Tarja frowned and wiped a bead of sweat from Derya’s face. “That’s hurting her.”

“Which is exactly the point,” Stigandr said.

“Really? I thought it was to help me,” Derya flopped onto her back making the tiny bed in Stigandr’s cabin creak. “Not make me wish for a quick death.”

Stigandr chuckled. “It’s not that bad.” He stood and pushed the window open farther, letting in a fresh breeze and the squawk of a seagull.

“You’re enjoying this,” Derya told him.

The king laughed. “No more than you are. Now, Garzuli, when she raises the leg, you push down on it a little. Make her work. The stronger her legs are, the better she’ll be able to walk.”

“I hope you’re right about this,” Derya said.

“Trust me.”

She scoffed. Did she? She had no other choice at this point. She could think of no reason to think that all his stretching exercises wouldn’t help her.

Stigandr stood back and crossed his arms. “Now do ten more.”

Derya curled her arm under her head and positioned herself on her right side. She raised her injured leg up while Garzuli pressed against her knee. Slowly she lowered the leg. “One.”

“Good,” Stigandr said. “Nine more.”

“Did I tell you my cousin Nazif is here?”

Tarja flinched. She thought she’d seen the last of him when he sailed off after Derya went into the sea.

Stigandr’s eyes narrowed. “I thought he deserted your fleet.”

“Four.” Derya took a breath. “We all did. He gave me a story about his first duty was to inform my father, and that he’s been grief stricken over my presumed death.”

“Do you believe him?”

I wouldn’t. But Derya might fall for Nazif’s charm.

“I’m not sure. Six. But I’m not as worried about him as the governor.”

“Oh?”

Tarja tried not to show her interest as Derya told Stigandr or her meeting with the governor and ambassador and how she explained away her injured foot. “I’m not sure they believed the story.”

“The refugees will tell it, over and over,” Stigandr said. “Before the end of the week, there’ll be a thousand different versions floating around. You’ll see. The governor will have to believe whatever you tell him, if for not other reason that the other versions will be more fantastic.”

The king made a good point, Tarja thought. Soon Derya’s rescue of the islanders will be a legend.

“Maybe. Nine. Perhaps the threat of invasion will distract him.”

“That’s ten. Take a rest, then then more.” Stigandr shifted in his chair. “Does the governor think Kharan-Khaug is about to invade?”

“Not him. The Pasargadians.”

Tarja heart skipped a beat and she sucked in a breath. Just want she didn’t want to hear.

“You’re right to be scared, Garzuli,” Derya said. “It seems the Pasargadians made some alliances with the desert chieftains. Now their army is advancing on Isedonnes.”

It took all Tarja’s self-control to keep her hand steady on Derya’s leg. She was to have been one of the brides sent to a chieftain to secure an alliance. She wondered which of her half-sisters had been the unfortunate one sent to Farees in her place. It was a fate she wouldn’t wish on even the most unpleasant of her sisters.

“Do you know who’s leading the army?” Stigandr asked.

“No, they didn’t say,” Derya answered. “My guess would be one of the emperor’s oldest sons. Dast—something. I don’t remember.”

Dastgir. It was on the tip of Tarja’s tongue to say the name, but at the last minute stopped herself. She wasn’t supposed to know much about the royal family. Or would the names of the emperor’s sons be common knowledge?

“Maybe Garzuli could help us. What do you know about the emperor’s sons?” Derya asked.

More than you care to know. “A little, I suppose?”

“Who is the emperor’s oldest son?”

It should be safe to answer that. “Samsher.”

“Samsher.” Derya repeated the name. “What else do you know about him?”

Tarja’s stomach fluttered. This was getting on shaky ground. At least Kelebek wasn’t here. That one could see through people’s skulls, she was sure of it. “Samsher. I think he’s about twenty-five, maybe a year or two less. Rumor has it he displeased the emperor and was banished from court for five years, sent to command border patrols.”

“Interesting,” Stigandr said. He pointed at Derya’s leg. “Ten more. What did he do?”

“I’m, I’m not certain I knew for sure.”

“What do you know for not sure?” Derya asked. “One.”

“They said it was something to do with one of the emperor’s concubines.” Please don’t ask me anymore about that.

“Sounds like someone Nazif would get along with,” Derya said. “Is he capable? Clever?”

Tarja shrugged. “Some think so.”

“What gossip do you know about the other one?”

“Dastgir?” The name slipped out before she could stop it. Tarja, you fool, a camel must have stepped on your brain.

“Oh, so that’s it?” Stigandr drummed his fingers on the table. “What do you know about him?”

I hate him. “He’s ambitious and cruel.”

“Meaning, he’d kill Samsher to get him out of his way,” Stigandr said.

“Something like that.” Tarja tried to speak nonchalantly, as if the subject of the conversation wasn’t the brother who beat her and locked her in the dungeons.

“Ten. Are we done now?” Derya rolled over and sat up.

“One more.” Stigandr motioned for Derya to sit one the edge of the bed. “Stand up.”

Derya gasped. “How?”

My question exactly. Tarja frowned.

“Use your good leg and push with your hands.”

