

The follow-up to Foz Meadows’s A Strange and Stubborn Endurance, All the Hidden Paths is a sultry political & romantic fantasy exploring gender, sexuality, identity, and self-worth.
With the plot against them foiled and the city of Qi-Katai in safe hands, newlywed and tentative lovers Velasin and Caethari have just begun to test the waters of their relationship. But the wider political ramifications of their marriage are still playing out across two nations, and all too soon, theyâre summoned north to Tithenaâs capital city, Qi-Xihan, to present themselves to its monarch.
With Caethari newly invested as his grandmotherâs heir and Velasinâs old ghosts gnawing at his heels, what little peace theyâve managed to find is swiftly put to the test. Caeâs recent losses have left him racked with grief and guilt, while Vel struggles with the disconnect between instincts that have kept him safe in secrecy and what an open life requires of him now. Pursued by unknown assailants and with Qi-Xihanâs court factions jockeying for power, Vel and Cae must use all the skills at their disposal to not only survive, but thrive.
Because thereâs more than one way to end an alliance, and more than one person who wants to see them failâŚand they will resort to murder if needed.
Please enjoy this free excerpt of All the Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows, on sale 12/5/23
Chapter 1
Weâd been at Caethariâs holdings in the Avai riverveldt just long enough for me to fall in love with them when the summons came. A courier rode in on a fine bay mare and handed the message to Cae in person, bowing from the saddle in one breath and departing in the next, her job done. A sense of foreboding tickled my neck as my husband broke the elaborate wax seal on the missive and unrolled its fine paper, frowning at the contents. Iâd been happy enough for long enoughâwhich is to say, for nearly three weeksâthat Iâd grown suspicious of my own felicity, and when Caeâs mouth twisted in annoyance, some cynical part of me rejoiced in perverse vindication. See? it seemed to say. We knew this couldnât last.
âWeâre wanted in Qi-Xihan,â said Cae. He swallowed, glancing at me. âHer Majesty Asa Ivadi Ruqai desires an audience.â
Whatever crisis Iâd been expecting, this wasnât it. I blinked at him. âWhat?â
âThe asa wants to see us,â Cae repeated. He shot me a look that was equal parts confused and frustrated. âShe doesnât say why; only that weâre to appear at our earliest convenience, which is a polite way of saying as soon as is humanly possible, and that this is her personal request.â
I grimaced, thoughts whirling. âThere must be trouble with Ralia over our marriage,â I said. âEither King Markus objects, or one of his factions does, and we need to give an accounting of it all.â I faltered. âThat, orâthe other thing.â
My husband winced and looked away, leaving me to silently curse myself. The other thing, Iâd said, as though the deaths of Caethariâs father and sister, the former at the latterâs hands, was a sordid afterthought. The only reason he wasnât dressed all in black was in deference to the newness of our marriage: Tithenai custom held that to observe full mourning before a new coupleâs second and final marriage-gathering was bad luck. As such, Cae wore a dark lin edged with black and had wound black ribbons into his braid, but was otherwise dressed normally. My lin, too, was trimmed with black, and as my hair was yet too short for a proper Tithenai braid, I wore my matching ribbons bound around my wrists. Cae had tried to say it wasnât necessaryâIâd scarcely known his father, while his sisterâs last act had been to take me hostageâbut Iâd ignored him and done it anyway. Honouring his grief seemed the very least I could do, under the circumstances.
I placed a hesitant hand on Caeâs shoulder, relieved when he leaned into the touch.
âYou neednât talk around it so,â he said, raising his opposite hand to squeeze my fingers, this gentleness in contrast to the bitter scrape of his voice. âCall it what it is: Laeciaâs treachery.â
âIâll call it whatever hurts you least.â
âThere is no least hurt, with a thing like this.â And then, with a sigh, âIâm sorry, Vel. I shouldnât snap. Itâs just . . . I thought weâd have more time here.â
âMe, too,â I admitted, and took a moment to ache at the thought of leaving. When weâd first set out from Qi-Katai, Iâd been apprehensive, worried that whatever rural charms Avai might offer would prove an insufficient sap to my fractious brain and urban predilections. What would it mean for my marriage if I couldnât find some means of self-occupation that neither endangered the pair of us nor drove Cae to distraction? The prospect of helping administer his holdings here was a potential lifeline, and one I was all too afraid would fray apart in my hands.
