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-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Milady's Wiles"

by Brandy Dewinter

with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright

Chapter 1 - To Arms! To Arms!

The stream of humanity flooding into the protection of the castle

known as Stalwart Guard could no longer be called an army. In their own

minds, they probably couldn't even be called men. They were beaten and

they knew it. My brother, Prince Bareth, the commander of Stalwart Guard

would have to try and reform them into a defensive force.

An errant lock of pale gold whipped into my face from where I had

tried to capture it in a twist beneath my collar. I should have grabbed

a clasp on my way out, but when I heard the guard announce the flood

approaching the gate I had hurried out to see what was going on. Prince

Bareth would not have had that problem. He had always kept his hair cut

short to fit under his helmet, but I had never followed that route.

That had been but one of many ways in which I had disappointed the

king, our father. I was the youngest brother and he was long past enjoy-

ment of bouncing a baby on his knee before I came along. Instead, he was

usually out practicing sword whacking with my two older brothers and I had

fallen much into the care of my mother, Queen Selay. She had liked my

hair and had held off cutting it until I had grown to like it, too. I

could not remember a time when the golden weight of it had not been part

of every move I made, nor would I give up the special times we had shared

when she had brushed it into shiny silk.

It didn't help that I had taken after her physically, too. At six-

teen it was clear that I would never be a well-muscled giant like my

father, King Andros, and my oldest brother, Prince Tamor. Nor would I

even have the wiry strength of Prince Bareth, who had speed enough to

give any man a tough fight. There were not three finer fighters in our

whole Kingdom of Achaiea than King Andros and his two sons. How often had

I heard that? Not 'King Andros and his two older sons,' just 'his two

sons.' There was a barely-concealed sneer at the King in this comment as

well. Of all his sons, only I had the crystal blue eyes that Mother owned.

That was a double concern for Father, not only did they set me apart from

him and his older sons, giving rise to rumors about my true parentage.

They also proclaimed my lineage to the queen's whispered powers of magic;

powers of persuasion beyond other women that were, in the legends, the

result of those spectacular eyes.

My ruminations were interrupted when I saw an officer approach

Bareth to give his report. Even without their martial respect I still

deserved the outward shows of my rank, and I had a right to hear what had

happened to the army the King had led into battle.

The stairs from the battlement ran inside the thick wall so I lost

sight of Bareth and the officer for a few minutes as I ran down. When

I came out the most important news was already apparent. The officer and

all the men around him were kneeling before Bareth, not the formal bow

with leg extended that we were due as princes nor the clenched fist salute

due the garrison commander. They were kneeling with the obeisance given

only to the King. That could, in turn, only mean that King Andros and

Prince Tamor were known to be dead.

I was getting ready to kneel myself when all eyes turned to a doorway

from which Queen Selay and her retinue approached. Her sharp eyes ab-

sorbed the postures of the army and recognized the import as fast as my

own. Her next glance though, was to me and her eyes directed me to her

side before I had a chance to complete my own gesture of respect.

Instead of kneeling she gave Bareth a courtly bow of her own, the

narrow ankle of one graceful leg extended forward from the gathered hem

of her dress. Since she set the standard, I matched her, my own slender

limb even more displayed in the tight knit leggings that were my standard

informal court dress.

"What news?" she asked simply.

"Mother, the news is bad. The King and Prince Tamor have both given

their lives in defense of our land, but to no avail. Kragdle and his High

Canyon horde are following on the heels of these survivors of the battle."

"Can we hold?"

"With these men, once we get them reorganized, I could hold Stalwart

Guard for a very long time," Bareth claimed, his tone so flat there was

no hint of boasting in it. "But Kragdle knows that and there are many

villagers who will not be able to reach the castle's protection. I fear

for them, my Queen."

I could see that she wanted to say something, but the words couldn't

get past the tightness in her throat and all she managed was a heart-

breakingly small smile and a quick nod.

That seemed to be the cue for the priest to come running up with

the anointing oil, followed by the Chamberlain with the crown. In moments

it was over. Achaiea had a new king, though if Kragdle conducted his

campaign with typical ruthlessness, it wouldn't be long before there was

precious little kingdom to rule. Achaiea had known generations of peace

but we never realized how much that peace was due to the internal bic-

kering of the High Canyon hordes who had not united in as many genera-

tions. Not united until the coming of Kragdle, who now held those lands

in his clutching talons and planned to extend his grasp to our own king-

dom.

Queen Selay turned back to her apartments in the inner castle. I

knew she needed me a lot more than Bareth did so I stayed at her side.

As we left the courtyard I could hear the twang of crossbows as the

guards on the wall let fly at Kragdle's approaching vanguard. The repeti-

tive clank from the drawbridge chain that had so often seemed needlessly

irksome when someone wanted to pass in times of peace, now seemed little

enough comfort in this suddenly too-real war.

At the door to Mother's dayroom she waved off all the others, though

her tight grip on my arm made it clear she wanted me to stay with her.

Once we were inside she walked around uncertainly for a moment as though

looking for something that wasn't there, that would never be there again.

"Deacon," she said to me, "your hair has gotten tangled in the wind.

Fetch your brush."

How often when we are overwhelmed we cling to little islands of fa-

miliarity in the chaos. I did as ordered of course, and as her hands

gently stroked the twists from the long flow of my hair I could feel a

corresponding tension flow from her stiff body.

"Your hair is quite beautiful, you know," she said, still clinging to

the mundane.

"Thank you, Mother, your brushing keeps it so."

Perhaps it was the word, Mother, that triggered her loss of control.

I'll never know for sure, but after my simple response the brush thunked

on the floor and her hands flew to her face. Heaving sobs wracked her

slender shoulders as she hid her streaming eyes from the world that no

longer included her husband and her eldest son.

I stood and walked behind her, picking up her own brush from her

dressing table and began to return the favor. Her hair had been pinned up

in a more formal arrangement than mine, of course, so the first thing I

did was remove the pins and combs and other aids to control. It was a few

moments therefore, before I was running the brush through her own golden

glory, still thick and soft and without a trace of grey.

Her cat, Greyshadow, jumped into Mother's lap and added her own com-

fort to combat the Queen's distress. As Mother stroked the soft fur the

cat arched her back in pleasure, purring with a promise that their world

would survive this tragedy.

My own mind churned, racing beyond the simple motions of my

hands to consider . . . and reject . . . plans and strategies for

defending the castle. Bareth would never ask for my help, but he had

often mused aloud in my presence and listened carefully when my own

musings touched on the topic he raised. It was his little make-believe to

take advantage of the intelligence we both knew I possessed in greater

measure than him without formally requesting advice from our father's

disappointment. I had rejected a dozen impossible schemes and was sear-

ching for ever-less-likely candidates when a knock at our door had Mother

quickly dabbing at her eyes and arranging her dress. At her nod I went to

open the door.

Bareth was there, along with a few of his top officers plus the

priest and Hugh of Sandars, the Chamberlain. Several members of the

entourage looked with displeasure at the cradled gray cat. The rumors

that claimed strange powers for my mother declared that the cat was some-

how involved and most people were wary of the innocent animal. I had one

of her kittens myself but had never seen any unusual behavior. Well, none

beyond the strangeness of all cats.

Bareth began without preamble, "Queen Mother, the castle has been

invested and Kragdle has announced his intentions."

She sat patiently, perhaps still not trusting her voice.

Bareth glanced at me, though not with his usual sly invitation to

think on the topic for him. There was something else in his demeanor.

"Kragdle intends to rule Achaiea as part of his empire. To that end, he

offers terms for our surrender rather than see the lands destroyed."

In later years I would remember Bareth's tone as he delivered that

part of the message. It was calm, controlled, and gave no indication

of the rest of the self-styled emperor's intentions. I could not have

matched that calm, if I had known what was to come.

"The terms?" Mother asked, a hint of hope in her eyes.

Seeing that his calmness had actually misled Mother, Bareth kneeled

down before her and took her hands in his own. "Mother, the terms are

hard. He demands the life of all male heirs to the throne of Achaiea.

Else, he will execute a dozen peasant families every day and lay waste to

their homesteads until either we consent or there is nothing left of

Achaiea. Oh, Mother, he has already killed the first families! Their

bodies are lifted outside the gates on wooden poles. Men, women, youths

and maidens. Only the smallest children are spared."

"How far does this edict extend into the nobility of Achaiea?" I

asked.

"Never fear, Prince Deacon, you're close enough to be given the

chance to do your duty," Drayson, one of Bareth's officers, sneered at me.

Bareth was about to speak to him but I held his shoulder. In the

face of the loss of our kingdom, and of my Father, and of my own life, I

lost the fear of the future that had always controlled me. I felt a

white-hot yet death-cold power rise up within me, driven by a fierceness

I had never accepted before. Not a fierceness of violent motion, instead

a fierceness of purpose that would crush all opposition before it with

the grinding inevitability of a glacier. I walked over to the smug sol-

dier by myself. It wouldn't have been much of a fight, physically. He

towered over me by at least six inches and probably had twice my weight.

