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I tilted my head in acknowledgment as she pushed to her feet, took off her shoes, and rolled up her pant legs before walking a few feet to the water’s edge.

She had a point, but I didn’t like the idea of someone being trapped in a never-ending horror, even if they committed vile acts. And there was only one person to blame for that.

“I hate him. I hate that he thinks it’s okay to send people out there as punishment. It’s worse than a death sentence.”

She glanced back at me from where she stood in ankle-deep water. “Who?”

“Cornaith.”

“If I may speak candidly?”

“Sure. I just said I hated Elyrdin’s leader, so…” I shrugged a shoulder. “Go for it.”

“Master’s methods have never seemed appropriate to me. But his father taught him to handle those who oppose the council or break our rules this way. Before them, there was imprisonment, execution, and rehabilitation, much like what humans do on Earth.”

“Why did it change?”

She bent, picked up a stone, and tossed it across the water, making it skip along the surface. “I don’t know. Mom told us about Master’s father. I never met him. He died in Moicae.”

The more I got to know the people in the palace, the clearer it became that Cornaith wasn’t as admired and respected as he appeared. While the people of Elyrdin might hold him in high regard, those closest to him harbored different sentiments.

“I think I found my Nyrith,” Rinlora said as she walked across the grass toward me, changing the subject.

“You think? I thought it was obvious.”

She pursed her lips before sighing, lowering herself to sit beside me again. “They were at the ball, I think.”

“So you’re not sure of either?”

“No. I mean, I’m sure of it. I felt something. Sensed them.” She looked at me. “There was this pull beneath my ribs. But when I tried to follow it, I ended up in the middle of an empty corridor when it vanished.”

“Huh.”

“But I’m sure they are out there and that they came to the ball.” She looked up at the sky. “They smell nice.”

I wouldn’t ask her about her Nyrith’s scent. It seemed intrusive since the pheromones were unique to mates. So instead, I asked something less invasive, something I’d wondered since I met her. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Why?”

“You haven’t found your Nyrith, so I wasn’t sure. I can’t tell how old anyone really is here.”

“Our bodies age at a slower rate than humans do.”

“Tell me about it. I met a woman who was in her nineties the other day, and I thought she was forty. At least that’s one thing I can look forward to by being Shyrlivi.”

Rinlora laughed, the smile brightening her face.

She seemed so much more at ease outside the palace walls, which made me question if her formal demeanor there was simply a strategic performance for Cornaith’s complex games.

Rinlora relaxed around Amra, but only somewhat; she still seemed to hide behind a mask. Inside the palace, it felt as though the very walls had eyes and every word might reach Cornaith, so it didn’t surprise me that Rinlora maintained a professional demeanor around Amra.

Her smile dropped when she said, “I don’t think Roandra is going to be happy about it.”

“Why not?”

“She was born a few minutes before me, so she believes she deserves to find her Nyrith first.”

I snort-laughed. “Are you for real?”