“No, of course not,” Gaelin replied. He shook himself a little and turned away from the smoldering ashes. His limbs ached with cold, and he knew he needed sleep, but he was not tired. Instead, his senses were alert. “I’ve observed the vigil, as he would have liked. I’m just daydreaming now.”

“Thinking of Madislav?”

He nodded. “He was my best friend. I’ll miss him.”

“There was nothing more you could have done, Gaelin.”

He laughed with acidic scorn. “I seem to be hearing that a lot lately. ‘Sorry, Gaelin, it couldn’t be helped.’ It feels like a poor excuse for causing the death of my friend.”

Seriene remained silent for a long time. “What are you going to do about Ilwyn?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “If I do nothing, I don’t doubt that Bannier will do exactly what he threatens. And if I give myself up, how do I know that he’ll keep his word?”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about surrendering yourself!”

He looked into the smoking ashes of Madislav’s pyre.

“How many people have died for me already? Daene, Ruide, Madislav, Tiery, my entire family! All the people who made Shieldhaven my home are gone.” Although he fought to control himself, his voice grew higher and hot tears stung his eyes. “How can I let the last living member of my family die in my place?”

Seriene glared, with no hint of compassion in her face.

“You’re a selfish bastard if you think that you’re the only one with a stake in this,” she said angrily. “Don’t you realize there are thousands of people who are counting on you to see them through to the end of this? What do you think Tuorel will do to those nobles and soldiers, their families, if you abandon them because you feel bad that you’re alive? Tuorel will slaughter them for rebels, and you know it.”

Anger burned in Gaelin’s chest as Seriene finished. Coldly, he said, “Ilwyn is the gentlest soul I know. The thought of Bannier torturing her makes me want to tear my own heart out. But he’ll do it, if I don’t surrender.”

“So you’d place one life against the hopes of an entire kingdom? ”

Gaelin turned away. “What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t, Seriene? What kind of Mhor would I be, to hide here in safety while Bannier holds my sister hostage?”

Seriene snorted and tossed her head. “Gaelin, you’ve got to weigh the consequences of your actions. If that means you have to do things you don’t like, that’s too bad! You have a responsibility to more than your conscience. Ilwyn’s life is nothing compared to the life of Mhoried itself!”

He looked up and met her eyes. “Do you mean the life of Mhoried, or the life of Diemed’s northern ally?”

Seriene’s face turned white, as if from a blow, but her voice remained steady. “Do you think that’s all this is about? An alliance against Ghoere?” Her voice grew colder still. “Do you think I planned to give you my heart, Gaelin?”

Gaelin stared at her, his mind racing. She waited for his answer, fuming, fiercely beautiful. He was nearly overwhelmed by the desire to take her in his arms and drown his reservations in passion. “No,” he said carefully. “I believe your feelings are sincere. But whether or not you feel anything for me, your interests lie in keeping me alive – no matter what it takes for me to stay on the throne, what I have to give up for the sake of being the Mhor.”

“Of course, you idiot! Gaelin, I care about you! I don’t want to see you dead!” Tears glimmered in Seriene’s eyes. She stood there for a moment, too angry or upset for words, and then stormed off. She caught her horse’s reins and swung back into the saddle, kicking her heels into the animal’s flanks and riding off at a full gallop while her guards followed at a respectful distance.

Gaelin pitched a stone aside with a sigh, staring off across the moors. The orange rim of the sun climbed above the horizon.

The vigil was over. He said one last goodbye to Madislav and then walked down the hill to join his guards and return to Caer Winoene for some sleep.

When he woke in the late afternoon, Huire informed him that Erin had returned from Cariele. Gaelin’s dark mood dissipated immediately. He rushed to pull on his boots and throw a clean tunic over his shirt He started toward the great hall with an excited spring in his step, Huire striding quickly to keep up with him. But as Gaelin hurried to greet her, his feet slowed. There was no reason he should feel guilty about his tryst with Seriene. Erin had no claim on Gaelin, and they had never spoken of any feelings between them. But Gaelin still felt as if he had betrayed her.

“I wonder what news Minstrel Erin brings from Cariele?”

Huire offered, as he tried to hurry with dignity.

“We’ll soon see,” Gaelin replied. As usual, several dozen people were scattered throughout the chamber – minor lords, knights, and merchants engaged in settling hundreds of deals and compacts that characterized a royal court. Gaelin spied Erin’s fiery hair gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight that slanted through the tall, vaulted windows. She wore her traveling clothes, dust and wear from the road marking her garments.

Erin was already engaged in discussions with Seriene and Prelate Edoeren of the Dieman contingent. As Gaelin entered she glanced up, and their eyes met.

Erin excused herself from her conversation and approached, showing just a hint of weariness in her pace. Seriene smoothed her skirts and followed. “My lord Mhor,”

Erin said, curtseying. “I can report success in Cariele. Queen Aerelie has decided to recognize you as the rightful heir to the throne of Mhoried and intends to formalize relations with your court.”

“ Well done!” Gaelin said. “Will she aid us against Ghoere? ”

Erin’s face fell a little. “The queen was unwilling to commit any forces to the conflict, but she did agree to treat her border with your territory as the old border of Mhoried. She returned her tariffs and duties to the normal, prewar level.”

“What did you have to promise her?” asked Gaelin.

“Freedom from tariffs for Carielan merchants bringing wares across the border for ten years. Queen Aerelie’s purse strings are held by the trading costers of Cariele, and I knew they’d jump at the chance to undercut Mhorien merchants.”

Erin grimaced. “I tried to encourage her to show more support than mere recognition, but at least your supply lines are secure. The materials we’ve already purchased are on their way now.”

“I didn’t really expect Aerelie to offer any military help,”

Gaelin said. “We’ll let the Carielans make their money for now – this is still good news. We’ll be able to keep the army supplied, even without the food and arms we lost in our retreat from Castle Ceried.”

Erin smiled in satisfaction. “Maybe events are finally starting to favor us,” she said. “What happened while I was away?”

Gaelin involuntarily glanced at Seriene. The princess met his eyes calmly. He felt his face growing warm. Deliberately, he returned his attention to Erin, searching for words. “Bannier struck at us while you were gone,” he finally said, the words harsh in his mouth.

A flicker of an unreadable expression crossed Erin’s face.

“Bannier? But how?”

Gaelin indicated the crowded hall with the sweep of one hand. “Let’s take up the discussion in the audience chamber,” he suggested. He followed Huire, taking Erin’s arm with one last look at Seriene. The princess coolly returned to her own business. In the privacy of the smaller room, Gaelin related the details of Bannier’s deception and Madislav’s death. He omitted nothing but the passionate encounter with Seriene.

When he finished, Erin measured him intensely, her eyes piercing him like daggers. “What will you do about Bannier’s offer?” she asked suddenly.

“I don’t know,” he answered, truthfully enough. “It seems like the height of folly to deliver myself to his hands… but how can I stand by and do nothing?”