But the moment weâd ridden down the broad, paved drive to the main estateâthe same drive in which we presently stoodâIâd felt myself bewitched. It was calm in Avai, the sort of calm that sinks across your shoulders like a soft, cool fur and eases whatever tension youâve been carrying. The scent of the Eshi River was everywhereânot acrid and foul, like so many city rivers come to be, marred by human refuse and the leavings of industry, but bright and clean. Birdsong cut through the elegant, curving branches of trees Iâd never seen before, while neat fields and orchards in late-autumn hues of brown and russet patchworked the valleys between gentle, rolling hills. Iâd found nature beautiful before, of courseâ Iâm not made of stoneâbut Avai felt different.
Perhaps it was simply that my life, since leaving Farathel, had been one overwrought commotion after the next, such that the pretty quietude of this patch of Tithena was a balm I hadnât known Iâd needed. Perhaps my tastes were maturing as I agedâand moons, but this recent span of weeks had certainly aged me!
Or perhaps I only felt what I did because of Caethari. For all that our marriage and acquaintance both were scarcely a month old, I had come to care for him as Iâd cared for few others in my life. In the aftermath of his sisterâs betrayal, heâd confessed his love for me, and though I didnât yet trust that the depth of my feelings matched his own, the knowledge that he didnât expect direct reciprocationâthat he was content for me to be as I was, at least for nowâmeant more than I could say. Avai mattered to him: was that why it mattered to me? I rubbed my beribboned wrists together, unsettled by the prospect.
âWait,â said Cae, suddenly. âThereâs a second page.â
âA second page?â
âOr, not a pageâthereâs something stuck, hereââ He held up the letter and flipped it over, blunt nails scrabbling ineffectually at the edges. I watched him struggle for a moment, suppressing a smile at the peek of tongue protruding from his mouth, then took the paper from him. At first glance, it seemed a single, ordinary piece of stationery, albeit an expensive one; but at the top, where the broken wax seal had started to flake, a careful eye could just make out the leading edge of a second sheet stuck perfectly to the first. It was a technique Iâd seen before, though not recentlyâfor a brief time in Farathel, it had been all the rage to send secret, doubled missives like thisâand so I knew the trick to prying it loose.
âMarkel!â I called across the lawn, to where my dearest friend and ostensible servant was lazing contentedly on the grass, pretending to take no notice of us. âCan I borrow your letter-knife?â
âIâve got a knife,â Cae muttered not-quite-sulkily, indicating the leather-sheathed blade with its ring handle of polished jade that Iâd given him as a marriage gift.
âI know,â I said, and kissed his cheek to show Iâd meant no slight. âBut this calls for delicate work, and your blade isnât thin enough.â
âHmph.â
Markel ambled over, one brow raised at the pair of us and a crooked grin on his face. He passed me the letter-knife handle-first, a flash of recognition in his eyes as he watched me slip it between the two pressed pages.
âHavenât seen this in a while,â he signedâmore slowly than was usual between us, partly in deference to the fact that Cae was still learning sign-speech, but also because he was using a new, syllable-based sign alphabet designed to spell out Tithenai words more easily, the better to enable more fluent communication with Cae. It was all Markelâs development, something heâd shyly admitted to having worked on for a while, but which heâd altered to work with Tithenai more than Ralian, and in the fortnight since heâd introduced it to us, it had done wonders to improve Caeâs confidence with signing.
I nodded absently, refocussing on the paper. The hidden sheet was thinner than Iâd first assumed, like the finest rice paper, the edges sealed so neatly with adhesive that it was hard work not to tear it. Still, I managed in the end, and with a little hah! of triumph, I peeled away the second page and handed it to Cae.
He held it up to the sky, letting the wintry light illuminate the contents. Unlike the primary letter, this one was neither written in the neat, precise hand of a professional scribe nor inked in the customary black or blue. Instead, the writing was small and curlicue, difficult to make out, and written with an ink (if the term applied) that bleached instead of stained. The message was pale and indistinct even with the aid of direct sunlight: held normally, you could scarcely see it at all.