To Tarja’s surprise, Derya managed to stand. She swayed, and Stigandr steadied her. He gripped her hands. “Now sit.”

Slowly Derya lowered herself.

“Garzuli can help you do these.”

Tarja cast a doubtful look over Stigandr. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to pull her up.”

“You won’t. She’s doing all the work. You’re just there for balance and to help her go slow on the way down.”

Tarja moved to stand in front of Derya. The princess pushed herself to stand and clutched Tarja’s shoulder, wobbling so unsteadily she nearly pulled both of them into a fall.

Sorry, Garzuli,” she said. Glancing over her shoulder at Stigandr, she asked, “How many am I supposed to do?”

“I’d like you to get to one hundred. But ten will do for today.”

Derya rolled her eyes.

Tarja gripped Derya’s hands. “Ready to sit down?” Anything to get her to keep from asking me questions.

Derya stood and sat a few times, giving Tarja time to think. What did this invasion mean for her? She shuddered to imagine what Samsher would do to her if he caught her. Would he kill her on the spot? That would be preferable to being sent back to Pasargadae. Her father would nail her up to the wall of the city as an example of a traitor. If he didn’t have a her tortured to death first.

“Five,” Derya said. “Garzuli, tell us about Pasargadae.”

Tarja’s breath caught. Why would she’s think I know anything about it? “What do you mean?”

“Six. You came to Nafplio on a ship from Khezer. The slave trade is illegal in Cinar. So the only slaves that come through Khezer have to be from either the north or Pasargadae. How else would an Isedonnian girl end up a slave in Khezer except through Pasargadae?”

Tarja tightened her grip on Derya’s hands and refused to allow Derya to catch her eye. Just like that, a maggot ate my plans. Derya was too clever by half. “Well, yes, I did spend some time in Pasargadae.”

“So you must have heard talk about the royal family. Eight.” Derya took a long breath. “How loyal do you think the emperor’s sons are to him?”

“That’s something only they would know.”

“But surely you’ve heard rumors,” Derya said as she dropped onto the bed. She grunted as she stood up again.

Tarja grimaced. She could tell Derya plenty about the emperor’s children. How much could she say without exposing herself? And what could she say that would get them to stop asking her?

“Any rumor at all will do,” Stigandr said. “The racier the better.”

If that’s what they want…”Well, they say there’s only one thing Dastgir loves more than wine.”

Tarja helped Derya stand again. “That makes ten,” she said.

Derya dropped onto the bed. “Are we done with the torture for the day?’

Stigandr grinned. “If you’re too weak to go on.”

Derya opened her mouth to respond, then shook her head. “Oh, no. You’re not going to trap me into doing more. Ten is good.”

Stigandr gave her a mocking bow. “I yield to your cleverness, princess. Garzuli, wash her leg and bandage it up again.”

He handed Tarja a basin, ewer, and towel, and she knelt beside Derya.

“So what is it that Dastgir loves?” Derya asked.

“Himself.”

Derya nibbled her lower lip. “If that’s the case, then it’s likely he thinks he’s more deserving of the throne than his brother.”

Tarja pretended she didn’t notice Derya waiting for her to respond. The only sound was the creaking of the ship and the gentle slap of water against the hull.

Stigandr broke the silence. “That’s common occurrence. It’s a rare younger son who’s loyal to his brother enough to not covet the throne.”

“Does the emperor only have the two sons? What about daughters?” Derya asked.

Now this was getting really dangerous. “I’m not certain,” Tarja replied. Which could be true. Her father could have sired more children since she fled.

Stigandr chuckled. “With all his wives and concubines, the emperor might not know.”

“Oh, he’d know,” Tarja blurted.

“How can you be sure?” Derya asked.

“Well, all his wives and concubines live in the harem. The eunuchs watch over them closely, so no pregnancy would go unnoticed.” Not to mention, the emperor’s visits to each woman were carefully documented. Anyone getting pregnant without recently been summoned to the emperor’s bed would be summarily put to death. She decided that detail would reveal too much knowledge of the inner workings of the palace.

“Interesting,” Derya said, “but not helpful. Are Samsher and Dastgir full brothers?”

“No,” Tarja answered. “Half. They both have full sisters, though.”

“Are the sisters loyal to their brothers?”

Another dangerous question. “Their first loyalty, of course, is to the emperor.”

“And the second,” Derya said, “is to the brother who could become the emperor in time.”

“That’s a reasonable guess,” Tarja said.

“What other children does the emperor have?” Derya asked.

Would they never stop? “I think he has nine, maybe more, from four or five wives. It’s hard to keep track of.” She wrung out her rag, wishing it was Derya’s neck so the princess would stop asking questions.

Stigandr pushed her to the side. He gently blotted Derya’s leg dry before wrapping into soft linen.

Tarja looked up to see Derya gazing at her with a strange, speculative look. She looked down, busying herself with folding up the damp towels. The princess suspected her, she was sure of it. If that wasn’t bad enough, Samsher was headed west. If he trampled Isedonnes, he’d have a clear path to Axum. And even more than killing Cinarrians, he’d take the greatest pleasure in slaying his traitorous sister Tarja.