9:32 Dragon, Summer

Samantha had been haunted by Corbinian's eyes for half a year, ever since she had stared into them, impossibly alive, in those paintings. Now she lived down the hall from them, and the first time she had settled down in her new bed, she had barely fallen asleep before she leapt in the darkness, screaming in terror, for she had seen his eyes morph into a glowing and menacing monster. Just as Innley's eyes had been. She had clawed her way across the unfamiliar room, shouting for Corbinian, but it was Keis and Goran who had arrived at her doorway. Goran had been dressed in night clothes, and the sight of him had been so jarring – he was wearing a nightcap! – that she was shocked into laughter. Hysterical, weeping laughter.

In the months that had passed, Goran's presence had become reassuring, and it didn't take long for the pair of them to become inseparable... much to the delight of Starkhaven's rumor mill. The nobles were feverish with gossip about Samantha and the prince. Some days during service, when she caught their whispering, she wondered if she could hold to her courtesies and not scream at them. Lady Garrity was the worst, for she was convinced that Samantha had moved out of her estate because, if Corbinian was dead, then the next best shot at becoming royalty was Goran Vael. Was that entire family's view of love warped by Lord Garrity's profession?

For his part, Goran paid almost no attention to the gossip, which Samantha discovered was perfectly normal for him. It seemed like he had selective hearing, and many assumed he was an idiot because of this – Samantha certainly had. But she had come to know that he was simply introspective. It was an irony that the Vael everyone thought was so dim was perhaps the most thoughtful. He just couldn't articulate or censor his thoughts that well.

She was sitting on the back terrace when Goran joined her for afternoon tea, plopping down in one of the metal chairs that surrounded the glass table. It was the same room in which her family had often enjoyed brunch with his, but all the chairs were empty now, replaced with the ghosts of her once-future family. It was both sad and soothing to sit with them in this place that now felt like her home, and Samantha had started to doubt that she could ever go back to her estate.

"You are not going to believe this," she said, enthralled with a new book; it had just come in the previous day. "The temple where Andraste's Ashes were found was guarded by a cult who believed Andraste had returned to Thedas in the form of a dragon!"

"What?" Goran loosened the collar of his shirt, bewildered at the news.

"I know!" Samantha turned a page. "Brother Genitivi was held captive by these lunatics. And the leader of their Chantry was a man—!"

"Blasphemy!" Goran laughed and Samantha joined him.

"And of course, the Grey Wardens saved him." She shook her head in disbelief as she turned the page. "They didn't name the Hero of Ferelden incorrectly, I guess."

Goran chuckled as he leafed through the day's post.

She and Goran met at least four times a day; breakfast, afternoon tea, dinner, and after dinner in the library. He didn't fill the silence, either, which at times was both nerve-wracking and kind. She had to pry personal information from him because he rarely spoke about himself on his own. But, at the same time, she didn't have to hear about how she should move on, most notably because Goran hadn't. He still believed firmly that Corbinian lived. Before she had moved into the palace, she had spoken with him only sparingly, but now that they had spent more time together, she had come to realize he wasn't anything like he seemed. He was shy at first, to be sure, but all it took was a willingness to listen to him and he opened up like a flower.

Goran had grown up feeling like a bitter disappointment to his father. Vaels do practical things, Goran had said those many months ago, reciting his father's tone so perfectly that Samantha had wondered how often he had performed the impersonation for Corbinian. Fighting, understanding complex systems, being good with mathematics or debate were all common, and very practical Vael traits. Artistry and contemplation were not, but those were Goran's greatest gifts. He had spent the better part of his youth trying to mold himself into his father's image of a Vael, but he had always failed. Eventually, Goran said, his father gave up on him.

