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would play out.

“Good. In the meantime, there is something I think you’ll enjoy.”

He guided her over to a small painting of a city divided by a river. Hills of shimmering gold sloped behind it, soaking in sunshine. On either side of the river were two rises. One rise supported a grand castle, the other a temple.

Eira let out a soft gasp, stepping closer to the piece. It was as if someone had cracked her skull and the yolk of her dreams had oozed across the canvas in all its splendor. She knew this place, knew it as well as Solarin or Oparium, even though she had only ever visited it in her daydreams.

“This is…”

“It’s Risen”—the capital of Meru—“or so I’m told. Ambassador Ferro brought this as an offering for the Imperial collection.”

“Why is no one else looking at it?” Eira glanced around. The painting was framed by velvet curtains. Two flame bulbs on either side gave off perfect viewing light. It was treated respectfully. Yet…no one seemed interested in the treasure that was among them.

“It’s been hanging since Ambassador Ferro arrived. There was a special soiree to unveil it, even.”

“But…it’s magnificent.”

“Anything gets old the longer you look at it.”

“I would never grow tired of seeing this,” Eira insisted. “I could stare at it every night before I slumbered and still be eager to wake up and have it be the first thing I see.”

Cullen took a step toward her. In her trance, she hadn’t realized she’d stepped away from him to admire the painting more closely. He stopped at her side. But rather than being fixated on the painting, Cullen focused on her.

“What?” Eira straightened away. Her nose had been nearly touching the oil and canvas.

“You really love it, don’t you?”

“It? Meru?” Eira tucked her hair behind her ears. She wasn’t accustomed to being anyone’s sole attention, not in a good way. First Ferro, now…whatever this expression was from Cullen. Perhaps something about her had changed these past few weeks since she’d dared to enter the trials. “I love it more than anything, save for my family.”

“I…” Cullen trailed off, finally looking to the artwork. His expression wasn’t delight as she would’ve expected.

“You what?” Eira touched his elbow lightly—the only part on his body she felt permitted to come in contact with.

“It’s admirable,” he said, finally. Eira noticed he didn’t immediately withdraw or flinch from her touch. “To be so passionate about something. To not care what anyone else thinks of that passion.”

Eira laughed softly. “It’s not that I don’t care what they think. It’s that I can’t care. It hurts too much when I do. It’s easier to encase myself in—”

“Walls. So they never see the real you. If they don’t really know you, then they can’t really hurt you.”

She had been going to say ice, but… “Yes.” The echo of his voice in the Windwalkers’ study pulsed through her. “You know about that, don’t you?” Eira whispered. “Having to keep people away at all costs just to survive?”

A look of shock, tinged with panic, raced across his face. It was an emotion so raw and real that all the finishing classes in the world couldn’t keep it hidden. Eira stared up at the man, as if she could see him—part of him—for the first time. She’d thought she hated him…but what did she really know about him?

Cullen had his secrets.

“What do you know?” he breathed.

“I don’t know—”

Their conversation ended abruptly as a set of golden doors, emblazoned with the sun of the Empire, opened. They were opposite the main entry and were gilded not just with gold, but with the invisible and palpable aura of royal. From the shadows behind the doors, Prince Romulin emerged with Ferro. The prince made a formal introduction of the ambassador to the court at large. Eira was transfixed by the elfin, as though he had finally emerged from her dreams. Seeing him in the cool light of day after their last meeting was unexpectedly jarring.

“Eira, it’s time,” Cullen whispered to her, underneath Prince Romulin’s introductions.

Right. She gave Cullen a nod and stepped off to the side, moving behind the people who were just as transfixed by Ferro’s presence as she had been.

With a wave of her hand, Eira summoned a wall of illusion in the back corner—a mere step behind the oblivious courtiers. Much like how she had sneaked Alyss into the Waterrunners’ storeroom, Eira stepped behind her illusion. Anyone who took their eyes off Ferro would see an empty corner and a shut door as Eira slipped into a back hall.

The first set of doors led to a place for the lords and ladies to relieve themselves. Farther down, the hall was chained off. Eira ducked underneath the harmless barrier, continuing to a T intersection at the end.

As Cullen instructed, she headed right. Two doors down, Eira entered into a narrow passage that connected with a stair. He’d said that nobles used these chambers to observe people training on the grounds, but Eira couldn’t imagine the ladies and their expensive skirts pressing through these dark halls that wove between palace walls.

Finally, the hall spit her out into a musty room. A skinny window extended like a horizon, splitting a line in the wall opposite her. Her feet came to a stop right before the window; Eira stared at the blinding line of sunlight.

She could turn around. She had no interest in cheating. Eira worried her lower lip between her teeth. But if she did leave…she’d let Marcus down. She’d promised him.

Her thoughts wandered back to her conversation with Cullen. She wanted this more than anyone else in the Tower. She wanted it not for glory or prestige. She wanted it for knowledge…because something far across the sea tugged on her heart more powerfully than the pull of the tides.

Eira left her doubts behind her, and looked out the window.

The training grounds had been completely transformed. Deep ditches had been dug into the packed earth, creating small lakes and valleys. There were

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