Felitïa dreaded Belone’s palace—partly because palaces in general made her uncomfortable, but mostly because the last time she was here, Feodor Belone had ripped her away from what she was doing, had rounded up her and all her friends, and sent them to Arnor City back to her family. Felitïa knew he had just been following her father’s command, but he hadn’t displayed any reticence in obeying it either.

She had also learnt that Belone and her father had always known she was in Quorge. Her success at hiding there had only been at her father’s providence. Belone could have—and probably would have if not for her father’s command—snatched her away from her world any time he wanted.

So standing here now was the last thing she wanted. But it had to be done. At least Nin-Akna was with her. She didn’t want to be alone right now.

She had only been in Belone’s palace that one time nearly a year ago. She had thought it ostentatious at the time—it had been so long since she’d spent any time amongst nobility—but truth be told, compared to the Royal Palace, it was reserved. The throne room, in particular, was so much smaller. Belone’s bejewelled throne had far fewer jewels than the Bear Throne. Even the carpet that led from the entry doors to the dais the throne sat on was simpler and plainer despite its finery.

Belone looked no different than last time, except there was a hint of red under his nose, barely obscured by his beard. The red was also at the corners of his eyes, and he sniffled as he watched Felitïa’s entrance. Like before, he was dressed in a flowing silk robe.

Belone rose from his seat and came towards her. He stopped several feet away and gave a small bow. “Your Highness, a pleasure to see you again. Please forgive me for not coming any closer, but I am ill. A mild illness, but not something I wish to inflict on you.”

Felitïa bowed her head. “I understand, your Lordship. Thank you for welcoming me.” She was glad she didn’t have to hug and kiss him. She wasn’t in the mood for ceremony right now.

He nodded and returned to his throne, motioning to some of the people around it.

There were a lot more people here than last time. Most of them were courtiers, but a few of them were other nobles. Only one of them she recognised, and he was the first to approach.

Danel Belone, Lord Belone’s son, bowed before her. “Your Highness, a pleasure to see you again.” There was a hint of a sneer on his face, and he did not attempt to hug and kiss her. Contempt flowed from him.

“A pleasure to see you too, my Lord,” Felitïa said.

Danel glanced at Nin-Akna, and his lips twitched. He stepped away.

A young woman, maybe only a couple years younger than Felitïa, approached. She curtsied, then embraced Felitïa. She was somewhat shorter, so Felitïa had to bend over a little in order to exchange kisses to the cheek.

“My daughter, Anita,” Lord Belone said.

Anita stepped back and curtsied again. “A pleasure, your Highness. I’m sorry I was not here to meet you last time.” There was not a lot of resemblance between her and her father or brother. Her long hair was lighter and her face rounder. She moved to the side and curtsied to Nin-Akna—the first acknowledgement of Nin-Akna’s presence anyone had given—and then embraced the young warrior.

Surprise erupted from Nin-Akna, who hesitantly placed her hands on Anita’s shoulders. There was a small collision of faces as Nin-Akna did not know to turn her face to accept kisses to her cheeks.

Anita stepped back and curtsied again. “My apologies for my clumsiness.”

Nin-Akna’s surprise turned to embarrassment and she looked down and to the side.

“This is my friend, Nin-Akna,” Felitïa said. Like Meleng last time, Nin-Akna had not been announced when they’d entered even though Felitïa had given the herald her name. “Thank you for acknowledging her, my Lady. It seems few others are willing to.”

Anita moved beside her brother, who eyed her, his lip still twitching.

Lord Belone shifted positions in his seat. “Apologies, your Highness. It was not my intention to cause offence. However, I should point out, we are doing more than we need to by even acknowledging you. As I understand it, you have been banished.”

Just like last time: an insistence that no offence was meant while simultaneously making offensive statements. “From Arnor City and the Royal Palace, yes, your Lordship. I have not been expunged from my family. Not technically.”

“True, but you must acknowledge that welcoming you brings its own...statement.” He sniffled again and wiped his nose with a handkerchief one of the courtiers by his throne held out to him.

“Perhaps,” Felitïa said. Gods, she hated politicking.

“My wife, Siba,” Belone said as another woman approached Felitïa.

It was clear which parent Anita took after. Siba was a little taller than her daughter, but had the same rounded face—just with a few wrinkles. Her hair, although starting to grey, was the same colour as Anita’s as well. She curtsied, embraced Felitïa, and exchanged kisses. She curtsied to Nin-Akna, but did not attempt to hug or kiss her.

