“Ow!” Taryn wiped her eye with her sleeve. She’d only just arrived and already she was under attack.

“Oh, gods! Are you okay?” Galen asked.

“I’m fine.” Taryn held up her hand to ward him off. The powdered roll was only the size of a quail’s egg and as fluffy as any cake so it didn’t hurt her. But if she hadn’t been thinking about how to tell Vares about the failed assassination attempt and the advance of 200 gold she carried in her pack, she could have caught the baked missile and had herself a free snack.

“That looked like it hurt,” he said.

“Here.” Rai rushed to Taryn’s side, a moist towel in her hand. She had slathered it across Taryn’s brow before Taryn could think to wonder what it was wet with.

“What happened?”

Now Kem was fretting over her, his pale blue eyes searching every inch of her face. Taryn’s heart raced when he cupped her chin, the warmth from the bakery’s oven still clinging to his skin.

“It’s just a little powdered sugar,” she said. “But it’s all gone now.” She shouldn’t have spoken. Her voice seemed to remind him that the wall of heartbreak and confusion she’d built between them was still there. His cheeks flushed away the freckles that dotted his face and he drew his hand back, taking the warmth with it.

Kem swept his hair from his face and gave Galen a shove. “I thought she was really hurt. What are you even doing here? Don’t you have some helpless animal to slaughter?”

Rai rolled her eyes and returned to the counter where she continued to lay out a platter of sweet rolls into the display case. Taryn donned her work apron and quickly set about folding thick sheets of paperboard into boxes and cartons for the rest of the day’s deliveries.

“You called me here,” Galen said, sticking a finger into Kem’s chest. “You came across the street an hour ago and you told me to be here when Taryn got there. You said you wanted to talk to all of us together.”

“Right.” Kem grabbed the finger and shoved it away. “About the race.”

“If you say so,” Galen shrugged away to pester the three small boys scattered around the small dining room of the bakery. “Now, which one of you threw that?” Galen’s brown eyes darted between them. The heads of dark, silky hair hiding behind the counter and one of the tables belonged to his younger brothers, Kaz and Gerrie. Andon didn’t have to worry about Galen making good on threats at home so he stood out in the open, meeting Galen’s stare with a challenge of his own.

“It doesn’t matter,” Taryn said. “They were just playing, right?”

“That’s right.” Andon stood, small brown arms akimbo, and stuck his chin out defiantly. He was the oldest of the three. Whenever Taryn let herself think of what her baby brother might have grown into, Andon was what she saw.

“Me and Kaz are Infantrymen.” Gerrie’s head bobbed from behind the counter to join Andon. “And he’s a thief.” He pointed his wooden short sword at Andon, who slapped it down with his own.

“We need to stop him from stealing all the sweet rolls from the customers.” Kaz grinned from behind the table. The group of young men and women seated there wore richly colored dresses and vests fitted over clean white tunics. Full length trousers and skirts met with polished boots but their haggard countenance belied their posh apparel. Taryn knew they were overworked interns and assistants to the city’s rich and powerful who were just trying to find some peace in a late lunch hour. They didn’t look too pleased to be roped into a children’s game.

“So it was you.” Galen took a step toward Andon. And that’s where Andon’s bravery ended.

Taryn laughed as he ran grinning behind the shelter of the counter. He and Gerrie took refuge behind Rai.

“Oh, leave them alone,” Rai said.

Galen’s voice softened when he spoke to her. “They need to learn to behave.”

“And you need to learn to let them enjoy their lives. They’re children; let them play.” Taryn carried a stack of completed boxes to the counter. Rai set her rag aside and went to work organizing the pies and bread and other baked goods that were to be delivered. Taryn watched her fill one of the small boxes with a dozen glazed rolls and calculated her chances at snatching one up.

“If they are to grow into men, they will need to be disciplined,” Galen said.

Taryn shook her head in resignation and looked at Andon. “You’re sorry, aren’t you, Andon?”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“Apology accepted. Now you,” she added to Galen, “have nothing to get offended over.”

“Fine. But go catch your thieves outside,” Galen said. “You’re disturbing the customers.”

Andon peered at Galen through the slits of his narrowed eyes before leading Gerrie away from the counter. They collected Kaz at the door and Andon ushered them out. Before he left, he turned and tossed another powdered roll, this one aimed at Galen. Andon snickered when it hit the back of Galen’s head, leaving behind a spot of powdered sugar before it bounced off and onto the floor. The boy ran out with Galen hot on his trail.

“Are you sure everything is alright with you?” Rai asked when they’d gone.

“Please don’t start worrying about me,” Taryn pleaded.

Rai shrugged. “You’re usually good at catching those, is all.”

“I had a lot on my mind,” Taryn offered.

“And you were half an hour late today. That’s a record.”

“Rai,” Taryn began wearily.

“I know. Everything is fine.” Rai conceded. “I just wanted you to know that if something were bothering you, if anything were going on, you could talk to me.”

No, I can’t, Taryn thought to herself. “I know.” She offered her friend a tight smile, trying to be reassuring. Rai didn’t believe it but Taryn was spared from telling any more half-truths when Galen returned.

“That boy needs to learn some respect,” Galen huffed.

“You know, they only come in here to get away from you – Ow!” Kem tried to pinch one of the rolls for himself but Rai slapped his hand away.

“That doesn’t make them any less disruptive,” Galen said. “What did you want us all here for?”

“Well, I want to make some changes to my design.”

“That’s against the rules! Isn’t it?” Galen added uncertainly.

“That’s what I wanted to ask about,” Kem said. “With this permit issue, we’ve got all this extra time. I thought we could all use it to make any changes, if needed. What do you think?”

Rai shrugged. “I don’t have an issue with it.”

“So what, did you see all of our designs last time and decide you needed an edge?” Galen asked.

“I didn’t see any of your racers,” Kem defended.

“I don’t have a problem with it either,” Taryn said. Her bag was biting into her shoulder so she removed it and set it next to the boxes on the counter. A fist-sized chunk of limestone poked out and she was too slow to shove it back in.