In time that ceased to bother him, he had said, for his mother had always seen him as a gift from the Maker. Goran had said she was the only person that he could sit with, that he could be silent with for hours, reading or painting or listening to her sing. They understood each other, and she always knew just what to say to make him smile. At one point during his youth, Goran's father had ordered all his paintings destroyed, but his mother had saved them, hiding them away in a rarely used set of rooms. In the last few months, Goran had unearthed them all, ordering three rooms remade into galleries just to showcase all the paintings. The rooms were a shrine of sorts, and Goran visited it more often than the Chantry.

Envy was a feeling Samantha wasn't accustomed to, but she discovered that her heart wished she had had that kind of bond with her parents – even one of them would have been enough. But she never had. And now they were gone.

Goran resumed leafing through the letters. "We need to finalize the details for your party."

The words on the page blurred, but she put forth her best smile and nodded. Reluctantly, she had agreed to let Goran throw her a party at the palace for her name day. She didn't want a party, but there had been five events already that summer that she hadn't attended, which didn't help the gossip. Fortunately, she didn't have to talk about it, because Goran's attention caught on one letter in particular.

"This one's for you," he said, hesitantly sliding the folded note across the table, its seal already broken by the Knight Commander. It was from Flora, and Samantha was wondering when he was going to bring her up. The look on his face, or rather the way he was trying not to look, implied that he very much wanted to.

Samantha unfolded the letter to read more of Flora's despair: her father was missing! She had tried to order a search for him, but getting into her estate's coffers had proved too complex a task. She claimed that she must be taking ill, but there was no one to care for her because most of the servants had been dismissed. She thought maybe her family's wealth was gone, but the way her brother Brett brought out family heirlooms had made her reconsider. Fed up with her family and growing more ill by the day, she had begun making plans to move into her own estate – perhaps Ruxton's lordship in Cumberland. Samantha didn't understand what was going on – the way Flora described her family was like a jester's show!

"How is Flora?" Goran poorly acted like he wasn't interested.

"Not well," Samantha said, frowning as she folding up the note. "Her family… She doesn't say so specifically, but it sounds like they are in financial trouble, and she's taken ill."

"She's sick?" There was alarm in his voice.

Samantha watched his reactions. "She says she gets headaches. She has no nurse to take care of her anymore, and her father is missing."

"I see." He looked back out the windows, his gaze distant.

"Do you ever write to her?" Samantha asked, feeling the question was a gamble, because she wasn't sure if anyone had ever talked to him about his obvious affection for Flora.

Goran shook his head slowly. "I don't think I can do that…"

She glanced at Keis, who was leaning against the wall, staring blankly out of the large glass patio doors. Samantha wondered if she was listening to them. "Sure you can."

"It's not that easy," he said brusquely.

Samantha scowled, because she felt certain that it was that easy. "Why?"

"I… " He was hiding something, but she couldn't guess at what. "It's too complicated."

"Are you going to wait for her forever, then?"

Goran sighed, turning to look back out of the window. After a moment he stood up. "I want to show you something." When Keis made to follow, he held up his hand. "It's all right. We'll be back soon."

He led her through his family's wing and took about six different turns through four different rooms. Five months ago, Samantha would have been lost, but she had been exploring the palace and had learned the layout well enough. They finally reached a room in one of the back hallways where it was darker than most. Goran glanced over his shoulder before he opened the Orlesian-style double doors, and the darkness was softened by the light that seeped through the sheer curtains.

Everything seemed to glow on the other side of Goran's dark silhouette. Easels, canvases large and small, tiny bottles of oil paint representing every color imaginable, jars with paint brushes, small knives, and strange-looking tools that Samantha could not name.

All the pictures were covered in heavy white cloth, and Samantha didn't ask before she pulled up the corner of one, because this must be why Goran had brought her here. To see these paintings. To see the way he saw Flora Harimann. And there she was. Her mysterious smile and her those flat cheeks, her long hair with flowers tucked within, and of course her eyes. Those sultry eyes, hazel in every hue, striking and playful, clever and jovial. And laughing. She was beautiful.