But I was a son of our father, and of our mother as well. Their strength

had maintained order, even justice, in our kingdom for longer than this

cretin had been alive. I just stared at him, the chips of blue ice that

were my eyes drilling into his muddy brown ones with cold beyond his worst

nightmares of hell. Without breaking my hold on his eyes I slowly walked

up to him and drew his own dagger from his sheath and pressed it to his

neck.

"Never fear, soldier-who-fled-the-battle, I will do my duty," I

whispered in his face. Then, without yet looking away, I threw his dag-

ger down to spike between our feet. It made him blink. Only then, with a

cold neutrality replacing my intensity, did I turn back to Bareth and the

Queen.

"However," now I continued on as though no fierce emotions had

just been vented, "we still need to know how far the edict extends.

Does it include those in Mother's family line? What of the outlying

barons? They are outside the walls already and if Kragdle expects us

to gather them in, his terms are impossible and our decision is obvious."

The Chamberlain, who had never been a particular friend of mine

though he had been my primary tutor, weighed in on my side for once.

"Prince Deacon is correct. We should not volunteer anyone to this mad-

man's bloodthirst. We must make him give us a specific list of those to

be surrendered."

"We cannot accept his terms," Mother breathed.

"We may have to," Bareth disagreed. For the first time, the royal

'We' was evident in his voice. "We cannot allow Our people to die need-

lessly. If Kragdle does as he promises, and the precedents of his cruelty

are many, there will be no kingdom to rule if We do not meet his terms."

He stood straight, his resolve firm, his bearing regal in a way that

I had seldom seen even in our father, King Andros. With a brief nod in

respect to the Queen, our King led his staff out of her room to continue

the negotiations.

"Oh, Deacon, I can't lose you, too!" her sobs returned even as the

door closed.

I did not notice at the time that Mother's expression of grief did

not include Bareth, "We are sons of our father as well. If we turn our

back on our duty, you will already have lost us."

The proper thing to have done would have been to stay with her, but

faced with the prospect of my own imminent demise I found I had no comfort

to spare. My apartments were not far down the hall and I reached them

quickly.

What would happen to the momentos of my life? My mother's influ-

ence was clear in my room, dotted with paintings and musical instruments

rather than the swords and armor I knew were in Tamor's room. And my

books! In all the kingdom, there was not a finer library of discourses on

human motivation than I had accumulated. The rumors of Mother's powers

had intrigued me and I had been quietly corresponding with scholars since

I learned to read, though always through my Mother. Father would not

abide any reference to her gift, except from the one source he could deny

nothing. And why was that? Had I just witnessed within myself an echo of

that rumored power? That irresistible persuasion? Now I would never

know.

My own cat, Wraith, was a few shades lighter than Mother's Grey-

shadow. Both had a smooth, uniform color that seemed to make their forms

indistinct in anything other than strong light so I missed her for a mo-

ment while I was considering my few treasures. When I didn't reach to pet

her as I moved near, she voiced her displeasure with a demand no less

imperative for coming from a kitten barely past weaning. She subsided

with no more than a brief caress, though, sensing my mood.

I spent the next hour or so quietly reminding myself of my favorite

tunes on the various instruments, letting the music be a symbol of my

brief and passing contribution to the world that would soon throw my

books out with the other rubbish. A knock on my door interrupted me

before I became excessively maudlin.

"Prince Deacon, your presence is requested in the Queen's chambers,"

came the call when I stopped playing.

The resolve demonstrated by my brother the prin . . . my brother the

King, set a higher standard than I had given him credit for and I tried

to capture a share of that myself as I went to hear of my doom. When I

got to the Queen's chambers there was an unexpectedly high level of energy

in the room. Bareth and Mother were looking together at a parchment that

appeared to set out the terms of the surrender, with the other members of

Bareth's staff humming to each other in small groups.

"Deacon, your name's not on the list!" Bareth blurted out as soon

as I entered.

"What?"

"Look and see," he offered, not quite pulling the parchment from

Mother's hands as he turned it toward me.

At the head, was Tamor's name, followed by Bareth. But where mine

would be expected to be found, the name of one of Father's brothers was

listed, Alcon, then his other brother, Kestrel. The fifth and final name

on the list was mother's brother, Nyquist, who had come to Achaiea to

assist us in the ill-fated war. All these relatives were elderly. Father

had been proclaimed heir by his father in preference to older brothers who

were considered unsuitable for some reason I never knew. As I looked at

the list I wondered if their failing had been in choice of a mate, for

they were similar to Father in many ways, yet none had found wives to

match our mother. Father had reigned, but who had truly ruled in Achaiea?

These idle thoughts were an attempt for my mind to consider small problems

before attacking the large ones, but the large ones weren't going away.

"Why is Tamor's name on the list?" I asked while I tried to understand

the significance of my name's absence.

"They don't know he died in the battle. We told them that we be-

lieved that to be the case and Kragdle has scouts out looking for his

body. I confirmed with our men, though, and Tamor definitely died in the

fight.

"It's, um, a surprisingly short list," I mused.

The briefest flicker of amusement flashed across Bareth's eyes as

he replied, "Brother, you have a gift for making a point without saying

what one would expect. The absence of your name is indeed a surprise."

"Do you have an explanation?" I asked.

"No. When they gave Hugh the list, he did a masterful job of be-

traying none of the surprise you mentioned and just brought it to me."

The Chamberlain, on hearing his name, turned to us. "Your Majesty, I

may have an explanation. All the names on that list have participated in

martial tournaments. In addition, all have been proclaimed as the King's

representatives at fairs or as envoys in negotiations or in other official

capacities. And of course, Queen Selay's only other brother now reigns in

Verdantland. Since Prince Deacon has only now turned sixteen, he has had

no official duties outside the castle. It appears that Kragdle's spies

are not very efficient."

"Surely his spies can't be that bad," I disagreed.

"Your pardon, Highness, but your appearance is somewhat , um, am-

biguous. It is more common to find a girl who wears leggings than a boy,

uh, man with long blond hair, especially as long and . . . err . . . well

tended, as yours. Those who saw you but did not know you personally might

not have recognized your true . . . gender," my old tutor stammered out.

So that's why he was never very friendly toward me. He thought I

was too effeminate. Not just weak, but actually un-masculine. Well,

maybe he was right, at least in how I appeared.

I didn't voice these thoughts, but Mother's mind was moving in a

similar track and much further down the path.

"We can beat that monster!" she breathed fiercely.

"Mother?" Bareth asked in surprise.

In sharp, clipped tones that seemed brittle as glass and twice as

edged, she explained her plan.

"Oh, Bareth . . . my son . . . forgive me, but I cannot find a way to

save you. This is no less your duty than it would be to lead your army

into battle, though the outcome is certain rather than in the hands of

God. However, Achaiea can survive."

Bareth's eyes had held hope when Queen Selay had claimed a chance to

beat Kragdle, then became carefully neutral when she withdrew any personal

hope for him. He nodded briefly in acceptance of her priorities. Achaiea

was more important than any single life and the life of her King was al-

ways hers to claim. Yet just as surely, if the kingdom were to survive,

there needed to be a King.

"I don't understand," he prodded the Queen.

Instead of responding to him directly, Mother looked at me.

"Deacon, are you ready to make a sacrifice almost as drastic as

that demanded of Bareth?" she asked.

"Yes, Mother, though what can be almost that bad, yet be effective?"

"Can you not guess? You were always the smartest of my children and

Hugh has already given you the answer."

Hugh has given the answer? What answer? Hugh just said that some

people might have mistaken me for a . . .

It came to me with an inevitability of its own, yet I must resist.

"No. I'm sorry, but I'll let them have my head first."

Bareth still hadn't caught on, so the next to react was Hugh. His

face took on a fierceness to match Mother's and I remembered that this

man controlled the daily management of the Kingdom, not a job for a man

of weak will or small intellect.

"Yessss," he breathed. "It would work."

"What would work?" Bareth demanded. "Somebody tell me what's going

on!"

I tried to cut off any other response, "Nothing is going on. Go

tell Kragdle that they made a mistake. It's better to do it now than

have him find out on his own when he occupies the castle."

Bareth was puffing up in preparation for a truly regal rage when

Mother put her hands on his arm, and on my own.

She spoke to me, first, "Deacon, this is your duty to your kingdom,

no less than your duty to die if required. In this case you must live in

order for Achaiea to live and for Kragdle to die."

Finally, she explained to Bareth, "Deacon will have to masquerade

as a woman. When the time is right, he can depose the High Canyon trash

and reclaim the kingdom."

Chapter 2 - A Maiden's Lover

Even his own impending doom could not contain my brother's humor

at the path the Fates seemed to have selected for me. His laughter rang

out with a too-loud energy that betrayed the tension within him even as

it gave him a way to relieve it.

"Why, Deak, old boy, uh, girl, I think you may have the greater sac-

rifice to make at that!"

"No, for I will share the same end as you. It is impossible, and

when Kragdle finds out his vengeance will make his current threat seem

the greatest of mercies."

"Deacon," at the word of our mother, all other voices ceased, "if

there were a way, one that would work for long enough to rid our land of

this pestilence, would you do it?"

"Of course, but your premise is impossible." I gave an easy, hollow

agreement.

"I tell you that it is not. I tell you that this can work, if you

will commit yourself to it as fully as your duty requires."

