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that delighted her.
    It would also be cursed heavy. For all that the garment was a work of art, Katya did not envy her the wearing of it.
    “And what of you, belochka? ” he asked. “Do you see anything here your heart craves?”
    His eyes flickered from her to the chest and back again and she read the wordless message clearly. There must be rumors about her again. Possibly only that she was too serious, too unfeminine, but those were rumors easily quashed with a moment of girlish vanity.
    Fortunately there were some things in that chest that she would like. With a squeal of glee, she pulled out six elaborate hair sticks of the sort the people of Qin wore. One pair was done in the likeness of cascading fuchsia blossoms, the blossoms and leaves being formed of delicately carved, whisper-thin semi-precious stone. One pair featured the Phoenyx-bird and the Dragon, wrought in gold and silver, every feather and scale perfectly represented. And from the final pair, chains of tiny golden bells descended, so that the wearer would be surrounded by gentle chiming as she moved.
    Of course, the fact that these “hair sticks” were absolutely lethal weapons was something best kept between the two of them. How these ornaments had come into the hands of pirates she had no clue, but they were one of the many weapons used by a certain class of courtesan-assassins, who would insert themselves into a Qin-lord’s concubines and wait, sometimes for years, before striking.
    It was a good tactic. One Katya did not have the patience for, but a good tactic nonetheless.
    “Come, my daughter. My business here is finished, and these young men can complete the tally without me. Tell me of your day.” Vladislav smiled at his daughter. He was possibly one of the most gorgeous Kings of his line to date, and that was not just her admittedly biased opinion. The Siren blood that made Galya so stunningly beautiful was expressed in him as powerful masculine charisma. He truly was a “golden king;” blond, clean-shaven, he had all the physical perfection of a statue of a god. Square-jawed, with startling blue eyes, a musical voice, and a ready wit, it was small wonder that he was also known as “Vladislav the Handsome.”
    But this was his cue to her. It was time for them to find a place in private to talk.
    Her heart leaped with excitement. This could only mean he had a task for her that she must carry out in secret.
    And that almost certainly meant a spying trip to Dry Land.

Chapter 2
    “Sasha Feliks Pavel Pieterovich, Prince of Led Belarus, you are a fool.” King Pieter Ivan Alexandrovitch glared at his youngest son, who looked back at him with a winsome smile.
    “Thank you, Father,” he replied. “It is nice to know I am doing my job.”
    Both men burst into laughter, quickly joined by the other four of King Pieter’s sons. The six of them were gathered beside the biggest fireplace in the private quarters of the King’s family. This was a smaller stone fortification inside a stone fortification, an actual building separate from the rest of the granite crag that was the Palace of Led Belarus.
    Nevertheless, despite that this place looked like a prison from the outside—since it had began as a fortress, there was no gentle, winding path to it—on the inside it was warm and welcoming. This was thanks in no small part to the fact that some long-ago King had decided he was fed up with living in a cave, and had created entirely new inside walls, floors, and ceilings of warm, light-colored wood. The floor was polished and shining, the walls looked surprisingly festive with their ancient weapons and hunting trophies; bright embroidered cloths covered every flat surface, and benches with cushions beckoned an invitation to come and sit. Even the ceilings were cheerful, with every inch of every beam carved and fancifully painted.
    Sasha grinned. King Pieter looked like a bear, sounded like a bear, and people tended to dismiss him as one of those