As the guard assigned to day watch for Prince Harkuf's youngest child and only daughter, he kept Kirgipa company in the stretch of time when the rest of the palace slept. 'Have you worn holes in your shoes yet?' The guard, a man she now knew as Necos, offered a sympathetic smile. It wasn't much protection from the hard, cold floor but after days of almost no sleep, it looked as inviting as an eiderdown mattress. Kirgipa ignored the ache in her arms from holding her charge for hours and eyed the simple pallet with longing. Beyond that, it was a room spare of comfort, tucked far away from the nursery and anyone else who wanted to sleep, undisturbed by a colicky, fractious child's cries. The chamber housed a pallet for Kirgipa, a more luxurious bed for the baby, a chair, and a basket of supplies for feeding and changing an infant.

Kirgipa tapped her gently on the back in steady rhythm as she paced back and forth across the room under the watchful eye of a royal guard. Her small fingers twitched against Kirgipa's sleeve, thin black nails scoring marks in the fabric.

The baby in her arms nuzzled her shoulder, grunting like a badger. When Kirgipa accepted the coveted position of second nursemaid to the youngest of the Kai heir apparent’s brood, she never imagined the role entailed consecutive days of sleep deprivation and exile to the farthest corner of the palace. To my intrepid beta reader Jeffe Kennedy: the wine is on me, lovely. To my editors Lora Gasway and Mel Sanders: once again you saved me from myself.

Eidolon grace draven