the Great Hall of Paras Derval in the morning, it was with a degree of stupefaction quite spectacular that they discovered their Princess waiting to greet them.
Kim Ford was fighting a shameful case of the giggles. Sharra’s description of the probable reactions on the part of the embassy dovetailed so wonderfully with the reality that she knew with certainty that if she but glanced at the Princess, she would disgrace herself. She kept her eyes carefully lowered.
Until Diarmuid strolled up. The business with the water pitchers the night before had generated the sort of hilarity between the two women that cements a developing friendship. They had laughed for a long time.
It was only afterwards that Kim had remembered that he was a wounded man, and perhaps in more ways than one. He had also acted in the afternoon to save both Sharra’s life and her pride, and he had told them to crown his brother. She should have remembered all of that, she supposed, but then she couldn’t, she simply could not be serious and sensitive all the time.
In any case, the Prince showed no traces of affliction at the moment. Using the drone of Gorlaes’s voice as cover—Aileron had, a little surprisingly, re-appointed the Chancellor—he approached the two of them. His eyes were clear, very blue, and his manner gave no hint of extreme intoxication a few hours before, unless it lay in the slightly edged quality of his gaze.
“I hope,” he murmured to Sharra, “that yesterday discharged all your impulses to throw things at me.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sharra said defiantly.
He was very good at this, Kim realized. He paused to flick her with a brief, sardonic glance, as to an erring child, before turning back to the Princess. “That,” he said simply, “would be a pity. Adults do have better things to do.” And he moved off, elegant and assured, to stand beside his brother, as the heir to the throne should.
Kim felt obscurely chastened; the water had been awfully childish. On the other hand, she abruptly recalled, he had been climbing into their rooms! He deserved whatever he got, and more.
Which, though manifestly true, didn’t seem to count for much. She still felt like a kid at the moment. God, he’s cool, she thought, and felt a stirring of sympathy for her newest friend. Sympathy and, because she was honest with herself, the slightest flicker of envy.
In the meantime, she was beginning to understand why Gorlaes was still Chancellor. No one else would have put such a flourish into the necessary rituals that accompanied procedures of this sort. Or even remembered them, for that matter. He was still going, and Aileron was waiting with surprising patience, when a second man, in his own way as handsome as the first, came up to her.
“What,” asked Levon, without preamble or greeting, direct as wind, “is the ring you have?”
This was different. It was the Seer of Brennin who looked up at him appraisingly. “The Baelrath,” she answered quietly. “The Warstone, it is called. It is of the wild magic.”
He reacted to that. “Forgive me, but why are you wearing it?”
“Because the last Seer gave it to me. She dreamt it on my hand.”
He nodded, his eyes widening. “Gereint told me of such things. Do you know what it is?”
“Not entirely. Do you?”
Levon shook his head. “No. How should I? It is far from my world, Lady. I know the eltor and the Plain. But I have one thought. May we talk after?”
He really was extraordinarily attractive, a restless stallion in the confines of the hall. “Sure,” she said.
As it happened, they never got the chance.
Kevin, standing with Paul beside one of the pillars opposite the women, was quietly pleased at how clearheaded he felt. They’d done a lot of ale the night before. Paying close attention, he saw Gorlaes and then Galienth, the Cathalian emissary, conclude their formal speeches.
Aileron rose. “I thank you,” he said levelly, “for coming here, and for your gracious words about my father. We are grateful to Shalhassan that he saw fit to send his daughter and heir to take counsel with us. It is a trust we honor, and it is an emblem of the trust we all must share in the days to come.”
The emissary, who, Kevin knew, was utterly clueless as to how Sharra had got there, nodded sage agreement. The King, still standing, spoke again.
“In this counsel-taking, all shall be granted speech, for it cannot be otherwise. It comes