As the seemingly contrite Zier gave a disapproving Arinel and the four attendants a recap of what he had done to rankle his unflappable brother so, Coris calmed himself with several sips of lukewarm honey-ginger tea as he read Jezia's short letter, retrieved from Meya's generous chest compartment.

Meya's eyes followed Coris's stormy gray irises as they glided across the paper. For a split-second, they stopped, as if stumbling over a word that had stood out of line, then zeroed in on it.

Meya itched to poke her fingers at Coris's fixed eyes then trace an imaginary line from them to the letter, to see what he was staring at, but she already had a vague, ominous idea what that word might be.

Armorheim

Farmer Armorheim was the one who kidnapped Coris back in the Famine. Had Coris recognized his name? Would he punish Draken and the rest of the men in the party?

Though the thought of Krulstaff, Brodel and Yorfus getting a brief stint in the cell under the drawbridge hadn't bothered Meya that much—that demented butcher did suggest lobbing her hands off, after all—she didn't want to see them get the gallows or the block, just for doing what they needed to for their families.

Farmer Armorheim, on the other hand, had always been kind to Meya. And then there's Deke. What would he do without his father?

Dang it, Jezia. I'd rather it was just you and us young folk. Why d'you have to go and bring the adults, too?

Coris had put down the letter and smoothed it on the desk. His eyes had not left it, but he was no longer reading it. He was calculating. Planning. As he often did.

At long last, he sat back in his chair and clasped his hands together, glancing up at his surrounding, arguing friends.

Zier stopped making excuses for himself, leaving Arinel to pause mid-scold, confused. Simon, Christopher, Fione and Heloise stood to attention. They knew that stance; their liege had reached a conclusion.

"Your orders, Coris?" As was customary, Christopher spoke first, his voice clipped and solemn. Coris nodded, then turned first to Meya, who was standing before his desk.

"Meya, you can go see your family and friends. However,"

Meya didn't even have enough time to decide whether she should be thrilled or terrified when Coris raised the conditional finger of doom,

"I shall be accompanying you. Under a disguise, of course."

The ultimatum was unexpected as well as obvious. Meya felt a chill rush down her spine, and she clenched her fists in frustration, struggling and failing to keep her voice level.

"Why, my liege? Don't you have other more pressing matters to attend to?"

"No, I don't." Coris enunciated, his expression sour as spoiled milk, "Need I remind you that Father wish for us to, to put it mildly, stay in this room and copulate as frequently as possible, which we agreed we won't?"

Coris cocked his head, eyes wide and staring, challenging her. As Meya chewed her lips in annoyance, he took the opening to explain himself, more calmly this time.

"You mentioned Jason Boszel is a merchant trading in precious stones. I'd like to talk to him about the shortage, that's all."

"Then I won't go." Meya cut across, her face reddening. Coris blinked, affronted. "I risked my life for you twice, my liege. It offends me that you don't trust me enough not to betray you or spill your secrets."

"I've just told you, Meya. I simply want to talk to the merchant. I won't be there to keep an eye on you." Coris's tone was of impatient reassurance. Meya gave a barking laugh of scorn.

"Simply talk, my stinky foot!"

"So you accuse me of not trusting you when you don't trust me yourself?"

Coris retorted coolly, a triumphant eyebrow raised. Meya started, then gritted her teeth in begrudging surrender, having no comeback to that.

All the while, those silvery eyes stared at her. They were stern, but also understanding. And Meya found herself averting her gaze, scratching her head.

"Calm down. And think carefully, Meya." Coris went on, his voice now gentle as usual, "We have three days left until May Fest, then it's off to Safyre we go." Meya felt her breath catching at the reminder. Hearing Coris saying it out loud didn't help,

"This might be the last chance you would get to see them in a long time. If you have nothing to hide from me, why must you be so flustered?"

Meya twisted her nightdress and looked away, eyes darting about in desperation.

She chanced a fleeting glance at Coris. He seemed sincere. He might just want to talk to Jason like he had insisted. Hear things straight from the people instead of through the bailiff. But would he remember Draken's face when he saw him, and vice versa? Would he pardon Draken if she implored him to—or if she coerced him to?

Meya's eyes widened as her own voice rang inside her head.

"If you betray me, I'll tell everyone where The Axel is, putting Zier in grave danger."

Always ask for something binding when you strike a deal.

Meya finally understood Coris's advice.

Coris had said he abhorred killing. It didn't seem like him to hold grudges, and he was merciful to Meya even when he had suspected from the start that she was an impostor. Meya wanted to believe in his kind heart, but on the slight chance that she was wrong about him, she still held The Axel's secret over him.

