The Isencroft night was cold and moonless. Snow covered the ground, deep as a man's knees. Ice crystals hung in the air, and every breath ached. Nearby, one guard lay in a heap. Blood seeped from the gash that slit his throat ear to ear, staining the snow beneath him. Another guard lay dead a few paces away, a crossbow quarrel fletchings-deep in his chest. Beyond the low stone fence lay a small cluster of thatched-roofed buildings inside a log stockade. Two more guards stood watch at the gate, warming themselves over a fire.
"Well?" Kiara Sharsequin's voice was muffled beneath her helm.
Cam of Cairnrach, Champion of King Donelan, nodded. "No worse than I'd expect from bandits. Not much of a scarp, and our mage can create enough confusion to get us up the slope. Land's too wet in these parts to have caves beneath it. From what the scouts could see from the treetop, there's not enough room to house more than a hundred men at arms." A wisp of Cam's curly dark hair protruded beneath his helm. He was a big man, and in his armor seemed like a moving mountain. His hand closed around the pommel of his war axe.
"Give the word," Kiara murmured.
Cam raised his arm, a signal to the line of mounted soldiers still hidden in the shadows of the forest. Devon, one- of the king's battle mages, leaned forward on his mount and raised both hands, pushing outwards as if against an invisible wall. A blast of fire streaked from Devon's palms, blasting aside the guards at the gate and setting the wooden stockade afire.
"Now!" Cam bellowed. Soldiers burst from concealment, their way made plain by the bright light of the burning stockade.
Kiara dropped her reins and gripped her sword, riding forward with the others. Her battle steed galloped over the heavy snow. The soldiers' battle cry echoed through the moonless night, momentarily drowning out the alarm raised by the divisionist outpost. Kiara was well aware that the crest on her shield made her a target, even as it also sent the unmistakable message that Isencroft's heir took this rebellion personally. Goddess! It feels good to do more than train for once. One of the raiders ran at her and she blocked him with her boot, slashing down with her sword and severing his arm cleanly at the shoulder. She reared her war horse, and its iron-shod hooves discouraged the raiders' two companions from making a similar assault. Jae, her gyregon, swooped and dived at the raiders with his powerful talons, raking across one man's face and clawing deeply into another's back.
All around her, the king's men were making short work of the outpost. Though the heavy war horses were hardly race steeds, they moved fast enough to pursue the fleeing raiders. Cam was fighting a huge man, and on foot, the two might have been equally matched. The raider lunged forward, slicing into Cam's thigh, but Cam's sword thrust downward, penetrating the raider's cuirass and running him through.
"Behind you!"
Kiara turned her horse. The buildings of the outpost were all burning, painting the snow in red and orange. Behind the stone watering trough, she caught a glimpse of leather helmets an instant before the twang of crossbow's firing sent a rain of quarrels through the night air. One of them embedded itself in her shield with a force that made her hand go numb. Kiara gave a cry and rode straight for the bowmen, knowing it would take them a moment to reload. Behind her, she could hear her own bowmen returning fire.
Two raiders ran at her horse, one wielding a war axe and the other a scythe. Before they could reach striking range, the axe man stopped, taken in the throat by an arrow. His eyes widened, blood frothed at his lips, and he fell, face-forward, into the trampled snow. The remaining raider advanced with madness in his eyes. Kiara's war horse sidestepped, broadening the gap. The scythe made up in.reach what it lacked in power; Kiara knew that if it was brought against her horse's legs she would have no chance, jae dived for the attacker, but his scythe kept even the gyregon at bay.
"Death to traitors!" the scythe-man shouted, swinging the long-handled blade in a deadly arc. Kiara jerked her horse back, but in the tight quarters of the burning stockade there was little room to maneuver. The horse kicked its heavy hooves at the raider's head, but the wiry man dodged the strike, intent on ripping out the belly of the horse with his sharp blade. Kiara slashed with her sword, but the scythe's long handle kept her assailant out of range.
A low whirr and the glint of firelight on metal were the only warning as Cam's battle axe spun through the air, catching the raider full in the back of the head. One side of his skull exploded as the body fell twitching to the ground. Kiara brought her horse down onto the raider's back, grimacing at the sound of cracking bones and pulping flesh.
"Surrender and face trial," Cam shouted above the din to the raiders. "Fight and you'll die."