Galen gave her a queer look. “You carry around a bag of rocks?”

“They’re an excellent deterrent for thieves.” The half-truth came too easily for Taryn’s liking.

“Every time I think you can’t get any more perverse, you redefine the word.” Galen shook his head at her and turned back to Kem. “What kind of changes are you thinking about?”

“Oh… well…” Kem stammered.

“I don’t think its fair to ask,” Taryn said.

“You’re right. He’s probably just forgot to submit the permit application and he’s trying to sneak off to do it now.”

“I’m not.” Kem froze. “Wait. Was I supposed to do that?”

Rai’s head came up at that, her green eyes wide under her furrowed brow. “What do you mean? Of course you were.”

“Whoa. I was only joking,” Galen said.

“Oh.” All the hope went out of Kemen’s eyes, crumpled under the force of his twin sister’s silent wrath. “I guess I forgot.”

“Forgot? You forgot?” Rai’s face reddened as her anger grew. “The entire reason we have ‘all this extra time’ is because we didn’t have a permit to begin with. All this time I’ve been counting down the days until we’re supposed to receive notice and it didn’t once occur to you to mention that you hadn’t even submitted it?”

“I thought you handled it, and that’s why you were counting. Look, its fine. I’ll just head over to the Hall and take care of it. I can fix my design later.”

Rai took a deep breath between her clenched teeth. “These things take six weeks - at least! Our race is in a month. We don’t have time to get it submitted and approved in only one month.”

“I’m sorry,” Kem said. “Just… tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.”

“No,” Rai said. “Just get me the packet and I’ll have someone else take care of it.”

The blood drained from Kem’s face and he spoke in a pained whisper. “I think I remember clearing it off a table after spilling some tea on it. I thought it was an older draft left behind because you had the original. Rai, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Maybe we should just push it back another couple of months,” Galen suggested.

“I’ve already ordered the food and scheduled the musicians. We’ve already canceled on the volunteers once. They wont agree to help us if we do it again. Gods!” Rai dug both hands into her hair and made fists around the red curls.

Taryn and the guys watched her with varying degrees of discomfort and unease as Rai let her rage take and leave her while she thought up a solution. It wasn’t long before she had one. When her hands came free of her scalp, one slammed the counter top, the other snapped her fingers in the air between them and counted.

“I’ll remake the packet,” she said. “I’ll work all night getting the site plan, the concept of operation, the risk assessment, all of it. But I’ll need you…” (Here she pointed at Taryn) “…to deliver it to the clerk as soon as you get in tomorrow.”

“Me?”

“I’m pretty sure we need a legal adult to submit the paperwork,” Galen put in. “Taryn is still a minor.”

“She can pass for sixteen,” Rai said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, when you go in there and make a fuss about the original packet being submitted two months ago and that no movement has been made on it since, they wont bother asking for identification. They’ll just rush to process it.”

“You want me to lie?” Taryn asked. “I don’t think I’m the right person for this. We should postpone it, like Galen said. Maybe plan something smaller.”

“No, no, no, Taryn.” Rai reached across the counter and held Taryn’s hands within her own. She set those big green eyes to work as she pleaded her case. “You’re the only one of us who can do this. You are the most persuasive and intimidating person I know.”

Taryn frowned, wondering how her friend could have gotten that impression.

“Please,” Rai said. “All this waiting and planning will have been for nothing if we can’t get this permit approved. Look, you don’t have to lie, just imply. They won’t question you.”

“Please, Taryn,” Kem added. And Taryn’s breath caught because it had been weeks since she’d heard her name on his lips. “It would mean the world to her if you could do this.”

“Alright,” Taryn sighed. What else could she do?

“Thank you.” Rai kissed Taryn’s hands before she released them. “I know you won’t disappoint. I’ll get all the forms completed tonight and have the packet with fee ready for you tomorrow afternoon.” Rai squealed with excitement and returned to packing more baked good away.

“You’d better come through,” Galen whispered at her shoulder. “She’s already convinced herself that this is done and it’ll crush her if it fails.”

“It won’t fail,” Taryn said. Identifying all the clerks capable of giving the final stamp of approval was the easy part. Navigating the web of bureaucratic minds the packet would have to go through would be a little tedious but not difficult. It would only take her a few minutes to construct an organization chart; build profiles on all the relevant city employees and their leaders. One of them was bound to be in some kind of trouble she could offer to get them out of. Or have a secret they didn’t want revealed. Taryn preferred the former. The latter made her feel like a bully and she didn’t enjoy using her abilities that way. The real challenge would be in finding someone high enough in the city’s hierarchy to push the request through, but low enough that Vares never got wind that she’d used his name for such a trivial thing. “Why does she think I’m intimidating?” she asked Galen.

He raised a dark brow. “You are the single most perverse human being I know. If we weren’t friends, I’d keep The Lovely Rai and those boys far away from you.”

That hurt more than Taryn liked to admit. “I’d never hurt them.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Galen scoffed. “You’re more of a corrupting influence.” He moved away from Taryn to stand beside Rai. “Do take your time, Kemen. I’ll make sure The Lovely Rai doesn’t get too overwhelmed here without you.”

Kem’s jaw clenched as he watched Galen rest a slender hand on Rai’s hip. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you gave her the chance to miss you every now and again.”

Galen leaned over to whisper something in Rai’s ear. She giggled and gave him a playful shove.

“If you plan on staying, we may as well split these deliveries,” Taryn said. “They’ll go a lot quicker and I could be back with plenty of time to help Rai figure out these new frosting flavors.”

“Oh, yes!” Rai turned to Galen. “We’ve been trying to find time for this all week. I’d be so grateful if you helped her with this.”

“If that’s what you want,” Galen said through a forced smile.

“Get to it, then,” Rai said, pushing him away in earnest. “The quicker you two go, the quicker you’ll be back.”