âItâs in the asaâs own hand,â Cae said, startled. âShe writes, âI bid you travel discreetly. Observe the state of Tithena and report your findings to me.ââ
âShe wants us to spy for her?â I exclaimed.
âYou neednât sound quite so delighted,â Cae said dryly, âbut yes.â Carefully, he rerolled both pieces of paper. âAsa Ivadi is well-known to be fond of issuing private games and challenges to her subjects, like sending a hidden message to some noble or minister asking for their private observations. If they donât find it, sheâll know them to be incurious and unobservant; if they do, their compliance tells her what they think is valuable information and how good they areâor notâat acquiring it.â
âI like her already.â
Cae snorted. âYou would,â he said. âThis is much more your thing than mine.â
That stung, though I was sure he hadnât meant it to. âWe can always pretend we didnât find it, if you prefer.â
âWhat? Of course not!â Cae looked at me, a worried furrow between his brows. Iâd aimed to keep both my tone and expression neutral, but I mustnât have succeeded; that, or he was getting eerily good at reading me, for he promptly leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth, so lightly that I shivered. âIâm sorry, Vel. That wasnât meant as a dig.â
âI know,â I said, flustered. I wasnât used to being so sweetly perceived, and it threw me off-balance. âItâs me who ought to apologise, spoiling your good humourââ
âYou havenât spoiled anything, saints!â
âI only meantââ
âI know what you meant, I justââ
Markel cut us off with a throaty noise of amusement, grinning from ear to ear. I flushed and ducked my head, smiling into the collar of my mourning lin. It was still a new and wonderful thing, to be bedding a man approved of by my oldest friend; almost as new and wonderful as the fact that, in Tithena, we could openly claim each other. In Ralia, the lifelong necessity of keeping my inclinations secret had sickened me like a slow cancer; here, we were two men married, and while ours had been a political match forged in unpleasant circumstances, Iâd sooner have lopped off a hand than repudiated Cae.
âYouâre very married today,â signed Markel. Before I could reply to that, he nodded his stubbled head to indicate the asaâs letters. âDoes this mean weâre headed to Qi-Xihan?â
âIt does,â I said, âand immediately. Though if youâd rather stay here or return to Qi-Katai, Iâd understand.â
Markel favoured me with a withering look. âIâll go and see about packing,â he signed, and strode off towards the main house with a sarcastic wave over his shoulder.
âWell,â said Cae, after a moment. âThat would seem to be settled, wouldnât it?â
âQuite decisively, yes.â
He laughed and stepped closer, sliding an arm around my waist. âLook on the bright side. Iâll get to show you the capital.â He leaned in, kissing up my throat to my ear. âAnd the palace accommodations are very luxurious.â
I made an involuntary sound and turned to face him, looping my arms around his neck with the closest approximation to coy ease I was capable of mustering. âAre they now,â I said, and for an answer he kissed me properly, both hands on my hips as he drew us together. I melted into it, heart hammering with a mixture of new anticipation and old fear: I wasnât yet used to being intimate in public without risk of either discovery or censure, and so it yet felt illicitly thrilling to kiss my husband outdoors. Though Cae was, as Iâd quickly learned, a consummate kisser; even in private, he left me dizzied and wanting.
All too soon, he broke away again, raising a hand to smooth his thumb across my cheek. I flushed as he brushed the stubbleâIâd been lax with my grooming the past few days, not bothering to shaveâand was on the brink of apology when he murmured, âIt suits you, you know.â
âWhat does?â
âThis.â He repeated the gesture, rubbing back and forth across the unshaven grain. âIt makes you look rakish.â
I scoffed to hide how flustered I was. âYouâre the rakish one, with your fine salt locks.â I stroked the new silver at his temple, smiling around the lump in my throat that rose whenever I thought on how heâd acquired it. âEspecially with your ribbons, the effect is quite piratical.â
âPiratical?â
âDashing, then.â
âI can work with dashing,â he said, and kissed me againâa light press of lips, but I deepened it greedily, pulling him close once more.