"No surrender!" shouted a raider as arrows flew. Dozens of raiders burst from their cover, wildly swinging whatever weapons they possessed, counting on their furious attack to make up for their shrinking numbers.
"Take the leaders alive!" Kiara yelled, hearing Cam relay the order down the line. Within a few more moments of fierce fighting, the stockade had been subdued, its buildings leveled by fire and its raider garrison dead or captured.
Cam dragged a bound raider toward her and shoved the man to his knees, snatching away his helm so that Kiara could look at his face. Soot-streaked and bloodied, the raider glared up at her. "Came to do the dirty work yourself, your highness?"
"You're charged with high treason, with the crimes of waylaying the king's supply wagons, ambushing his messengers, and planning to overthrow King Donelan. You'll be taken to the palace for your trial."
"I don't need a trial," the raider said. "Guilty as charged, Your Highness. I'd put my knife through your chest in a heartbeat if it would keep you from betraying your people with the Margolan alliance."
"Take him away."
Cam pulled the raider to his feet. "Isencroft won't recognize a foreign king or a traitor queen," the raider shouted as Cam dragged him toward the wagons. "No peace until Isen-croft's throne remains free!"
Around her, the king's guards were making short work of securing what was left of the outpost. Kiara watched, hoping that if the others saw her shiver, they'd assume it was with cold. How many times have we argued this? No one wants an independent Isencroft more than father and me. The' betrothal contract wasn't originally supposed to create a joint throne. But there aren't any other heirs, and Isencroft is impoverished. We'll need Mar-golan's help just to feed our people, let alone keep away the brigands from the Western border or the raiders from across the sea. Perhaps we can split the crown again when my children are grown, a generation from now. But it's fools' pride to turn aside Margolan's help only to fall to invaders.
The ride back to the Isencroft palace was quiet. One wagon carried a dozen prisoners who shouted curses and baited the soldiers until Cam threatened to gag them. The other wagon carried back the dead, five men out of seventy-five. Three riderless horses followed the wagon; the other two remained where they had died.
Cam rode beside her in silence, a'comfort just by his presence. Jae rode on Kiara's lap. Kiara's shield arm was throbbing and the fingers on her left hand moved stiffly. Cam said nothing about his own injuries, but the gash in his leg still bled. Kiara glanced at the soldiers around her. Although few appeared to be badly wounded, most had taken some injuries from the raiders' frenzied defense.
"Hope the wolves are elsewhere." Cam grimaced as he shifted in his saddle.
"Carina's going to have a few words about that leg," Kiara replied, trying to lift herself from a dark mood. The night's business bothered her more than she cared to show, and while to be of Isencroft meant to know the sword, she had no illusions about the dangers of adventuring.
Cam managed a strained grin. "Let her. After all, she'll be off to Dark Haven soon and I'll miss the scoldings that come with the healing."
Kiara smiled. "I'm sure you'd be welcome to visit."
Cam chuckled. "Jonmarc's had his eye on Carina since we were in Linton's caravan. I'll wait until after the wedding to visit." "Whose wedding? Mine or theirs?" Cam looked at her sideways. "Both." They fell silent again until the forest was behind them and the wagon path merged into the main road. Kiara's breath misted in the cold air, and the warmth of her war horse was all that kept her from being chilled through. Ahead, the lights of Aberponte, the Isencroft palace, and the city that surrounded it glistened against the snow. "Do you think we've gotten the last of them?" she asked.
"That's the third nest of raiders we've taken out in as many weeks. I don't think the divi-sionists are a large group—just vocal and fanatic, which is always a bad combination. I doubt we've gotten them all, but we've probably set them back somewhat—enough to get through your wedding and make it all a moot point."
Kiara watched the city. "I never thought I'd come home from Margolan and have my own people trying to kill me, after dodging Jared for most of last year."
"Your people aren't trying to kill you, Kiara. They understand what's at stake and just how bad the last three harvests have been. They know you risked everything to keep Isencroft out of jared's hands. And most of them remember the tales from the old days, when the raiders would sweep down every spring and loot everything they could get their hands on. The divisionists don't care how many of our people starve, and they won't be on the front line to drive back the raiders. It's all just words to them." He shook his head. "Father's lands were close enough to the sea for me to remember what it's like when raiders come. Once was enough. Never again."