Goran's mother was on display, but Flora was still a secret.

She remembered that day that Corbinian had played the lute for her. How his music had lifted her away from the ground and shown her a side of him that she had never known and yet, once she became aware of its existence, had longed to see again and again. It had made her see inside herself to a place both ethereal and real, where the physical world wasn't nearly as important as the dream world.

She turned around to see Goran standing against the doorframe. "I've been painting her for years," he said nervously. "I don't know how to paint anyone else."

He had painted a lot of people since, but Samantha knew what he meant. She also knew the answer before she asked: "You never showed these to her, did you?"

"I could never find the words…"

"They are your words."

Goran looked from her to the paintings and back again, and she wondered if he knew how much the paintings really said.

She pressed on. "Send her one."

"One of the paintings?" He seemed mortified already.

"Yes, one of the paintings!" Samantha said, exasperated at how long he had held a torch for Flora and done nothing about it.

Goran seemed so anxious, as if Flora were in the room. "I don't know..."

"What harm could it do?" Samantha understood that it was a big step, but she felt certain that this was the path to take.

Though he was still unsure, they sat in the room after dinner, and Goran agonized over whether to send a portrait to Kirkwall. He didn't talk much, and what he did say was so confusing that Samantha thought it amazing he'd ever tried to have a conversation with Flora at all, if just the thought of her could bewitch him so.

Finally, when he decided on a painting, he opted for not attaching a note, which Samantha couldn't quite understand, but at least it was a start. Goran had it wrapped and sent away by the end of the week, and he spent the entirety of breakfast that morning calculating exactly when it would get there, and how soon he might hear back from her, depending on if she decided to respond. It was sort of cute, but Samantha couldn't imagine Corbinian acting this way. His plans had never seemed to include defeat.

For the first time that day, but not for the last, she had to shake away thoughts that he was dead, that he could have been defeated, and that he wasn't coming back. It seemed unfair that the world was moving forward without him in it.

Goran checked the post anxiously for weeks, but a letter from the Harimann estate didn't arrive until the evening of Samantha's name day party just under a month later. Goran, too embarrassed to read it in front of her, had excused himself and Samantha was left with nothing to do but prepare for the party that she didn't want.

The fashions that season had been long, heavy, dark-hued satins and velvets. Samantha had chosen an Orlesian gown, deep red to match Starkhaven's flag. After seeing her choice, and without thought to the how the gesture would be interpreted, Goran had ordered a vest made of the same color. She didn't say anything, but felt certain that it would only fuel the rumor that the two of them were romantically linked. To make matters worse, when the seamstresses brought the final garment for fitting, the sparkling rubies in the bodice and the cut of the dress drew attention to her curves. She hadn't meant to choose such a sensual gown. Orlesians were also wearing funny tiaras that year; shiny jeweled headdresses that draped over the forehead and the ears. The empress had been spotted wearing a sapphire so large that it had left a depression against her forehead. Samantha's was considerably more modest, but still, the gem thumped against her forehead uncomfortably whenever she turned her head.

Keis insisted on wearing her armor, but at least conceded to getting it polished. Samantha felt that if she was going to have an armored shadow, it should at least shine.

Though Samantha had mentally prepared herself, her resolve proved no match for her heart. When she stepped into the ballroom, the stage drew her gaze. The same stage where Corbinian had taken the Oath. The same stage where he had jumped down with his new sword on his hip, and she followed the memory across the room to the center, to where he had knelt down, looked up at her with that famous wry grin, reaching into his pocket and opening his mouth—

"Lady Samantha Mayweather!" A disembodied voice bellowed from somewhere and Samantha jumped from her memory and firmly into the room, weakly smiling at the guests.

The orchestra swelled, the glasses clinked, and the Vaels' sycophants fawned over her appropriately. The rest eyed her dubiously; most notably the families with young single daughters. It had been just over a year since Corbinian's disappearance and now they thought she had designs on Goran? Didn't they know how much she loved Corbinian? Didn't they know how she always would? Must she show them her broken heart for it to be believed?