“Thank you,” Kem mouthed to Taryn as he made his way to the door. He smiled at her before he left; a warm, sweet curl she still dreamed about. She was glad that she’d been able to brighten his day but it was a bittersweet reminder that it was as much of him as she could have.

Just then a familiar couple entered the bakery. The man stood two heads taller than his female companion. He was of average height for a man of his lean frame. But next to her, he looked like a giant. He held the door open for her and she led him to the booth nestled into the corner.

“Och! These two again,” Rai said. “You’ll have to deal with them, Taryn, because I can’t.”

Taryn raised a brow in question before she moved to greet them. They didn’t seem too pleased when she informed them that their beloved corner booth had been reserved. But they moved without complaint. Taryn took their orders and they sat across from each other at the booth closest to the door.

“What did they want?” Rai asked when Taryn returned.

“They order the same thing every time.” Taryn stepped behind the counter to prepare a coffee tray.

Rai nudged Galen to put in their orders with the kitchen. Then moved to set another pot of water to boil. “Why do they always have to come here?” she muttered. “Dozens of bakeries in this city offer beef pot pies. It wouldn’t hurt them to sample different versions of it.”

“Maybe they have and they’ve determined that your mother’s is the best,” Taryn offered. Sadie and Elarus had been visiting the bakery every few days or so for the last few months. They always stayed long enough for their beef pot pies to be made from scratch, and that meant several refills. She added cups of condiments to last them the rest of the day; warm honey for her, milk and sugar for him.

“But they won’t accept it if it was started an hour ago, or two minutes ago.” Rai dumped three scoops of coffee grounds into a cheesecloth and steeped it in the pot. “It has to be started when they order it. You don’t find that unusual?”

“Two hours,” Galen reported when he returned. He busied himself with packing and sealing the boxes Rai had abandoned to pout.

“If I know anything about people, its that everyone is all a little… perverse. We all have our eccentricities,” Taryn said.

“Of course you would say that,” Galen injected.

Taryn ignored him. She was very curious about Rai’s objections. It wasn’t like her to be so inhospitable. “What are you really upset about?”

“It seems like they’re just making up an excuse to be here alone together,” Rai said. “Have you seen their wedding bands?”

“Should I have?” Taryn asked. It wasn’t a detail she prioritized when she assessed people.

“His is black metal twining around red studs,” Rai said. “Hers is leafy golden vines.”

“You’re upset because they’re married?”

“To different people! And they’re using our bakery to flaunt their affair. Huddled together, whispering to each other.”

“That doesn’t sound like an affair,” Taryn said. She added a couple of glass of water to the tray and balanced it on her arm. “They could just be friends.”

Galen scoffed. “Like you and Kem are friends?”

That really hurt. Taryn wondered what she had done for him to be especially mean to her today.

Rai stopped pouting long enough to glower at him. “Ignore him.”

Taryn studied the couple in question as she went to deliver their drinks. Elarus tensed every time someone moved past the window behind him. And every time Sadie inclined her head to pat or scratch or touch the thick afro that framed her small, oval-shaped face, her eyes darted to the door. The two of them were clearly hiding something. But as long as they kept to themselves and didn’t cause any trouble for the bakery, she had no cause to investigate.

“It’ll be about two hours before your pies are ready,” she reminded them.

“Thank you,” Elarus said.

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else.” Taryn returned to the counter and the bakery fell into a peaceful calm. Galen and Rai were giggling far too much to be productive. The interns continued comparing their horrible bosses. The couple in the booth spoke quietly as they sipped their coffee. More customers came in for sweet pastries and hot drinks; free samples and savory soups.

Taryn folded her boxes and worried about the gold buried under the rocks in her shoulder bag. She wondered if Vares would even care. He had to, she told herself. Their first years may have been a bit rocky but she’d been useful to him in the years since she’d gained some focus in her life. That had to count for something.

“I still can’t believe he forgot the permit application.” Rai brought over a stack of small boxes she’d already loaded and labeled. The addresses written onto the sides showed them to be destined for customers scattered across the Market and Manor Districts.

“His mind has been elsewhere of late.” Galen dropped his pile of larger, more awkwardly shaped boxes onto a nearby chair. “This whole thing with the racers is probably just an excuse to sneak off and meet up with his new sweetheart.”

“Galen!” Rai hissed.

His words were so unexpected that Taryn’s fingers fumbled as her mind struggled to understand them. She tore the tuck flap of the half completed box and paused a moment to regain her composure and make sure the panic she felt didn’t make its way into her tone. “What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the hours he spends out after hours most nights. Or just shut up in his room. He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s up to but we can hear the voices – Ow!”

Rai pinched his arm. “She didn’t know that.”

“Well, sorry, then,” he said, rubbing his arm.

“I’m sorry, Taryn,” Rai said. “I wanted to tell you but you always seem to be lost in your own thoughts.”

Taryn wasn’t just lost in her thoughts; she was lost in a completely different world. Her mental life consisted of assassinations, political intrigue and life-altering decisions. Theirs was full of recipes and poetry and saving up enough coin to see a play. It was good that she had ended things with Kem before they’d truly began. It still didn’t make her feel any better that he was gallivanting around the city with some other girl so soon. Couldn’t he have waited a couple of months?

“Are you–”

“I’m fine,” Taryn snapped, and immediately regretted it. “Kem and I are just friends. He’s free to have other… friends. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

“Well he owes us something,” Galen said. “His antics are making for some very awkward conversations between myself, The Lovely Rai and Mama Kebar. I’ll tell you: they’re not very romantic. If it makes you feel any better, we don’t think its serious. Hells, half the time we’re not even sure its the same girl so – Ow!! Why do you keep pinching me?”

“Go stand over there,” Rai told him, pointing to the locked cabinet where Mama Kebar kept her collection of novelty porcelain plates on display. When he was gone, she opened a grease stained box and offered the contents to Taryn. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Taryn eyed the beignets for a few seconds before she assented. Warm strawberry jam gushed into her mouth when she bit into it and for one sweet moment, she did feel better. When she imagined how much more it would hurt if this all happened after she told them the truth about her, she realized that it was better this way. This way, she could stop trying to avoid the wall between them and just try to go back to being friends again.

