“He seems a difficult man,” Brail said.

“Where his ambitions are concerned, he’s ruthless. You shouldn’t doubt for a moment that he’ll do anything he feels is necessary to gain the throne.”

“Nor should he doubt that we’ll oppose him with all the might at our disposal in order to protect the queen and the king’s heir,” Brail said. “I hope you’ll make that clear to him.”

Numar gave a chagrined smile. “It was Carden and Grigor who first called me the Fool, Lord Orvinti. I’m afraid my eldest brother has little regard for anything I tell him. But I will try.” He hesitated, though only for an instant. “I also wanted to say that if by some chance Grigor does agree to the queen’s proposition, you should all remain diligent in your protection of the girl. To be honest, I think Grigor a poor choice for her regent.”

“We agree,” Tebeo said. “But the queen seems to feel that she has no choice in the matter. A lord from another house would refuse to become entangled in the affairs of the Solkarans, fearing for his life.”

Numar nodded. “She may be right.”

“What about you, Lord Renbrere?” Brail asked. “Would you be willing to serve as regent for the girl?”

A strange look came into the man’s eyes and then was gone. “If it was the only way to preserve the Solkaran Supremacy, then yes, I would. But I’m afraid my brother would find the idea of me as regent even more distasteful than he would a regent from another house.”

“Your brother’s preferences in this matter are of little concern to us,” Tebeo said. “I’m asking you about yours. If the Council supports the queen, we may find it necessary to suggest someone other than Gngor as our choice for regent.”

“Let me think on it, Lord Dantrielle. You do me a great honor even to suggest this. But I must decide if I’m ready to break with my brother publicly.”

“Of course. I understand.”

They stood a moment in silence. Then Numar offered a small bow. “Thank you, my lords. We’ll speak again soon.”

He hurried back to Henthas’s side, just as Grigor stepped past the dukes a second time.

Once the older brother had gone by, Tebeo looked at Brail, raising an eyebrow. “We might have just found a way to avoid war.”

The feast finally ended late in the day with a last prayer offered by the prelate. Later that night, the Council was to meet in the king’s presence chamber with Grigor and Chofya, but for a time at least, Fetnalla had nothing to do. Usually, she and Evanthya would have taken such an opportunity to steal away together, to bed perhaps, or at least to enjoy a walk on the castle grounds. But Evanthya walked out of the great hall with her duke, leaving Fetnalla with Brail.

“I’ll be in my quarters if you need me,” the duke said, starting away from her. “I’ll expect you to meet me there shortly before the Council is to meet.”

Fetnalla nodded, but Brail didn’t bother to look at her. “Yes, my lord,” she called to him.

He raised a hand in a vague gesture of acknowledgment, but he didn’t turn or slow his gait. In a moment, she was alone.

The minister would herself have liked to leave, but with Brail having just walked away from her, and Evanthya before him, she felt foolish doing so, as if all those remaining in the hall would notice how they had left her. She was almost ashamed of how grateful she was when Pronjed approached her.

“First Minister,” he said, the look on his bony face even more grave than usual. “I’m glad I found you.”

“Yes, Archminister. How can I help you?”

“I saw your duke leaving without you and I wanted to make certain that you would be accompanying him to the meeting of the Council later tonight.”

Fetnalla nodded. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“And will your friend as well? Dantnelle’s first minister?”

She swallowed, feeling her chest tighten. What have I done? “I assume she will be. Why?”

“You need to ask?” he said with a frown. “She speaks of civil war as if it were inevitable, as if it were something to be anticipated and enjoyed.”

“Evanthya doesn’t seek war, Archminister. And I assure you, no one abhors killing more than she.”

“One wouldn’t know it to listen to her.”

“She’s a brilliant woman who serves her duke well. She may not want war, but she’s wise enough to understand that we may have no choice in this instance.”

“You must think very highly of her.”

Fetnalla looked away. “I do.”

“I would think so, since she’s already convinced you to fight Grigor as well.”

“Evanthya has convinced me of nothing,” she said sharply. Such pride. “At least not yet,” she added, dropping her gaze once more. “She’s merely made me see that we can’t rule out war, just because it strikes us as distaste-fill.”

“It’s more than that!” Pronjed said with a fervor Fetnalla had never seen in him before. “War will be the ruin of us all, of Aneira itself. I’m certain of it.” This time it was the archminister’s turn to avert his eyes, his lips pressed thin. “You must help me find another way. Please.”

“I’ll do what I can, Archminister. I don’t want war. Truly I don’t. But wouldn’t we be fools to rule it out entirely? Doesn’t that weaken us in our discussions with Lord Solkara?”

Pronjed opened his mouth, rage in his pale eyes. Then he seemed to stop himself, though clearly it took an effort. “Yes,” he finally said. “I guess you’re right.” He looked over his shoulder at Chofya. “I should return to the queen. Thank you, First Minister.”

“You’re welcome.”

He spun away from her in a manner that told her he was still angry, and returned to the queen’s table. After standing where she was for another moment or two, Fetnalla left the hall and hurried back to her chamber. She was lonely and would have preferred to walk the gardens, or better yet the marketplace. But with alliances being formed and broken all around her, and Grigor collecting supporters as a quartermaster gathers weapons, she felt safer in the solitude of her room.

The time passed slowly, and Fetnalla was ready well before she began to hear voices of the other dukes and their ministers in the corridor outside her room. Still, when she stepped out of her chamber and over to Brail’s door, Tebeo and Evanthya were already there, and Brail was frowning at her as if she were hours late.

“At last,” he said, striding past her into the hallway.

Fetnalla cast a quick look at Evanthya, who offered a sympathetic smile. She smiled in return, feeling her face redden slightly. She shouldn’t have let the woman see how much a simple smile could please her, but just then she didn’t care. Pride be damned, she wanted her love back.

Most of the dukes had already arrived by the time Brail, Tebeo, and the two ministers reached the chamber. A servant was pouring Sanbiri red into goblets on a small table by the door while the nobles and their Qirsi took seats at a second, larger table in the center of the room. Grigor and Chofya were already sitting, one at either end of the table, their goblets already filled and resting before them. The queen sat with Pronjed, but Grigor was alone. Henthas and Numar were nowhere to be seen. Apparently, the duke of Solkara did not wish to have his brothers speaking for him on this night.

After several moments, the queen stood, lifting her wineglass. Grigor stood also, as did the others in the room. Servants brought the wine to the table, so that soon all were holding their goblets for a toast.

“Welcome, all of you,” Chofya said. “I know it’s been a long, wearying day, and I’m grateful to you for coming here tonight. Our kingdom has been without a leader for too long. The time has come for us to decide this matter once and for all. Let us hope that we can find the wisdom to keep Aneira at peace with herself.”

Grigor nodded, a thin smile on his lips. “Well said, Your Highness. But I would add that we must also keep Aneira strong, so that we do not invite challenge from our neighbors, particularly the kingdom to our north.”