With every scream of rage that came from the next room, Quilla sank a little lower in her seat. The Queen would blame her. She was sure of it. The Queen wanted any reason to blame her for something.

Gods damn it! They were supposed to be preparing for Garet’s funeral! Instead, attention always seemed drawn elsewhere. Of course, no one could be blamed for the high tensions after yesterday’s attack on Princess Annai’s life, but Sinitïa could have chosen a better time to run away.

Quilla sighed. The worst part was, the Queen wouldn’t be wrong to blame her. It was her fault. She had suggested it. Sure, she’d tried to take it back and Sinitïa had seemed to agree, but Quilla knew it must have planted a seed in Sinitïa’s head, one that grew over the next couple days. Yet another reason she shouldn’t have drunk so much that first night.

The doors swung open and Princess Annai ran through the room in tears and out the opposite doors, slamming them behind her. One of the guards closed the doors she’d come through, just in time to dampen more screams from the Queen.

Quilla looked over at Zandrue and Rudiger, who were sitting beside each other. Rudiger had Zandrue’s hand in his. Gods, she wished Garet was still here. Little things like that would be particularly calming now. His presence had always calmed her. And he wouldn’t have let the guards stop him from pacing. Without him here, she wanted to be the one pacing, but every attempt to stand up she’d made had resulted in the guards making threatening motions, so she’d just sat right back down again. She didn’t have the courage Garet had had.

Sinitïa had said she was going to do a painting of Garet. What would happen to that now? Was anybody else going to do anything for Garet’s funeral? Was Quilla even right to be so obsessed over it?

The doors opened again, and this time, the Queen stormed out. Quilla braced herself, but the Queen never even looked in her direction. She stormed across the room and out the same doors Annai had left through, though she let the guards close them instead of slamming them herself.

Quilla looked back at Zandrue, whose gaze had turned back towards the doors they were seated by. The King was standing just beyond the doors, looking into the room. Behind him stood Captain DeSeloön and two Kingsguard. He scratched his beard, breathed deeply, and stepped into the room.

Zandrue and Rudiger slid off their couch and knelt on the floor. Quilla did the same.

The King waved his hand, palm up. “Rise.”

They stood.

The King look at Rudiger and Zandrue, then Quilla, his eyes staying on her the longest. Then he lowered his gaze to the floor and fiddled with the buttons of his uniform jacket, his fingers trembling. After several moments, he looked up. “There is always drama whenever Felitïa is involved, it seems.”

“With respect, your Majesty,” Zandrue said, “Felitïa’s not here.”

The King glared at Zandrue. His lips quivered, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he strode past her, Rudiger, and Quilla. He walked over to a desk by the wall and began fiddling with a potted plant there. After several moments, he spoke, “These last few days have been...I don’t even know how to describe it. You’d think I’d be used to tragedy by now.”

Quilla glanced at Zandrue, who gave a slight shrug and nodded towards the King.

“Two dead wives, now a dead son. A daughter who ran away when she was only ten and didn’t return for sixteen years, and now… Now, an attempt is made on another daughter’s life, and my youngest is missing. What am I supposed to do?”

Quilla swallowed and glanced at Zandrue again. Did he expect them to answer?

“It’s difficult, and I’ve never been good at decisions. I know the stories about me, the names I’m called. Wavon the Incompetent. Wavon the Perplexed. Wavon the Idiot.” The King tore a leaf off the plant and turned around to face them, scrunching the leaf in his hand. “Quilla, I have the greatest respect for you. I believe you to be a good person, and I think you would have been a good wife for Garet. You were a calming presence for him, something he desperately needed. No matter what my wife may think of you, I would have been proud to have you as my daughter-in-law.”

Quilla curtsied. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Tears threatened to fall, but she held them back.

The King turned to Zandrue. “Zandromeda, yes?”

Zandrue curtsied. “Yes, your Majesty. Zandrue for short.”

“Zandrue, I’m told you saved my daughter’s life.”

“I only did what anyone would have done, your Majesty.”

The King shook his head. “I wish that were true. My wife believes it was to save your own life.”

“My life was in danger too, your Majesty, so it was certainly part of my motivation, but even if I had been in complete safety, I would have protected her Highness’s life.”

“I’d like to believe that.” The King turned his back to them again for several seconds in silence. “Unfortunately, my wife doesn’t.”

“Your Majesty, I—” Zandrue began.

The King held up his hand. “I know none of you hold much respect for her, but believe me, she is my rock. I may not always agree with everything she says or does, but without her, this country would be in a shambles under the reign of Wavon the Incompetent. I deserve many of those names I’m called, you know. So even if she may sometimes go over the top in matters of family, I think the overall trade-off is more than worth it. And that’s where we get to Felitïa. I love my daughter. I adore her. But I must confess, I do not really know her, and I most definitely do not understand her. Cerus and Ardon have been passionate in their defence of her, but there is no changing what she did. She started a war.”

Quilla took a step forward, but the guards’ hand moved to their sword hilts, so she stopped. “Your Majesty, the Volgs were going to start that war anyway.”

“I know.”

“So then—”

He held up his hand again, and she stopped. Why was she bothering to defend Felitïa anyway?

