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“How did you come here?”
    His eyebrows rose. “To the Imperial Palace?”
    â€œYes. To Kjall.” She realized as soon as she’d said it that it was a stupid question. Obviously he’d been enslaved, and whatever had happened to him, it had been recent, so the pain would still be raw. And he was young—around twenty-five, she guessed, which made his situation sadder still. She was curious, but she should not satisfy her curiosity by poking at fresh wounds.
    With a wry smile, he looked around the garden. “Imperial Highness. This is a beautiful place, and you are a beautiful woman. I don’t think you wish to hear my tale of woe.”
    Rhianne did, in fact, want to hear his tale of woe, but she accepted this as Janto’s polite way of saying he preferred not to talk about it. Still, if she got to know him a little better . . . but he was a slave. He could be transferred anywhere at any time, at the whim of the overseers. “Your talents are wasted hauling dirt. I would like to give you a new job.”
    â€œYes, Your Imperial Highness?”
    â€œI’d like you to tutor me in the Mosari language.”
    He raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t say anything. She supposed she had shocked him, but she couldn’t resist. It had been a long time since she’d met someone who intrigued her as much as this man. A slave, yes, but educated and diplomatic. Obviously well bred. And gods, that smile.
    â€œI’ll be here every morning at around this time, and you can teach me,” she said. “I’ll speak to the head gardener about your absence from your other duties.”
    â€œMay I ask why you wish to learn my language?”
    Rhianne hesitated. She could hardly tell him it was because she was supposed to help govern his country after it had been conquered. That was just cruel. “I’m . . . supposed to travel there later. I thought it would be good if I knew the language.”
    Janto folded his arms. “During the war?”
    Rhianne shook her head. If he was going to push for an answer, he was going to get one he didn’t like. “No. After we conquer it.”
    â€œPerhaps your efforts will be wasted,” said Janto, his chin up. “You might lose.”
    She looked down at her book, embarrassed now that she had tried to hurt him. “I can’t imagine it would ever be a waste to learn another language. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Be prompt.”
    â€œPrompt as the sunrise, Your Imperial Highness.” The slave returned to his wheelbarrow.
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    Janto left the Imperial Palace grounds under cover of his shroud with Sashi on his shoulder. He watched Iolo and the others pick up their signed chits that indicated they’d done a full day’s work. As he understood it, the chits entitled them to their abeyance spells and allowed them to live another day. The brutal, dehumanizing system seemed typical of the Kjallans.
    Invisible, Janto stayed close to Iolo, who, as agreed, slowed his pace and fell behind the others. When they were alone, Janto extended his shroud to cover the both of them. “I think that went all right.”
    Iolo shook his head. “You were crazy to talk to the Imperial Princess. I about had a stroke when her bodyguard went after you.”
    He touched the tender spot on his cheek, only just now remembering the assault by the bodyguard. Once he’d started talking to the princess, all other thoughts had fled from his mind. Gods, he’d never anticipated meeting someone like her. “The bruise is a small price to pay. I need access to the man at the top—or at least to his half-witted military strategies—and this woman gets me close.”
    â€œI don’t question your courage,” said Iolo. “But there are other ways to get what you’re after.”
    Janto sighed. Iolo had spent the last couple of