"Everything's changing, Cam."' The road beneath their horses' hooves had become packed snow, hard as stone from the busy daytime travel into Aberponte. "When I went on my journey, I thought I could put everything back the way it used to be, before father got sick. But it's not working out that way." "It never does."
Kiara and Cam barely had time to strip off their armor and turn their horses over to the grooms before a page came with a summons from the king. Cam was limping, but he waved off assistance. Kiara kept her left arm close to her body, painfully aware that it had begun to swell. Sooty, sweat-streaked, and blood spattered, they made their way toward the throne room. Jae perched on Kiara's uninjured shoulder.
"Good thing Donelan isn't expecting us dressed for court."
"Father rarely stands on ceremony."
They were not surprised to see both Cam's sister Carina Jesthrata and Allestyr, the seneschal, waiting with King Donelan. Carina hurried toward them as Cam steadied himself against the wall and Donelan bade them sit. Jae flapped down to the floor and made his way over to the warm hearth.
"Well?"
"The intelligence was correct," said Kiara. "The stockade was armed—and they were divisionists. We brought the survivors back for trial."
Carina was already at work on the gash on Cam's leg. Kiara glanced at the kettle of water that warmed by the sitting room hearth; Carina had prepared for them to arrive worse for the wear.
Carina poured a violet liquid into Cam's wound. "Watch what you're doing!" Cam yelped. "It hurt less than that when he stabbed me."
"You're starting to sound like Jonmarc."
"Don't you have anything in that bag of yours that isn't vile-tasting or painful?"
"No. Now sit still."
Allestyr took one look at Kiara's arm and brought her a glass of brandy. "I'm not sure it was a wise thing for you to ride out with the troops this close to our departure for Mar-golan," the seneschal said. "Aside from placing yourself in danger, it will hardly do to present you to your groom looking as if you'd fallen out of a carriage."
"I got my share of bruises when we were on the road last year—and none of us had the luxury of getting frequent baths once we started the trip back. I dare say Tris has seen me look worse."
Donelan sighed. "Tris will certainly overlook any scrapes, but it's the Margolan court you need to worry about."
"Mother prepared me for this from the day I was born. Goes with the whole idea of being 'betrothed at birth.' I'm more worried about what happens to Isencroft once I leave—and whether or not you dare come with me to the wedding."
"The day hasn't arrived when I'll let a bunch of bandits keep me from my daughter's wedding. Besides, the best way to counter their rumors is to prove them wrong. After all, there's no joint throne until after I die. If I live to be a very old man, you and Tris will have a suitable heir for the Isencroft throne. The only power the divisionists have is fear. Once their followers see that your wedding changes nothing—at least in the short term—perhaps they'll slink away."
Kiara reached out her right hand and clasped Donelan's. "Have I mentioned how much I love the way you look at things?"
Carina finished bandaging up Cam's leg and turned her attention to Kiara's arm. "Typical shield break. Not as bad as some. I can get it well on its way toward healing and decrease the swelling and the bruising before the wedding— but no more raids. There's a limit to what I can patch up, and we can't have you limping down the aisle like some border ruffian!"
"Dammit, Carina, this was personal! Those divisionists are out there saying I'm a traitor to the crown—a traitor to Isencroft. We got Jared off the Margolan throne and crowned a king who won't plunder Isencroft for his own benefit. I would have betrayed Isencroft if I'd gone meekly to wed Jared and let him rape the country the way he did his own servants."
Donelan laid a hand on Kiara's shoulder. "There will always be ignorant, dangerous people who twist the truth for their own ends. No amount of arguing will change their minds because their argument isn't based on facts, it's based on their own petty point of view. It goes with the crown, Kiara. Always has—always will. It's a king's dilemma. Explain to the people just how bad it is, and they panic. Tell them less than the whole truth, and they riot over the one course of action left to us. At least after tonight, the divisionists will need time to regroup, maybe long enough that we can get you to Margolan safely. Once the wedding is over this will die down."
Kiara grimaced as Carina bound up her arm. "And if it doesn't?"
Donelan gave a tired smile. "Then Cam and I will deal with it." He exchanged glances with Allestyr.
"There's something you're not telling me."
Donelan moved away and began to pace. "I have a new man in Margolan. He's very well-placed. There's been an attempt on Tris's life, Kiara. A nearly successful attempt."
"What happened?"
"A lone archer was able to get off one clear shot. Your young man is exceptionally lucky. The arrow was only a handbreadth shy of his heart."
