Malae clucked her tongue. "You've bought yourself time, Your Highness. That is precious in itself. Now you must trust Cam and Carina. You do your duty by giving them more time," the older woman said gently, patting Kiara's hand. "And who knows? Perhaps by spring, the Goddess will have selected you for your Journey."

Kiara managed a tired smile. "That would certainly get me out of going to Margolan, but I'm not sure it would be less of an adventure." She paused. "Do you remember how I used to worry when I was a child and Father would go off with the soldiers?" Kiara asked, wriggling into her nightshirt and dropping onto the bed. Malae smiled.

"I couldn't forget, Your Highness. You usually found your way into my bed and I carried you back to your own room," Malae chuckled.

"I never thought I could worry more about him," Kiara said wistfully.

"The burdens of the crown come young," Malae replied, "as they did for your mother. And I will tell you what I always told her, when she would come to my rooms for a hot cup of tea in the middle of the night. Trust the Goddess."

Kiara smiled sadly at the thought of her mother, Queen Viata, dead now three years. Viata, had been a daughter of the king of Eastmark, an old and proud monarchy, nearly as old as the House of Margolan. Her marriage to Donelan had been something of a scandal. Donelan was only the third king in his line, testimony to Isencroft's troubled history—an interloper to the minds of the more established aristocracy in venerable Eastmark. Worse, theirs was a love match, not even an arranged alliance. So it was with strained goodwill that Eastmark let its princess go to wed the upstart king of a frontier kingdom, a place with a strange, war-like aspect of the One Goddess. Isencroft's court had been equally dubious of their new queen, with her exotic features and heavy accent, and her devotion to an out-land aspect of the Goddess. But the will of a young, determined and utterly love-struck king prevailed, and while Viata had a troubled time with the aristocracy, the love between her and Donelan never wavered, even when their union produced just one child, and that, a girl.

It was from Viata that Kiara learned the Eastmark style of fighting, with its complicated and deadly footwork. Viata's almond-shaped eyes stared back at Kiara from her own reflection, and her mother's duskier skin mingled with Donelan's fair northern blood, made it easy for Kiara to tan as soon as the sun turned warm. And it was, indirectly, because of the sting of the court's chilly reception of Viata, that Kiara found herself betrothed to Jared of Margolan. King Donelan, anxious to legitimize the House of Isencroft, engineered the arranged marriage at Kiara's birth, knowing that the alliance with ancient House of Margolan could further enhance the standing of his lineage in the eyes of the ruling houses of the Winter Kingdoms.

Kiara sighed. "I know. But things have gone so wrong. It seems as if the Lady's forgotten us."

Malae pulled the covers back and beckoned for the weary princess to lie down, then bent over and tucked her in like a child, brushing her hand across Kiara's forehead. "Chenne doesn't forget her Blessed One," the older woman comforted.

Kiara caught Malae's hand for a moment and pressed it against her cheek. "Please, stay with me until I fall asleep."

Malae nodded and crossed to a chair by the fire. "As you wish, my princess," she said, settling into a comfortable seat and cozying a throw around her. "Now, sleep."

Despite the comforting crackle of the fire and the knowledge that Malae was near, it still took more than a candlemark for Kiara to fall into a fitful sleep, filled with troubled dreams.

Kiara awoke with a start. She blinked, then raised herself on her elbows. The sun was already up, but Malae had drawn her heavy drapes to block its light and let her sleep. Jae dozed in his perch on the headboard of her bed, hissing softly. Kiara could smell a pot of herbal tea already boiling on the fire. Although Kiara thought she moved noiselessly, Malae was awake and beside her by the time she poured herself a cup of tea.

"Allestyr worries about you," Malae said, laying a soft woolen shawl across the princess's shoulders.

"I know," Kiara replied quietly, staring at the dancing flames. "They all do. I'm sorry to be such a bother."

Malae sat down next to her and laid a comforting hand on Kiara's arm. "It's our honor to take care of you, my princess," she said. "But we worry more these days, since there are many strange things afoot."

Kiara nodded glumly. "Something's about to happen, something big. I don't know what it is, but I can... feel it."

"You are Goddess Blessed," Malae replied. "Perhaps the Goddess is about to choose you for your Journey."

Kiara shook her head tiredly and sipped at her tea. "It couldn't come at a worse time." Malae patted her hand. "Perhaps the Oracle could help," the older woman said.

"I have been thinking the same thing myself," Kiara confessed. "But—"

"But you're also thinking that your father was never comfortable with the Oracle's prophecies," Malae finished for her. Kiara nodded and gulped her tea.

"Odd, isn't it? I've been running the kingdom for him for months now, and I'm scared like a kitchen maid to go against his wishes."

Malae chuckled. "Not so odd, my princess. He is still your father, and still the king. But if you recall, he is not opposed to the Oracle. He merely lacks patience with her roundabout prophecies." She smiled. "Your father is a direct man. He does not want to have to figure out advice. I suspect that if the Oracle spoke plainly, your father might take up a good bit of her time."

"I imagine you're right, Malae," Kiara said, cradling her teacup. "I guess I'm just afraid of finding more questions and no answers."

There was a quiet rapping at her door, and Kiara called for the visitor to enter. It was Allestyr, looking as if he had been up and active since dawn.

"My princess," the elderly seneschal said gently. "Your father calls for you."

With a sigh, Kiara finished her tea and set the cup aside. Malae was already on her feet, handing the princess a warm woolen robe. "Perhaps your father will know what you should do," Malae said, helping Kiara into the robe. "The magic that has crippled his body has not touched his mind."

Kiara nodded, squaring her shoulders. "I try not to give him more to worry about," she replied. Jae fluttered into the air with a squawk and landed on her shoulder.

"He is the king," Malae said. "Kings worry, whether you want them to or not."

Kiara smiled. "I think you're right," she said, and followed Allestyr into the hallway.

Her father's rooms, which always smelled of leather, cologne, and spices, now had the odor of a sickroom. His favorite hunting bows hung unstrung along the wall. His riding outfit lay folded in the armoire, next to his robes of state. Even his beloved intricate wooden puzzles lay forgotten on the table, too vexing for him now.

Kiara made her way to the king's massive bed, where her father lay propped up on pillows, a shadow among the furs and blankets. Next to his bedside was a steaming pot of mulled wine laced with the medicines that kept the king alert. King Donelan smiled and gestured for his daughter to join him, making a place for her to sit on the edge of the bed. Kiara smiled and climbed up, sitting cross-legged and wrapping herself in one of the king's sleeping furs.

"Good morning, Little Bird," King Donelan said fondly. Kiara reached out for his hand and pressed it to her cheek. He looked up at Jae, who hopped about on Kiara's shoulder, awaiting attention, and Donelan reached up to stroke Jae's crest. "And good morning, Jae. Any good hunting lately?" he asked, and the gyregon squawked in excitement.