“I don’t doubt the Volgs wanted to start this war,” the King said. “None of us doubt that. But that’s beside the point. Felitïa gave them the reason they needed. She gave them a way to claim we were responsible. If she had stayed out of it, they would have had to find another reason. Their hypocrisies might have been exposed, and more importantly, Arnor could not be blamed.”

“With respect, your Majesty,” Zandrue said, “what does this have to do with what is happening right now? The war hasn’t started yet.”

The King didn’t reply immediately. He just stood there, swaying a little, trembling. After a moment, he held out the crushed leaf in his hand and a servant rushed over, bowing low, to take it from him. He took a deep breath and turned to face Quilla and the others once more. “I truly believe all three of you are good people. I also believe Felitïa is a good person, and that she is only doing what she thinks is best. But that doesn’t make it right. You are associates and friends of hers. You are caught up in her life, and it doesn’t matter whether she is here or not. Her actions have had an effect on you and thus on here. So I must ask you, do you know where Sinitïa is? Tell me now, and I will hold nothing against you. I do not believe you have kidnapped her or done anything nefarious, but she is an impressionable child and may have taken off on the slightest suggestion or hint of an idea.”

Quilla cast her eyes to the floor. They really did suspect her.

“So, do any of you know? She went to meet all of you when you arrived. She is very fond of your friend Meleng, so it is not surprising that she might want to spend time around his friends.”

“Sinitïa didn’t tell us what she was doing or where she was going, your Majesty,” Zandrue said. “We were as surprised as anyone else when we learned she’d disappeared.”

“You were helping Annai look for her when the attack occurred, weren’t you?”

“Yes, your Majesty. Princess Annai was hoping to find her quickly so no one else would be inconvenienced or alarmed.”

“Why did you take her to the stables? You expected Sinitïa to be there?”

“To find Rudiger, your Majesty, in case Princess Sinitïa had gone to him or he had seen her.”

The King crossed his arms. “I see, and did you truly believe you would find her there?”

Zandrue shook her head. “It was unlikely, but it was possible, and Annai had already covered the more likely possibilities.”

“Did you know Sinitïa took a horse with her?”

“No, your Majesty.”

“At least, we are assuming she took it. There is a horse missing from the stables.”

“With respect, your Majesty, with everything else that’s happened, I wouldn’t assume it was Princess Sinitïa. Whoever unleashed the dogs might have taken the horse to get away.”

The King shook his head. “The horse was Felitïa’s, the same one Sinitïa took to meet you at the gate. We also found a dropped paint brush. It was Sinitïa. So, knowing she left the Palace, probably expecting a long journey, do you have any idea where she might have gone? Again, I’m not accusing you of being involved. But you know her. Perhaps even better than I do. What is your best guess?”

Quilla sighed. Her heart beat faster as she began to regret what she hadn’t even done yet. “She must have gone to find Meleng, your Majesty.”

The King’s head and shoulders sank, and he scowled. “And why do you think she would think she could just head out and find him? How would she know where to go?” He took a step towards Quilla. “My daughter may not be very bright, but even she is not stupid enough to think she could just randomly wander around and run into the boy.”

Quilla tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. Zandrue was staring at her with narrowed eyes. Blame me, Felitïa had said. Well, that advice could be taken further. “Meleng sent her a letter, your Majesty. I delivered it to her. I don’t know what was in the letter, and I’m only guessing, but maybe…”

“He gave her a place to meet him?”

Quilla nodded and stared at the floor.

The King sighed. “So Annai is right.” He shook his head. “And I liked that boy.”

Quilla looked up. “If I had known, your Majesty, I would never have delivered—”

The King gave her a dismissive wave. “If you had known? You know full well how impressionable she is, and yet you gave her an unvetted letter that could have said anything. Where is he? Where is the boy?”

Quilla bit her lip. Would he see right through her if she told him anything other than the truth?

“We left him and Jorvan in Porthaven on our way here,” Zandrue said.

Quilla glared at Zandrue. What was she trying to do? Make things worse?

Zandrue continued, “Since Meleng is banished from Arnor City, he was going to wait there for us. Jorvan, the Isyar we travel with, stayed with him.”

“Then she’s probably on a ship to Porthaven,” the King said.

Zandrue shook her head. “I find it hard to believe Meleng would ask her to come to him, but if he did, he’d know we would be able to tell you his location. So he’d go somewhere else to meet her.”

The King scowled again. “And I suppose you have no idea where.”

“No, your Majesty. If I had to guess, I’d say Beldrum. It’s relatively close and would be easy for Sinitïa to get to. However, Meleng’s smart. He’ll have anticipated anything we might guess.”

The King nodded. “Then we will begin our search in Porthaven and Beldrum. With luck, we can intercept Sinitïa before she reaches the boy.” He motioned to Captain DeSeloön, who was still standing by the door. “Captain, update the port authorities with what we now know, and send word to his Grace, Patriarch Ardon. Tell him we’d like messages sent to Porthaven and Beldrum as fast as possible.”

DeSeloön bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”

The King walked up to Quilla, stood in front of her, and looked down at her. “I’m very disappointed. You should have told me or the Queen about that letter before delivering it. You know Sinitïa better than these two here. You know the infatuation she has with the boy.”