"But Tris is all right?"
Donelan nodded. "Well enough to summon the spirit of the assassin, whom his guards had already killed."
"What else did you hear?"
"Apparently, the archer was recruited by someone of means, perhaps someone from outside the kingdom."
"Why?"
"Who knows? Though by all reports Tris has made a good start, some will blame him for the hunger that's sure to follow ruined farms and exiled farmers. And there are those in Margolan who also dislike the idea of joined kingdoms.
"Jared's supporters may want the chaos that would follow an assassination. If there's truth to the rumor of a royal bastard, then some might seek a regency to further their own fortunes. Others might not want a mage on the throne. Some might wish rid of the House of Margolan altogether." He sighed. "Once you set foot in Margolan, you become a hostage to fate, Kiara. The most powerful kings know this, and permit themselves no such weakness. I was never able to make that trade-off myself."
"We've been hunted by the Margolan army and Jared's bounty hunters. We've been in danger before."
"That's true. But until all of Jared's traitors are destroyed, you and Tris won't be able to tell friend from foe. I never wanted you to see such troubled times, my dear," he said regretfully. "I only hope that Bricen and I leave a better legacy than the collapse of both our kingdoms."
He took Kiara's hand. "You and Cam need to get some rest. Haunts begins at midnight, and our own people will expect to see their princess at the festival. Try to put all of this out of your mind."
Kiara kissed him on the cheek. "Are you taking your own advice?"
"Of course not. I'm the king. Get some sleep. If we hear more from Margolan, I'll let you know."
Kiara twisted the gold ring that Tris had given her as a betrothal token, the ring set with his crest. "Haunts is my last festival before I go to Margolan. This is the first time I've been sad to see it come."
Donelan squeezed her hand. "Don't be so busy looking back that you forget to look at the good things coming your way. You'll get through this, and so will Isencroft. Now off with you."
Cam walked to the door unaided. Carina insisted on accompanying Kiara to her rooms, although two guards followed them and the palace corridors were almost empty. Kiara sank into one of the chairs near the fire. Carina helped her remove her boots and bustled to fix them both cups of tea. She added some powder to a cup and handed it to Kiara.
"Drink this. It'll take the pain away."
"You know what I hate most about getting ready to go to Margolan?"
"What?"
"All the damned dress fittings."
"Had you planned to just take your riding trews and a nice dress for the wedding?"
"I would if it were up to me."
Carina barely stifled a laugh. "Admit it, Kiara. It had to catch up with you someday. Even Jonmarc finally learned to dress for court.. Maybe he could give you some tips on where to hide weapons when they won't let you wear a sword."
"There's something to be said for armor," Kiara muttered. "Find a set that fits and stick with it. Wear it day in and day out. Why can't Tris and I just be the way we were on the road—two nobodies from nowhere?"
"You mean the 'good old days' on the road—being chased by Jared's guards, sleeping in tombs and burnt-out cellars, cold and hungry and always looking over our shoulders—?"
"At least we were dressed comfortably!" Kiara knew she was being unreasonable, but it was satisfying enough to remain so. Jae roused himself and waddled over, hoping for a treat. Kiara stroked his scaly neck, and he made a clicking sound in contentment.
"Riding in all kinds of weather, making cold camp in the forest," Carina went on. "Oh, and did I forget nearly drowning in the Nu River and that lovely little side trip to the Nargi camp? You missed the slavers. Face it, Kiara. You and Tris had higher bounties on your heads than Jonmarc—not exactly 'two nobodies from nowhere.'"
"You're right. But nobody drilled me on etiquette, no one fussed over my clothes..."
"And you still managed to land the most eligible bachelor in the Seven Kingdoms."
"You know very well that just sort of happened." She gave a wicked smile. "And given the number of people chasing us, maybe 'most sought after' is a better description."
"Maybe once you get the wedding out of the way it won't be so bad," Carina said, pulling up a chair. "All the nobles will go back to their manors for the winter. Maybe.you can go back to riding and practicing in the salle all you like."
"They'll hardly take to their queen walking around the palace in sensible, comfortable tunic and trews like a hired hand."
"It never bothered Tris."
"I'm worried about him, Carina. I know father isn't telling me everything he hears," Kiara said.
"Did you find out who his.new spy is?"