It pained Meya to have to play dirty with Coris, but she had no choice. Not going to meet everyone would seem suspicious to Coris and draw even more attention to Draken. And it wasn't like she wasn't thrilled to see her friends and her brothers. In the end, she decided to shrug and steer away.

"I-I just—I don't want you to see Dad bury me alive." She pretended to stammer. The taste of the lie was bitter as poison on her tongue.

"Then all the more reason I should go with you." Coris pressed on, suspecting nothing, "Should the need arise, I'll reveal myself and explain everything to him."

Meya doubted her ears. It was an unexpected offer, and the prospect surprised her as much as it scared her. Would Dad approve of her actions during the heist? Even with Coris promising to vouch for her, Meya didn't feel much more reassured.

Somehow, the mere flash of Dad's cold brown eyes in her mind could sap her of whatever newfound confidence she had gained from Arinel and Coris, and Meya felt like she normally did back home in Crosset—a failure.

Ironically, her made-up excuse had become genuine. It must have shown in her eyes; Coris leaned forth and grasped her arm, silvery eyes boring straight into her flickering acid-green.

"He would be proud of what you did, Meya. And you should be, as well." Coris consoled, his voice clear and firm. He cocked his head, "You lost your virginity. So? You saved twenty people from certain death. Any decent father would know to prioritize."

Meya wasn't sure about that. She felt the cold of Coris's palm seeping through the thin silk of her sleeve, and she shivered as she pictured the worst-case scenario.

"What if he wants me home straight away? What if he doesn't want me to work here anymore?" She argued, her voice shaking.

"He would, Meya."

Meya whirled around at that familiar, long-silent voice. She found Arinel's blue eyes gazing at her. Her calm, unreadable expression softened as she elaborated,

"You probably didn't know. My father was planning to exile you."

Exile? Meya mouthed, eyes wide in horror.

Exile. Oh, Freda. That can't be true, can it?

Arinel averted her eyes in shame.

"Your father begged him to put you in my entourage instead. He said he believed you would fit in better in Hadrian, where tradition isn't so restrictive for Greeneyes and women. He even offered to work to pay for your place. Father took pity on him for your mother's past services to Crosset. And he relented."

"Services?" Heloise repeated in query.

"Her mother is Alanna of Noxx." Arinel replied, flat and serene. Her eyes remained focused on Meya, who was still frozen in disbelief.

"You're joshing!" Simon exclaimed, glancing from Meya to Arinel, then back to Meya, eyes bulging, "The Song of May Day? You're her daughter?"

"You should've said something! I've always wanted to hear her Song!" Fione cried, both indignant and excited.

"So you sang Over the Peaks of Neverend Heights that night? We thought we were hearing things."

Christopher joined in the shout-fest. Even Zier couldn't help looking intrigued. Only Coris seemed unfettered, as if he had known already.

Meya did not register any of those, however, still lost in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

So Dad wasn't selling me off? He was saving me from exile? Is Arinel for real? Why must Dad lie?

"Mirram cares about you, Meya. And he'll prove it to you when you need it most."

Jason's voice whispered within her. Words that for seventeen years she had longed to believe in someday. Yet, now that she was confronted with hard proof, she had never felt more like fleeing.

The shivers had spread to Meya's legs, and she was reduced to clinging to Coris's desk to stay on her feet. She clenched her fingers around the jutted edge, hoping the pain would drive away the burning sensation at the rims of her eyes.

So Dad had cared? Enough to kneel and beg before the most powerful man in their manor. The lord of their lives. To risk incurring his wrath to save her from exile?

It sounded like something out of someone else's life. Someone like Marin. Or Mistral. But definitely not Meya.

Feeling every eye in the room upon her, Meya took a deep, jittery breath,

"Dad never said nothing of the sort." She finally managed, her thick, level voice restrained,

"He said the Lord just wanted me out of Crosset for good. He said the Lord would give him my fine back."

Arinel shook her head in resolute denial.

"Father didn't give him a single copper, Meya." She corrected, then heaved a little sigh, "He probably lied so as not to scare you. That's why I kept it quiet from you as well. But now that you have me to vouch for your return, I think it's time I let you know."

Meya met Arinel's eyes, and she wished she could believe it. But she couldn't. Not until she had seen the truth in Dad's eyes and heard it straight from his lips. She couldn't bear to lift her hopes up only to have to let them tumble back into the dark. Sixteen lonely May Days was already far too many.

As if sensing her arrival at a decision, Coris squeezed her arm to call her attention. Meya turned to look at him with red-rimmed eyes, and Coris smiled as he tilted his head.

"So, what's your choice, Meya?"