went back into the castle. In the corridor she met Seraphina. The queen stood by the window and had clearly been waiting for her. „Veyren offered him something.“ „I know.“ Alina stopped. „Of course.“ „Pares asked the stablemaster about Matthis‘ position. Mara heard it.“ „They want to remove him.“ „Yes.“ „And if he goes voluntarily, it looks like reason.“ „Yes.“ Seraphina looked at her. „But removal is only the friendliest form of that intention.“ Alina looked at her. „What do you mean?“ Seraphina was silent one moment too long. „I mean that Kronwacht rarely prepares only one path. If Matthis goes, he is out of your sight. If he stays, he is in theirs. Both can be useful, depending on which story Donald wants to tell later.“ „You think they would do something to him?“ „I think they would never act in a way we could easily prove.“ The sentence took the air out of the corridor. Alina heard a horse snort below in the courtyard, a man laugh, a bucket set down on stone. Everything sounded ordinary. That made it worse. „He is a stablehand,“ she said softly. „To Donald he is less than that. To you he is more. Those two truths together make him dangerous.“ Seraphina looked at her. „The council will see it as a solution. Not all of them. But enough.“ „My father?“ „Arvid will hate it.“ „And still?“ Seraphina did not answer at once. „He will have to examine whether hatred is sufficient reason to leave a lever in the courtyard that Veyren already has in his hand.“ Alina felt anger rise in her, hot and clear. „Matthis is not a lever.“ „Not to you.“ „To you?“ Seraphina’s face hardened. „Choose your words carefully.“ Alina stopped. It was not Seraphina who had made Matthis into a lever. She knew that. But anger sought a body, and Seraphina happened to stand before her. „Forgive me,“ Alina said, not softly, but honestly. Seraphina nodded. „Accepted.“ For a while neither of them spoke. Then Seraphina continued more quietly. „I am looking for a third solution.“ „Is there one?“ „Not yet. Perhaps an official task outside the court, but within Ardenthal. Something that takes Matthis out of Veyren’s immediate sight without surrendering him to Kronwacht.“ „That sounds like exile in miniature.“ „It sounds like time gained.“ „For whom?“ „For everyone, if it succeeds. For no one, if it does not.“ Alina looked out the window. Below, Veyren moved across the courtyard, calm, elegant, certain. „He has a deadline, doesn’t he?“ Seraphina exhaled slowly. „Not officially yet.“ „But?“ „Pares asked this morning how long Arvid’s council usually takes for alliance matters. That is a polite way of putting a clock on the table.“ „When will he make it audible?“ „Soon.“ Alina thought of the meeting that night and felt that every attempt at caution had already come too late and was still necessary. „Then we must know what we are doing before then.“ „Yes.“ „And if I say no?“ Seraphina looked at her for a long time. „Then you will need a reason larger than Matthis.“ „I have it.“ „Then you must learn to speak it so that others cannot shrink it down to Matthis.“ The rest of the day did not move forward so much as drag itself along. Alina did things that had to be done and later barely remembered them. She spoke with Elda about the supplies in the north wing, confirmed two formulations for Sanna for letters to families of the missing, and listened to Seraphina discuss a possible relocation of stores into smaller granaries. Everything mattered. Nothing reached the place where her thoughts remained. Again and again she saw Veyren’s hand on Matthis‘ shoulder. A polite touch. A public marking. Perhaps the court had understood it already. Perhaps it would only understand tomorrow. Both were bad. In the evening Alina sat for a while with Arvid. He was exhausted and tried not to show it. Between them lay Matthis‘ name, even though neither spoke it at first. „Seraphina is looking for a task for him,“ Arvid finally said. Alina looked at him. „Outside the court.“ „Perhaps.“ „Inside Ardenthal?“ „If it succeeds.“ „And if not?“ Arvid closed his eyes briefly. „Then they will say Kronwacht’s offer is generous.“ „And you?“ „I will know that generosity does not always make free.“ „But perhaps agree anyway.“ He opened his eyes. „Perhaps.“ The sentence was soft, but it was there. Alina did not stand up. Not immediately. She forced herself to remain seated because running away would not make the truth harder for him. „If you send him away to protect me, you do not protect me.“ Arvid looked at her for a long time. „And if I let him stay and Veyren uses him?“ „Then we deal with that.“ „We.“ „Yes.“ For the first time the word between them did not sound like defiance, but like a claim. Arvid received it. „You demand that I treat him as part of the situation.“ „No. I demand that you treat him as a human being, even though he has become part of the situation.