Quilla peered up at him. “I’m sorry, your Majesty. I didn’t think it would harm.” Gods, what had she done? What if they caught Meleng? What would happen then?

“Didn’t think it would harm? Sinitïa is now travelling on her own because you didn’t think. She has no idea what the world at large can be like. She is too trusting by far. If any harm comes to her…” He paused, his lips trembling, face reddening. He turned away from her.

Quilla breathed a sigh of relief.

“If I may, your Majesty,” Zandrue said, “there really was no reason for us to suspect anything. Not even Quilla. We all assumed it was nothing more than a simple love letter. As I said, I find it very hard to believe Meleng would ask her to come to him.”

The King rounded on Zandrue. “He wouldn’t need to. If he so much as mentioned where he is, it might have been enough to put the idea in her mind, whether he intended it or not. You tell me he is smart, but clearly he is not too bright in these matters.”

“There is another possibility, your Majesty,” Zandrue said.

“And what might that be?”

“Have you considered that Sinitïa might have been abducted? Given yesterday’s attack on Princess Annai, surely it’s something you should consider. The missing horse and the paint brush could be an attempt to put you on the wrong trail.”

“We have considered the possibility,” the King said, “and we are not discounting it. But as Captain DeSeloön has told me, if it were an abduction, we would expect to hear demands from the kidnappers. There have been none. The evidence we have suggests the two incidents are unrelated. Sinitïa most likely took off on her own.”

The King nodded to DeSeloön, who motioned to the Kingsguard and other guards in the room. They snapped to attention and moved into position around the King.

“One last thing: If I learn that you have lied to me, that any of you had a hand in helping spirit Sinitïa away from the Palace into a world she is ill-equipped to handle, then I will order your deaths myself. Am I understood?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Quilla said. Zandrue and Rudiger said the same.

And then the King strode from the room, servants opening the doors for him as he approached. The Kingsguard and a train of courtiers followed him. DeSeloön was the last to leave. He gave a slight nod to Quilla, Rudiger, and Zandrue before he stepped through. A servant closed the doors behind him. Only two Palace guards and that one servant remained in the room with them.

Quilla stood there, staring at the door the King had left through. Gods, she hated this place.

“I take it we’re free to go now?” Zandrue said.

“You are,” one of the guards answered.

Zandrue headed for the door, and Rudiger followed her.

Quilla stood there a little longer, then rushed after them. When she caught up in the next room, she grabbed Zandrue’s sleeve. Zandrue stopped and rounded on her.

“Meleng and Jorvan might be in Porthaven,” Quilla hissed. “You know that’s where they were going if they couldn’t find a ship to Isyaria here.”

Zandrue glared at her and then over at the single servant by the door in this room. “Not here!” she hissed. She pulled away from Quilla, continued across the room, and out the next door. A befuddled-looking Rudiger followed her.

Quilla hurried after, and then through the next couple rooms until they found a back corridor without any guards or servants in sight.

Zandrue leaned in close and spoke in a harsh whisper. “What else was I supposed to say? That Meleng was making Sinitïa go even farther overland on her own to find him? No, Porthaven was the most believable place that wasn’t the complete truth. I gave him Beldrum as well to—”

“Why not just say that we left him in Beldrum?”

“Because he would never believe it. Nobody goes to Beldrum! The best way to make a lie believable is to make it mostly true. So I said Porthaven and gave a reason for them to redirect to Beldrum. That’s the best I could do.”

“But if—”

“You brought Meleng into this Quilla. You told the King about the letter. After that, I was just trying to cover for you because I’m a hell of a better liar than you. Hell, for all I know, Meleng really did tell Sinitïa to come to him in his little love letter.”

“Oh come on, you know full well Meleng isn’t interested in Sinitïa that way!”

“He doesn’t have to be interested in her physically to care for her and want to see her. But yeah, I don’t really believe he did that. But something put the idea in her head, and one thing I can be certain of is she’s gone to find him, so where does that leave us? Felitïa told you to blame her, remember?”

Quilla bit her lip. Of course she remembered, and she already regretted using that as a justification for putting Meleng in danger.

“Of all of us, Meleng is the one most associated with Felitïa because he went with her to Scovese, and they were likely to go after him anyway, so we might as well use him in the same way. I don’t like it, but if you want to continue to survive long enough for Garet to have a funeral…”

“Don’t you dare bring Garet into this!”

Zandrue stepped back with a shrug and contemptuous smirk. “I intend to keep us alive, Quilla, whatever it takes.”

Rudiger placed a hand on Zandrue’s shoulder. “Come on, you two, take it easy.”

Zandrue pulled away from his touch, but half raised her hands. “Look, there’s a number of ways things can go, and Meleng is safe in most of them. He and Jorvan might have already left before Sinitïa could get to them, and she’ll still be in Arnor City. Or she caught up to them, and they’re on their way to Isyaria, which is a destination nobody here is likely to think of if we never mention it. And other possibilities. And if they are caught, we’ll just have to trust Meleng to take care of himself. He’s a big boy now, you know, and he has Jorvan with him.” Zandrue paused and took a deep breath. “Now, if I’m going to continue to convince Annai I’m her friend, I need to go comfort her now that she’s been screamed at by her mother.” She backed away a couple steps, then turned and stormed away.