“My wife was visiting her father last time you were here,” Lord Belone said. “As was Anita.”

“I understand you visited him recently,” Siba said.

Amar Padara, Felitïa realised. “Yes, it was a very pleasant visit. He was a very generous and courteous host.”

“He always is.” Siba moved aside and joined her son and daughter.

Belone motioned to the Isyar who was standing at the front of the room off to the side. “You remember Plavistalorik, of course?”

“Yes, of course,” Felitïa said.

Plavistalorik raised her head just enough to give a cursory nod to Felitïa and Nin-Akna before going back to staring at the floor.

Several other nobles came forward after that. Belone introduced them one by one. Not one acknowledged Nin-Akna, and a resigned annoyance began to emanate from the young Ninifin.

“As you can see,” Belone said, “I’m playing host to a much larger household than I was last time. Now introductions are out of the way, may I ask to what we owe the pleasure of your visit this time, your Highness?”

“I’m in the city for personal business,” Felitïa said. “However, I didn’t want to cause offence by not announcing myself.”

“I am happy you did,” Belone said. “I take it this means we can put the unpleasantness of our last encounter behind us?”

“I hope so, your Lordship.”

“We will, of course, plan a feast in honour of your visit.”

“Thank you, your Lordship, but that’s not—”

“This business of yours,” Danel said. “Does it have anything to do with your ridiculous claims about the boy who was with you last time?”

“As I said, my business is personal.”

“We have reports that a boy is with you again this time, yet you have not brought him here.”

“He is with a friend.”

“And do you maintain your story from last time?”

Lord Belone leaned forward. “Danel, enough! Start this again, and I will have you removed again!”

“What of the fact, Father, that she started the war with the Volgs? Why should we provide any hospitality to someone whose own mother has rejected her?”

“The war?” Lord Belone laughed and fell into a fit of coughing. After a moment, he regained his composure, wiping his nose on his handkerchief again. “Regardless of what might be in the official proclamation regarding her Highness, I find it extremely difficult to believe she alone could be responsible for an entire war. The Volgs are creatures of evil, a fact well known, and yet now we act surprised they want to go to war against us? I have little doubt the Volgs wanted war regardless, and whatever actions her Highness might or might not have performed had little impact on that decision, other than to give them an excuse. Not to mention, the whole idea of the Volgs trying to make war against us is a joke. Arnor is too big for them to attack effectively. No, they just want to frighten us and it’s working. I will hear no more of the war or Princess Felitïa’s involvement in it until such time as there actually is a war. Do I make myself understood?”

Danel bowed. “As you wish, Father.” He stood up tall and attempted to look unperturbed by the situation, but anger and annoyance flowed from him.

Belone turned his attention back to Felitïa. “Your Highness, your business is, of course, your own and you may keep whatever secrets about it you wish. I ask only to know if it will impact me or my household in any way, and if there is anything you need of me.”

“It should have no impact on you or your home, your Lordship. I will be working with my associates at the Hall of Knowledge.”

“Charlatans,” Danel grumbled.

“Danel!” Although his voice was rough from his illness, Belone’s voice was loud enough to reverberate around the room and made almost everyone jump. As best Felitïa could tell, only Plavistalorik and Nin-Akna seemed unaffected by it.

Danel clenched his fists and stared at the floor.

“I have warned you,” Belone said.

“Apologies, Father.”

“I grow tired of your empty apologies, Danel. Do not think I will tolerate them much longer. Now begone from my sight.”

Danel clenched his fists even tighter, glared at Felitïa, then stormed from the room. His mother shook her head slowly, while his sister smirked and rolled her eyes.

Lord Belone blew his nose with the handkerchief and held it out to the courtier, who brought a small basket forward for him to drop it into. “Please accept my apologies for my son’s behaviour. I promise you I will keep him under control for the duration of your stay here.”

Felitïa held back a groan. She had been hoping her banishment would mean Belone would not extend an invitation to stay at the palace. “I don’t wish to impose on you, your Lordship. My friend and I have accommodations already.”

“Yes, at an inn, I’m informed. I could not, in good conscience, allow royalty to stay in such lower class accommodations. Besides, your true identity is no longer a secret. It may not be widely known, but it will spread in time. The locals may not look on you kindly. I insist you stay here. You and your friend, of course. The boy, too.”