Of course, Goran wasn't helping. The festivities of the evening were as egregious as the palace décor. The Starkhaven Orchestra played all night. There were new tapestries stretching the length of the walls and five large golden chandeliers lining the ceiling. The centerpiece of the room was an enormous fountain that poured a thick, dark liquid – it looked like chocolate! Samantha had heard of Orlesian chocolate fountains, but this was the first time she had ever seen one.

Samantha could hear the crude whispers as she moved about the room, and though she wanted to run away, to hide and pretend the whole evening had never happened, she smiled as she should, because Goran had wanted to celebrate her name day. She had almost convinced Lady Luxley that she and Goran were like siblings when the Prince of Starkhaven interrupted the revelry. He took the stage, just as Corbinian had done, and raising his glass to Samantha, announcing that for her name day, as a special gift from him, he had personally signed her family's will out of probate.

The Mayweather estate was hers.

There was polite applause followed by whispers. Samantha glanced around the room, the thinly-veiled suspicions imprinted across the faces of seemingly everyone. Lips moved noiselessly behind the clapping, speaking close to ears adjacent to narrowed eyes. She remembered the last time she had drawn this kind of ire – after Corbinian and Sebastian had been sent away, but then, she'd had Flora and Ruxton. Now she was alone.

All the anxiety of the day – the party she didn't want, the nobility's effrontery, and the memory of a life that was supposed to be hers – clawed at her heart. Unable to escape the stares, a lump formed in her throat; she couldn't breathe. Just as Benjamin Garrity was approaching her, probably to make snarky comments about Goran, Samantha stumbled backwards, ducking into the crowd with haste. Maybe it was the mass of people or how suddenly she exited but, miraculously, she managed to make it out of the ballroom without Keis in her shadow.

She wasn't sure where she was headed as she ran through the palace hallways, taking turns randomly until she caught a sliver of moonlight streaming into an adjacent corridor. Just down the way, a set of narrow double doors sat slightly ajar, and she slipped through without thinking too deeply about where she was. It was a small room. Fleetingly, she recognized it: the spare library. The large window on the opposite wall overlooked all of Starkhaven, the skyline misshapen from the Circle's Tower absence. Samantha remembered what it looked like before.

Are those fireworks?

She had been looking for a hiding place, some room dark enough where she didn't have to see anything. She had erred, because in this room, she saw only Corbinian. He was at the bookcase, his hands gripping the shelves, his sword dropped to the floor, his jacket crumpled at his feet.

She hadn't been in this room since that night and felt pulled towards the bookcase, her fingers running across the wood, imagining where Corbinian's hands had been as he pressed their bodies together. She laid her forehead on the book spines, rolling dust motes into her hair.

I love you, Sammie.

She closed her eyes briefly, not wanting to cry, but when she opened them back up, something caught her attention. The only item in the room that wasn't covered in dust sat upon a small table next to a chaise lounge in the corner: a teacup. Next to the teacup was an unfolded bit of parchment. It was the letter from Kirkwall. Goran must have retreated to this room to read it.

Samantha felt terrible for invading his privacy, but lifted up the paper just the same, her curiosity about Flora's response overwhelming her self-control. What she saw wasn't Flora's handwriting.

Goran,

I am not sure what new game you are playing at, but I'm not amused. Since we agreed to keep our business just between us, I can only assume the painting is either some kind of threat or a sordid request. But your affections are well known, and so I think we can come to an arrangement.

First, I will convince my daughter to marry you. She may have spurned you on every possible occasion, but there are methods of persuasion that I am willing to use. There will be plenty of time to win her heart once we are back in Starkhaven at your invitation. It's an old custom, but the palace is empty, so there won't be too many questions when we move in. Perhaps when you produce an heir, the noble families will heed you. If you decline, then of course this dreary game will continue. Is that really what you want?