Rudiger gave Quilla a comforting smile. “Sorry ’bout that. I’ll try and calm her down.”

Quilla scowled.

Rudiger backed a couple steps away, then followed Zandrue, though more calmly.

Quilla stood there awhile. “Fuck!”

An approaching servant stopped in her tracks.

“Ever had one of those days?” Quilla said.

The servant nodded. “Yes, my Lady.”

Quilla kicked the floor and walked away, muttering under her breath, “I’m not a fucking lady.”

* * * * *

“The main thing is to make certain he stays still as much as possible.”

Like I can move much in this tiny stall.

The veterinarian continued, “We don’t want his legs developing proud flesh. I’ll make sure the grooms and stablehands keep him under constant observation.”

Pheh. I don’t need those hacks watching over me.

“He’ll stay still, don’t worry,” Rudiger said.

The veterinarian nodded. “Constant observation is important nevertheless.”

Oh no, it isn’t.

“Trust me,” Rudiger said. “Added observation’ll make him more likely to move about. Don’t worry, he understands his situation and is too vain to risk what proud flesh will do to his appearance.”

The veterinarian shook his head. “Vain he may be, but I’m afraid you horse owners often ascribe greater intelligence to your animals than they actually have. Believe me, he doesn’t understand, and is likely to move about, especially if the wounds start to itch. He will be monitored. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on the dogs.”

Can I bite him?

No. Rudiger patted the veterinarian’s arm. “I understand. Thank you.”

The elderly man nodded and headed off.

Hang closed the stall door behind the vet. “I don’t mind helping watch him.”

It wouldn’t have been a hard bite. Just enough to show him I meant business.

Rudiger rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m being serious,” Hang said. “I’m willing to help. I can come by when I’m off duty, check up on him. Make sure the stablehands aren’t bothering him.”

Rudiger smiled. “Just messing with you. I’m happy to have you help.” One day, he would master handling silent conversations with Borisin while other people were around.

No you won’t, Borisin said and laughed—which came out as a series of short snorts.

Cotton flannel standing wraps covered all four of Borisin’s lower legs. Cloth wrapped over his back, and around and under his belly held additional dressings in place. To most people, he probably looked awful, but as long as those wounds remained uninfected, he’d be fine.

Gonna have some ugly scars, buddy, Rudiger said.

Nah, nothing can spoil my natural allure. A few extra scars just add to the appeal. I could use a brushing though. My tail feels like it’s full of tangles. My mane too.

Rudiger smirked. Borisin was right.

Of course I am.

His tail and mane could use a good brushing. Give me a moment. He placed his hand on top of the horse’s head, between the ears. I’m just glad you’re okay, buddy. “Hang, can you grab me a brush?”

He turned to see that Hang had sprung to attention.

Prince Malef stood at the stall door. Behind him were two guards, and off to the side stood Prince Pastrin and a slender man with curly blonde hair Rudiger didn’t recognise. Rudiger hurriedly bowed. “Sorry, your Highness. I didn’t notice your approach.”

You’ve never been good at paying attention to your surroundings.

You could have warned me.

Nah, funnier this way.

Prince Malef waved his hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it. I didn’t announce my presence. He looks a fine horse. May I look at him more closely.”

Rudiger straightened up. “Of course, your Highness.” Let him.

Do I have to? He wanted to have me put down after the fight.

Hang was already unhooking the rope to open the door and let the Prince in.

Yes, Rudiger said.

“Sergeant Merrin,” the Prince said. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Rudiger’s a friend, your Highness,” Hang said. “I’m spending off-duty time with him.”

The Prince nodded. “At ease.” He entered the stall. Borisin snorted, spraying spit and phlegm over the front of Malef’s jerkin and silk doublet.

Rudiger groaned. “Sorry, your Highness. He’s a bit grumpy at the moment. Probably pain from the wounds.” I said let him!

You’re no fun.

Malef took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his jerkin. “Think nothing of it. I’ve been around many horses in my time. They can be stubborn beasts, and they refuse to recognise things like rank and class.” The Prince looked at Rudiger and smiled. There was a bit of phlegm clinging to his bushy moustache. “I’ll live with the indignity.”

“Uh, your Highness, you have…” Rudiger gestured to his own upper lip.

Malef raised an eyebrow. After a moment, he broke into a wider smile. “Of, course.” He dabbed at his moustache with the handkerchief. “How embarrassing.”

I think it’s pretty hilarious. The least he deserved for wanting me dead!

Malef turned his attention back to Borisin, moving alongside the horse from his head to his rump. “Good form and musculature. A few old scars, I see. Combat trained?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

The Prince returned to the stall door and faced Rudiger again. “I saw you arrive with Quilla and I understand you were with Felitïa earlier in the year—just before that nasty business with the Volgs—but I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” He held out his hand and forearm. “Malef.”

“Rudiger Fonivan.” He grasped the Prince’s forearm just below the elbow, and the Prince did likewise to his. Rudiger bent over so that the Prince could reach his face. Then Malef leaned in and kissed each of Rudiger’s cheeks. Rudiger did the same back.

Malef released his grip and stood back. “Your horse is obviously well trained, Rudiger. He leapt to my sister’s defence without hesitation. I am most grateful.”