We had talked, my new husband and I, albeit somewhat awkwardly, about our mutual expectations around bedplay. Knowing his feelings to be deeper than my own, Cae had made it clear that he didnât want to pressure me; that he was, in fact, actively afraid of doing so. For this reason, heâd said, I should be the one to instigate things, at least for now, and in the moment, Iâd been so overwhelmed by the consideration that Iâd proceeded to do so eagerly. But volition is a tricky thing, and in the weeks since, my contrarian nature had reared its head: having struggled my whole romantic life in Ralia to play at seeming disaffected, to show less than I felt, now that I had express permission to do as I wished, I found myself holding back. What if Cae became bored with me? What if my need and greediness lost me his regard? Or what if, my insecurities whispered, heâs already tiring of you, and this is his way of slowing things down?
I shoved the last thought aside as unworthy paranoia. Cae had been nothing but honest with me: it was I who struggled to navigate my desires. I knew how to want in secret, but wanting openly was something else altogether. Though I longed to lead Cae back inside and take him to bed, I made myself break the kiss instead. Tonight, I silently promised us both, working to marshal my scattered thoughts. The courierâs arrival had knocked me off-balance, and it was only belatedly that I recalled why weâd come outdoors in the first place.
âWhat,â I said, then stopped, flashing Cae a smile as I caught my breath. âWhat did you want to show me?â
âShow you?â he echoed, sounding as dazed as I felt.
âBefore the courier came,â I said. âYou wanted to show me something.â
âOh!â Cae laughed, a little sheepishly. âIâd almost forgotten.â
He started walking, leading me across the lawn at a leisurely pace. By Ralian standards, the lawn was a mess: not manicured in the slightest, but dotted everywhere with wildflowers, patches of clover and other plants Iâd been taught to view as weeds. There was a similar lawn in the Aida back in Qi-Katai, though not so diverse in its floral offerings, and Iâd initially wondered at its apparently unkempt state. It was only after weâd come to Avai that I tentatively brought the matter up with Cae, who laughed and told me that the plain grass lawns favoured by Ralian nobles were seen as useless in Tithena.
âWhatâs the point?â heâd asked. âThe wild plants feed the bees and birds, the rabbits and deer, and do the grass no harm; indeed, it takes more effort to water and hold the soil together without them. Blank lawns are a great big show of nothing.â
Iâd had no answer to that, though it went against everything Iâd ever been taught about the aesthetics of horticulture. Two days later, Cae made me a daisy-crown from that very lawn and kissed me on the cheek, and whatever objections I mightâve had melted away like frost in sunlight.
Now, however, I realised we were taking a path away from the lawn and towards the stables. My stomach gave a familiar, grieving twist: though small against her other crimes, Laeciaâs murder of my beloved horse, Quip, still pained me. I worked hard not to show itâwhat was a horse, against Caeâs loss of father and sister?âbut Iâd raised Quip from a foal, and images of his bloody end still found me in my dreams, along with the deaths of Killic, Laecia, Ren Adan, Tar Katvi and the former Tieren Halithar.
âIâll take no offence if itâs not to your liking,â Cae said suddenly, a mere ten paces from the stable door. He swallowed before continuing, and I was startled to realise that he was nervous. âBut I thoughtâI hoped that it might suit you.â
Inside, the scent and sound of horses was the most poignant sort of sense memory. Iâd always loved riding, and was so preoccupied with my own feelings that, when Cae finally halted before an airy, spacious stall, it took me several astonished seconds to realise what was happening.
The stall was occupied by a fine-boned filly the colour of quicksilver, neat ears pricked with interest. She moved towards us, showing off the depth of her chest and her strong, lean legs; the proud way she held herself. Though her powerful quarters and tall build spoke to the finest courser bloodlines, the delicacy of her head and the high carriage of her tail suggested more than a drop of Nivonai dunerunner blood. Her mane and tail were white waterfalls shot with silver, while her pale grey coat showed bluish dapples where it caught the light.
She was utterly exquisite, and as I stared at her, she leaned her head over the railing and bumped her velvet nose against my shirt, whuffling curiously.