“ Arvid did not answer. But something in his gaze changed. Not enough to give safety. Enough to know the sentence had arrived. At night the old storeroom beneath the west tower was colder than expected. Between the chests it smelled of leather, dust, and old wood. Alina had not brought a lamp, only a small candle whose light barely reached the door. The folder with the old treaties still lay on the table. Seraphina had not put it away. Perhaps by accident. Probably not. Alina waited until the steps of the last watch had faded. Then she heard a quiet knock. Not on the door itself, but on the stone beside it, as agreed. She opened. Matthis entered and closed the door behind him. For a moment they only stood there. Not because they did not know what needed to be said, but because there was too much to say and no sentence began large enough. Then Alina was with him. Not stormily, but not carefully enough either. She laid her forehead against his chest, and Matthis closed his arms around her. For the first time there was no courtyard between them, no horse, no parchment, no footsteps immediately before the door. Only the old room, the candle, and two people who for one moment were not being watched. His hand lay on her back, warm through the fabric of her dress. Alina felt her body lean into him before she thought about it. She had not known how tired she was until he held her. „They want to take you away,“ she said. „Yes.“ His voice vibrated faintly in his chest. „And you too.“ She lifted her head. „Not in the same way.“ „No. But for the same reason.“ Their faces were close. Too close to pretend that closeness was only comfort. Matthis did not stroke her cheek, although his hand moved as if it wanted to. „Alina.“ „Do not tell me to go.“ „That was not what I wanted to say.“ „What then?“ „That I am afraid to kiss you because afterward I will be even less reasonable.“ She looked at him, and a part of the fear inside her loosened into something that almost might have been laughter. „At least that is honest.“ „I am trying.“ She kissed him first. Not because she was unafraid, but because fear had given enough orders that day. Matthis answered at once, yet he held himself back, and precisely that restraint made the kiss deeper. His hands remained at her back and her waist, not demanding, but not distant either. Alina felt the table behind her as she stepped back, and Matthis broke the kiss immediately, as though afraid he had gone too far. „It is all right,“ she whispered. „You say that too easily.“ „No. I say it because I mean it.“ She laid her hand on his chest. His heart beat fast. That steadied her in a way that was not reasonable. He was not safer than she was, and not more controlled, only more careful with what he wanted. They did not kiss again immediately. Because of that, the room grew closer. Alina took his hand and led him to the table where the old treaties lay. The candle burned low, its light barely reaching the edges of the parchments. Matthis looked at the writing without wanting to read it. „These are the old treaties?“ „Yes.“ „The first links.“ „Seraphina does not call them that. But yes.“ Matthis touched the edge of a page, not the writing. „I have never read treaties.“ „Many who suffer under them have not.“ „And many who write them do not suffer under them.“ „Not at first.“ He looked at her. „You understand your father better since you read this.“ „Yes.“ „That makes it worse.“ „Yes.“ Matthis nodded slowly. „Then one cannot even be cleanly angry.“ „No.“ They stood side by side above the old words, and for a moment Alina understood that their love did not stand outside the history of Ardenthal. It stood right in the middle of it. Between old help, old mistakes, hunger, debt, rescue, and the attempt of a greater realm to turn gratitude into possession. „Flight,“ she said suddenly. The word stood hard in the room. Matthis closed his eyes. „I have thought of it.“ „So have I.“ „Where?“ „Across the river. Into the western woods. Farther, if they search for us. Perhaps to villages that do not directly answer to Ardenthal. Perhaps beyond that.“ „Kronwacht would use it.“ „Yes.“ „The council too.“ „Yes.“ „Your father would be torn between love and country, and everyone would say you took the decision from him.“ „Yes.“ Matthis opened his eyes again. „Then it is not flight. It is a fire.“ Alina swallowed. „I know.“ „But you thought of it anyway.“ „Of course I thought of it.“ Her voice grew rougher. „I have thought of it since Veyren put that document on the table. I think of it when I see you. I think of it when I read the conditions. I think of it when people look at me as though I had to pay for their future with my body.“ Matthis laid his forehead against hers. „I would go.“ „I know.“ „If you called me.“ „I know.“ „But I will not ask you.“ „I know that too.