Keep this up and you won't be on the favored guest list.

The carriage crunched over dry leaves and fallen twigs. Despite his mood, he looked forward to seeing Lady Eadoin. As a girl, Eadoin had been the prettiest at court. When her beloved husband died young, Eadoin had contracted for her lands to provide produce for the palace, which settled her husband's debts and permitted her to maintain a gracious lifestyle. Sidestepping marriage proposals, Eadoin opened Brightmoor to Margolan's bards and artists, poets, and scholars. She hosted fabulous parties and held frequent salons for the young nobility not yet come of age. Balls and hunting parties, holiday feasts and lavish galas—Eadoin's festivities always featured the newest music, the latest fashions, the most beautiful young ladies, and the most handsome eligible young men.

As the years passed and the young nobility grew to love her as a mother, mentor, and icon, her genius became clear. When the young nobles came into their inheritances and their own grand estates, it would be their patronage upon which Eadoin would rely in her old age.

Eadoin remained a regular at court, maintaining her ties to the ruling nobility with the charms and grace that once made her the belle of all Margolan. Lady Eadoin was a force of nature.

She was waiting for him as the coach pulled up. Her golden white hair and her figure remained alluring. The cut of her fine brocade gown was flattering, and the jewels at her throat might have ransomed a prince.

"Riordan, it is so good to see you," Eadoin said as Carroway bounded from the carriage and up the steps. Eadoin embraced Carroway and gave him a peck on each cheek, then took his arm and patted his hand.

"So I have finally managed to get you to keep an old lady company for the evening."

"Of late, the royal wedding preparations take up more of my time than my lute."

"Well, I shall be a rapt audience for anything you would like to preview," Eadoin laughed. "Only please, play them first for me!"

Carroway could imagine the effect Eadoin must have had on the young men of her age. Eadoin laughed. "Were I forty years younger, I would be among the girls who clamor for your attention!"

"And were I worthy of your attention, I would duel for your hand," Carroway returned with a wink. I could probably bed-any lass in the castle I chose, he thought, except for the one I truly want.

A steward pressed a goblet of brandy into Carroway's hand. Tonight, he played for an audience of one. "What shall I play for m'lady, and how is it that Brightmoor is quiet tonight?"

"Please play 'I Shall Dance With Thee at the Ball,'" Eadoin requested. "As for Brightmoor being quiet... Tonight is the anniversary of my husband's death. I've always filled it with activity, so that I wouldn't feel the emptiness." She sighed. "Perhaps I can no longer outrun my ghosts.

"Every musician is a Summoner of sorts, did you know that, Riordan? Music brings the past to life." She plumped the pillows. "So play for me, please. If I close my eyes, I'm only in another time and place."

He began the ballad she requested, a well-known favorite of her generation. Eadoin clapped enthusiastically when he finished. "Now please, some of the older dances, if you would."

Carroway reeled from one sprightly dance tune into another, stopped only by the steward's announcement of dinner and his own aching fingers. "Bravo, Bravo!" Eadoin cried. "You have been just the tonic I needed. I hope that dinner will repay you for your kindness."

Candles burned brightly and the torches lit the room as if for a ball. The meal put out for them would have been suitable for the king himself. "My lady, you are too generous."

"Not at all," she said. "You've played the healer for me tonight, and I am in your debt." She looked at him for a moment, her head to one side as if remembering. "I see your mother's eyes when I look at you, Riordan," she said. "And your father's build. They would have been so proud. Margolan's master bard, king's confidant—an adventurer and a hero."

"I've had more than enough adventure for a lifetime," Carroway confessed. "But there are times when I do wish -they could have seen what I've made of myself."

"T'was the will of the Lady herself that chose the timing of your fostering, else you'd have been claimed by the plague as well." 'A sad smile played at the corners of Eadoin's lips. "Your memories crowd around you closely for one so young. I wonder, has the king's confidant ever asked a favor of his friend? Every day the king holds his court of spirits for all the realm. Wouldn't he do so for you?"

"I haven't asked, m'lady."

Eadoin reached across the table and patted his hand. The paper thin skin wrinkled across bones finer than those of a bird, lined with the veins of age. "Don't wait until you're my age to lay your ghosts to rest. Now, eat. For such fine music you should be well fed."

Eadoin's servants plied him with food until he waved them away, groaning. Her steward brought out fine sherry and aged port, an offer Carroway could not refuse. In the fireplace at the end of the great dining hall, logs blazed and crackled.

"Tell me, Riordan," Eadoin said, leaning back in her chair, a goblet of port balanced in her thin fingers, "how go the preparations for our royal wedding?"

"That depends, m'lady."

"Kiara has been raised from birth to become Margolan's queen," Eadoin observed. "It's one thing to study a kingdom's ways—and another to navigate its court."

The old fox! All this time, I was conspiring to enlist her aid, and she set me up!

"Viata was from Eastmark," Eadoin said. "Some in Isencroft didn't like that Donelan took a foreign queen. Donelan was gone for long stretches on hunts or clearing out raiders. Viata surrounded herself with Eastmark courtiers. The Isencroft court never forgave her." She leaned forward and patted Car-roway's hand. "It would help Kiara greatly to have a guide."

"What would you have me do, m'lady?"

"First of all, you can stop pretending that you didn't have this in mind when you came here."

Carroway grinned sheepishly. "Done, m'lady," he confessed. "I came to ask your advice. We've heard that some in Isencroft don't want to blend the kingdoms together at Donelan's death. There's also some jealousy among the girls at court who thought they might wed a king"

"Were there any Jared left unbedded?" Eadoin asked.

"That alone is a good reason for Tris to avoid the 'ladies' of Margolan. There's no question of paternity with Kiara. One royal bastard is enough."

"What have you heard?"

Eadoin stared into the fire for a moment. "My sources within Isencroft are fewer than they once were. The Isencroft separatists are getting desperate. If they can't stop the wedding, they may try to make sure no heir will be born."

"What can we do? Once the wedding's over, Tris'll take the army against Curane in the South. Kiara will be alone at Shekerishet."

"We must be conspirators, you and I," she said with a smile that told Carroway she relished the action. "I'll come back to court for a while, and bring Alyssandra, my niece."

"Soterius told me that Alyssandra took up arms for the resistance."

"Jared attacked the bards, trying to keep news from being spread. I hid as many as I dared here. My brother—Alyssandra's father— tried to help. But the bards he hid were discovered, and Jared's troops burned their home and killed his family, all but Alyssandra, who was with me at the time. Alle knew we didn't dare keep the bards here any longer, and so she volunteered to get them across Margolan to the Principality border. After she succeeded, she was afraid to come back. That's how she met your friend. I have no doubt that Alle can hold her own."

"Have you heard anything else?"