“It breaks my heart that neither of you are happy with whatever it is that has happened between you,” Rai said.

It was a probing statement if Taryn had ever heard one, meant to draw more detailed information from her. She should probably put an end to it before they breached uncharted waters. But if it got her free sweets, Taryn would let Rai poke and prod and inspect to her heart’s content. Taryn nodded as she finished the first beignet and went for another.

“I mean, the two of you were such a great match.” Rai was a fanatic for her matches. She’d successfully predicted half the pairings of her graduating class. She’d set her heart on Galen when they were seven – though she hadn’t told him that. She’d already planned their twin weddings, named their children and was working on establishing their retirement goals. “I just can’t understand why you can’t reconcile. Especially after… well, you know.”

“What do I know?” Taryn was halfway through the second when she went for a third. She figured Rai would tire of her lack of cooperation soon. Then the game – and the treats – would be over.

“Kem and I don’t have many secrets from each other,” Rai said, her voice low. “And I know your voice well enough to recognize when its whispering through a two-inch door in the dead of night.”

It took a moment for Taryn to register what she meant. When she remembered that disaster of a night, she suddenly felt very uncomfortable in her skin and Rai swatted her back as she coughed around the glob of sweet dough stuck in her throat.

“That was… not what you think it was,” she managed between coughs.

“Well, whatever it was, if you need a cry, or to talk, that’s what I’m here for.”

What Taryn needed was for this conversation to end. She saw movement behind Rai and found her way out. “I should get to work.”

“Galen can finish packaging the deliveries,” Rai said.

“But your favorite customer is here,” Taryn said as she stepped away. She plastered a congenial smile to her face and told herself to focus. It was time to earn her keep. “Mr. Gondriguez. Lovely to see you again.”

Mr. Mateo Gondriguez was a middle aged man of a bronze complexion and somewhere between a healthy and hefty build. His slick black hair grew in soft waves pulled away from his face and the well groomed goatee that stamped his face, lightly peppered with silver hairs, reminded her that she had to succeed here.

“I’ve prepared a quiet booth for you,” Taryn said. “Please, have a seat.”

“That’s very kind of you. But I’m not staying. I’m only here to collect my order of –”

“The sampler pack with a half order of cinnamon and raisin bread sticks.” Rai shot Taryn a warning glare as she moved to step between her and the customer. “It’s just here, Mr. Gondriguez. I’ll have it right out.” Rai led the man to the counter and hurried to take her place behind it. She searched the contents of the glass display and removed two large boxes. “I must say that I often find myself daydreaming about what I’ll read in your next issue. Its frustrating to have to wait so long between publications but I am so grateful for the light your work brings to our lives.”

“Well, thank you. You know, I love to hear how my work has touched people’s lives. How great is it that we get to live in a city that enjoys so much peace and prosperity under the watchful eye of such a loving King? And to share that hope with others, I could ask for no greater call.” Mr. Gondriguez smiled so wide he showed a slight gap between his teeth. His love of adoration and pride in his so-called work only served to kill any lingering guilt Taryn felt over what she had to do.

When Rai had taken his payment and he had gathered his goods, Taryn deftly slipped her hand between his and lifted the boxes out and away from his grasp.

Mr. Gondriguez frowned at her. “Clearly, you’re not a fan.”

Taryn knew brute force wouldn’t get her very far so she played to his ego. “I pride myself in being a student of history and have a particular interest in the written word. Unfortunately, I am struggling to see how one could make a successful career of it. I understand it is your job as a journalist to record tomorrow’s history. All I want is a few moments to pick your brain regarding our mutual interest.” She motioned again for him to take a seat. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to discourage a potential colleague.”

He looked between her and the casual curiosity of the other seated patron. “I guess I could spare a few minutes to mentor the next generation of truth-seeker,” he said. His reputation mattered too much to him for him to reject her. “But then I really must be going.”

Taryn handed his boxes back. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“What are you doing?” Rai hissed when he moved to settle himself.

“Come join us when he sits down again,” Taryn instructed.

“What? Why? What are you up to?”

“Its an early birthday present,” Taryn said.

“Taryn, please don’t do this. We always lose customers when you get like this.”

“Oh, he’ll be back. You don’t need to worry about that. Just remember: he’ll try to leave, I’ll convince him to stay, then he’ll sit down. Don’t come over before then.” Taryn left Rai to her worries and sat across Mr. Gondriguez to focus on her own.

“I only have a few moments to spare so this will need to be brief.” He shifted the boxes to sit against the wall so they wouldn’t obstruct their view of each other. Whatever else this man was, at least he was focused. Taryn figured he had to be, since they’d asked her to deal with him.

“There are certain irrevocable laws made by Lothor Kings who are operating in all the divine gifts of the gods. Any violation of these carry a charge no less than treason. According to the zealots it’s higher than treason, actually. Its sacrilege. I believe the most recent of these was Viktor’s Rule against the preaching or practicing of any faith within the confines of the city. I’m sure they enjoy that little paradox.”

“I am familiar with the Provident Rulings of the Gifted Kings,” he said tersely. “If you’re trying to compile an inclusive catalog –”

“It’s been done several times over,” Taryn cut in. “I am aware.”

“What, then, do you need me for?”

“Well, I was reading your column –”

He leaned forward and pointed a quaking finger into her face. “There is absolutely nothing untoward in my work and I will not stand for any baseless accusations.”

“I’m not accusing anything,” Taryn said gently. “Calm yourself, or people might start to think there is indeed something untoward going on here.”

His hand withdrew but his displeasure remained.

Good, Taryn thought. She could use that. “Judging by the strength of your response, I imagine this is a very delicate subject for you.”

“And rightly so. Words like that can ruin a man and I’ve worked very hard to build a name for myself.”