Kiara shook her head. "Jared killed Mostyn, who had been there long enough that everyone at court probably knew he was Isencroft's man. Father installed this one after he was well enough to take back his duties: I even asked father directly—he said he had no intention of withdrawing the person once I was married and didn't want to put me at cross-loyalties between my husband and my father." She snorted. "More likely he wants to keep an eye on me."
"I've also been thinking about mother," Kiara said. "She was only sixteen when she married father. Goddess! I don't know how she got the courage! She was almost five years younger than I am now, and she didn't know father nearly as well as I know Tris."
"Spending a year on the road with someone does that for you."
"As you well know yourself. You can't tell me that you aren't looking forward to seeing Jonmarc again at the wedding." She grinned. "Didn't I see a vayash moru messenger just a few days ago with a letter from Dark Haven?" Carina fingered the silver pendant at her throat, her gift from Jonmarc. "Kiara, how can I leave Donelan—and you—for such a long time?" "Father's well again."
"Royal births follow royal weddings," Carina retorted.
"Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves here?"
"Kiara, I think Jonmarc means to ask me to marry him."
"Did you just figure that out? Of course he does. Go to Dark Haven. And when he asks you to marry him, say yes. I have Cerise and Malae. They're both moving to Margolan to look after me. Cerise was mother's healer. Malae's looked after me since I was born. It's time for you to have your own life." Jae nuzzled her shoulder; Kiara dug into a pouch at her belt to withdraw a bit of dried meat, which the gyregon tossed up into the air, then snapped in mid fall.
Carina stood and walked over to the window. "The other hard part is leaving Cam," she said. "The only time we've ever been apart was last year. I missed him terribly. Why do I feel as if I'm letting him down by leaving again?"
"Have you talked to Cam about it?"
"I know I should have. But I keep putting it off."
"I doubt Jonmarc was intending to have a chaperone." Kiara grinned. "I've noticed Cam's spending quite a bit of time with the brewer's daughter. Maybe it's time for both of you to settle down."
On the way back from healing Kiara, Carina slowed as she passed Cam's door. She drew a deep breath and knocked. "Cam? It's me." She swung the door open. As usual, Cam's room was a complete mess.
"How's Kiara?"
"Kiara's fine. I was checking in on you."
Carina declined his offer of cakes
"Suit yourself," he said, and wolfed down several. "What's on your mind?"
"Things are just moving so quickly. Tris's coronation. Now the wedding. All the troubles here. And me, heading for Dark Haven."
Cam took Carina's hand. "I'm happy for you and Jonmarc, Carina. Really. He's a good man. He loves you. I'm choosy about who marries my sister. He'll do."
"He hasn't asked yet."
"Care to place bets? He's had his eye on you for a long time."
Carina fingered the sleeve of her robe. "It was hard, being away from you last year. Not knowing where you were or whether you were alive. I tried not to let on to the others—there was so much at stake and we were in so much danger. But I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too." Cam squeezed her hand. "But maybe it was a good thing. We needed to learn to stand by ourselves. We can still visit. And besides," he said with a grin, "while you were adventuring, I just may have found the girl of my dreams. A pretty redhead whose father is a brewer. Now that would be a match made by the Goddess!"
Carina kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."
"Go on. Get packed. And make sure you're ready for this evening—I've been past the kitchen and cook's making a dinner that should have the ghosts drooling!"
Haunts began at midnight. Bonfires burned in a long line toward the horizon, commemorating Isencroft's war dead. Inside the palace, the smell of roasting game filled the air. Venison, rabbit, and wild boar would be on the night's menu, along with roasted vegetables, hot wassail, and a stunning variety of cakes and pastries. Isencroft's army, renowned for its ferocity despite its small size, marched in the courtyard to the beat of drummers and the skirl of pipes. Bonfires dotted the hillsides. Every family that had lost someone to battle lit their own fires to invite the souls of the departed closer, or to honor the memory of the dead. In the castle bailey a huge bonfire roared in memory of those lost in battle whose bodies had not returned to Isencroft. People from all parts of the kingdom made the journey to the palace to place a bit of wood or pottery into the fire in memory of a lost loved one, inviting the ghosts to return home and take their rest.
The night began with a display of acrobatics and feats of strength. The highlight of the feast would take place the next afternoon at the royal joust, an event that spanned from noon to supper with matches between the kingdom's best fighters. Now, as Kiara and Donelan sat in the royal carriage amid the procession to the river, Kiara looked out at the blazing bonfires with sadness.