Her tone was strange. There didn't seem to be any emotion in it at

all, but it left not the slightest room for any alternate concept. What

had been impossible now became the only possibility. I found myself nod-

ding, as did everyone else in the room. For a long moment she sat quiet-

ly, the only motion in the room her fingers idly stroking Greyshadow's

fur.

"Leave me, please, all except Deacon." Her order included the King

as casually as it did the lesser soldiers who guarded him. They filed out

in silence, remarkable silence no less so because it seemed absolutely

unremarkable at the time to all of us.

"How often have you used the white-cold mind?" she asked when they

had left.

"Excuse me?" what was she talking about?

"As you did with Drayson. I saw it in you as surely as I saw his

submission to your strength."

"Never," I replied. "I just couldn't accept his insult, at least,

not any longer. I mean, what could he do to me that wasn't going to hap-

pen already?"

"Why do you suppose he didn't react?" she continued to probe.

"I don't think I really considered it. To begin with, I was so angry

that I didn't care, and when it was over, we had other things to worry

about."

"Were you angry? Describe your anger."

"It wasn't one of Father's smashing rages, if that's what you mean.

It felt focused, white-hot yet cold beyond anything imaginable. I just

knew that my will would prevail."

This was too intense, not supported with the fuel of anger from Dray-

son's insult, confusing to a degree that made me very uncomfortable. I

had to lighten the mood.

"Or else he would have killed me," I defined the acceptable

alternative with a smile. "There was no middle ground."

Mother ceased her questions and began to explain, "What you have

described has been in our family, that is, my family, for untold genera-

tions. Your description is apt. We have always referred to is as the

'white-cold mind'. It is a means of focusing our minds so intensely that

we can compel other minds to do our bidding. Yet it is a dangerous gift,

or curse, for there are limits. It is a battle between our will and that

of our target, and if our will is insufficient, well, don't attempt it

lightly. It is easiest of course, when the target's will aligns with your

own. Intense anger such as you felt provides great power to your will,

but it is a dangerous source of strength. It will burn you out as surely

as a true fire of equal intensity."

I nodded, not really sure what she was talking about though her de-

scription certainly matched my experience. My lack of comprehension must

have been apparent, but when she continued she added yet another layer of

confusion.

"Yet it is the reason you can succeed in your duty. If both partici-

pants are willing, the white-cold mind can allow them to share knowledge

without coercion; to merge wills in an alliance rather than dominance and

submission."

Where was she going with this? What did this have to do with re-

gaining our realm? And how did it make the impossible become inevitable?

"Will you merge your mind with mine, Deacon? In a matter of minutes

I can provide you with a lifetime of knowledge on how to act like a woman.

The other aspects of your masquerade are clothes and artistry that are

secondary. You will be convincing. In fact, with your fine features you

will probably be appealing, but that is also secondary. You will reveal

yourself, or confirm yourself, with every gesture of your hand, with every

glance of your eyes to be either man or woman. I can help you learn what

you must know to succeed."

"With this white-cold thing?"

"Yes. But you must be a willing participant. If you fight me, I

will not be able to sustain the intensity of emotion it would take to

force you, especially since you have the power yourself. Yet this is

how you can do your duty to our kingdom and to our people."

I could not claim to understand any significant portion of what she

said, not truly understand. On another level though, I could not deny

what she said. I had felt that intensity, that . . . power. It was as

real to me as the breath that sighed in and out of my lungs as my mind

churned.

In the end I had no more option than Bareth. Duty is a hard task-

mistress when she provides no choices at all. Even death was not mine to

choose if there were a chance that we could restore our kingdom through

some other sacrifice. Yet what a sacrifice this would be!

Still, I nodded, "What do we do?"

"Sit here," she pointed to a low stool near her own chair. When I

was in place she took my hands in her own and caught my eyes with her own.

The blue jewels that had always seemed so much like my own were now so

different, somehow. Larger, it seemed, and deeper in more ways than I

could measure. I found myself moving forward into that depth as though

swept in a current of smooth water, at first quite slowly and I knew I

could draw back, but with gradually increasing speed until I knew just as

surely that I had no control at all.

Images, impressions, sensations beyond senses began to match me on my

journey. They melded with me until no seam existed and I could not tell

which were external and which had always been part of me. The first

images were of Father and I thought to study them, but I felt a pull in

another direction and knew that Mother would hold these to herself.

The sensations that next sought me out were like, yet unlike, my

own memories. The scenes were the same, the people were familiar, but

these impressions were from Mother in those same situations, impressions

that focused more and more on things she did because of her femininity.

Clothes seemed initially overwhelming in variety and purpose, but as they

were absorbed into my knowledge their complexity seemed childish next to

those of action within the clothes. I saw her as a young maiden captivate

suitor after suitor with a lift of an eyebrow, a glance, a flutter of a

wrist, or of an eyelash. I saw her win Father with a smile, while that

same smile transformed a rival into incoherent rage.

The intensity of that long-ago rival's emotion cast me from her

mind. I blinked and the merging was lost. When I looked again at

Mother's eyes, I saw only the clear blue gems that had always comforted

me. They crinkled in the corners with amusement, a surprise on this most

devastating of days yet perhaps understandable.

"So, Deacon, do you still think this is impossible? Or should I

say, 'Cherysse'?"

The voice that answered her was not my own, though it came from my

mouth. This voice was lighter, more musical, more full of life and

energy. The register had not changed, my own voice had never dropped

much, but in all other ways it was as different as night from day. Or, as

man from woman.

"I would not have believed it, but now I cannot imagine we will fail.

At least, not because of someone penetrating my masquerade," that strange,

musical voice replied.

This phrasing seemed to bother her. I saw a note of discomfort

pass her face, quickly suppressed, but less deniable now than even in

our previous closeness. Before I could ask about it, she had risen and

gone to her door.

Opening it, she bade the servant request the attendance of the King

and such others as he desired.

"Cherysse, you will find that after you have fully absorbed the

impressions I have shared, you will be able to choose between the man-

nerisms as you wish, but for now the feminine will be dominant. I'm sorry

for the abruptness but we have no time. Remember always, your duty is as

vital and as inescapable as Bareth's own."

By this time the King had approached. I still sat on Mother's

stool, dazed by the flood of thoughts that had assailed me. Lost in

my thoughts as I was, I absorbed without registering the conversations

around me. Finally, Bareth's voice grew loud.

"Deacon. Deacon! Wake up, brother!"

I jerked to attentiveness and swiveled on the stool to look at him.

His eyes wore a very strange expression, one that seemed to indicate that

I was the source.

"Yes, Bareth? I mean, Majesty," that strange voice replied from my

mouth.

All sound in the room ceased. Bareth's eyebrows made an attempt to

disappear into his neatly trimmed hairline. The voice from his mouth,

though still his own, had wonder in it that I had never heard before.

"Deacon?" he asked again.

"Yes?" I replied, a bit petulant at the repetition. I tossed my hair

over my shoulder and stood up.

Why was everyone looking at me so strangely? I just stood up, for

God's sake. I could feel a most unattractive frown forming on my face and

I fought to keep my features smooth. A glance at Mother from both Bareth

and I stirred her to explanation.

"I have instructed Deacon in skills he will need for his masquerade.

In support of that, from this moment forward, this is Cherysse, my daugh-

ter. Deacon never existed. I wanted you to understand this before the

transformation is complete so that there is no doubt that Cherysse is in-

deed Deacon."

"Your pardon, my Queen," Hugh, the Chamberlain interrupted, "but that

brings up a point that we need to address. It would be best if the suc-

cession of the crown were uninterrupted and unambiguous. If we allow

Kragdle to crown himself without our own anointed monarch, his claim might

be more difficult to unseat at a later date."

"What do you advise?" Queen Selay asked.

"If King Bareth were to abdicate, in favor of, um, Deacon, and Deacon

were crowned before Kragdle could anoint himself, then we would have a

much more compelling rallying cry for our people."

Bareth smiled in a self-deprecating sort of way and replied, "That

would be acceptable to me. I was never destined to wear the crown for

long, it seems. Let Deacon carry the weight of it forward."

He removed the simple circlet of gold that symbolized our nation

and moved to place it on my head. The priest interrupted him.

"Your Majesty, that should follow the anointing," he reminded us

all.

From the folds of his robe he drew forth a small vial and approached

me in his turn. Once again, the ceremony was completed quickly. A drop

or two of oil and then the cold weight of the crown. Bareth was right, it

was heavy. And I knew it would not get lighter for some time to come.

Once again Mother controlled the situation. The advisors wanted

to draw me off and begin to involve me in the affairs of the realm, to

no good purpose that I could see, but she swept them up with her glance

and made them pause.

"Cherysse," the emphasis was unmistakable, and the command just as

clear, "has further preparations to make. You must leave us alone. What

is Kragdle's deadline for our response?"

Bareth replied, "If we do not surrender by dawn, he will execute

the next dozen peasant families."

"Very well. Bareth, we will attend you later." Her words contained

the dismissal of the staff and of the so-briefly-reigning King.

When they were gone she turned again to me. The expression that

briefly clouded her face when I talked about none penetrating my disguise

had now returned in even greater measure. She paced about the room for a

moment, then sighed with a glance at me that made it clear she was not

happy with what was to come.