“Oh, I know. You started off as a restaurant critic. Just a three inch block on a twenty page rag. Its really ironic when you think of it.”

“Get to the point and be quick about it,” he snapped. “And if its an inside scoop you’re looking for, you’ll just have to wait another few weeks and pay just like everyone else.”

“You’re right,” Taryn conceded. “In spirit of that, I need you to tell me everything you know about the King and his mistress.”

“Good day to you,” he spat, and turned to exit the booth.

Taryn leaned back as he reached to collect his goods. “The Rising Son,” she said.

Mr. Gondriguez stopped moving. He even stopped breathing for a while. When he finally fixed his brown eyes on her they were wide with poorly contained panic. “What did you just say?”

“The Rising Son,” Taryn enunciated. “It was a respectable imprint that operated out of North Fold for decades. They were shut down about three, maybe four years ago. This was after they began running a column dedicated to documenting the exploits of a certain group of unknown persons who ran through the streets at night performing vigilante acts.”

He still wasn’t convinced. Taryn could tell by the way his eyes darted beneath his twitching lids that he still thought he could find a way out of this.

“The writer responsible claimed that the person behind these vigilante acts was the King himself, or agents thereof. I don’t think he realized that by presenting this as truth, he essentially accused His Majesty of being in violation of another of Viktor’s Provident Rulings. The one regarding the city’s Home Rule, which decreed that the five sectors of the palace city maintain as much legislative, executive and judicial independence from the monarchy as the kingdom’s county manors. Without the express invitation of those governing bodies, the King and his agents can not legally enforce any laws outside of the palace grounds unless there is treason involved.”

Taryn paused to open the boxes in front of her. She pulled a moist cinnamon-raisin bread stick from its wrapping paper and dug around until she found the jar of frosting. “I hope you don’t mind. Incriminating monologues make me a bit peckish. Now, where was I? Right: the ignorant idiot. Well, the idiot called the King a traitor and the Rising Son published it for the entire city. It was a sad day to be a journalist. The Rising Son went bankrupt over all the legal fees. Everyone on staff lost all credibility. Not a single one of them could find a comparable job in the city. And the man responsible for it all couldn’t even be trusted to set letters in a print shop. But then he changed his name.”

Taryn broke the bread and took a long, satisfying sniff of the cinnamon dusted into the brown flesh. She drizzled on the frosting and asked herself how she had gotten so lucky. This was truly the greatest job in the world. “He moved south to Pine Keep; started his own little imprint just off the Prince’s Fall. It’s not too far from here, actually. He kept his nose down, writing only about popular societal and cultural events. The city went wild for his scathing reviews of their most celebrated concerts, plays, and restaurants.”

Mr. Gondriguez suddenly became very pale. “How did you learn all this?”

“As I said, I am a student of history. I enjoy hunting for the truth.” Whether it was printed on a page somewhere or hidden in the recesses of someone’s mind. “If you ask me, I’d say you got off pretty easy. I mean, you called these vigilantes Caeltar Knights. One could easily make a case that you should be tried for violating Viktor’s Ruling against proselytizing. But I understand why the monarchy didn’t pursue it. It could only have been considered an attempt at religious conversion if it was indeed the King under that shining armor. But as it was, you were just someone with a wild imagination and no truth to back it up. I want to know if that’s still the case.”

Mr. Gondriguez stumbled, weak-kneed into the seat. “Please. There is no treason in this; no slander.”

“Then prove it, here and now. Or I’ll start telling everyone who comes through those doors everything I know about you.” Taryn had timed it perfectly. Just as she’d finished speaking, a pair of Guardsmen strolled in. They left their blue shields at the door and kept a lazy grip on the standard-issue swords sheathed at their hips. The star-in-pentagon insignia stitched on the arms of their navy blue uniforms identified them as Specialists. Just a step down from the Non-Commisioned Officer corp, Specialists were notorious for being incredibly lazy, undisciplined, and unmotivated. Their old Drill Marshals would have a fit if they saw those shields on the floor like that. These two probably didn’t know what a Provident Ruling was but Mr. Gondriguez didn’t know that. All he saw were two bluebacks.

“What has she done to you?” When Rai finally made her appearance she looked between Taryn, who was calmly enjoying a warm bite, and Mr. Gondriguez, who’d started hyperventilating. Rai bent to the writer’s aid. “Mr. Gondriguez? I don’t know what she’s told you but you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

“Have a seat,” Taryn said, since the writer was still trying to catch his breath. “When he’s calmed down he’ll tell us what he’s publishing next month.”

“Really?” Rai asked, her concern for the writer’s wellbeing forgotten. “Why?”

Taryn offered her the contents of the sampler pack and she pulled a cherry tart to nibble on. “Apparently, I’m very persuasive.”

Taryn had gone through half her bread stick and a couple of the tarts before the writer found his voice. “The King and his mistress have been keeping meetings–”

“No. I need details,” Taryn said. Her investigations worked best with specificity. She would need to dig through his mind, and the minds of everyone else who shared in this story, to find the whole truth. “I want to know why you would ever sign your new, untainted name to anything that remotely smelled like the King. Start at the beginning.”

“The beginning.” Mr. Gondriguez ran a sweaty palm across his forehead and blew out a long breath. “That would have been over a year ago - fifteen months, to be exact. His Majesty had just started taking weekly lunches in the city. He cycled between the sectors, visiting Camp Brock one week, then North Fold the next. Everywhere except Larisport. I was a restaurant critic; I couldn’t very well continue to avoid him. No one knew what to make of it all. Some thought that perhaps he was supporting local businesses; assuring his adoring public of his continued health and wellbeing. It was a long string of public appearances after over a decade of seclusion. Most everyone I interviewed, the patrons of the restaurants he visited, thought he was finally coming out of his grief and searching for a new bride.”

