The countess had a faraway look in her eyes. “I was a young girl when the Sithi came to Hernystir. Their tents filled the fields as far as the eye could see, and the cloth was every color on the gods’ Earth. My mother said it was like the olden days come back.”

“Did your mother also tell you how to keep one of them alive?” Pasevalles immediately regretted his surly tone: Rhona was a valuable ally, the queen’s best friend and a member of the Inner Council. “I’m sorry, Countess. I beg your pardon. I seem to have left my manners out in the Kynswood.”

She smiled. “No need to apologize, Lord Chancellor. I can imagine this day has tested you, and it is scarcely past noon. But what did you want with me? I am not much use as a healer or bedside nurse. Did you send for Lady Thelía?”

“I am here, my lord, I am here!” Brother Etan, his youthful face red and shiny with sweat, staggered through the doorway. “I am sorry it took me so long—I had to run back to my room for my things.” He quickly examined the woman on the bed. “Goodness! The guard was right! A Sitha!”

“She has three bad wounds. The arrowheads are still in them,” Pasevalles said. “And she has been exposed in the forest for several days. Oh, and Lady Thelía is gone to the market. Can you do anything for this poor creature, Brother?”

The monk mopped his face with the sleeve of his robe. “I cannot answer until I see what I can see.”

Pasevalles pointed to the two chambermaids who had been waiting discreetly in the corner of the room since they had finished preparing the sickbed. “For now, these good women will help you to nurse her, Brother. If she wakes or tries to talk, please send one of them for me immediately, no matter the time of day or night. The victim herself may be the only one who can help us unpick this crime. Because make no mistake, this was no accident. Whoever shot her intended murder.”

“But why?” asked the countess. “And why is she here? We have not seen the Sithi inside our walls for years.”

“And we would not have this time, had a poacher not stumbled onto her where she lay, half covered by forest leaves,” said Pasevalles. “Brother Etan, I leave you to your work. Remember, if she wakes or speaks, send for me with all haste.”

“Of course, Lord Chancellor.”

Countess Rhona walked with him down the long hall of the Royal Gallery. “She was dressed for riding,” the countess said at last.

“Yes, she was. I half-suspect she is a messenger from one of the king’s and queen’s friends among the Fair Folk. That is one of the reasons I am so desperate to be there if she speaks. It has been so long and the Sithi have been so silent. King Simon and Queen Miriamele would never forgive me if I let this messenger die.”

The countess took his arm. She was the wife of Count Nial of Nad Glehs, an important noble; she had a fine wit and a keen observer’s eye, and she and Pasevalles agreed on court matters far more often than they did not. “You take too much upon yourself, my lord,” she told him. “You have done all you can.”

“But that is the problem with royalty,” he replied, “although I hasten to say that our monarchs are different than most. But still, they do not easily relinquish responsibility. Once disappointed, they will seldom bestow it again in the same place.”

Countess Rhona laughed. “As I said, you take too much upon yourself. But I still do not know why you asked me to come to you. Clearly it was not because of my skills as a healer.”

“Ah, of course, I’d nearly forgotten. This morning you said you were going to send a message to your husband with the post rider. Is your noble lord, the count, still at Hernysadharc?”

“He will not leave before Elysiamansa is celebrated here.” She smiled sadly. “I miss him.”

“Of course. I wonder if your messenger would also carry another message—one that your husband might discreetly deliver for me . . . ?”

“There you are, Lord Pasevalles!”

He turned to see Princess Idela and two of her ladies moving toward them along the gallery, having likely just come from the chapel. Pasevalles felt a stab of irritation. Prince John Josua’s widow was a comely young woman who had made plain her desire for his attention, although he suspected that was mostly a matter of court politics. It flattered his vanity, but it definitely made his life more difficult.

“Your Highness, Ladies,” he said, bowing. “You honor me.”

“Oh, good day, Countess,” said Idela with a smile for Rhona. “I trust Lillia hasn’t given you too much trouble today. Where is she?”

Only Pasevalles noticed the small hitch before the countess answered. “She is lying down, Princess. She tired herself out this morning trying to convince her pony to wear a hat.”

“Oh, the little dear.” The princess who would never be queen turned back to Pasevalles. “I have something most important to discuss with you, Lord Steward—and yet it seems you are avoiding me. Am I so frightful, that you flee me like an ogre out of a nursery tale?”

Rhona took that as a hint that she should find other things to do. She gave Pasevalles a look of commiseration as she took her leave.

He hid his annoyance beyond a smile. This day of all days! “Never, Princess. But less pleasant duties have been playing the tune all day, and I have been forced to dance to their measure.”

“And what could be of such importance, Lord Chancellor?” There was no question where little Lillia had learned to pout when denied anything, but Pasevalles did not want to explain about the Sitha woman. Idela would insist on being involved, and Pasevalles wanted to keep control of the situation. He would tell her later.

“Nothing of great weight, Highness.” He took a breath, doing his best to push his worries from his mind. He had set everything in place, and for the moment could do nothing more. Now it was up to the Sitha to live or die. “How can I help you?”

“It is this library of Master Tiamak’s. Well, it is the king’s and queen’s library, I suppose, but you know what I mean. The little fellow seems to do nothing else these days.”

“Not at the moment, as you know, since he is with them on the journey to Elvritshalla.”

“Yes, but that is why I want to speak to you. Lord Tiamak seems most adamant that all the old books in the Hayholt must be found and written down and put in his library.” She shook her head. “All of them!”

“I am sure that he does not mean to take your own books, my lady.” Idela was known to spend much of her time reading the Book of the Aedon, or at least memorizing appropriate phrases that she could use to point up the failings of others. “It is the rare books, Princess, the old ones, that Tiamak is so anxious to protect.” The longer the conversation lasted, the more he was feeling the tug of other duties. Idela, who was used to being waited on and cosseted, was clearly puzzled by his distraction.

“Yes, and that’s just it,” she said. “My John Josua had many books, as you know. So many books! Sometimes I despaired of his attention. Even when Morgan came, the midwife could scarcely get him to lift his nose from one of them long enough to leave the room.”

“Your husband would have been a great scholar, Highness—was a great scholar even in his short time. He had a rare gift.” Which was true, but he doubted Idela’s ambitions for John Josua had tended in that direction.

“There is a collection of books that Tiamak has not seen. I would not even open them myself—only the good Lord knows what horrors are in them, what ancient blasphemies—but they look very old to me. Some are only rolls of parchment tied with string. I wish you would come by and look at them. If they belong in this library he and the king and queen are building, the Wrannaman is welcome to them.”

“I beg your pardon, lady, but why me? Surely Master Tiamak should be the judge of what belongs in the library.”