“The boy needs to stay where he is for reasons of my business. Nin-Akna and I will be happy to take up your kind offer, your Lordship. We will need to be out frequently during the days, however.” This was the second-best option, and she and Nin-Akna had agreed to it before coming here. She only hoped Lord Belone would agree.

He pondered a moment. “Very well. If you’re certain the boy is well looked after.”

“He is, your Lordship.”

“Good. We will plan a feast for tomorrow.” He turned to one of the courtiers by the throne. “See to it, and have rooms prepared for her Highness and her guest.”

The courtier bowed and hurried from the room.

“You will, I hope, join me and my family for dinner this evening? I can see to it that Danel is not present, if you prefer.”

“We would be delighted,” Felitïa said. “And provided he behaves himself, I have no objection to your son’s presence.” The best way to stay on Belone’s good side was to be conciliatory and forgiving.

Belone sneezed and reached for the handkerchief again. “I shall see to it that he behaves. Until then, your Highness, I will retire. I’m told I need lots of rest if I’m to recover from this illness.”

“By all means, your Lordship. Until tonight.”

He nodded and stood up. “My people will show you to your rooms as soon as they are ready. Until tonight.”

Followed by a train of courtiers, Lord Belone left the room.

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Nin-Akna muttered. “A Ninifin court or a Folith one. Both spend most of their time saying a lot of words, but meaning very little.”

Felitïa smirked. “There are some things common to all peoples, I think.”

Some of the nobles began making their way over, asking her about her journey here, and whether she knew her sister had been here only a few weeks ago. What had possessed her to run away from home all those years ago? What was it like to encounter Volgs in person? Was she really responsible for the war, and did she think there really would be a war, and if so, how would it be waged?

After what must have been an hour or more, most of the nobles and courtiers had gone. Anita Belone remained, and she came over to Felitïa and Nin-Akna. “I’ve been informed your rooms will be ready soon.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Felitïa said. “And thank you again for acknowledging Nin-Akna earlier.”

Anita smiled and looked at Nin-Akna. “Of course. My pleasure.”

Nin-Akna shuffled her feet, then smiled back. Discomfort and uncertainty continued to emanate from her. “Yes, thank you.”

“I wanted to provide a contrast to my brother’s rudeness in the hope others would follow my example,” Anita said. “Unfortunately, everyone followed his.”

“At least you tried,” Felitïa said. “We’re very grateful.”

A sharp pang of annoyance came from Nin-Akna and Felitïa held back a grimace. What had she done?

“Yes, grateful,” Nin-Akna said.

She’d spoken for her again, Felitïa realised. She needed to stop doing that. She had only been trying to help, but she accepted that wasn’t an excuse.

“If there’s anything you need during your time here, please ask.” Anita curtsied. “I look forward to seeing you both at dinner.” She gave Nin-Akna another smile, turned around, and left the room.

The throne room was almost empty now apart from a couple guards, and a few servants.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Felitïa said.

Nin-Akna peered at Felitïa. “Done what?” Confusion emanated from her.

Nin-Akna had felt annoyance, hadn’t she? Felitïa was sure she had detected annoyance.

“I shouldn’t have spoken for you. About...about being grateful. I thought it annoyed you.”

Nin-Akna shrugged. “Oh that. It did annoy me. For a moment. But I am actually grateful, so no harm done, I guess.”

A servant approached them and bowed. “Your Highness, your rooms are ready. Please follow.”

* * * * *

A pair of servants opened the dining room doors, letting Akna and Felitïa through. The room was long and thin, with a long table running down the centre. Lord Belone’s family sat around it in much the same way Lord Padara’s had back in Dorg—all clustered at one end of the table. Lord Belone himself sat at the end, with his wife to his right, at the end of one of the long sides. Seated to her right was Danel Belone, but the seat directly across from her and to Lord Belone’s left was empty. Next to Danel was an older man similar in age to Lord Belone. He had been in the throne room earlier, and had been introduced to her and Felitïa—well, technically just to Felitïa—but Akna couldn’t remember who he was. Directly across from Danel sat Anita Belone.

Lord Belone rose as she and Felitïa entered. “Your Highness! I’m so glad you could make it. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the empty seat beside him.

“Thank you.” Felitïa started forward, and Akna followed, even though Belone had not indicated a seat for her.