"Cherysse, are you familiar with a 'maiden's lover'?" she asked.

"No, not that I kno . ." and then I paused as her words triggered a

memory that had not been there a few hours ago.

"No! Mother, you cannot! I cannot! It is too much!" But the

very memories that horrified me were linked to the portion of her memories

that justified the terrible device.

She waited for my protestations to dissipate. When I ran down,

she smiled a sad smile that conveyed her personal knowledge of the price

she was asking.

"It can be survived," she declared.

Not for the first time I wondered if Bareth's part were indeed the

easier one. Not for the last time, either. Yet this was duty no less

demanding once the full price was established.

"What do I need to do?" My sigh of resignation brought an even

brighter shine to her eyes, and a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry, Cherysse, you know that I would not do this if there

were any other way."

"Of course," wistfully I replied, with a tremor in my voice that

would have shamed me, once.

"You will need to disrobe, of course, and we had better arrange a

bath before you dress in your new attire," she said with brusque effi-

ciency as she summoned the servants.

A bath was drawn with scented oils to smooth and protect my skin. At

Mother's suggestion a fine blade was used to remove all my body hair, not

that there was much of it. I would have savored the luxury of the bath

for a very long time, but as the water began to cool Mother brought forth

my tormentor.

"This one was my own. We don't have time to have another one made

more to your form. It is a good thing that you are slender."

A 'maiden's lover' was so named because it had the sole purpose of

preventing any other lover from approaching her virtue. It looked like a

vest of chain mail woven of the finest steel our land could produce, drawn

down to fine thread but no less strong than an equivalent thickness of

plate. In extent, it was designed to cover me from my nether regions to

the bosom that I did not have. In between the woven steel formed a tight-

fitting corset, sized as Mother had explained to the shape she had posses-

sed as a maiden.

Unfortunately, that was not my natural shape, especially in the

lower portion that was led back between my legs. This portion of the

garment was rigid plate, providing enough room for a maiden's treasures

but requiring my own to be compressed most uncomfortably. A flexible rod

perhaps the thickness of an ordinary bootlace trailed from the tip of

this part of the device, trailed for a surprisingly long distance.

The first step in donning it, though, was to slip a soft silken

garment up my hips to cover the same area. It was woven continuously

without seam or fastening, yet in some cunning fashion it provided suf-

ficient stretch to allow it to pass my hips. The bottom of this tube of

silk was closed off sufficiently to provide some cover for my most inti-

mate areas while leaving openings that I knew would be only too necessary

when I wore the controlling steel device for days at a time.

When the actual maiden's lover was slid up my hips and into position

the corset portion began just above my hips and had eyelets for conven-

tional laces, though they were set into the rear of the 'lover' on remova-

ble flaps. Mother drew other laces, ordinary string, through these eye-

lets and began to bring the edges together. It took a while. When the

tension would become too tight for her to pull (well past anything that I

could willingly accept) she would pause and require me to raise my arms,

or lower them, or breathe (as though I could) or move as well as I might.

After these exercises, she would draw on the laces again. Eventually the

purpose of the long wire leading from the nether guard became apparent as

she began to thread it through interlocking loops on the back of the gar-

ment. This would only work if the back were fully closed, a condition

that the young Princess Selay no doubt found much easier to achieve than I

did. The reduction in my waist was so intense that some of the flesh

actually worked up into the cups in front, giving me a surprisingly

realistic bosom, especially since these cups were themselves stiffly

formed. When she was done she unlaced the long string and removed the

lacing flaps, leaving only the thin rod to hold the back together.

The purpose of a small loop in the end of the rod became apparent as

Mother drew a final part of the diabolical device from the chest that had

held the garment. A small lock, jeweled and intricate to rival the most

precise of timepieces, bound the loop in the wire to a corresponding loop

in the back of the garment.

"What key opens that lock?" my maiden's voice gasped.

"You will not know that, now or ever," she replied. Something in

her tone let me know that she had once asked the same question, and re-

ceived the same reply. I turned to look at her in surprise, but my own

protest was stifled by the view displayed in a tall mirror behind her

shoulder.

Whatever else that device might accomplish, it had transformed me

into a woman in body. It appeared Mother, as a maiden, had been a most

shapely lass. Now, whether I wanted it or not that shape defined me as

well. My long golden hair did much to complete the picture. It reminded

me of my earlier comment.

"Well, Mother, it is certain that no one will penetrate my disguise

now." I tried to chuckle for her sake, but the device left me too little

breath for more than a whispered comment.

"Yes, dear, that was my concern when you mentioned it earlier. The

only justification for this garment is that it has that virtue, even when

the maiden may not."

She continued, "Now, let us get you dressed. It is impossible for

a princess to dress herself, and it would be too suspicious if I took

care of everything for you with my own hands. Once you are dressed in

your 'lover', others can aid you. However, only I will ever release you

from your protection. That has been our way for generations and will be

our justification now."

She summoned servants and opened her own dressers to find the proper

gown for me. While she considered choices that I would eventually have to

make on my own, others attended to my hair. A woman's rank was displayed

in the combs and pins she wore in her hair anytime she was out of her own

chambers. Those of a princess were many and varied and it was clear that

Mother was again correct. No woman could place them all properly by her-

self. By the time they were done a gown had been selected, along with

stockings and shoes. It was clear that this was again a chore that would

need assistance, for while wearing the 'maiden's lover' I could not bend

sufficiently to place stockings on myself, nor shoes.

The final assistant was a cosmetician skilled in arts imported from

far off Araby and even further lands to the East, more legend than real

yet none the less artistic. He transformed my face so that all remaining

vestiges of Deacon were removed and only Cherysse remained.

In the hustle and bustle of so many attendants I had not had time

to look again into the mirror. As though at a signal, all drew back and

an aisle was made from me to the looking glass.

If I had still possessed the breath to do so, I would have gasped.

As it was, I grew light-headed with shock and had to be steadied by

several pairs of hands. Like all court gowns my dress was ornate, yet the

decoration in this gown complemented the shape displayed, not distracting

from the flow of waist and swell of bosom. Only the full, wide skirt de-

parted from the curves beneath, providing security against a too-intimate

revelation of a lady's limbs. Mother had selected a gown of a deep, rich

blue, highlighted with gold. The combination picked up the colors of my

hair and eyes, colors which Mother displayed as well.

"That was the gown I wore the day I met your Father," she explained,

the bright shine back in her eyes.

A dismissive wave of her hand sent the servants scurrying, all but

one she called by name. "Amy, send to Bareth's chambers and see if it

would be convenient for him to receive us at this time."

The woman was gone in an instant, returning in barely more time

with his reported assent.

"Mother," I whispered, "why not have him come here?"

"We need to maintain the fiction of his reign until at least the

dawn," she explained. "Besides, it will do you good to get out and

about."

Taking my hand in her own, she led me down the corridor to Bareth's

apartments. At the rap of his guard, his door opened. He stood there

himself but did not move back into the room to allow us to enter.

"Dea, uh, Cherysse?" he stammered.

"Yes, brother, it is your sister," I replied. My voice, still

strange to him though I was becoming accustomed to it, caused him to start

out of his stupor and finally move back in to the room.

"I would never have believed it. Even after the transformation

Mother called us down to see, I would never had credited any report of

this miracle," he chattered. "You are not merely feminine, you are beautiful!"

"Thank you," Mother's imprinted mannerisms brought out the demure

response without conscious thought.

Bareth's eyes had lit up with pleasure at the sight of the pretty

maiden that I had become. It overshadowed, for a moment, his own fate.

Still, it was clear that this had been weighing heavily on his mind for it

sobered quickly.

"Can you do this, Deacon?" he asked.

"Yes, my brother. I can. I will, for our realm, for our people, and

for you." As I said it, I felt an echo of the white-cold mind in my

voice and saw conviction greater than my own appear on Bareth's features.

And peace. His honor was such that his own sacrifice was not an unrealis-

tic price for him to pay, but it gave him peace to know it would not be in

vain. Would I be able to keep the promise I had just made? I wished my

own mind were as certain as I had caused his to be.

Chapter 3 - Tan Fog

The dawn found Mother and I watching from the battlements as the four

known heirs to the throne of Achaiea walked to their doom. Mother's

golden hair took a deep copper color from the blood of the rising sun, so

soon to be matched by the blood of human cruelty. I knew mine looked the

same for this morning Mother and I were identical in all respects save

age. It was her intention to reinforce the image of my gender by constant

reference to her own. Together we wore widow's black, accented by silver

that took on the color of the sun to look like drops of blood already

spattered on our bodies.

Bareth would not stand out in the annals of our realm for the sac-

rifice of his life. In the oldest records no distinction was made between

this surrender to death, and death in battle. In truth, there was no

practical difference as the losers were always executed. We had become

more civilized since then. Now a dozen peasant families had already been

sacrificed to escort my brother to his eternity. Yet another dozen stood

by to ensure he held steadfast to his duty. Such "civilized" escorts were

also no longer remarkable. In time, he would be most memorable for the

shortness of his reign, over within hours of his accession to the throne.

I wondered if I would survive long enough to have a record of my own, and

what it would say.