âCae?â I asked shakily, one hand rising of its own accord to stroke the fillyâs cheek. âWhat is this?â
Softly, Cae replied, âSheâs yours, if you want her.â
I stared at him, mouth dry. Iâve no idea what my face was doing, but whatever it was made Cae look aside, rubbing awkwardly at his arm.
âI know she canât replace Quip, not truly, and Iâm sure youâll want to make your own choice at some point, but until then, I just thought . . . you need a horse. Sheâs trained to saddle, but newly enough to learn your preferences, andââ
Whatever heâd been about to say was lost as I closed the distance between us and kissed him fiercely, a rushing in my ears as he reciprocated. When we finally broke apart, my heart was pounding.
âSheâs perfect,â I rasped, chest tight as I met his gaze. My throat was full of words that refused to fall into order. Beyond what the filly must have costâand moons, but that dunerunner blood mustâve made her costly!âthe thoughtfulness of the gesture near undid me. In Ralia, it was always risky for men like myself to gift their lovers anything or to be so gifted in turn; the risk of discoveryâor worse, of having such an item of sentiment used against youâwas too high. But even when it came to my family, I was unaccustomed to receiving much in the way of gifts on occasions that usually merited them, let alone unprompted. I was not only a third son, but one whose relationships with my elder brothers had always been somewhat fractious and whose father had little love for festivities. The only other people to have ever put so much thought into presents for me were Markel and my long-dead mother, and even Markel, in keeping with the taboo nature of our friendshipâservants and noblemen were not meant to interact as we did, let alone care for one anotherâtended to stick to small and subtle things.
The filly, though. For all that he was grieving the loss of so much more than a horse, Cae had not only noticed my feelings, but held them as significant; had gone out of his way to procure this most exquisite, beautiful remedy, and yet had done so without any expectation that Iâd thank him for it.
âSheâs perfect,â I said again, and hoped he heard what I didnât say: You are perfect, too. âI donâtâI hardly know what to say.â A childâs eagerness rose in me, as when Iâd been presented with my very first pony. âMay I saddle her, take her out for a turn?â
âYou donât need my permission, Vel,â said Cae, but he was smiling at last, soft and well-pleased. âSheâs all yours.â
Alight with anticipation, I hurried to the tack room and fetched saddle, blanket and bridle. The filly gave a low whicker as I hung the saddle over the edge of her stall, stepping back neatly as I let myself in. She turned her head side-on, looking at me with one large, round eye, then shook out her mane and snorted, as though, in her equine way, she found me amusing.
âDoes she have a name?â I asked, settling the blanket across her withers.
âNot yet,â said Cae, who was leaned back against a support beam with his arms crossed, watching me. âI thought youâd want to give her one yourself, assuming you liked her.â
âI do. Very much.â I swallowed around a sudden lump in my throat, hands resting on the saddle. A half-dozen potential names flashed through my mind, but one shone out above all others, perfect and irreproachable. âGift,â I said, fixing my gaze on the polished saddle leather. âThatâs what Iâll call her.â
âIt suits,â Cae said, and there was something so tender in the way he spoke that I didnât dare look at him. I focussed on saddling Gift instead, cheeks flushed as I checked and double-checked the girthâlike Quip, she puffed out her chest at the first cinching, trying to trick me into leaving it looseâbefore turning to the bridle. Iâd always favoured gentle bits, and was glad of that now as I coaxed the metal into her soft mouth. She whuffled slightly, tossing her head before consenting to lower it, neck arched as I settled the browband in place, then rolling the bit against her teeth as I secured the throatlatch.
As I led her out of the stall, Cae smiled at me and fell into step beside us.
âAm I permitted to watch you ride,â he teased, âor would you two prefer to be alone?â
For an answer, I thwacked him across the arm with the reins. âYou can stay if you behave,â I said, both pleased and embarrassed.
Cae only laughed. âWhatever my husband commands.â
As we headed outside, the crisp, cool air and pale autumn light made Giftâs coat gleam like polished glass. She snorted again, bumping her head against me as if she, too, were eager to ride, and as I swung up into the saddle, I let out a burst of laughter. Gift danced beneath me, responsive as a silk ribbon caught in a breeze, and when I urged her forwards, she obeyed with a will.
