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the vacancy left by Trayla’s death and Mahina’s elevation. Jacomina was her mother’s creature. She probably didn’t have a thought in her head that Joyhinia hadn’t put there.
    For R’shiel, Jacomina’s promotion was bound to prove awkward. As Mistress of Enlightenment, Jacomina would report even her most minor infractions to her mother, a situation that could only get worse when she graduated to the rank of Probate a few weeks hence.
    A blonde Probate approached them bearing a tray of delicate crystal goblets filled with fine red wine, and Lord Pieter’s attention was thankfully diverted to the ample cleavage of this new arrival. The Probate offered the wine with a polite curtsy, giving R’shiel a look of pure venom as the younger girl accepted a glass. Selected Probates had been ordered to serve at Joyhinia’s soiree, but R’shiel, a mere Novice, was here as a guest. She would probably return to a room that had been overturned, or to find all her clothes had been dunked in the garderobe. Being Joyhinia’s daughter might get her invited to social functions, but it didn’t save her from the pecking order in the dormitories.
    R’shiel sipped her wine and remained politely silent while Joyhinia and Lord Pieter resumed their conversation. The room gradually filled with the upper echelon of Citadel society. Lord Pieter answeredin monosyllables, apparently more interested in eyeing the young women present. The man had an appalling reputation, particularly for one from a country that was so puritan it was rumoured that even thinking impure thoughts was a sin.
    Blue-gowned Sisters outnumbered the red-coated Defenders in the Hall, who, to a man, looked stiff and uncomfortable in their high-necked dress uniforms. They didn’t like these formal occasions. The Sisters of the Blade ordered them to attend so they could flaunt their superiority. At least that was what Georj claimed. R’shiel thought it more likely that they just didn’t like all the bother it took to get dressed. A speck of dust, or a boot you couldn’t use as a shaving mirror, would catch the attention of the Lord Defender faster than a man could blink.
    A raucous, high-pitched laugh caught R’shiel’s attention and she turned towards the source. Crisabelle Cortanen was Mahina’s daughter-in-law—a chubby, crass woman who had married Mahina’s son Wilem when she was sixteen and had not managed to age mentally since that day. Crisabelle wore a frilly yellow dress that emphasised, rather than concealed, her bulk. Commandant Cortanen stood beside her, his expression one of long-suffering embarrassment. Refused a place in the Sisterhood as a child, Crisabelle was beside herself with glee now that her mother-in-law was the First Sister.
    The main door was thrown open and Lord Draco, the Spear of the First Sister, entered the Hall, followed by Mahina. Draco was tall, dark and stern. To R’shiel, he epitomised the rank he held, but she found it hard to think of Mahina as the First Sister.She still looked more like a peasant than an autocrat, even in her beautifully tailored white silk dress with its seed-pearl bodice. Mahina accepted the bows and curtsies of her subjects with a maternal wave and approached Joyhinia, Lord Pieter and Jacomina.
    “My Lord. Joyhinia. Congratulations on your appointment, Jacomina. You honour us with your presence in the Quorum.”
    Jacomina replied with some inane comment that R’shiel didn’t catch. She had managed to step back out of the circle of people surrounding her mother and closer to the tall stained glass doors that led onto the balcony, which had been opened to take advantage of the balmy evening. She was wondering what her chances of being able to slip outside and escape were, when the door opened and Lord Jenga, accompanied by a number of his officers, arrived.
    As the men stepped into the room, R’shiel was stunned and delighted to see her brother among the officers walking behind the Lord Defender. Every