Akna could feel their eyes on her as she walked the length of the room behind Felitïa. There was undisguised contempt on Danel Belone’s face. His mother looked at her, shook her head just slightly, and frowned. The man whose name Akna couldn’t remember curled his upper lip.

Was it just the fact she was there? Or was it how she was dressed? Probably both.

Felitïa was wearing a sky-blue gown in the Arnorin style with a thin gold necklace around her neck. The outfit made concessions to the formality these Foliths expected without being ostentatious about it. Both Lord Belone and his wife wore reams of jewellery: necklaces and rings. Siba Belone wore several gold bracelets as well. Their two children did not wear as much jewellery as they did, but still wore considerably more than Felitïa.

Akna, however, was wearing what she always wore. Admittedly, it could use a wash—though she was reasonably certain that wasn’t very noticeable; there were no obvious blood stains—but it was the most formal thing she owned. She was doing them a great honour wearing it to their dinner, but Foliths would never understand that.

Felitïa passed Anita and sat in the empty seat between her and Lord Belone. Akna stopped, not sure where she should sit. Beside Anita?

Anita smiled up at her and motioned to the seat. “You can sit beside me, Nin-Akna.”

Akna sat. “Thank you.”

The table was laden with all kinds of foods. Most Akna didn’t recognise, though there were a few vegetables that looked familiar. The thing that struck her most, however, was how much there was of it. There seemed far more than the small group of people here could possibly eat. This was very different from how it had been at Lord Padara’s in Dorg. Though really, with the exception of how everyone was clustered at the one end of the table, everything here was very different than in Dorg. From the jewellery to the paintings on the walls and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, everything here seemed designed to draw attention to how expensive it was, unlike Lord Padara’s dining room, which was designed more for function than appearance.

“You should have the pheasant,” Anita said, reaching for one of the plates of food. “And we have fresh tubers and turnips.”

Akna nodded and accepted the food as Anita handed it to her.

“I hope you had a pleasant journey here, your Highness,” Lord Belone said. “I presume you came upriver from Dorg?”

“Yes, we did.” Felitïa accepted some food that Anita also passed to her. “It was mostly uneventful and...restful.”

That was a complete lie, though Akna understood why Felitïa told it. How would she explain the fact neither of them had restful nights these days?

“I understand the Tirin is relatively calm this time of year,” Lord Belone said, “so I’m not surprised. Still, I’m glad you did not have a difficult time.”

“Thank you, your Lordship.”

Small talk. Akna had discovered in Dorg that she was not very good at it. She decided she would just tune it out and let Felitïa deal with it—although Felitïa didn’t seem very good at it, either.

“So, Miss...uh...Ninnika, is it?”

Akna looked up. It was Siba Belone who had spoken. “Nin-Akna.”

“My apologies, Nin-Akna. Those...uh...designs on your face and arms...and legs too?”

Akna nodded.

“You must spend a lot of time applying them. Do they wash off easily?”

Danel scoffed and tossed down a piece of meat he’d been gnawing on. “They’re tattoos, Mother. They don’t wash off.”

“Oh. Well, I haven’t seen a person with tattoos before, so how was I supposed to know?” She looked back over at Akna. “If they don’t wash off, how do you get clean?”

“I can still wash myself,” Akna said. “Why would I not be able to wash myself?”

“With a tattoo, Mother,” Anita said, “the ink gets under the skin. It doesn’t block water from washing the skin.”

“All right,” Siba said. “It just seems strange to me, that’s all. How does the ink get there?”

“Many sailors get tattoos, Siba,” the large man whose name Akna couldn’t remember said.

“Yes, I’d heard that, but I don’t spend my time around sailors, you know.”

Anita leaned closer to Akna and whispered, “Don’t worry about her. She’s just...well, there’s no good excuse, but don’t let her get to you.”

“Sure,” Akna whispered back. It was easy to give that sort of advice when not the target.

Small talk took up the rest of the dinner, which was a lot longer than Akna was comfortable with. She soon learned to stop eating, as every time she finished what she had, someone offered her more and expected her to take it. She also figured out the other man was Lord Belone’s brother, Horaz.

Lord Belone did most of the talking, asking Felitïa a lot of questions, mostly about her time growing up in Quorge. Although that growing up had been right under his nose and he had known about it, he didn’t know much about what she did. He was also interested in learning what Scovese was like.