“ They remained like that. The kiss still hung between them, and the thought of flight as well. Both were possible. Both were impossible. Alina looked at the folder with the old treaties. „If I flee, we give them the story they need.“ „Princess places stablehand above Ardenthal.“ „Yes.“ „They would bury your political reason.“ „Under us.“ „Under me,“ Matthis said. Alina wanted to object, but he shook his head slightly. „That is how they would tell it. Not because it is true, but because it is easy. A man from the stables is easier to hate than a treaty no one has read.“ „I would not allow that.“ „You would be gone.“ The sentence did not cut loudly. It cut because it was true. Alina looked down at the old parchments. If she fled, she would not only lose the court. She would also lose the ability to be in the room at the decisive moment. Perhaps she would win herself and lose the story to those who would turn it against Matthis. „Yes,“ she said. „I would be gone.“ „If you stay, they will try to send me away.“ „Yes.“ „If I go willingly, perhaps they turn your no back into reason.“ „Or my yes into obedience.“ Matthis drew her closer for just one moment. Then he left enough room for her to breathe. „No place for us,“ he said softly. The sentence was not bitter. It was tired. Alina lifted her head. „Not yet.“ „That sounds like hope.“ „No. Like defiance.“ „I know you better that way.“ She smiled faintly. „We are not fleeing.“ „No.“ „You are not accepting Veyren’s offer.“ „No.“ „Not even if they try again?“ „No.“ „Not even if they stop making it sound like an offer?“ Matthis looked at her for a long time. „Then least of all.“ „That is not an answer that protects you.“ „Perhaps not.“ He took her hand and held it more tightly than before. Not painfully. Only as if he wanted to anchor the sentence in the body, because words were too easily stolen at court. „But if I go only because they call it wise, then they have already taken me. If I stay, perhaps they can hurt me. If I go, I help them make you alone.“ Alina wanted to object, because the thought lay too close to a truth she did not want to touch. Matthis gave her no time. „I am not saying I am invulnerable. I am only saying fear must not decide before we do.“ „If my father or Seraphina find a task for you outside the court, we speak about it. Not they alone. We.“ Matthis looked at her. „They will not like that.“ „Then they can get used to us not letting them speak only about us.“ He nodded slowly. „Good.“ Outside, a watchman passed. Both froze. The steps approached, paused briefly, and moved away. Alina loosened herself from his arms. Not quite immediately. But in time. „You have to go.“ „Yes.“ „Not through the courtyard.“ „I know the rear passage.“ „Of course you know it.“ „I work here.“ „You sneak here.“ „Tonight, yes.“ He took her hand and lifted it briefly to his lips. The gesture was so gentle it almost hurt more than the kiss. Then he let go. „Alina.“ „Yes?“ „If they leave no place for us, that does not mean we do not exist.“ „And if they try to tear you out of that place?“ she asked. Matthis did not answer at once. Outside, a watch moved along the corridor, and both waited until the steps had faded. „Then you have to know I did not vanish willingly.“ Alina looked at him. „Do not say something like that.“ „Why?“ „Because it sounds as though you are saying goodbye.“ „No,“ Matthis said softly. „It only sounds that way because we both know by now that men like Veyren do not only open doors. Some close them behind someone, and some make sure no one can ask who pushed the bolt.“ Alina felt cold rise inside her, although his hand was warm. „I do not want to hear that.“ „I know.“ „Then say something else.“ Matthis lifted her hand to his lips once more. „I stay.“ The sentence was simple. No oath, no rescue, no grand gesture. That was why it hurt. „Not because it is safe. Because otherwise I would no longer know who I am.“ Then he let go. She could not answer. Not quickly enough. Matthis opened the door, listened, and vanished into the dark passage. Alina remained in the old storeroom, her hand still warm from his mouth, the candle almost burned down, the old treaties on the table. They had not chosen flight, not yet and perhaps never, but they had said aloud that they existed, not as dream, but as boundary and as fire, one that could burn everything down if they fed it too soon. Alina sat at the table and drew the folder toward herself. No place for us, Matthis had said. Perhaps that was true in this court, in these treaties, in Kronwacht’s eyes and in the council’s calculations. But if there was no place, that was not the same as no right. And the next morning she would wake and step again into a courtyard that pretended people could be ordered like supplies. This time she would know that order was already hunting her.