Yeah? So why did you order me put down?

A chuckle turned their attention to the other men present.

“Excuse me if I’m wrong, Malef,” the blonde man said, “but I heard you ordered the horse slaughtered at first.” He had a wide grin on his face.

You tell him, whoever you are!

Prince Malef flushed and looked away. “Yes, I was...well, I was hoping that wouldn’t come up.” He looked back at Rudiger. “I suppose you were bound to hear of it though, Rudiger, and I apologise. I did not yet know the full details of the situation—only that your horse had killed many of my dogs. I was distraught and, in my distress, I acted inappropriately. Thankfully, Annai set me straight.”

Rudiger had already heard the story while he and Zandrue had been at Princess Annai’s apartments last night. “That’s all right, your Highness. I understand.”

No! No, you do not understand! This guy wanted to kill me! Borisin snorted, spraying more spittle onto the Prince’s sleeve.

With a sigh, the Prince retrieved his handkerchief again and dabbed at his sleeve. “Perhaps we should move out of the stall.” Without waiting for Rudiger to respond, he walked out of the stall.

Rudiger followed him, then Hang, who closed the stall door.

I can still stick my head over and get him again, you know.

“Rudiger, may I introduce my brother, Pastrin?”

Rudiger took Pastrin’s forearm and they exchanged kisses to the cheeks.

“This degenerate is Nedwin Friaz.” Despite Malef’s words, both he and Nedwin were grinning.

Once again, Rudiger performed the greeting routine. “I’m honoured, your Highnesses, my Lord.” He hadn’t expected meeting the princes to go so well. It bothered him Hang was being ignored, though.

“This lord, as you call him, Rudiger, always seems to be where my brother is.” Malef slapped Nedwin’s shoulder. “We can’t seem to get rid of him.”

Nedwin put an arm around Pastrin’s shoulders. He was considerably taller, so it was more like he put his arm over Pastrin’s shoulders. “I’m his best friend, aren’t I, Pastrin?”

“That’s right,” Pastrin said and Nedwin ruffled the Prince’s shoulder-length brown hair.

“Ha!” Malef spun around and put an arm around Rudiger. “That’s what they call it. Best friends.” He chuckled and leaned in conspiratorially at Rudiger. “They’re not fooling anyone, least of all the Queen—or your cousin, Ned.”

Nedwin smirked. “You think I care what that fat slob thinks?”

Malef chuckled and let go of Rudiger. He looked back at Borisin.

Don’t even think of putting your arm around me.

“At any rate, I just wanted to see the horse for myself. Thank you for allowing me that opportunity, Rudiger.”

“My pleasure, your Highness.”

Borisin snorted again, but didn’t hit the Prince. I am getting really tired of this sucking up to royalty. Do not expect me to let him ride me!

Malef motioned to the guards. “We will return to the Palace now.” He paused a moment, then turned to Rudiger. “Tell me, Rudiger, do you play billiards?”

* * * * *

The singing from the other side of the door was clear even before Zandrue reached it. It wasn’t very good singing. The singer—whoever it was—had a breathy quality to her voice. Not surprisingly, she was taking a lot of breaths. She was not in tune with the harpsichord, either.

Zandrue waited for the song to end. She adjusted the thin silver necklace she was wearing so that its bear ornament rested just above her breasts. Her hands went to her ears, which still ached. She stopped just short of touching the light earrings in her newly pierced lobes. Ebry had cautioned her not to touch them for a while. She wasn’t used to wearing earrings. They were too much of a hazard in a scrape, particularly if they dangled, which these did a little. Gods, she hoped she didn’t get an infection.

A round of light applause and cheers signalled the conclusion of the song, and Zandrue nodded to the attendant at the door to let her in.

The young woman who’d been with Annai a couple days ago stood, mid-curtsy, beside the harpsichord in the centre of the room. Annai herself stood on the opposite side of the harpsichord, smiling and clapping. Another woman sat on the harpsichord’s bench. At the far side of the room, seated in plush chairs along the wall, under a painting of Felitïa’s grandmother and namesake, were several people. Although they were all clapping, the one in the centre was the most flamboyant in his praise, holding his hands well out in front of himself, and clapping them together as loud as he could.

“That was stunning, my dear, simply stunning. Your best yet.”

“Thank you, Father,” the singer said.

Zandrue strode across the large room. The applause died down, and people’s eyes moved to her.

Annai came around in a large circle to avoid her wide skirts getting tangled in the legs and bench of the harpsichord. “You’re late.”

The singer crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Zandrue.

Zandrue curtsied, allowing the skirts of her gown to spread wider on the floor. “My apologies, your Highness. I was held up by more questioning about the events of yesterday. I wanted to be as precise as possible in my responses to give them the best chance of finding the assassin.”

Annai fanned herself with the same fan she had been using a couple days ago. It still matched the colour of her current gown, even though the gown was not the same one as last time. Although her current gown was the purple colour of mourning, it was a much more extravagant ensemble than what she had worn the last couple days. Not only were its skirts wide enough to make Zandrue wonder how Annai fit through doorways, its sleeves puffed out nearly as wide.

“In that case, I forgive you,” Annai said.