As the rays of light crept lower into the valley before the castle

the color lightened to a more golden hue. This did not fill the view with

warmth, though. It showed a shifting tan carpet, swirling over the ground

like fingers of fog, ever moving with no distinct form or structure. This

was the way of the High Canyon horde, never called an army. Their clothes

were as uniform as they could make them, disdaining honorable coats of

arms for anonymity in battle except for those whose deeds were so great

that no artificial identity was required. Their horde as a whole moved in

apparent confusion for the same purpose. It was impossible to count them

as they constantly shifted elements from one sector of the battlefield to

another.

There was no doubt about the destination of our men, though. The

headsman was prominent a long crossbow reach from the drawbridge. Bareth

and his three uncles moved steadily forward, neither hesitation nor anxi-

ety in their strides. When they reached the waiting tan-covered men it

appeared that the faceless members of the horde knew something of our

royal family for each was questioned. From our distance it was impossible

to tell what the interrogation entailed but apparently the answers were

satisfactory to our invaders. Each Achaiean man turned toward the crenel-

lated wall where Mother and I stood, saluting our bright hair one last

time before submitting to a professionally quick end. In all-too-brief

sequence the males of the royal family were dispatched.

Those murders were only the most dramatic sign of our surrender.

The gates of Stalwart Guard were to remain open as sign of submission

of the people as a whole. A contingent of the horde flowed toward our

castle even as the bodies of our men were bundled in cloths and presented

to the disarmed retinue that had accompanied them.

With regal dignity I strove to match, Mother descended from the

wall and entered the throne room where she took her accustomed place in

the Queen's high seat. I, of course, could not take the royal throne as

was my right. Instead, I stood at her shoulder in the position of a prin-

cess. And in the raiment of a princess. And under it all, the maiden's

lover. It had not been a comfortable night for me. The tightness of the

too-narrow waist had prevented easy breathing regardless of my position

and the unaccustomed bulk of the bosom I had so strangely acquired main-

tained a sensation of discord in any of my normal postures. I didn't want

even to think of the unnatural compression in a so-intimate place. Still,

the artistry of the palace cosmetician overcame such minor obstacles as a

sleepless night and I looked more attractive than I would have believed

possible just 24 hours before.

The doors to the throne room were thrown open with casual disregard

for protocol, I thought. Then it came to me this was not casual at all,

it was flamboyantly arrogant. Yet the actions of those intruding in our

chamber were not individually flamboyant. Perhaps a dozen members of the

horde entered, though even here it was hard to tell as they maintained

their habitual swirl. There was an island of stability in their fog. A

pair of men clothed in tan approached on a straight, unyielding line. A

third man bearing the symbol of their pagan religion followed the stead-

fast two.

A few feet in front of the dais one threw back his obscuring hood.

We saw a face too harsh to be merely lean. Not harshness of expression,

of which there was none, but harshness of a deeper, permanent sort. When

the children of Achaiea were learning to laugh, the child this man had

been was learning to live without water for days at a time. That dryness

still pervaded him, a parched visage with no waste about it, not even the

waste of muscle to pad skin stretched too tightly over sharp-edged bones.

His voice was much the same, toneless yet sharp, with no inflection.

"Madame Selay, I presume."

Mother ignored his comment utterly, gazing at the open doorway as

though still waiting for someone to enter.

I saw that I had misjudged the man. There was humor in him after

all. It was just not reflected in his face unless he chose to use the

expression as part of his communication. A tight smile recognizable

by the contrast to his previous neutrality accompanied his next comment,

"Queen Selay, then."

At this Mother nodded her head with rigid precision. Her glance

never left the open doorway beyond our intruder's head, but she acknow-

ledged his unwelcome presence once her own recognition was proper.

"I am Kragdle, King of High Canyon, and by grace of the one true

God, now ruler of Achaiea," he declared, stepping up to confront Mother

from a distance too close for proper court protocol. Still his voice

was absent, the comments carried seemingly by force of personality

rather than the volume others would need.

He waved his hand and the other figure who had strode directly to

our dais pulled back his own hood and approached to stand in front of me.

This man was inches taller than Kragdle and had the wide shoulders and

large hands of my father and older brother. Yet his body reflected a lean

economy more reminiscent of Bareth. Of the men in my experience, my

father and brothers had been the greatest warriors. This man, though,

looked to combine the best of the fighters in my heritage. His face did

not show the harshness of the thirst that had marked Kragdle, yet the

additional flesh he carried on his face was spare and efficient. More

than any other distinction from his father though, his warm, brown eyes

lacked the ruthlessness of the glittering chips of black rock displayed by

our conqueror. Instead, the eyes showed interest, all the more terrifying

when I realized I was the primary focus of that interest.

"Your Majesty," in another voice there would have been a sneer buried

in that comment to the Queen but the flatness of Kragdle's whisper robbed

it of clear insult, "allow me to present my son, Lyonidas. He will be

regent in Achaiea. In accordance with that duty, I have charged him to

act as judge in our first case. A case of possible treason."

Then he turned that snake's glare on me.

"Ah, what have we here? A royal princess, no less," he whispered in

that voiceless hiss. "We had heard rumors of another child."

He started to move toward me and one of the royal guards moved to in-

terpose himself. An instant of irritation flickered in the black coals of

Kragdle's eyes. He looked around the throne room at the surviving leaders

of the Army of Achaiea and his smile changed to something even uglier.

"Lyonidas, my son, have you ever noticed how hard it is to tell the

difference between the Achaiean soldiers and . . . their women?" he mused

without inflection.

"Why, even this delicate flower might be one of their noble warriors

in disguise," he continued, pointing at me.

A low, wordless growl escaped from the men of Achaiea in the room.

There was a shifting that cleared sword arms. Kragdle ignored it com-

pletely but his swirl of men did not. Their own arms moved beneath the

concealing cloaks, accompanied by a muted whisper of steel withdrawing

from sheaths.

Lyonidas forestalled the imminent battle by stepping up to me with a

grin. He ignored my guard and said to his father, "There is really only

one way to be sure."

A shake of Mother's head even more constrained than her previous

acknowledgment caught Lyonidas' attention. Kragdle used the opportunity

to deliver a threat he had obviously intended from before he entered the

throne room.

"Why, if we found that this creature were male," this part was said

with amusement, but then his tone became vicious, "or if we found another

male heir hidden anywhere in the castle, we would be forced to execute

every single member of the Achaiean royal family to ensure that no other

heirs masqueraded among the inhabitants. Since such treachery might

permit disguise as serving girls, or even children, every person residing

in this castle would be sacrificed to the traitor's deception."

Again there was that flicker of amusement on Kragdle's sun-darkened

features as he observed the total lack of response from Mother. No fear,

no guilt, no anxiety colored her regal features. After it was clear his

threat would bring no response, he concluded with yet another question,

"Is there anything you wish to say before we conduct our trial?"

Queen Selay finally spoke, "This is my daughter, Cherysse. I am

not responsible for your rumors. You have the power to murder peasants,

and for that reason our heirs died in honor. Do not assume that gives you

ultimate power over us. We who remain will die before we are dishonored .

. . for death is available to all. If you defile my daughter, we will

save you the trouble of executions and with our dying breath we will curse

you before God. Our people will know of your perfidy and of the use-

lessness of surrender. You will not see any value from your usurpation

and butchery, not now, and not for future generations too numerous to

count."

The smile vanished from Kragdle's face while Mother spoke. At the

end of her speech he put it back on his features with deliberate intent,

but he stepped back. The amusement on his face made a claim of being

still in control of this audience, but the true battle of wills had been

won by Mother and at least she, Kragdle, and I knew it.

"Lyonidas, how would you determine if this is truly a woman?" he

offered with that tight little grin. My sex was clear in his mind but

he would use this joke he had made up himself as an excuse to gloat about

his power.

Lyonidas reached out to me with his large, muscular hands. The

audience in the chamber gasped, then gasped again as Queen Selay stood.

"For countless generations the Imperial Edict has proscribed the

defilement of women, whether maid or matron," she reminded him.

"There hasn't been an Emperor for most of those generations you

invoke," Kragdle snarled.

"Perhaps not, but the other nations of the old Empire still obey

those precepts of civilization. My brother, King Nikolai of Verdantland

has told me many times of his respect for those ancient traditions."

At this thinly veiled threat Kragdle's eyes narrowed once again.

It was well known that there had been border squabbles between High

Canyon and Verdantland for years as Nikolai had tried to take advantage

of any distraction Kragdle might experience in his conquests. The High

Canyon campaign against our nation had been so swift that Queen Selay's

brother had not had time to mobilize while the High Canyon horde was

outside home borders and Verdantland was not strong enough for a bald

invasion of High Canyon. However, an atrocity or two would bring Nikolai

allies, perhaps enough to give Kragdle a real challenge.

Still, great conquerors are great gamblers. Kragdle had not built an

empire from nothing by being intimidated by distant threats. Just the

opposite, his arrogance led him to believe he could do as he wished with

us and still protect his past conquests. I could see a decision forming

in his eyes to make his strength clear with a gesture suitably disdainful

of the old customs.