The next hour passed in a blur of joy as Gift and I learned each other. She had her quirks, like pulling against the rein if called to turn at a canter, but nothing that time and patient training couldnât mend, and such minor defects were far outweighed by her graces. She was agile, clever and breathtakingly fast, her transitions as clean as her gait was smooth. Cae watched us with a pleasure to which he was wholly entitled, but all my attention was fixed on Gift. She was not Quipâwould never be Quipâbut that wasnât the point: she was herself, something wholly new and wonderful, and my heart sang with it.
I was just letting her cool down through a trot when, from the corner of my eye, I spied Markel waving from the other end of the lawn. Seeing he had my attention, he gestured over his shoulder. Surprised, I looked past him and recognised Ru Telitha, dismounting as she gave her horseâs reins to a waiting servant. She was dressed for travel in a practical lin, undershirt and nara, her curly hair tied back in a Tithenai braid.
âOh,â said Cae, following my gaze. He tensed all over, swallowing hard. âThatâs unexpected.â
I winced, my pulse ticking up in sympathy. In addition to being a friendly fellow scholar of languages and Markelâs current paramour, Telitha was also the trusted right hand of Yasa Kithadi, Caeâs grandmother. Her presence here was unlikely to be a purely social visit, and as I came down from my giddy high, I recalled the importance of Asa Ivadiâs missive.
âVery,â I said, dismounting Gift. Handing her off to a groomâ Iâd have to forgo the pleasure of brushing her down todayâI hurried to Caeâs side and, though still tentative about such displays in public, laced our fingers together.
âIâm sure itâs nothing serious,â I murmured, though I was sure of no such thing. âBut if it is, weâll handle it.â
Cae managed a watery smile before squaring his shoulders, face smoothing into what Iâd come to think of as his soldierâs mask: a sort of studied calm, more stern than blank, which gave away nothing of his thoughts. And yet, to my surprise, he didnât let go of my hand, but squeezed it marginally tighter, staying close as we walked to meet Telitha.
Markel fell into silent step beside us, his own happy expression dimming somewhat as he registered Caeâs stoicism. He blinked, confused for all of a moment, then let out a breath of understanding, mouth twisted in a way that said he was annoyed at himself for missing the nonromantic significance of who had come, and why.
âGreetings!â said Telitha, executing a scholarâs bow as we reached her. She winked at Markel from behind her black lacquer-framed glasses, but sobered as she faced Caethari. âTiern, rest easy. I come bearing no grim news.â
Caeâs grip on me went briefly lax before tightening again. âAnd yet, I suspect, you are not come for purely personal reasons.â
âAlas, no.â Her pretty smile was apologetic. âHas the courier reached you yet? They sought you first in Qi-Katai, but of course you werenât there.â
âTheyâve come and gone a few hours back,â I said, when Cae failed to answer. âAsa Ivadi has summoned us to Qi-Xihan.â
Telitha sighed. âThe yasa guessed as much. Itâs why she sent me. She wanted to give you this, to take with you.â Reaching into a satchel slung across her body, she withdrew what looked like a jewellery box, sized for an ornate necklace. It was made of aging white leather stamped with curling gold patterns, and Cae flinched at the sight of it.
âNo,â he said, voice suddenly hoarse. âItâs too soon. I donât want it.â
The ruâs expression was sad, but she didnât withdraw the box, and after a fraught, silent span of seconds, Cae dropped my hand and took it from her, fingers shaking as he flicked it open.
Inside was a circular metal disc bearing an unfamiliar symbol picked out in gold and enamel, its circumference engraved with words too small for me to read. There was also a small loop set at the top, as though it was meant to be worn on a chain or pin, but if such a matching piece had ever existed, it was missing now.
âWhat is it?â I asked.
Cae shut the box again, head bowed. âItâs the seal of my grandmotherâs yaserate,â he said, voice numb. âBearing it officially makes me her heir.â
Copyright Š 2023 from Foz Meadows