These little ironies may make our decisions difficult to explain to our grandchildren, but the positives far outweigh the negatives.

Don't dawdle in your decision. While your assassins proved quite adept at tracking my idiot husband, you know that I can elude them for the rest of my life. Can you say the same of your family? The only one you have left? I know you want this to end. Consider my offer.

A sigh from the doorway made her jump and, fumbling like Goran, Samantha hastily tossed the letter back on the desk, turning to find Keis making a face at her.

"Maker's ass," Keis sighed.

"K-Keis!" Samantha stuttered dumbly. "I was… I was…"

"I know what you were doing." Keis stepped inside the room and shut the door.

Her mind was racing – the painting, the mercenary group, his family? She had to think this through, but it all seemed so unbelievable.

"Insulting, isn't it?" Keis' jaw was tight.

"Johane Harimann…?" Samantha breathed. She couldn't believe it, but Keis just nodded sadly. "This is why you've been guarding me isn't it? Why he wanted me to live here." Keis nodded again. "Why didn't Goran tell me?"

"The answer to that is obvious." Keis sounded annoyed but when Samantha just shook her head in confusion, she continued: "Because he cares enough not to worry you unnecessarily. He sent a guard to keep watch over Sebastian, too." Then she added, annoyed: "Hard-headed idiot probably doesn't even realize it."

"He did?" Samantha asked in awe, plopping down on the chaise lounge. "Why would Lady Harimann do this? The Harimanns were our friends! All of us! And now she is bargaining with the lives of her own children?" Samantha knew she sounded like a naïve little girl, but she felt like one. "Did she incite those mages at the Circle?"

Keis shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" Samantha could feel the burn in her eyes as the tears came. "It means that because of her, my Beenie is dead!"

"He was my friend, too," Keis said defensively before calming down. "He was my Captain. He is dead because his men failed in their duty to protect him, not because Lady Harimann sent assassins. We all failed that night."

Samantha felt suddenly exhausted. "Goran has known this whole time. It must be eating him up inside."

"Yes," Keis said frankly. "It is."

"Oh, Maker—and I encouraged him to send the painting!" Samantha dropped her head into her hands, not caring about her hair.

"He also sent a nurse. The letter never mentioned what happened to her."

Samantha's gaze snapped up to Keis as the enormity of the problem became very clear. Flora was in real trouble.

"What's he going to do?"

"He won't accept Lady Harimann's offer, if that's what you're asking. Beyond that, he doesn't know, yet." Keis extended her hand. "You have to clean yourself up, Get back to your party."

Samantha backed away from Keis' hand. "I can't go back there! What am I supposed to do, pretend none of this happened? Dance and smile and talk to people like everything is fine?!"

"That's exactly what you're going to do." She yanked Samantha up by the shoulders. "Because you have to. Because His Highness put this night together for you so that you might have something normal for your name day. He thinks of you as his sister, you know."

Samantha couldn't help the tears falling then, and Keis swore under her breath.

"Maker, don't cry," she mumbled, and unbelievably pulled out a handkerchief from somewhere – Samantha would never be able to tell where she kept it. "Deep breaths. Come on now. In. Out. That's it."

As Samantha breathed in and out to regain her composure, she realized she would need to tell Sebastian about all of this. He had a right to know, but would he confront Lady Johane? Would this strengthen Sebastian's resolve into retaking the prince's seat? Would Goran fight him? That last notion was confusing – they were family.

"You're right." Samantha drew her fingers underneath her eyes to remove the smudges of makeup. "Thank you, Keis. I don't know if I should say something to Goran."

Keis thought about that. "If the moment comes, you'll know."

She followed Keis numbly through the hallways back to the ballroom. She tried to focus, but her mind was still reeling. The Lady is Johane Harimann! Johane Harimann hired assassins to kill all the Vaels! Johane Harimann tried to usurp the throne of Starkhaven. Had Goran been complicit in her crimes, or did he always try to resist her? And did that even matter, because, after all, he had eventually fought back?

