That was the last time she had spoken with her father. Thray had cornered her once, demanding in his ever polite way to know why Silenio was refusing to take audiences with the Emperor, and further why he was planning to shift his command from Fort Shale to a remote outpost on the edge of the Scorched Desert. Although the Grand Chancellor accepted her pleas of ignorance, his expression led Carala to believe he knew far more than even the Emperor did. She remembered Silenio in Mourthia House, screaming and lunging at the walls with his sword, tears streaming down his face as he swore he would take his father's head and hurl it from the top of the Curate's Tower for what he had done to their mother. Whether he intended to make good on that threat she had no idea -- she was not especially inclined to stop him -- but if he was planning to remove himself so far from the capital then maybe he had simply resigned himself to acceptance.

By midafternoon the rites were concluded, the air of the Cathedral smoky and sweet with incense. The Empress-Consort would lie in state for the next fortnight, then would be interred in the Imperial Crypt beneath the altar. That ceremony would be closed to all but the Imperial family itself, along with select honored dignitaries. Varallo Thray would be there, certainly, as well as a few others of similar rank. Carala was dreading it for a host of reasons, though she thought being at Sarai's side might make the proceedings a little more bearable. She wondered if Denisius should be there as well. As they left the Cathedral in the company of Sarai's handmaidens and personal guard (Sarai had become nearly as protective of her younger sister as Silenio), Carala put the question to her elder sister.

"Don't you know?" Sarai asked, looking surprised. "Denisius and his man are leaving Talinara tonight. I believe they're setting out for the road after the dinner hour. I suppose his meeting with father didn't go well."

Carala, who had come to expect poor meetings with her father to result in much more lethal consequences, shook her head. "I heard nothing of it. Do you know what they discussed?"

Sarai chuckled. "Well, father did ask me if I would find Deni a suitable husband. I told him I don't much care to be the second choice. You can imagine how he responded to that. But he didn't force the matter, and after they met he said nothing to me." Her smile faded sadly. "I suppose with mama gone there are other things to be concerned with. But why would he ask me, Cara? Did Deni set you aside over -- over your illness? That's not what I'd expect of him."

"It was more of a mutual agreement," Carala said evasively. Sarai cast her a skeptical glance. Her sister had of course been wildly curious about all that had happened to her on the road, and while Carala had given her a few more details than she had provided her father or Varallo Thray, Sarai knew perfectly well there was much she was holding back "After everything, I am in no mind to marry Deni or anyone else." She glanced back over her shoulder at the spires of the Cathedral, the Sorrows still washing over them in their somber chant. "I do not even know if I should stay here at all."

"Then come with me," Sarai said, folding her arm into her sister's. "After we've said goodbye to mama I'm returning to the Azure Sea. It's beautiful down there, Cara. We'll visit mama's family in Ismene then see the Stoneshield Islands, pass through the Gates and visit the ports of the Ocean Kings. A few months of travel and you can put all this behind you."

The thought brought a faint smile to Carala's lips. As many terrible things as she had experienced upon fleeing Talinara, many wonderful things had happened as well, and the notion of traveling again, especially in less desperate straits, held a distinct allure. Alone with Sarai she might be more open with her; even tell her what she had learned about their father, about the Mourthias, and the truth about their mother. These were things she thought Sarai should know, but which she dreaded whispering of while there were so many listening ears around them. "I think that would be lovely," she said, pressing closer to her sister and squeezing her hand.

Sarai patted her hand lightly. "You know, it's funny. Mama had the whole itinerary, got it from my steward, and she wrote letters to all the ports of call where I'd be staying so there would be a message for me when I disembarked. I imagine there are still a few waiting for me." She wiped away a tear. "It'll be nice to read them together, don't you think?"

It occurred to Carala that she had no idea whether those messages were the sort of honest affection she remembered her mother showing throughout her life, or if they were part of Yvelle's plan to bring her children into the wolf's blood. How useful it would have been to know where Sarai was at all times, even in the most farflung corners of the Anointed Realms. Maybe they were the same thing in the end: whatever Yvelle had become, she saw herself as preferable to the twisted shapes the Emperor would make of his children.

"It will be nice to read them together," she said at last with a sad smile, and with her sister at her side followed the retinue back to the Chalcedony Palace.

In the columned splendor of the Palace's great hall, Carala was greeted with a surprise: Vos, leaning on a cane, smiling more warmly at her than she could ever remember. Sarai chuckled and excused herself and her retinue to her apartments, reminding Carala to take dinner with her that evening. Carala nodded, curtseying to Vos, who responded with a deeper bow than was his wont.

"Your highness," he said, straightening a little stiffly. "It's good to see you in such health. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am about your mother."

"Thank you," she said, smoothing her hands over her skirts. "I am glad to see your leg has healed so well. Will you need the cane much longer?"

Vos tapped the cane on the floor with a wry smile. "Probably for the rest of my life, at least when the weather turns damp. Maybe our friend outside Vilais was right, and it's time to lay aside the sword for a harp."

Carala laughed. "Perhaps so."

"But I had a reason to find you, your highness. Deni wanted a word before we left Talinara, if you're agreeable."

"I certainly am." She looped an arm through Vos's, mindful of his leg. "Lead the way. I doubt the household guard will like it, but I think I trust you more than them."

They found Denisius in the Gloaming Library, where he had waited with Vos and Quilla all those months ago while the Imperial household searched for Carala. With a smile he bowed to the Princess, sweeping aside his traveling cloak, a faint blush in his cheeks. Smiling Carala rushed forward, embracing him. Since her first day back in Talinara she hadn't had the opportunity to speak with him, and at the funeral he had been far from her in the nobles' gallery, surrounded by a handful of visitors from Marhollow, including his brother Steffen.

"Hello, your highness," he said, drawing back a little, still blushing.

"Deni," Carala said a trifle sternly. "It's always 'Cara' to you."

"Cara, then," he said, smiling now. "I wanted a chance to speak before Vos and I left. See how you were holding up."