Before he said anything though, I spoke up. My bookish, unmanly

studies had provided me with another control on his aggressiveness. My

words were not directed to Kragdle, but to the silent shaman with the

pagan wand, "Is it not written in the book of Aster, 'Who wars on an

innocent maiden of a conquered land will face destruction. Verily, even

unto the least of the followers of the defiler'?"

The shaman jerked at hearing the words of his own Holy Writ. His

answering nod was too reflexive for him to solicit permission from his

King. It provoked a stirring from Kragdle's other silent escorts as they

realized that Kragdle was threatening their own souls with his power

games.

Kragdle's eyes held mine for a long moment. He took in my golden

hair and blue eyes as though noticing them for the first time. Then his

glance flickered to Queen Selay for an instant, reminding himself of our

similarity. When he spoke, his hiss was too quiet for his own men to

understand. Only the Queen, Lyonidas, and myself heard his comment, "I

had heard that the noblewomen of Achaiea were witches with strange mental

powers. Well, I don't believe it. I have beaten 'King Andros and his two

sons, the finest fighters in Achaiea' and I can beat the women and chil-

dren that remain, witch powers or no."

After holding my gaze, and then Queen Selay's, for long enough to

make the point that he was not intimidated, he glanced sidelong at

Lyonidas. Uncertainly showed in the son's features for a long second,

then he again moved toward me.

"Do you really think it is making war on a maiden, when all I want to

do is see if this vision of loveliness has a woman's sensuality as well?"

Lyonidas' eyes never left me. That is not to say they never left my

eyes for his own gaze slowly absorbed my form from golden halo of intri-

cate hairstyle, past swell of apparently full bosom, to sweep of sleek

waist, stopping only with a speculative glance at what might be hidden

behind the full skirts. Where Kragdle was a leathery snake, Lyonidas was

a languid lion, secure in his power, not intense with taut energy. Only

once his gaze had completed his evaluation of my form, did he again look

directly into my face.

"Father," he said with a ponderous tone at odds with the amusement

lurking within his soft brown eyes, "there is definitely evidence of

treachery here. However, the obvious evidence is against those outside

the authority you have given me. Those spies who report to you have

claimed that the women of Achaiea are the most beautiful in all the world,

yet that report so understates the truth as to be tantamount to deliberate

lie. I assume you will deal with them yourself when you return home."

Now he spoke directly to me with a possessiveness in his tone that

transformed the meaning in his respectful words, "My princess, it is also

rumored that once a girl of Achaiea reaches the age of fertility, only her

husband . . . or her lover . . . ever see her hair unbound. Is this

true?"

"Such is our custom," I replied, "and if you know that, you know

that husband and lover are one and the same."

"Always?" His amusement now twitched at his eyes as well as his

lips.

"For those who are honorable, yes," I declared.

"And for you?" Now he grinned openly.

I slapped him.

It was a reflex so fast that I didn't even have time to consider any

consequences. Deacon would never have done it. When struck with an

equivalent insult, Deacon had called on the white-cold mind for the

power to restore respect. But my responses were now driven by Mother's

personality and she was a woman of strength in many more ways than just

power of mind.

Swords appeared in the hands of the tan swirl behind Lyonidas and

it began to flow toward the dais almost before the echo had died. They

were stopped by Lyonidas' laughter.

"Ah, a woman of spirit. We had reports of that as well. Tell me,

girl, are you yet a maiden?"

This time it was my turn for the curt, tiny nod that Mother had

demonstrated. I felt my lips tighten at this continued insult but no

out-of-control reflex lifted my hand for another physical response.

Without further words he reached up and started removing the combs

and pins from my hair. His touch was gentle and his hands never came

close to my body, nor even my face. Nothing in his slow, soft touch ever

quite became enough threat to present an unbearable attack, though the

insult of stripping my hair was as great as stripping my body. A woman's

status was defined by the arrangement of her hair no less than a man's

status was defined by his coat of arms. To take down the combs from my

hair and let it flow freely was to take away my status as a princess.

Worse, it left me less than a simple but honorable maiden of Achaiea, such

as the peasant girls who had been slaughtered so casually.

Yet, it triggered sensations within me that I did not understand.

Only a lover caressed a woman's hair this way. As he removed the decora-

tions, strands began to hang down in unbalanced disarray, tugging my head

even as his ministrations tugged on the combs and pins. A part of me

wanted to slap his hands away just to finish more quickly than his slow

pace would support. But a part of me found the gentle caresses he gave my

hair to be unimaginably sensual, so much so that my eyes closed in appre-

ciation of the sensations. When he finished and my golden mane again fell

in free tumbles, I gave a reflexive shake of my head to cause the scat-

tered strands to lay behind my shoulders. Another unconscious reflex

tucked a portion behind each ear to keep it out of my face as I re-opened

my eyes.

"Father," Lyonidas reported, "I tell you that this is a woman. Her

hair is natural, and too beautiful for a man. Her reflexes show that

this hair has been always been part of her life. However, in watching

it flow freely, I find a treason on her part, after all."

Another gasp filled the chamber, but I could see the amusement

shining in his eyes and knew destruction was not on his mind.

Lyonidas continued speaking to his father but looking only at me,

"It degrades the beauty of your new realm to restrict such beauty with

combs and gaudy distractions. As your regent, I issue my first formal

edict. Henceforth, only such hair adornments as enhance Our ability to

see a woman's features will be permitted. Combs to keep her shining

sunlight from her face, or perhaps a clasp to gather it, will be allowed,

but in no cases is the full length of it to be bound. It must be allowed

to flow unfettered and reflect her grace when she moves."

With that he picked up two of the combs of status that had been so

painstakingly added to my hair that morning and offered them to me. I

took them and worked them quickly into my hair above and behind my ears

to hold the golden mass free of my features. Why did I not resist? In

later moments I would never be able to really explain, but at that par-

ticular moment I wanted to do what Lyonidas directed.

His smile at my compliance completed the transformation of his

features into a generous openness, but that smile was only for me.

Even as he turned back to his father, I saw the mask of neutrality move

again across his visage. That I could understand since his father was

clearly not given to outward displays of emotion. But what was the

meaning of the small nod he gave his father when their eyes met? He had

already announced his conviction that I was indeed a maiden.

The small smile of amusement on his father's face had never wavered,

but he gave a small nod of his own before turning to the Queen. "Your

Majesty, this edict applies to all the unmarried women in the kingdom,

except only yourself. It will be a sign of availability for your women

that my men may use to determine who to woo and win."

"None will be courted until after our mourning period," Queen Selay

declared with a finality that made it clear what forcing a woman would

cause. Her own duty, and her own willingness to sacrifice to that duty if

needed were never more clear. Kragdle gave a minuscule nod of his own

head to acknowledge her threat.

"How long will this mourning last?" he asked.

"That depends on the circumstances of the woman's loss. If she has

no personal losses in the war, then her mourning will last only the three

months due the loss of her King. If she has lost a brother or cousin, our

customs call for six months. If she has lost a husband, no less than nine

months is required to ensure clear paternity in the event of issue."

Lyonidas interrupted, "And how long will your lovely daughter mourn?"

Mother provided me as much margin as she could, "Princess Cherysse

has lost her father, two brothers, and three uncles. While I will only

require formal mourning clothes for three months, as I shall wear, no one

will be allowed to court her for at least a full year."

I could see an intention to argue on Lyonidas' face but his father

responded with his dry whisper, "This is acceptable."

The glance that passed between the two tan-garbed men was full of

promise to discuss this further, in private, but it held no greater signi-

ficance than the glance that passed between Mother and I.

With only the barest of nods, Kragdle turned and strode from the

throne room. Lyonidas took a moment to capture my eyes. Then his gaze

swept the other women of the court and his fingers danced a light twiddle

that made it clear their hair should be unbound the next time he saw them.

Turning quickly, his longer strides caught up to his father even as the

remaining members of the horde swirled around them.

Chapter 4 - "Thinking Deeper"

After the self-styled King of High Canyon had departed Mother stood.

She spent a couple of long moments staring at the doors through which they

had gone then gathered me up with her glance and left through the private

door behind the thrones.

At the door to her chambers she waved all the attendants away, pul-

ling only me in with her. Then she shut the door and began to pace around

the room, still having said nothing.

The silence, combined with her tense, jerky motion finally got to be

too much for me and I had to speak.

"Well, at least we know their plan."

This simple statement froze her in her tracks and once again her

slender shoulders began to shake as deep, silent sobs wracked her body.

Only the rustle of my gown whispered in the quiet room as I moved to her

side and tried to console her.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I didn't mean to hurt you. What did I say?"

"No, dear, it's nothing you said. Well, not really. It's just that

your father would not have known their plan at this point. He was a good

man, a man so honest that he was never able to see beyond the surface. He

wouldn't have understood what Kragdle and Lyonidas intended."

My own memories of my father were a bit distant to cause me to break

into tears but I knew she was right, both in that he was honest and that

he couldn't see beyond the surface. The image of a battering ram came to

mind. Her private assessment of him, which applied equally well to his

two older brothers who had been passed over as King, confirmed that it was

Mother who had really provided the guidance for Achaiea.

