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The door opened as the maid completed Ilse’s toilette and Nadine entered, followed by a serving girl carrying a tray with carafes for tea and coffee. Nadine dismissed the maids and the serving girl with a glance.
“They have spent half the night in negotiations,” she told Ilse. “Apparently Armand was ready to execute Lord Kosenmark two days ago, saying there was no evidence for the man’s innocence, and he therefore saw no reason to keep him alive, in spite of the many petitions. Ah, do not weep, Ilse. Please, please…”
She knelt by Ilse and folded her into her arms.
“Hush. No, do not hush. Cry as you must. We are, all of us, demanding too much of you. Of that idiot you love. Of everyone I know. I told Heloïse as much, and though I had to bite her in the end, she agreed.”
The picture of Nadine biting one of Raul’s dangerous sisters sent Ilse into a bout of hysterical laughter. Nadine observed her, cheeks flushed, but otherwise seemingly unmoved. “I am delighted to amuse you,” she said. “Now that we’ve sampled grief and merriment in equal measure, let us complete your toilette. Though we’ve no official word yet, the unoffical report is that you are to see the king and the court at noon. Therefore, this early preparation.”
Ilse drew a sharp breath. “So soon.”
Nadine nodded. “Just so. They wish to eliminate this last and most troublesome obstacle to their war, you see.”
Ilse pressed both hands over her face. Felt warm lips on her forehead, a palm brush over her hair.
“Someday, you must tell me the story,” Nadine said. “Everything that has taken place after you left Tiralien. Until then, remember that you are my first true love, if not my last.”
* * *
THE FORMAL SUMMONS came within that same hour, ordering Ilse Zhalina to appear before the king and council at noon.
Ilse spent the remainder of the morning pacing from room to room. Now she caught up the letter from Duke Karasek and read its contents one last time. Now she paused at a window to gaze southward over an undulating sea of gray and crimson roofs, past myriad towers to the golden complex of the royal palace. It was autumn already, but here in the central plains, heat shimmered the air. Ilse drew a deep breath. She missed the scent of salt water, the almost imperceptible susurration of the sea lapping at the shore that had followed her through almost all her life.
Duke Kosenmark had gone to the king the night before to negotiate the particulars for this audience, Olivia explained. She and her sisters would accompany Ilse to the palace, along with a complement of guards. There was no sign of Nadine, or of Iani and Mann. She would have to trust the duke to keep them safe.
At last Heloïs
e came to announce their departure. She and her sisters were dressed in loose black trousers and jackets, embroidered with silver and decorated with silver buttons and sashes of white lace, and cinched with jeweled weapon belts hung with swords and knives.
Dangerous, yes.
They descended to the front courtyard and mounted their horses. They would not ride alone—twelve guards took their places in a loose perimeter. Ilse gathered the reins in her hands and attempted to collect her emotions into one manageable bundle.
She had the letter. She was dressed as befitted an envoy from another land.
Heloïse glanced at her. Ilse nodded and gave the signal to ride.
The party proceeded through the gates, into a small square fronting the compound. Smaller streets branched off to either side, into the maze she had traversed the previous night. Ahead, on the opposite side of the square, lay a broad avenue leading south to the palace.
“No more obstacles,” Heloïse said.
“Only a few digressions,” Marte added with a cryptic smile.
“My sister means our progress through the streets will not be so swift and direct as you might wish,” Olivia said to Ilse.
“Politics,” Heloïse said. “And security.”
Clearly the matter was not as straightforward as Nadine said. With certain misgivings, Ilse gave herself over to the machinations devised by Kosenmark and his daughters. She quashed her impatience at their slow pace. Nor did she object when they turned into a side street, and traveled through a less prosperous quarter, to what appeared to be an enormous square crowded with market stalls.
Heloïse slowed her horse. The rest of the company did the same.
“Where are Baron Mann and Lord Iani?” Ilse asked her.
“At the palace. Armand wished to have their company.”
“They are hostages.”
“That is another word for it, yes. They agreed, because in exchange, the king allowed me to remain with my family. Negotiations have been somewhat fraught, as you can imagine.”
