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Presently a tap at the door caused Netta to scurry in fright to open it. Garian entered, the candlelight shimmering over the gold brocade and embroidery on his long tunic. Gems sparkled with starbright color in his hair, at his ear, and on his hands. Round his brow he wore a golden circlet.

“Are you ready, Flian?”

“Yes. You look quite fine. Netta, first may I have a drink of water?”

Garian waited while Netta brought me water in a crystal wine goblet. I raised it, looking into its depths. The swirling reflections of the fire coalesced into two eyes, and I almost dropped the goblet.

“Seeing again?”

Garian was right next to me; I could feel his breath stirring my hair, and his fingers gripped my wrist.

“A face. Jason’s, I guess.” I shrugged.

Garian let me go and I drank the water, which eased the dryness of my throat. Garian took the goblet from my fingers and set it with a crystalline ching on the table.

“Let us depart.” He took my arm and led me from the room.

“I wish I could see myself once.” I frowned down at my hair swinging against my skirts.

From the gloom on the stairway came a quiet voice. “Why not let her?”

“It’s too late to do any harm.” Garian chuckled.

An arched door stood open off the first landing. Garian led me inside, Jason’s quiet tread behind us. The room was lit by several branches of candles. Jason was dressed for the first time in something besides riding clothes. Over a tabard-woven, loose-sleeved linen shirt, he wore a long, dark green velvet tunic belted with blackweave, undecorated by any trim or finery, his black hair as always tied back. Except for the wedding green, he looked less a bridegroom than did Garian.

Then Garian gestured, and I faced the mirror.

Vertigo—memory—made me dizzy. I peered into the wan face of an ordinary young lady with rather bland coloring—skin and hair more or less the shade of honey, and eyes too pale to be considered blue. The gown was beautifully made, but I scarcely gave it a glance, for I was more interested in myself. The bruises were visible, dark smudges that made my features difficult to descry, but I did not faint or quail away. I felt no reaction at all besides a faint curiosity, even when I gazed straight into my eyes. They were the eyes of a stranger.

A tall shadow moved to my side. Jason stood next to me; the top of my head came to his shoulder. His smile at my reflection was brief. “Come along,” he said.

“The guests are waiting,” Garian added.

I glanced up into Jason’s face. “For a moment I almost had it.”

“I know. I saw.” He slid his hand under my arm.

I whispered, feeling acutely self-conscious, “I wish it had come. I am sorry I cannot pretend a happiness I ought to feel.”

“No matter.” The answer was quiet, and without any emotion.

Garian stepped up on my other side and took my other arm.

Together the three of us walked downstairs to the dining hall. The panes in the windows were old-fashioned diamonds, which glistened with fire-reflections from the candle-sconces along the walls. Above the candles, the banners glowed with muted color. Around the perimeter of the room about thirty well-dressed strangers waited, their jewels winking and gleaming.

Most of the people smiled. One tall, black-bearded man laughed, then turned away quickly and coughed.

Jason led me to the high table.

“…all right?” A matronly lady was before me, giving me a questioning look.

The man who had laughed said in a hearty voice, “As right as she’ll ever be.”

Garian responded in a similar hearty voice. “We explained about the carriage accident, Lady Ordomar. Flian is otherwise quite well, are you not?”

“Of course.” I willed it to be so.

The three of us took our places behind the chairs at the high table, and Garian lifted a goblet high. He spoke our names, the guests echoed, and they all drank to Jason and me. We would share wine after the ceremony—

How did I know that?

I closed my eyes, dizzy.

Crash! Glass shards from the windows flew everywhere, glittering as bright as the guests’ gems as they recoiled, screamed, shouted, cursed.

Silent black-clad figures leaped in, one of them on horseback, glass crunching and tinkling under the animal’s hooves. They spread round the perimeter of the room, their faces obscured, some holding bows, others swords; the two men-at-arms converged on the mounted figure, whose sword arced and hummed. In five strokes he wounded both men. They dropped to the floor, groaning.

Garian was hemmed by two of the intruders, so he could not reach the bell-pull. The horse skidded on the glassy slate flooring, and pranced toward the high table.

A hand tightened on my arm. I felt curiously distant, as if this all happened on a stage, and I watched from far away.

Jason gripped a long dagger in one hand. But before he could raise it, a sword slashed down from behind and stopped at his neck. “I wouldn’t if I was you,” growled a man in Garian’s livery. “And I might add I’m glad I ain’t.”

At that moment the dancing black horse reached the high table. It tossed its head, eyes wide. The black-clad figures collected weapons from the guests.

“Stand, Flian,” commanded the horseman.

Garian’s face was white with rage, but a gauntleted hand held a sword at his neck as well, held by a sturdy man dressed in Garian’s own livery. Garian’s eyes flicked back and forth, back and forth, sweat beading his brow.

Jason stood very still, his attention entirely on the rider of that horse.

The animal stepped closer. Round dark eyes reflected the candles behind me as I got to my feet. An arm slid round my waist and I was lifted into the air.

A grunt, and I sat astride the horse’s withers. A hard arm held me against a slim body whose heart beat a steady tattoo. I smelled horse and human sweat, a sharp scent over the wine and perfumes of Garian’s hall.

“Do you desire the consequences, Jaim?” Jason asked wryly.

“No.” The man holding me laughed. “But the thought of putting a hitch in your gallop will warm me those cold nights on the run.”

I felt the rider nod.

The second man in Garian’s livery reversed his blade and brought the hilt down across the back of Jason’s head. Jason dropped soundlessly to the floor. The second man served Garian the same way—shouts, screams—and next to my ear, the rider clucked. An edge of cloak was flung over my head, so I no longer saw the shocked faces of the guests or the shard-framed window. The horse gave a powerful leap, landed, trotted, and then gathered speed.