The singer’s scowl deepened.

“To be honest, I’m glad you’re the one who has to deal with all the questioning. Any time I so much as think about yesterday’s events, I start to feel faint. I’m feeling faint as we speak.” She swooned a little and fanned herself some more. When she was close enough to Zandrue that their skirts touched, she held out her hand.

Zandrue had to stretch to reach Annai’s hand over the combined distance of their skirts, but she managed to take hold of the Princess’s hand.

Annai leaned in just a little. “Thank you for being there for me this morning after my meeting with Mother. I’m not used to being the subject of her anger.”

Although Annai had spoken a little more softly, she was not quiet enough to stop those nearest from hearing, as the singer’s lips and nose quivered.

Annai spun around, still keeping hold of Zandrue’s hand. “Zandrue, let me introduce you to everyone.” She indicated the singer. “This gorgeous, but thin thing is my dearest friend and cousin, Tianna. We’re as close as sisters.”

Tianna gave Zandrue a closed-mouth smile, scrunching her freckled cheeks.

Tianna.

Now Zandrue remembered why she was familiar. She was the one Annai had used to embarrass Felitïa at the banquet thrown to celebrate Felitïa’s return. She was one to pay attention to.

“At the harpsichord is my cousin Laänne.”

The harpsichordist gave Zandrue a more natural smile, her cheeks dimpling.

Annai leaned in a little again. “She’s a darling, but a little dim.”

Laänne’s smile fell to a frown.

Annai led Zandrue past Tianna and Laänne towards the far side of the room, stopping only halfway there. “Over here, we have Tianna’s father and one of my mother’s most trusted advisors, Barnol Friaz.”

The man who had been clapping so loudly when Zandrue had arrived nodded to her. “Forgive me for not getting up to greet you properly, Miss Armida.” He slapped his leg, which jiggled noticeably through the stretched hose he wore. “Unfortunately, my leg is giving me terrible problems today. I can’t stand or walk without support, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to give some offence.”

“Not at all, my Lord,” Zandrue said. “I take no offence.”

“The woman beside him is his wife and Tianna’s mother, Betta.”

Annai continued to introduce the remaining people, and Zandrue did her best to commit their names and appearances to memory. She wished she could get closer to them to get a note of their scents, but she suspected that wasn’t going to happen. They were all wearing too much perfume anyway. She had managed to get Annai’s scent earlier today while comforting her. Annai had let Zandrue get close enough to distinguish the Princess’s natural scent from the perfumes she wore. She would need to get Tianna’s scent too, somehow.

When the introductions were over, Annai led Zandrue back over to the harpsichord and beside Tianna. She let go of Zandrue’s hand, and Zandrue lowered her arm to her side. It was now aching almost as much as her ears.

Annai circled back to where she’d been standing when Zandrue arrived. “Do you sing, Zandrue?”

“Not much, your Highness. Certainly not as well as Tianna here. I heard the end of her song just before I entered the room.” She smiled at Tianna. “You have a beautiful singing voice.”

Tianna’s lip twitched. “That’s very kind of you to say, Zandrue.”

“She’s only stating fact, my dear,” Barnol Friaz said.

“What are you going to sing for us, Zandrue?” Laänne asked.

“Oh, you don’t want to hear me sing, not after Tianna’s wonderful performance.” While Tianna’s performance hadn’t been very good, Zandrue couldn’t remember the last time she’d sung anything without being drunk at the same time. Her own abilities didn’t rate very high.

“I’m afraid, Zandrue,” Annai said, “we’re expected to sing at these little concerts. Since you were unfashionably late—good reason or not—you should go next, wouldn’t you agree, Tianna, Laänne?”

“Oh yes,” the two women replied together.

“I’m not sure what to sing,” Zandrue said.

“Do you know The Hallows of Aust?” Laänne played a small bit of melody on the harpsichord.

Zandrue shook her head. “Sorry.”

“How about The Flower and the Earl?” Again, Laänne played a bit of melody.

“That sounds familiar,” Zandrue said. “But I know it as The Princess and the Squirrel.”

Laänne looked at her blankly.

Zandrue shrugged. “Lyrics often change from place to place. It’s hard to keep track of them all.”

“Your lower-class roots are showing, Zandrue.” Annai rolled her eyes. “Very well. Sing the version you know.”

“Of course, your Highness.” Zandrue looked at Laänne. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Laänne began to play and Zandrue to sing. Her voice was rough and she wished she’d had a chance to warm up before singing, but overall, she felt it went well. At the very least, it wasn’t terrible.

When she finished, she was greeted by enthusiastic applause from most people there. Barnol Friaz was clapping slowly and frowning. His wife’s clapping was much more vigorous. Tianna was scowling again, while Laänne was clapping and smiling.

“Oh, that was very good!” Laänne said.

Annai was clapping too. “It was good, Zandrue. You shouldn’t be so shy about singing. You have a lovely contralto.”