Mr. Gondriguez paused to take another bracing breath. He clasped his hands together to stop them trembling; pulled them into his lap when that didn’t work. “He always dined with a young woman, you see. Whether it was the owner, a member of the staff, a patron he stole from her present company. It didn’t matter. He wined them, he dined them, then he left. For the next week, that woman and that restaurant became the talk of the whole city. Then he’d do it all over again in a different sector at a different restaurant with a different young woman.”

Taryn remembered those days. It had all be a grand game trying to figure out where he’d visit next but until the next sighting, business boomed for the last restaurant. People were willing to pay gold to sit where the King sat, eat what he ordered and talk to the young woman who’d captured his rapt attention for over an hour.

“Then, one night, I guess it was about twelve months ago now, an early morning watchman apprehended a wastrel, delirious and staggering towards the palace, and found that it was none other than His Majesty. It appeared he had been injured somewhere in the city and had lost a lot of blood trying to get back to the palace. He’d collapsed in the watchman’s arms.”

Taryn remembered that too. A thousand years of mutant prayers almost answered without anyone having to strain out a thought to make it so.

“A physician was called; his Arsenal came to collect him. No one knew where he’d been or who he had been with. But the watchman did note that his wound had been bound with a strip of a woman’s undergarment. After the panic over the near loss of the King subsided, rumors and theories abound.”

“Rumors and theories are not proof that the King has a mistress,” Taryn said. “That was one night. Even if he did it every week, you have no guarantee that he was sneaking off to see the same woman.”

“Forgive her,” Rai said. “She has no appreciation for the thrill of a romantic tryst.”

“Be that as it may, His Majesty soon resumed his public excursions but he seemed intent to conceal the identity of this woman. And so, naturally, the public became obsessed with uncovering who she was. They interviewed and harassed every woman, every waiter and every owner to pick apart the details of the King’s visits, searching for a common phrase or a tell that would offer a clue. They continued this fruitless journey for months until… well, until I had an unintentional breakthrough.”

Taryn felt Rai stiffen beside her as she focused to listen. They were getting to the part that hadn’t fallen under heavy public scrutiny.

“Six months ago, His Majesty visited the Taste of Banon Cafe. Its a quaint little eatery situated right along the Saint’s Row over in Hollyn. I’d heard it was the best shawarma to be found this far west and it was on my schedule to visit later that week. So when I finally made my trip, I heard all about how terrible a time His Majesty had. He didn’t stay long and didn’t seem pleased when he left. One of the waitresses was upset over the whole affair. The owner often claimed to ‘have a feeling’ that the King would show up one day and the entire staff was tasked with making sure the place was spotless. He did this often but never to any avail. And the one time the King actually made an appearance, he didn’t stay long enough to appreciate all the work they’d put into the preparation for his visit. I watched as she emptied out the apron she’d worn that night, where she’d gathered loose bits of trash and little items she’d found while cleaning parts of the cafe she never even knew existed. She didn’t notice that a small sliver of paper had missed the trash bin. I picked it up.”

Rai gasped and grabbed Taryn’s arm in a vice grip. “They’re leaving notes for each other!”

“That was my first thought as well.” Mr. Gondriguez offered Rai a small smile. “But the message was gibberish; numbers and letters I couldn’t make sense of.”

“If they were using the public outings to plan their secret meetings then the messages would have to be coded.” Rai made a noise that Taryn could only classify as a lovesick sigh. Or perhaps maybe a swoon. “Oh, that’s so romantic.”

Definitely a swoon. Rai’s enamored enthusiasm was restoring Mr. Gondriguez’s confidence and Taryn had to get him back on edge. The fear of losing his reputation had softened his mind to her probing and he was beginning to forget that he had to share his secrets with her if he wanted to avoid a prison cell.

“Sounds like a security risk to me,” Taryn said. “Especially if you publish that. Then anyone will be able to plant any number of similar notes in any number of random restaurants. What are you trying to do here? Have His Majesty assassinated?”

“Of course not! I’m not fool enough to publish the cypher.”

“Maybe not, but if you can figure it out in what… two months? Anyone with even half a brain can do it in one.”

His wide nostrils flared and Taryn saw his jaws set as he clenched them against his indignant retort. “I didn’t decipher the message myself,” he said slowly. “I hired a mathematics professor to do it for me.”

“Oh,” Taryn said. “So you’ve been colluding with others in this.”

And just like that he was back; eyes darting frantically for a way out, panicked breaths as he realized that he had none, until sweat beaded on his brow and he had to spread his arms and grip the corners of the table to air himself out.

“I must admit I’m not convinced,” Taryn went on. “Deciphering one message into something legible doesn’t prove that you’ve cracked a code unless it can work again and again and again.”

“The professor said the same thing. He refused to even look at it unless we brought him a second. My team and I scavenged through every restaurant in Pine Keep everyday for an entire month looking for a second note. The King had three lunches before we found one. We took it, found that it had the same negative response in him and knew we were on the right track. It took the professor two weeks to decipher,” he finished proudly.

“Well maybe-”

“And it took us another fortnight to confirm.” Mr. Baez spoke hard and fast to cut her off. “We did the same thing; we tracked down another note. This time we copied it and left the original. We used the cypher to decode it and we waited.”

“Well?” Rai asked. “Did he show up? Were you able to find out who this mistress was?”

“Well, you’ll have to buy the article to find that out.”

“Show me the notes,” Taryn said.

He shook his head and gave her a half-committed shrug. “I don’t have them with me.”

Taryn leaned forward, her arms moving across the table. He flinched back. She settled about half way through, pushing the boxed goods aside as she splayed her hands across the buffed wooden surface. “I’ll remind you that you’re in this position because you lied once. Don’t think you can get out of it by lying again. Now, if it were me, I wouldn’t let something so valuable out of arm’s reach.” Technically she wouldn’t let it out of her mind’s reach. But middlings had their limitation. “You will show us now, or you can show the Guard.”