When they approached the large archway that led into the ballroom, Keis nudged her hard, and she stumbled forward, quickly catching herself and gracefully turning the stumble into a walk as she reentered the revelry. Samantha turned a hasty glare on the warrior, who just motioned for her to turn back around, to rejoin her party. Maker, she's infuriating! Samantha wished that Keis was less intimidating, so she could be properly mad at her, but when she spotted Goran across the room, the party's extravagance dulled.

The people moved around her or maybe she moved around them, a blurry mess of color with the sounds of the orchestra, forks tapping against plates, and glasses clinking together in toasts. A giant grandfather clock ticked loudly and then faded away as she maneuvered around groups of people. She stopped somewhere in the middle when Vincent Tyler wished her a happy day and she accepted his words with a distant smile and a passing thought of his cat.

But she couldn't remove her eyes from Goran. What was she supposed to say? She tried to reconcile the Goran she had come to know with the Goran that was fighting Lady Harimann. Had he known of the plot to kill the Vaels? Had he orchestrated his survival? That made no sense! Goran was gentle and kind – but had also hired assassins not only to hunt down the Flint Mercenaries, but the Harimanns, too. Could he really be so ruthless?

Goran caught her eye and smiled and she had a flash of him as a little boy. Pudgy and sweaty, scraping eggs from his plate with the same look in his eyes. She would never have thought, back then, that Goran would turn out to be one of the most important people in her life.

The orchestra finished their song and the applause that followed made Samantha feel out of place. A passing servant offered her a glass of wine and she accepted it gratefully, tossing it back before grabbing another as she watched Goran and Lord Fortney politely bow to each other. When he stepped away, Samantha saw an opening to approach him, but Arianna Marziano moved in front of her, smiling with her eyes full of secrets.

"Hello, Sammie," she purred, enunciating syllables no one else would.

"Arianna." She smiled hastily, glancing at Goran. "Enjoying the party?"

"Of course, but a party is a party, no? And all these boys… there is no one new." Arianna flipped her blonde hair around and lowered her voice when she said, "Oh, speaking of boys, have you heard about Sebastian?"

"Mmm?" Samantha really wasn't paying attention.

"They say he is looking for supporters to return to Starkhaven. For the prince's seat. But no one supports him. They all say no." Arianna giggled.

This got her attention. "What?"

"He intends to lay siege on his own home! Can you believe it? That's all anyone's talking about." She wiggled with what seemed like pleasure. "Do you think he'll take prisoners?" Her eyes grew wide with excitement when she asked, "Do you think he'll question us himself?"

In his letters, Sebastian implied that he was looking for support to lay claim to the prince's seat, but Arianna was implying that he was trying to raise an army. An army! Sebastian Vael was returning to Starkhaven with an army to forcibly remove his cousin from power? That idea was ludicrous. And reckless. And unnecessary! And violent! All he truly had to do was come back and lay legal claim to the throne for the council to consider, not march in with soldiers ready to kill on his command! What is he thinking?

Arianna glanced over her shoulder, following Samantha's gaze to Goran. "You think Goran will fight him?" Samantha had no idea. Arianna smiled playfully. "Maybe he is the strong silent type after all, yes?"

This was the final straw on an already-chaotic evening, and she shot Arianna a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arianna visibly startled. "Sammie, I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did," she shot back and turned abruptly, walking away in a huff.

The implication was insulting. Goran had been so generous, graciously taking in his dead brother's betrothed. He hadn't had to do that. He didn't have to do a lot of things, and Samantha wanted to defend him to everyone, but felt irritated that she needed to.

