"Why are you doing this?" I screamed as flame licked the rafters. "Because you were always in the way," Katya said. Her voice slid across the smoke, clean and empty as a bell. Hands held mine tight. The red silk binding dug into my skin. The blindfold was still heavy over my eyes, but the heat told me the temple had become a tomb. "Take the blindfold off," I begged. A boot kicked my chest. "First the show. Then the proof." A man with a lieutenant's stripe leaned close. He smelled of oil and wine. "Third Prince's orders. Make it look like an accident." "Don't," I mouthed. The word came out thin. They laughed. "She won't stop begging," another man said. He shoved a pile of straw closer to the brazier while the others pried open the shutters. Three short lines: I had already died once. Flame had taken everything then. I woke up with the memory of the end and a hunger for names. "Julian sent you," I said. I kept it small. Names were knives I had learned to hold. "Julian sent me," the lieutenant agreed. "And Katya sent herself. She wanted the audience." "Katya," I said on a whisper. "Why?" Katya stepped forward, close enough that I could hear the gold thread clink on her sleeve. "Why? Because the Liang house is old and boring and because your grandmother kept a token no one could touch." She smiled wide. "Because you were pretty