His eyes darted to the counter. The Specialist were still loitering nearby, enjoying a half order of marzipan turnovers while they waited for their pumpkin stew. Pumpkin stew had been a favorite of the late First Marshal Kebar. Since his death, Mama Kebar always kept a large pot for the troops of the Guard he had served so faithfully with. Every day of the week they were welcome to a hot meal during the long lunch hours, free of charge.

It took everything Taryn had to conceal her trepidation as he reached into his vest and delicately placed a folded handkerchief at her finger tips. She had half-hoped to find another fraud. Another daft plot to stir the city’s masses into a faith-filled fervor that would only serve to undo the delicate work she had accomplished in the last seven years and hinder her ongoing efforts to make her life, and the lives of mutants the world over, a little more tolerable. But as Mr. Gondriguez unfolded the cloth to reveal a white square at its center, its gold lettering glittered in the light, that hope died.

She had scoured his mind many times over the last few months. She had seen him bend to collect the discarded note in that busy little cafe. She’d watched him learn about substitution cyphers from the mathematician. But in all her searching, there was nothing of the crafting of the note, no secret meetings or bribes of the wait staff. There were no lies in his tale.

“You didn’t fake this,” Taryn admitted quietly.

“I most certainly did not,” he said evenly. “The professor was able to tell me a couple of things about the woman. We know that she is well learned, with an obvious passion for advanced mathematics.”

“Because she knows a basic substitution cypher? I could decipher this in a few hours. I could create one in a breath.” Taryn didn’t bother to hide the venom in her words.

“Because of the actual script,” Mr. Gondriguez said. “The long and slanted way the f’s and s’s are actually written. He recognized them as integral functions of mathematical symbols. Advanced mathematics symbols.”

Rai was on her knees in the booth, leaning over to get as close a look as possible without actually touching the document. “Three weeks is a long time to wait to find out if the King showed up or not. At least tell us where they met. Did you see her? What did she wear?”

Those details didn’t matter to Taryn. The note was everything she needed. The material of the paper itself was nothing special. And the gold ink took her searchable targets down from a couple of million pens and bottles of ink sold and used in the city on a daily basis to about several thousand. But only a small handful of people had ever physically laid eyes on that particular note and seen the inside of a Taste of Banon Cafe. And only one of them had moved a quill or pen across its surface to make those particular letters in that specific order; pressed fingers together to make the subtle crease that ran across the pages as she folded it. That was all the detail Taryn needed to scan the city and identify the one person in the entire city who the most powerful man in the world allowed himself be vulnerable with.

It would be so easy; and would only take her a few minutes. But that was not the job she’d been given.

“I need a few more weeks to track down as many more points of convergence as I can before I can identify her.” Mr. Gondriguez folded the note back into its fabric shell and tucked it back into his breast pocket. “I won’t make any unfounded conclusions.”

“So you didn’t see her, then,” Taryn concluded. “You don’t actually know who this woman is.”

“Regardless,” Rai said. “I think you’ve done a great job, Mr. Gondriguez. But perhaps you’ve overlooked the fact that His Majesty hasn’t been seen lunching anywhere for several weeks now. How are you going to get new points of convergence if they aren’t meeting anymore?”

“I have begun to think that the affair might have come to an end,” Mr. Gondriguez offered. “We’re now scrambling to find a woman who has withdrawn from the social scene.”

Taryn almost wished she could believe that and be happy, but she knew better.

“Don’t say that,” Rai said. “Maybe they’ve run off on a private trip somewhere.”

That was closer to the truth but Taryn didn’t know how close. She knew that the King had left the city. That obnoxious mental presence had been gone from her mindscape for nearly three months. But she didn’t know who his mistress was. So she couldn’t say if that woman had gone with him or not. “I hope it is over between them,” she said. “Then you can go back to safely writing about the things that truly warm our hearts, and our bellies.”

“I’m so sorry for her behavior,” Rai said. “I think she’s the only person in the entire city who is actively against the idea of the King’s romantic life. I’d blame some recent personal heartbreaks but unfortunately she’s always been this way.”

Taryn was not against the King having a love life. Nor was she blinded by the recent damage to her own. She knew that she was not a normal girl. She couldn’t find a normal boy she might like to grow old with and live happily ever after. She had secrets. Secrets that have gotten people killed, or worse. And the King was the same. He was not a man who could love a woman without pressure to make her his bride. He was a Lothor King. And his marriage meant that they would have a queen. It meant that a complete stranger could gain incredible political capital overnight. It meant the possibility of a Prince. The King was troublesome enough. Taryn didn’t want to deal with competing with someone else for influence over his mind.

“Why am I doing all this work while you two are cozied up here for a snack break?” Galen announced his presence by grabbing a treat from the sampler pack. After a large bite into the salt fish pastry he spit it out into his hand with a frown.

“I’m sorry.” Rai, still snug in her own mental love bubble, rose to plant a soft kiss in the crook of his neck, right below the jaw line. “I appreciate you being so helpful.”

Just then, Mama Kebar emerged from the kitchen behind the serving counter and the two lovers leapt apart. “Why are my workers sitting in a booth chatting while my customers are dawdling behind my counter?”

“Sorry, Mother,” Rai mumbled, and she and Taryn scrambled back to work. Rai went to address the man perusing behind her counter and Taryn went back to her box-folding station. They each kept a close eye on Mama Kebar, who kept a close watch on them. Neither of them could see it but they knew she always kept a rolling pin handy, always ready to protect her profits from would-be thieves or an idle workforce.

“Am I free to go now?” Mr. Baez had followed after Taryn. His whispered words breathed heat and moisture against her ear. “Do I have your assurance that you will keep your stories to yourself?”

“No,” she told him. “You’re going to come find me as soon as you think you know something new. And whether you have anything to share or not, I expect to see you here once a week to report on your progress.”

“No,” he said. “I am a very busy man. I don’t have time to be in your thrall.”

“The Caeltar Knights would disagree.”

He left in a huff, but Taryn wasn’t worried. He would be back, whether he liked it or not. She was sure he could imagine how inconvenient she could be if she had to go find him.