After tossing back her second glass and slapping it down on a nearby table, she strode across the room towards Goran. He was laughing awkwardly with Lord Garrity who, Samantha imagined, was probably making some awful insinuation that Goran didn't understand. Upon reaching the pair, she placed a hand on Goran's shoulder, and he actually seemed relieved at her interruption.

"You haven't asked me to dance," she said politely and Goran bowed his excuse to Lord Garrity.

"Thank you," he breathed once they were away. "If I hear one more question about how many bedrooms the palace has…" He slid an arm around her waist and lifted her palm into the air. Arianna was shaking her head innocently from afar.

Samantha wanted to scream in frustration, but instead she said, "You wouldn't believe what Arianna just said—never mind. They are all being rude."

"They are?" He was so unaware about some things; it was endearing. "Don't let them scare you off, Sammie. I saw you disappear once already. People were starting to think you ditched your own party."

"I nearly did." She huffed, scowling at Arianna.

Goran was watching someone else, his expression uneasy. "I should ditch it with you. I forgot that I hate these things."

Samantha looked up into his Vael-blue eyes and he smiled back. This is the Goran Vael I know, her mind screamed as her body discovered that Goran knew how to dance. He is not a murderer. He's trying to protect his family. His brows came together slightly as he looked at her.

Maybe he should accept the proposal, just to get Flora out of Kirkwall, but then go back on the deal. It was an atrocious thought, and Samantha could hear her father's voice in her head: you don't need deceit to win. Was there an honorable solution? Was it honorable to let someone else manipulate the world for their own twisted purpose? What was honor anyway if it couldn't save anyone?

"You're probably in shock," he said, though when she gave him a confused look he clarified: "About your estate."

"Oh." She was entirely unconcerned about her estate.

He seemed alarmed. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"What?" Samantha couldn't concentrate because she was thinking that she would need to tell him that she had seen the letter. She would need to tell him about Sebastian. But would Goran fight him? Would he do anything to prevent it?

"Your estate?" he asked again. "I'm sorry it took so long. I was so nervous it wouldn't be done in time for your name day."

Her head was swimming. "Oh. Right. I don't know—I mean, yes. Thank you. For my estate." Who else knew? Keis – yes. Did any other guards know? Did the guard watching over Sebastian know?

Goran seemed confused as he watched her. "You don't look happy."

Why should she be happy? Her best friend's mother had orchestrated the events that led to the death of her Beenie! The more Samantha thought about it, the more it seemed like Lady Johane had incited the Circle's rebellion to cover it up. The rebellion that had killed Arianna Marziano's father. Lord Kendall. Vincent Tyler's cat. Those events that had enabled to her brother to escape the Circle and brutally torture and murder her parents. And she had watched all of it from the corner of her parent's bedroom, the glass chandelier tinkling in the darkness above and the terrible whimpering—the room started the spin, and she had to close her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Goran stopped dancing, lowering her hand from the air.

Why in the Maker's name did she want her estate back? She couldn't go back there! Not just because she might be safest from Lady Harimann's assassins at the royal palace, but that the very idea of setting foot in that hallway wobbled in her knees. The letter aside, the waking nightmare was across the neighborhood and still lurking in her parents' room.

She couldn't think of anything to say except: "I guess the thought of going back there—"

"What?" He didn't apologize for startling her before exclaiming: "You can't move out."

"Move out—?"

"It was just a name day present!" he said reactively. "I thought it's what you wanted."

Was it? She couldn't think. "Of course I'll stay here."

"Good." He seemed relieved, and then he resumed the dance.

She had to keep herself together, but he was making it hard to concentrate. After the dance, a passing servant offered her a glass of wine and she accepted it gratefully, tossing it back quickly. The orchestra started playing something whimsical, which usually inspired a group dance, but Samantha didn't let Goran go. She had to say something. About Lady Johane. About Sebastian. Goran was her family. The only one she had left.

With the stomping and the clapping, she could talk to him and no one would hear. So, she took a chance. "Do you like being prince?"