"Your thoughts are elsewhere," Donelan said.
Kiara smiled. "Just wondering when I'll celebrate again in Isencroft."
The carriage jostled over cobblestones, moving slowly as the crowd pressed against it. The streets were filled with revelers, men and women outlandishly costumed in the eight faces of the Lady. Some stumbled drunkenly through the streets, pushing and bumping past the soldiers who escorted the king's carriage in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. Cam walked along the right side of the carriage, and another guard kept pace on the left.
Kiara pulled her heavy cloak around her, but she was still cold. She buried her hands in her fur muff and shivered. "How long until we reach the river?"
Donelan glanced out of the window. "I'd tell you if I could see anything but the crowd. Not long."
They could hear the distant sound of the palace bells. Gradually, the road widened as the procession left the city and headed down toward the Koltan River. The Koltan flowed from Isencroft's highlands into the Nu. Legend told that the souls of fallen warriors followed the river into the sea, where Chenne awaited them.
On the banks of the river lay a funeral boat. An effigy lay inside, representing Isencroft's battle fallen. The carriage stopped; Donelan stepped out and turned to give Kiara a hand down. A light snow was falling, and an icy crust on the ground crunched beneath their boots. A military drummer beat a somber rhythm as pipers played. Despite the cold, a huge crowd waited along the river banks. Two soldiers stepped forward, handing lit torches to both Kiara and Donelan. Side by side, they walked toward the effigy in the boat. Not far beyond, the Koltan flowed, dark and swift, toward the sea.
Donelan lifted his torch and turned to face the crowd. "Tonight we honor our fallen. When the raiders came, when the kingdoms invaded, the soldiers of Isencroft never wavered. We remember those who died in battle, and we wish their souls rest in the Lady."
The crowd murmured their assent. Kiara could see how tired her father was. The torchlight did not hide the strain in his face. Isencroft fought back armies twice her size. But even the army can't combat years' of poor harvests. We've been so proud of our independence. I understand why the idea of a joint kingdom isn't well received, but Goddess! The alternative's starvation.
Donelan laid his torch against the effigy. The boat, filled with straw, began to burn. Kiara added her torch to the flames..-
"May the spirits of our fallen remain with us, to watch over the kingdom to which they pledged their lives and honor," Kiara said. Four soldiers used long poles to push the burning boat into the dark waters of the Koltan River.
One of the musicians lifted his voice in a traditional song for the dead. The crowd moved toward the shore to watch as the boat slipped into the darkness. Kiara began the walk back toward the carriage.
"Isencroft independent!" a man's voice shouted. Kiara caught just a glimpse of a figure leaping toward her. Torchlight glinted on a knife blade. Before the guards could react, the man had tackled Kiara, stabbing his blade into her chest.
Kiara kicked hard. The man staggered backward. Cam tackled the assailant, crushing the wiry man to the ground as guards crowded around them. More guards circled Kiara as Donelan ran to her, dropping to his knees beside her.
"Kiara!"
Kiara groaned. "It's all right."
Donelan reached for the tear in her cloak where the knife had penetrated. He looked down at his hands, baffled, when they came away bloodless. "I don't understand—"
Around them, guards shouted for the crowd to disperse; revelers shouted and cried out at the attack. Kiara managed a smile and pulled her cloak open to reveal a leather breastplate over her gown. "It doesn't match the bodice, but I thought it might be wise."
Donelan shook his head. "Have I told you how proud I am of you?" She held out a hand and he helped her up. The knife had made a deep cut into the leather, but had not gone through. Even so, Kiara would be bruised both from the attack and from the fall.
The guards were already wrestling the attacker away. Soldiers herded the crowd back up the hill. Drummers and pipers seemed determined to drown out conversation with their music. "Did you hear what he said? 'Isen-croft independent.'" Kiara shuddered.
"I imagine we'll find that he has ties to the divisionists. The sooner you leave for Mar-golan, the better."
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, save that the royal bodyguard was doubled. Principality arrested us with fewer guards, Kiara thought grimly. It's hard to tell the difference between being protected and being held prisoner.
Donelan and Kiara agreed privately that it would be best, considering the circumstances, for both of them to keep their traditional roles in the feast. Kiara made the requisite toasts and clapped at the entertainers, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The feast ended at dawn; Kiara had never felt so relieved to see the guests depart. Maybe I'll be able to get into the spirit tomorrow for the joust, she thought. Tonight, I want nothing more than a warm brandy and a hot poultice.