Queen Selay shook her head and straightened her shoulders. She had a

regal duty no less than that of her husband and sons. The smile she tried

on me was almost enough to make me cry as well, but we both got past the

knife-edge of emotional distress and thought about our next actions.

"Suppose you tell me what you think they intend," she offered, or

challenged.

"It seems clear that they expect to import henchmen who will marry

into our nobility, claiming lands and titles left vacant in the war. This

will lend justification beyond simple conquest and reduce the potential

for resistance."

Her arched eyebrow invited me to go on though I was running out of

steam. Still, I tried a bit more, "Oh, and they intend Lyonidas for me.

They must intend for you to remain a widow so that no rival for the throne

arises from some new husband or further children."

"Did you notice how Kragdle's ploy helped you?" she asked.

"His ploy?" I guess not.

"Obviously," she began to explain, "he had heard the rumors of your

birth. I expect they were just bare rumors with no descriptions. It was

clear he didn't even know your name, of course. Your father's habit of

claiming martial prowess for himself 'and his two sons', while it always

did you a disservice before seems to have helped in this. He couldn't be

sure until he saw you whether you were male or female. He could have

added some nonspecific "Youngest Prince" to the list of those to be sac-

rificed and let us confirm or deny your existence. Why didn't he do this?"

"Um, he didn't want to appear ignorant?" I guessed.

Poorly.

Her smile showed tolerance that was worse than a rebuke. "No, he

lost that when he didn't show you on the list more than if he had guessed

wrongly about your sex."

She relented though, and continued, "If you were male, and hiding,

his fake 'trial' would have found you out and he would have a superficial

justification for eliminating any organized opposition to his rule. On

the other hand, if you were female and he called you for execution, then

when it became clear you were a maiden you would have had justification

for refusing the suit of his son, which he didn't want to provide. He

thought finding you in the throne room would resolve between only two

alternatives, both of them good for him."

"And it helped us, instead?" I asked.

"Kragdle made it clear that the lives of everyone in the castle are

forfeit if you are found to be male. That includes everyone who knows

your true gender. He has passed his own sentence of death on any who

might consider betraying you."

"You knew this would happen!" I realized.

Her smile this time had genuine pleasure in it, albeit the pleasure

of a lioness with a fresh kill. "Yes, dear. Women are soft and weak.

God has given us compensations."

Her voice made it clear that the compensations she claimed were

those of subtle power, and that she had thought of the next steps as well.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"Well, we need to encourage Kragdle's plan, at least for now,"

she declared.

"Encourage it? I would have thought we should fight him at every

opportunity."

"No, dear Cherysse," her emphasis on my new name reminded me we had

already chosen against a frontal approach. "Kragdle has opened the door

to love and romance which are a woman's proper weapons. We will use these

weapons against him more surely than we could ever use fire and steel."

Her comment made me look into my mind for the subtle power she

claimed. Had I gained it when I had gained poise and gracefulness?

Not that I could tell. I could see coquetry in plenty, but not guile.

Yet clearly it was in my heritage. Kragdle had staged a play that my

father would never have understood. My mother, the Queen, had turned that

play against him into one that met our needs as though she had planned it

herself.

A knock at her door interrupted our privacy. At her nod I answered

it to find Hugh, the Chamberlain.

"Your Highness," he nodded to me, then continued to Mother, "Majesty,

I am sorry to interrupt you in your time of grief, but the bodies of your

husband and of your eldest son have been returned to us."

Queen Selay nodded with regal dignity, aloof and cold. Did Hugh

know the torment she hid behind her closed doors? When it was clear she

had nothing to say in response to his first announcement Hugh coughed

delicately into his hand.

"I'm sorry, Majesty, but in this heat it would be best to have the

funerals quickly. It has already been a full day."

Queen Selay nodded again, "Make the preparations. I, uh, we will

be ready."

After he had left she slumped without moving, losing the erect pos-

ture to the unbearable load that her slim shoulders must carry. But only

for a moment. Even as I moved toward her she raised her hand to stop me.

"I'll be all right," she promised, "but now that you have been

officially announced as the princess, you will need to start taking a

more active role in court affairs. Go see to Julia. She will be chief

mourner for Tamor, just as I will be for Andros of course. Since Bareth

had no fiancee you will be his chief mourner. I haven't seen Julia yet

today. She wasn't in the throne room. Find her and get her ready. Your

own attire is appropriate. Now go."

I left her alone in her room, only Greyshadow to keep her company in

her loss. Yet she was still the Queen, and my mother, and I must obey.

Julia, Tamor's betrothed, was in her own rooms. She stared out the

narrow window of her bedchamber, not dressed though it was nearly noon.

I had never seen her out of formal court dress before. On the other

hand, I'm not sure she had ever truly seen me at all. Though she was only

a year or so older than me, I had been a pale shade lurking in the back-

ground, lost in the boisterous energy Tamor had always carried with him.

She was truly lovely sitting there in the sunbeam. Her long red hair,

unbound since she had never left her chamber, glowed in the sunlight like

a ruby cape spread across her shoulders. The sun caught the light ma-

terial of her nightclothes and made them seem airy as angel's wings. Only

her somber expression detracted from the peaceful image.

"Julia?" I tried to intrude gently.

"Hmm?" she replied distractedly, then looked at me. "Who are you?"

She hadn't been told about the masquerade. I should have known.

I thought about how to say it but stumbled as every phrasing I could

think of seemed vainglorious, or shameful, or both at the same time.

Finally, I just started.

"I am Prince Deacon. Kragdle and his minions knew only rumors of

another child to Andros, nothing more. When Mother realized this she

decided I should masquerade as female until we can regain our kingdom."

"You are, um, Deacon?" she repeated in a dazed way, neglecting my

honorific. Well, my old honorific.

"Yes, Julia, or at least I was. Now I am Cherysse and everyone in

the castle will be executed if Kragdle ever finds out otherwise."

"Cherysse?" she asked, but really more of a statement coming out of

her dreamy state.

"Yes," I repeated. "Now, we must get you ready for the funeral.

You will be chief mourner for Tamor as is your right. Mother will attend

the King and I will be mourner for Bareth. Call your servants and get

dressed."

"I have not yet bathed today," she protested.

"I'm afraid there's no time for that," I insisted, though a part of

me wondered what she would look like as she bathed. A part that became

very painful in just a moment within its hidden constriction.

She stood and began to move with some reflection of her normal ener-

gy. The somber expression never left her face but her imperious sum-

moning brought servants even as she stripped herself of her nightgown.

For an instant I thought I might be allowed to see what she would

look like as she bathed even yet, but under her gown lurked a maiden's

lover no less intimidating than my own.

She was well into ignoring my presence, as usual, when it occurred to

her that she was not really alone.

"Dea . . um. . . Cherysse? Is there anything more?" she asked as

a way to dismiss me.

"Not for now," I admitted. "I will seek out the Chamberlain to

determine our duties."

The tasks the Queen had assigned me swept me up in duty no less

demanding because no physical danger was involved. I found the Chamber-

lain scurrying around faster than I could keep up with in my long skirts,

but he had placed the crown of Achaiea on my head himself, for however

brief a period. He stopped when he saw my approach.

"How can I help you, um, Princess Cherysse?"

Hugh dutifully responded to my request for information on the funeral

arrangements, though I would have been satisfied if one of his underlings

had told me what I needed to know. When I had it straight I reported back

to the Queen's chambers. She had summoned Julia who was once again

staring out a window, looking sadder than before. Her own black gown was

tailored as elegantly as ours and left no doubt of the slender figure

within. We waited until our appointed time, then joined the funeral

procession. Members of the royal family were buried within the castle and

the six caskets had been arrayed in a lower chamber.

The principal duty of a chief mourner, it turned out (this was my

first royal funeral), was to select something from among the personal

effects of the deceased that would be used a memorial symbol for them.

By long tradition the symbol for the King was the crown, which had been

brought down to adorn Andros. That complicated things since two Kings of

Achaiea lay together. Hugh and his protocol experts had decided the right

way to handle this was for Mother to take the crown from Father's brow and

hand it to me. I would place it on Bareth's head for a moment while Julia

selected something from Tamor. Then I, too, would take the crown, this

time from Bareth.

My respectful stance with lowered head allowed my unbound hair to

block my view of what Julia selected. But I could sense her stepping back

and so knew when it was time for me to do my part. Once again the crown

of Achaiea was in my hands. Once again I could not wear it. I delivered

it to Hugh for him to hide somewhere. We weren't going to surrender that

to Kragdle. In a short while it was over. The funeral procession re-

turned to the upper castle and dispersed.

I stayed with Mother until she reached her rooms but this time she

didn't want any company. Respecting her wishes, of course, I decided

there was no better place for me than my own chambers. I was walking

toward them when I heard a sound from Tamor's rooms.

"Who's there?" I demanded, though still the silver tones of a young

woman robbed my words of real force.

Instead of an answer, the sound ceased altogether. Nonetheless I

decided I had better look in on the room. If Wraith had gotten in among

Tamor's things, I'd be in more trouble than I needed right then. A part

of me recognized the ludicrousness of this concern. I was King, for the

love of God! The reasons why I couldn't openly claim that made the prob-

lems of an errant kitten trivial. Still, I had been through too many

scolding sessions on behalf of that cat to just ignore the possibility.