“Potential, certainly,” Barnol Friaz said as Annai circled round to Zandrue again. “However, you shouldn’t praise just because of potential. Too much praise too early will stunt development. If you’d truly like to see Miss Armida reach her potential, you should be honest about the weaknesses in her performance. No offence, of course, Miss Armida, but—”

“Oh hush, cousin. I am quite satisfied with Zandrue’s performance.” As Annai reached Zandrue, she leaned closer in that same way that wasn’t very close and spoke in that quiet way that wasn’t very quiet. “The lyrics were a little raunchy for a public performance like this though. Better saved for more private occasions, I think. But we can worry about that later.”

She turned and addressed the small audience. “I will perform next. I will be singing The Rage of Martan. Laänne, I hope you’ve been practising.”

“I am ready, your Highness.”

As Annai began to sing, Zandrue moved over beside Tianna. She smiled at the young woman, and Tianna’s lips twitched again.

Tianna leaned over to Zandrue and whispered, “I know what you’re up to, and you won’t get away with it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zandrue whispered back, keeping her eyes on Annai instead of Tianna.

“There have been others like you, trying to steal her affections away, but they never succeed. Neither will you. I’m her favourite.”

“That’s fine. I’m not looking to be her favourite. Just one of the gang, like Laänne.”

“That’s what they all say. Even Laänne covets my position.”

“Fine. I told you, I’m not looking to displace you.”

“You won’t.”

Zandrue sighed. Oh, the joy of politics.

Tianna remained silent for the next few minutes as Annai continued her lengthy song about Martan the Conqueror. However, when she reached the sustained high note at the Dragon’s execution, Tianna leaned over again and whispered, “I’ve heard a rumour that your friend—the one Sinitïa’s probably gone to find—is a Drago.”

Zandrue glanced at her. “So?” That was information they had not been advertising, though Meleng had never been one to go out of his way to hide it either.

“Just thought it was interesting that he’s related to the Dragon, don’t you?”

“Not really. It’s been two hundred years. There will be lots of descendants of the Dragon by now. I hear he liked the ladies.”

“Perhaps.”

Annai’s song came to an end, and the audience erupted in applause.

“Magnificent!” Barnol Friaz said.

Tianna ran up to Annai as close as she could get. “Oh, that was marvellous, Annai! So much better than my weak contribution. I’ve never heard you sing it so well.”

Zandrue remained back, but made sure to be clapping with as much enthusiasm as everyone else. She was tempted to try to usurp Tianna’s position as favourite, but there was really no need for that. It would be better to have Tianna as an ally than an enemy.

Annai looked back at her, and Zandrue extended her arms and clapped with even more vigour. “I had no idea you could sing so well, your Highness! It was truly astonishing!” It helped that Annai actually was a good singer.

“Thank you, Zandrue. I’m so glad you liked it.”

The audience—including Barnol Friaz, whose leg had apparently miraculously healed—were coming up to Annai now. Zandrue snatched a cup of wine from the tray of a passing servant.

This was going well.

* * * * *

Ebry was carrying a tray with a pitcher of wine and two cups when Edmon opened the door for Zandrue and let her into the salon. Ebry gave a low curtsy while not sloshing any of the wine. Zandrue was impressed. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do that even if she were sober.

“He’s waiting for you in the study cabinet, my Lady. I was just taking this up to him.”

Zandrue walked over to the handmaid. “That’s okay, Ebry. I’ll take it up with me.” She took the tray from the girl, splashing wine about.

Ebry curtsied again.

“Oh, you don’t need to keep doing that. Not when we’re alone. Only do it when there are other people around.” Zandrue had to admit the curtsying was fun to receive instead of give, though.

“As you wish, my Lady.”

“And call me Zandrue!” she called back.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up them.

Shit.

She really should have let Ebry take the tray up.

After the concert in the afternoon, she had gone with Annai, Tianna, and Laänne back to Annai’s apartments, where they had sung The Princess and the Squirrel together, as well as numerous other even more risqué songs—and they’d drunk quite a bit of wine. It had been a great opportunity to loosen up. Even Tianna had loosened up a little.

Unfortunately, that loosening up was not good for climbing narrow, winding stairs with trays full of wine. Every step she took caused the wine to slosh over the edge of the pitcher. The tray ended up with a significant puddle of wine on it. She hoped his Grace wasn’t offended—or maybe she hoped he was offended. That might even be funny.

Ardon was seated at the desk like last time. As she placed the tray in front of him, he reached for the pitcher, paying no attention to the spilt wine. “Ah, Zandrue. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to follow up on our last meeting. The last few days have been unusually busy, haven’t they? Wine?”

Zandrue shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“As you wish.” Ardon poured some wine into one of the goblets, then leaned back in the chair.

She had told herself that she was never going to drink in this man’s presence. Technically, she was keeping that vow now. Unfortunately, the point of the vow was to not be drunk in front of him. She was failing spectacularly in that regard.

Pheh, semantics.

Zandrue crossed to the window and stood by it again. It was dark out, so she couldn’t see much.

Ardon took a sip of wine, then cradled the cup in front of his chest. “I hope you’re doing well after yesterday’s harrowing experience.”

Zandrue shrugged. “Pretty well. I wasn’t hurt, and I’ve been through tougher situations than that.” She hoped she wasn’t slurring her words. He had to know she’d been drinking, but hopefully she could hide just how drunk she was.

Ardon smiled. “I know you have, but it seemed a good ice-breaker.”

“Any clues who was responsible?”