He moved his brows together again and she waited through his customary pause before he answered. "It doesn't really matter, does it? I don't really have a choice."

"What if you did?"

"I don't." He seemed slightly annoyed.

She brought her teeth together, unsure how to get him to think about Sebastian's return. Lady Johane was in Kirkwall right now, the same city in which Sebastian was negotiating his return to Starkhaven. Were they working together, Samantha wondered? She shook that thought away, Sebastian would never negotiate with Flora's life like that... would he? He was so good at debate, Samantha remembered, that he could probably convince himself of just about anything.

Goran interrupted her thoughts. "Beenie wouldn't want to be prince, you know. I've thought about that. He would make me do it."

Samantha felt the blood drain from her face. He was thinking about the return of a different Vael. They hadn't spoken about the possibility that Corbinian was alive since the year before, when they had met after the Destruction of the Starkhaven Circle Tower. She felt stronger since then but still, simply talking about the possibility that Corbinian was alive, here in the very ballroom where he had proposed, now during her twenty-fifth name day celebration, after having learned of who was responsible for the Vael family's murder, surrounded by one hundred of Granite Circle's richest nobles who could live on this sort of gossip... It felt vulgar.

Inches away, Goran seemed unaware of her reaction. "When he gets back—"

"Stop it!" she nearly yelled above the clapping, forgetting her manners.

"Oh." He started back. "I'm sorry—"

"This is not proper conversation," Samantha muttered, though she wasn't sure if she meant for the party, because people were spying on them from all over the room, or because she couldn't handle that thought right then. She huffed out a sigh, because even learning all of these horrible things was no excuse to be rude. "Forgive me."

"Forgive you?" he blurted. "You've done nothing wrong! I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't say that stuff. At least in front of people. I mean, these people. You know what I mean."

Samantha felt terrible for her outburst; it had taken months to get him to let his guard down and be comfortable enough to talk and now she was shutting him down. "No. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I spent all last year thinking about how much I hated being Prince. How much I hate having all these people around me all the time. I spent every morning alone and all day with men in suits and glasses who looked at paper more than me."

She marveled at how simply he could turn things around. He was at once infuriating and vulnerable, a complete mystery and yet wide open.

"It does me no good to think about that stuff," he said a little awkwardly.

"I didn't know. You never let on…" But she realized that he did let it show; she just hadn't known him well enough to see it. "Is it better now?"

Goran offered a small smile. "To tell you the truth, I look forward to four things every day: breakfast, afternoon tea, dinner, and then after dinner in the library."

Everything they did together that he used to do with his family, she realized. It wasn't such a terrible thing to admit that he needed people without pretense, and they had become family when Corbinian had proposed. In her heart, Samantha knew that she needed him as well, not just for the connection to her lost future, but to be grounded to the last person who could feel what she felt when she looked at those paintings of the lost Vaels.

His gaze drifted down to her necklace. Though it had the Vael crest on it, he never mentioned it. Samantha had been wearing the locket ever since it had been returned to her, often wrapping her fingers around it without thinking, which is what she found herself doing just then.

"I want you to promise me something, Goran," she said with complete seriousness. "I want you to swear."

"Name it." He was so obliging to go wherever the conversation went; it was sort of sweet.

"I want you to promise me, that if you ever find out who killed our family, I want you to swear that you will hunt them down – every last person responsible – and kill them."

Though all other indications suggested he had stopped dead, he was still breathing; she could hear it. He looked down at her with his Vael-blue eyes and whispered, "Done."

"Maybe part me believes he is still alive," she admitted, and the locket around her neck felt heavy. "But it's not an easy thing to believe."

It wasn't such a terrible thing to admit, and he gave her that sad half smile that meant he understood completely.

"One more request." She knew he would say yes the moment the words left her mouth. "Will you come with me to visit my estate? I don't think I can go back there alone."

Goran reached for her hand. "You will never have to go anywhere alone."