“Hot,” Felitïa replied. “Like Southern Arnor, only hotter.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind going somewhere like that in the winter,” Horaz said, and several of the others laughed.

Anita leaned in close to Akna again—as she had been doing throughout much of the conversation. “Uncle Horaz always complains about winter. He’s a bit of a wimp really.”

“What’s that, Anita dear?” Horaz said.

Anita straightened up. “Oh nothing. I was just telling Nin-Akna how great a soldier you were in your army days.”

“Oh, well, yes. I don’t mean to sound like a braggart, but I was quite accomplished, Miss Ninnika. Got quite a few medals from it all.” He began to go on about various exploits he’d had, including serving as a young soldier in Queen Felitïa’s campaign against the Darkers, something he was apparently very proud of.

“Sorry,” Anita mouthed to Akna early in his storytelling.

Akna wasn’t sure how late it was when the dinner finally ended. Horaz was the first to excuse himself, and was followed shortly after by Lord Belone himself and his wife. As soon as they were gone, accompanied by a retinue of guards, Danel got up and left without saying a word—he had said little during the entire dinner either.

Akna finished off the last of the wine in her cup. Felitïa was standing up.

“Shall I walk you to your rooms?” Anita offered.

“Thank you, Anita,” Felitïa said.

It wasn’t a long walk, and they went most of the way in silence. Anita stole several glances at Akna along the way.

Akna tried to look away and hide her smile. Anita was kind of cute—for a noble. Her small stature reminded Akna somewhat of Chica or Meleng, both small people that she missed terribly.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank your father for the lovely dinner,” Felitïa said when they reached their rooms. Her room and Akna’s were side by side. “Please pass my thanks on to him.”

Anita curtsied.

Akna wished she understood why Arnorin women were expected to do that so often.

“I’d be happy to, your Highness,” Anita said.

“Then I’ll bid you goodnight. I’m very tired.” Felitïa looked at Akna. “Will you be all right?”

Akna nodded.

“Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, your Highness.” Anita curtsied again.

Felitïa went into her room, and closed the door, leaving Akna and Anita standing there.

Anita smiled at Akna. “I hope you weren’t too bored.”

Akna shrugged. She had been very bored, but she suspected this was one of those cases where Arnorins expected a lie. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You had a pained expression the entire time.”

“No, I didn’t! Did I?”

Anita giggled. “I’m afraid you did.”

Akna looked down at the floor. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t cause offence.”

“To me, no,” Anita said.

Akna looked up at her. She was still smiling. Akna smiled back. “That’s good.”

“I will bid you goodnight, Nin-Akna. If you need anything, please let me know. Anything at all.”

“I will. Thank you, Anita. Goodnight.”

Anita curtsied, then headed off down the hall.

Akna started to open her door, but paused and looked in the direction Anita had gone, just in time to see Anita turn around a corner up ahead.

And just in time to see another person pass Anita and cross the intersection of corridors—a short person with hair down to her waist.

Just like Chica.

But it had been too quick a glance. Either she was hallucinating again, or it was just someone with a superficial resemblance to Chica.

Or maybe it was like with Felitïa last night—someone who looked nothing like Chica, but she nevertheless still mistook for Chica.

She was not going to investigate. She was going to get some sleep.

She walked to the intersection and looked around the corner.

No Chica. No person at all. If there had been anyone, they had probably gone through any of the several visible doors.

She was just seeing what she wanted to see. That much seemed clear.

She needed to sleep. Maybe if she ever managed to get a restful night, she’d stop seeing things like this.

Akna turned around to return to her room. Danel Belone was coming down the hall carrying an open book that he was reading as he walked. He looked up at her.

“What are you doing wandering the halls?”

“Just taking a walk.”

“Well don’t. Savages like you don’t get to roam here unsupervised. Go back to your room.”

Akna took a deep breath. Don’t start anything.

“Well? Go!”

To hell with Arnorin etiquette.

She grabbed his arm and twisted it around, shoving him against the wall. The book clattered onto the floor, and he cried out in pain.

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Guards! Guards!”

She twisted his arm farther, and he yelped again.

“All right, all right, please let me go.”

She let go just as a pair of guards with water fowl tabards came rushing down the hall. “My Lord?” one said.

Danel glared at Akna. “Please escort this...this...savage back to her room!”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Akna raised her hands in submission and started towards her room.

“You won’t get away with this, savage!” Danel called after her. “I’ll see you hanged for this!”