“How do you do that?” Galen asked. “How do you make people enthralled to you?”

Taryn shrugged. “One of the perks of perversion.”

“So is unemployment if someone doesn’t get those deliveries out. Kemmy!” Mama Kebar brandished her rolling pin like a dagger. Taryn wondered where she’d conjured it from. The woman certainly wasn’t large enough to concealed within the folds of her apron. “Where is that boy?”

“Kemmy,” Galen repeated with a sneer. “I think I’ll start calling him that from now on.”

“He’s gone to see Mr. Boyce, Mother,” Rai told her. “He wont be back for a few hours. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No worries. Galen and I will take care of these.” Taryn loaded his arms with a large box, two gable boxes and three cake boxes. He looked at them as if he were debating whether he really wanted to volunteer himself for the task.

“Perhaps we should trade,” she suggested, swapping his awkward load for a more manageable collection of small and mid-sized boxes that could be loaded into a sack for easy transport. “This way you’ll stay close to the bakery and be back in plenty of time to fawn over ‘The Lovely Rai.’ I’ll take these into the Manor District.”

Once he was loaded and ready to go, he backed toward the door, promising to return before Rai had a chance to miss him. Then the door swung in behind him and another pair of bluebacks entered. These were not lackadaisical Specialist or inexperienced Privates. These were Marshals, Non-Commissioned Officers trained to recognize with a single glance every flaw in posture, decorum, appearance and performance of a junior member of the Guard.

The taller one was slim and muscular. There was a hardness in his tan face that gave an odd compliment to his perfectly coiffed hair. Taryn gave his mind a probing poke and was met with some resistance. Normally, reading Guardsmen was an effortless task, but both of these men were on alert. His shorter partner was still a head taller than Galen. He placed a thick hand on the distracted youth’s back to keep him from bumbling into them. “Not so fast.”

Taryn’s instinct was to raise her burdened arms to hide her face. As a mutant in hiding she thought it wise to limit face-to-face interactions with law enforcement agents, especially in places where she could regularly be found. But she noted an edge of fear in his tone that suggested he was concerned about something more sinister than a scuffed boot. Add the heightened state of alert in both men and she was left with only one conclusion.

Taryn peeked behind the packages. The Marshals’ eyes swept over every face in the room, narrowing on her obscured form until Rai moved to stand between them.

“Just a minute, Marshals,” Mama Kebar greeted them. “I think we still have a few servings left.”

“That wont be necessary, ma’am,” the slender officer said. “We’re here on official business.”

Mama Kebar’s hand flew to her chest. Bluebacks on official business rarely brought good news. “Kemmy?”

“It can’t be him, Mama. He’s only just left.” Rai lifted a pleading gaze to the officers. “Right?”

“No, its nothing like that,” Marshal Coif said.

“We’ve just captured a mutant in the city,” his partner said. “Pine Keep is on Yellow Alert.”

The bakery staff and patrons alike were gripped with a small measure of apprehension at the news. Taryn had seen the situation enough times to know how to school her own features to match, though the confirmation only made her anxious to be on her way. The flags in this sector of the city almost always flew green. Very rarely was the Guard ever confused enough to raise a blue warning but the mutant threat had not risen above that in years.

“A Yellow Alert?” Rai asked. “That can’t be very dangerous, right?”

“Yellow means a mutant with a history of violence,” one of the young interns said. Taryn wished he hadn’t; it only made Rai more terrified than she had reason to be. She loved the bakery but the people in the palace city weren’t as receptive towards mutants as the villagers in Damville had been. They were irrationally terrified. Taryn tried not to hold it against them, though. She blamed their proximity to the palace. The LAAMP took no chances when it came to keeping mutant hatred alive so close to the place where they worked diligently to ensure that the same fear reached the rest of Lothoria.

“Not violence. Just small crimes like petty theft or property damage. Or maybe they just used their abilities in public.” She understood the semi-personal relationship the Kebars had with the City Guard. But something didn’t add up. There didn’t seem to be any threat of danger to warrant this special notification. “If the mutant has been captured, why are you here?”

Marshal Coif’s shoulders dropped as he let out a heavy breath. “They’re taking him through the Saint’s Pilgrimage.”

Suddenly, her anonymity didn’t matter. Blood boiling, Taryn stepped out from behind Rai to address the Marshals directly. “You’re doing what!?”

“I don’t understand,” Rai said. “What is that?”

“Something that shouldn’t be happening anywhere in the world, let alone this city.” Taryn kept her load balanced on one hand as she retrieved her bag from the counter and slung the strap over her head.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Galen grabbed hold of her bag as she tried to pass him. “Did you not hear anything they just said?”

“It will be dangerous out there for a while,” Marshal Coif said. “The Pilgrimage will run the entire length of the Fall. They’ll be passing right outside those doors within the hour.”

“We were sent to keep the, uh, ceremony from spilling in here,” his partner said.

“What you mean,” Taryn said, “is that its perfectly safe for everyone out there except for the one person that no one seems to care about.”

“Now is not the time for your perverse jokes,” Galen warned her.

If the parade was beginning all the way at the palace, Taryn may already be too late. She considered resorting to force to break from him.

“Galen!” Rai cried. “Andon and your brothers are out there catching thieves.”

“Oh, no.” Galen released his grip on Taryn’s bag and turned to the Marshals. “Help me find them?”

“If the mistress doesn’t have any objections…” Marshal Coif said.

“Of course,” Mama Kebar said. “Go. We’ll be safe here.”

Rai grabbed her coat from the rack by the door. “I’m coming too.”

“What?” Galen said. “No.”

“We’ll cover more ground if we each take a Marshal,” she explained as she slipped her gloves on.

“That’s why Taryn’s coming,” Galen said.

Rai obviously knew better.

“You can’t be serious,” he spat at her. “You’d value the safety of that thing over your own friends? Over children?”

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Taryn said. “Make sure you get those boys back here.” She had to go and look out for her own.