He took another sip of wine, then resumed cradling the cup. “Unfortunately, no. It was a strange attack, wouldn’t you agree?”

She agreed with him, but was having a hard time remembering why. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there are more efficient ways to kill someone if you want them dead. I would have thought you’d realise that.”

“I do.” Well, she did now that she remembered. “But if you wanted it to seem like an accident…”

Ardon tilted his head and looked at her with slightly raised eyebrows.

Zandrue smirked. Her head was clearing a little as she forced thoughts through. “Of course, you’d want a situation where the dogs were going out anyway, and hopefully when your target doesn’t have assistance to survive it. I don’t suppose they could have been aware that Borisin isn’t an ordinary horse, and they’d expect Annai to have guards with her. Though she was more isolated there than she would be in the Palace proper, so it might be possible.”

“You don’t seem convinced.” Ardon took another sip of wine, then placed the cup on the table and leaned forward. “You suspect something no one else has even considered, don’t you?”

He was good. Though why did he suspect it? Shit, did he know she wasn’t human? Fuck, that would be bad. What could she do to put him off the scent? Oh, scent. She didn’t have his scent yet. Maybe she should get that. Damn, the wine was taking over again.

“Well?”

Zandrue took a deep breath and forced her thoughts in order again. “Everyone’s assuming Annai was the target.”

“And who else might it be?”

Was he patronising her? “Me.”

He smiled and leaned back in the chair again, taking his cup and sipping from it. “I think we can be reasonably certain you were the target, and we can be absolutely certain that it was an attack made out of opportunity and not planning.”

“Somebody just happened to see us go by, and decided on the spur of the moment to release the dogs with my—or Annai’s—scent.”

“As I said, an attack of opportunity. According to the handlers, the dogs were already quite agitated for several minutes before the attack, perhaps because of the storm. That might have been an additional opportunity the person responsible took advantage of.”

You do suspect, don’t you, you old dog? Well, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being proved right. “Do you think it might have been Dyle or other Darkers he might have with him?”

Ardon was about to sip his wine, but he lowered the cup and frowned. “I don’t know. Any luck tracking him down?”

Zandrue shook her head. “You?”

He looked aside and sighed. “I’m afraid not.” He looked back at her. “I must apologise, Zandrue, for rushing off so suddenly at the man’s mention last time. He was…” He bought the cup to his lips again, but didn’t drink. “A variable I was unaware of.”

Zandrue watched him carefully as he drank the wine. He was either still perturbed at the news about Dyle—which meant he still had far less information than he wanted—or he was putting on a very good pretence. She had no idea how to tell which. “Even you can’t know everything.”

“That is true,” he said. “Now then, there is also the matter of Princess Sinitïa.”

Zandrue looked straight at him. “What about her? I’m sure you’ve heard what we told the King?”

He nodded. “Yes, I have, but I want to know from you anything you might have...forgotten.”

“You think we lied.”

“Did you? Did you perhaps provide the King with incorrect information about where Mister Drago might be? Perhaps you missed something?”

Zandrue crossed her arms. “If you think I lied, perhaps you should inform the King. Have him redirect his search elsewhere? Did you send the messages to Porthaven and Beldrum like he asked?”

“I did, and I’m not going to change them, no matter what you might tell me here.”

Zandrue watched him as he took a long drink of his wine. He clearly expected her to tell him something different than she’d told the King. What did he know or suspect?

He lowered his cup after a moment, and cradled it in front of his chest again, watched her through those deep-set eyes.

Zandrue shrugged without uncrossing her arms. “There’s nothing more to say. I told the King what little I knew. I still think we should focus more on the possibility she was abducted or killed. I certainly hope that’s not the case, but we shouldn’t eliminate the possibility until we know for sure.”

He placed the cup back on the desk and leaned back in his chair, head tilted, arms crossed on his lap. “Agreed. We mustn’t discount other possibilities.”

Did he believe her? And would that affect his opinion of her?

He half-smiled. “I see yesterday’s events have helped you get in Princess Annai’s good graces.”

Zandrue shrugged. “Well, it’s certainly made a better singer out of me. Did you know she’s actually a pretty good singer? I never would have expected it.”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Everyone has talents, Zandrue. Even Annai. Rudiger, I see, is making headway with Princes Malef and Pastrin.”

“He is?” Shit, she shouldn’t have said that. Gods, Ardon was going to be a problem. He’d planned this meeting knowing full well she would have been drinking.

That was it. No more drinking—any time! For any of them! That included Quilla.

But Annai would expect it. Damn it!

She looked at Ardon and tried to recover her composure. “I’m glad to hear Rudiger’s doing well. I haven’t had a chance to speak to him since this morning.”

“What about Quilla? How’s she doing?”

Zandrue groaned and looked away. “We had a little argument.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Over a trivial thing. She’s stressed. I shouldn’t have pushed it. But I wouldn’t worry about it. She’ll get through this.”

Ardon nodded. “Yes, I’m sure she will.” He pushed the chair back, and stood up. “Thank you for this talk, Zandromeda. I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’d like to get some rest.”

Zandrue bowed her head. “You’re welcome, your Grace.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, then descended the stairs.

Zandrue took a deep breath. Just what was that man up to?