Donelan and Tice waited in Kiara's private sitting room while Carina attended to Kiara's injuries. Make bustled about, offering tea or cakes, and finally sitting nervously by the fire.
In the privacy of Kiara's bedroom, Carina helped Kiara out of her gown. Kiara winced as she lifted her arms. "You didn't tell me you were going to wear armor," Carina chided gen-tly.
"You didn't ask. After what happened to Jonmarc at Winterstide, I thought it might be a good idea." She managed a grin. "And it felt good knowing how much I'd vex the dressmaker, covering up his creation with a cuirass!"
Carina turned the cuirass over in her hands. "From the strength of the blow, you'd be dead if you hadn't worn this." She let her hands slip over Kiara's shoulders and chest. "No wonder you're sore. He might not have cut you, but he's broken a rib."
"That explains why it hurts so much to breathe."
Kiara tried not to fidget as Carina worked, knitting the broken bones and healing the deep bruise. Cerise mixed a powder into a hot cup of water and gave it to Kiara. "Here. Drink this. Even with the healing, you'll be sore for a while. The bruise should be gone by the wedding, and the rib should be nearly healed."
"I'd been looking forward to tonight," Kiara said, holding the warm cup close to smell the fragrant herbs. "I expect everything to be different once I go to Margolan. I didn't realize that now, Isencroft is different, too."
Cerise sat on the side of her bed. "Times change. Nothing stays the same."
"I never expected my wedding to create problems like this. It's hardly new—I've been betrothed to the heir to Margolan's throne since I was born."
"But when the pact was made, we didn't know you'd be the only heir to Isencroft's throne. Originally, the marriage didn't create a joint kingdom. Years of drought and poor harvests did that. Isencroft's a proud country. We've fought Margolan in the past to remain independent. Some people see the marriage as handing over what many soldiers died to protect."
Kiara sipped at the tea. "Can't they see how bad things have gotten? We can't go on like this."
"People see what they want to see," Donelan said from the doorway. "Personally, I'm glad to see you worrying about policy. That means you're feeling better."
Kiara held out a hand. Donelan leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Have they learned anything from the attacker?" Kiara asked.
"Not as much as they hoped. Looks like he acted on his own—although he's hardly the only one to hold those ideas."
"I should have reacted faster. I should have blocked him."
"Even the guards didn't see it coming. Don't blame yourself. You're a fine fighter, Kiara. But you're not going to be able to rely on your skill alone. Once you and Tris are married, there'll be more than the usual pressure for an heir—especially if Tris plans to fight the rebel lord in the Southern plains. If there's truth to the rumors that Jared sired a bastard, the need for a legitimate heir will be even stronger. Excellent fighter though you are, my dear, you cannot—dare not—engage in single combat when you bear the child of the king." Donelan looked away. "Tris will be more vulnerable until the child is born. Some people would profit if he were to die in battle without an heir, or without an heir of legal age. In Margolan, you won't be able to rule from behind the throne as you did in Isencroft."
Kiara felt her stomach twist into a knot. We may have been safer in hiding among the vayash moru than we'll be in the open inside Shekerishet!
"What of Trevath and Nargi?"
"Both lands have challenged Margolan's borders. Both have formidable armies. Curane's holdings are near the Trevath border. While I doubt Trevath will be so bold as to send troops to his aid, it'll be near enough that Trevath can see the strength of Margolan's troops and decide whether the time is right to strike. I doubt Tris could be victorious in a full war with Trevath just now."
"And Nargi?"
"Nargi and Trevath agree only on their hatred of Margolan. If Trevath decides that Margolan's army is weak, an alliance between Nargi and Trevath to strike and divide the spoils would almost certainly be successful."
"And if Margolan fell? What of Isencroft?"
Donelan gave a short, bitter laugh. "Isen-croft's fate is now tied to Margolan. Our allies are on the far side of Margolan. If Margolan falls to Nargi and Trevath, Principality, East-mark, and Dhasson would have their own share of problems. They won't rescue us. The raiders from the West or from across the Northern Sea would almost certainly return within a season."
"So all our fates may turn on a single decision," Kiara said.
Donelan met her eyes. "Or a single arrow."