The door stood ajar and I opened it slowly in order not to scare the

kitten into some unreachable retreat. Inside, instead of a small grey cat

I found Julia weeping on Tamor's bed.

"Julia?" I asked in gentle interruption for the second time that day.

"What!" she snapped.

"What are you doing in Tamor's room?"

"What business is it of yours?" she demanded, but I saw her hand try

to hide something beside her on the bed.

"What have you got?" Now I was demanding.

"Nothing," she lied, for by this time I had stepped far enough into

the room to see that she held an unsheathed dagger.

"Is this what you took as a memorial for Tamor?" I asked casually,

though I kept moving closer.

"Yes," she bit off the word like it tasted foul.

"Then it should be in the memorial case," I reminded her.

"It has a higher purpose," she declared.

The dagger was unsheathed, the point was toward her, and it didn't

take all the intelligence I'd like to think I possessed to see what pur-

pose she had in mind.

It made me angry. Julia as a beautiful girl, full of vivacious

energy, quick with a laugh and even quicker with a sharp word in her own

defense when she had been wronged. It was claimed that redheaded women

had fiery moods. I didn't know if that were true in all cases, but it was

most certainly true with Julia. She was everything that a woman could be,

saving only the regal dignity that Mother had gained with maturity. Yet

she was ready to throw that all away in a flash of sorrow.

"Lady Julia," I became formal, "Queen Selay has need of you in her

chambers." Maybe. Hopefully. Anything to keep Julia from being alone

for a while.

She looked at me with disbelief, but could not complete her self-

assigned destruction with me watching. Instead she nodded and stood

to follow me.

When we reached the Queen's chambers I moved to whisper in her ear.

She nodded almost before the words were out of my mouth, as though she

had expected it.

"Julia, I owe you an apology," Queen Selay began. This got Julia's

attention. Perhaps she had expected to be talked out of her desire or

to be chided for a bad idea, but not contrition on the part of the Queen.

Mother continued, "I have not yet explained to you the critical role

you will play in recovering our kingdom. Not knowing might have led you

to make a disastrous mistake."

Critical role? She had Julia's attention now. Not to mention mine.

"You are the second ranking maiden in the kingdom," Queen Selay

continued, "after only Princess Cherysse herself. You are also a most

beautiful woman, as is Cherysse. I need the two of you together to keep

Lyonidas under control."

"Both of us?" I gasped in surprise.

"Yes," the Queen insisted. "Kragdle agreed to my period of mourning

for you but Lyonidas didn't like it. You noticed this?"

At my nod she continued, "If Lyonidas importunes his father suf-

ficiently, this may be overturned. I need someone else to keep Lyonidas

from becoming too focused on the goal of winning you."

Why was this not entirely pleasing to me? I didn't want Lyonidas

anyway. Was it just that I wanted to be won? Why was the touch of

Lyonidas' hands in my hair filling my mind?

"What is your plan?" Julia asked. There was more animation in her

voice than when I had talked to her, except when I had made her angry.

"Lyonidas has already made his intentions toward Cherysse clear. We

need to make them less clear. You will flirt with Lyonidas while Cherysse

is chaste. I want him thinking of removing Cherysse and marrying you

instead. Not to the point of actually doing something with Cherysse, but

to the point that he doesn't pursue her with all his energy."

"Indeed," Julia mused, not at all surprised by this plan. I was

surprised though! Amazed to the point of gasping.

"Mother! How could you just use me like that?"

"Cherysse, you are my last surviving child. I would give my life

a hundred times before seeing a frown on your face. But we both have

a duty to Achaiea and to the memories of Andros and your brothers. Julia

knows this. It is a woman's way to use romance to gain her ends. I

already told you that."

I never would have thought that my duty to Achaiea would involve

letting my brother's betrothed flirt with my own suitor. Of course, I

never would have thought that my duty would involve me wearing a dress,

nor the infernal contraption under it. This was too deep for me, too many

impossible things going on at once. I rustled to a chair and sat to get my mind in order.

"There is more," Mother continued. Oh, God! What now?

"Cherysse, you and Julia both will require a companion from the no-

bility for as long as you wear your maiden's lovers. It is not possible

to keep yourself clean and sanitary by yourself. I, myself, am respon-

sible for your virtue and will be the only one to see you out of your

restraints. However, when I am not present you need another who is of

sufficient rank to tend to your intimate needs. In all the castle there

are only the two of you for each other."

"But, um, Mother, my needs are, uh, not the same as Julia's," I

quietly protested.

"I know that, but Lyonidas does not. He will discover our customs

quickly enough and will know something is wrong if there are any other

arrangements."

"What will that entail, exactly," I asked. Julia did not. Apparen-

tly she knew what was involved.

"Each bathing day, you will report to me in the morning for your

bath. I will release you from your restraints at that time only. You

will clean each other thoroughly, then I will help you into your lovers

again. If I am not available, while you are out of the castle for exam-

ple, you will have to help each other with your necessary functions as

best you can."

"You want Julia to, um, touch me?" I asked.

"Yes, and you will have to care for Julia, as well," Queen Selay

confirmed with unshakable determination.

"Julia, you haven't said anything," I appealed to her for support.

"The Queen is right. It is the only way. I can do my part, see that

you do yours," Julia declared, the fierce determination in her eyes an

emotion-charged echo of the flatness in Mother's tones.

Julia looked down at the dagger she still clutched in her hands as

though wondering how it got there. Without a word she sheathed it and

carried the memorial over to its place in the array that was part of the

royal chambers. I moved to her side as her head bowed, but as I got close

I heard her muttering. It was not sorrow that bowed her head, but anger.

"I'll give you a memorial, my Tamor, that will pull a single dagger

into obscurity. By the time we are done a river of blood will water your

grave."

Chapter 5 - Closer Than Sisters

The second day following saw the return of Lyonidas to our castle.

He arrived with an entourage of faceless guards, but his attitude showed

he didn't fear any of us enough to need them. He wasn't particularly

arrogant like his father, just comfortable in the presence of his

enemies.

It appeared that the High Canyonites didn't care much for formal

protocol. He had arrived without announcement, demanding entrance past

our gate guards in his own voice. Unlike the previous visit he had

arrived on horseback, as had his guards. In one smooth motion he dis-

mounted and tossed the reins of his long-legged black gelding to one of

his companions. Before Hugh of Sandars had even reached the courtyard

Lyonidas was once again striding toward the throne room.

Our Chamberlain moved to intercept him, "Prince Lyonidas, can I be of

assistance?"

"Probably," Lyonidas answered lightly. "For now, please let the

Queen and Princess Cherysse know that I have arrived."

He had continued toward the throne room as he spoke, and saw that

Mother and I were there even before he finished speaking.

"Ah, don't bother," Lyonidas continued, "I see they already know."

There was a crowd in the throne room as Lyonidas entered. It was the

day of petition to the crown for justice, a long-scheduled opportunity for

noble and commoner alike. The Queen had decided to continue with the tra-

dition in a show of control over our own internal affairs. At the time of

his entrance two shepherds were arguing a case before Queen Selay. Lyoni-

das pushed past them and climbed the dais. He looked around briefly, saw

that the only available seat was the King's throne unless he ejected Queen

Selay from her high seat, then plopped down in the throne.

Queen Selay stood instantly. The hiss of withdrawn breath in the

room covered any hesitation she had in speaking. Her words came with

careful import, "Prince Lyonidas, are you your father's regent, or by

claiming the throne are you claiming the kingdom for yourself?"

He stood immediately, an instant of blush covered in bluster, "Oh,

that's right. You people place lots of significance in furniture and

things. Well, we don't, but we don't need to confuse anyone, either.

I am content to be regent for my father, the King."

Then he tried to change the subject, "What's going on, anyway?"

Queen Selay sat in her high seat again, pointedly the only one

seated. "This is the day of petition. These men have come forward to

ask for justice. In the absence of the King, I was going to act as

judge. Perhaps you will do this instead?"

"Surely," he grinned, "what's the situation?'

The Queen nodded at the first man who we had earlier learned was

named Samuel. He launched into a list of grievances against his neighbor,

Harris. It seemed Harris had dammed up a small stream and made other

improvements in his property that had caused him to prosper more than

Samuel. In return for the temporary loss of water to his land while

Harris' small lake filled, Samuel had stolen a prize ram and used it to

impregnate several of his ewes without permission. In the course of his

use, the ram hadn't been treated properly and had died.

It took almost 30 minutes to get the story out of the men. Every

time Harris would try to explain his side of things, Samuel would inter-

rupt with another accusation of unfairness. Lyonidas listened intently at

first but as time went on his attention began to wander, returning all too

frequently to look at me. I made a point of looking away each time his

eyes found mine. Of course, I had to look at him when he wasn't looking

at me, or perhaps from the corner of my eye even when he was looking at

me, in order to study him that I might understand our adversary better.

Julia was standing beside me. She would do something with her hair

or flutter her hand, or something each time Lyonidas looked our way to

ensure that she had his attention. It was distracting to me standing

beside her, and clearly interesting to Lyonidas.

"What, huh?" he said, recognizing too late that Queen Selay had

spoken.

"What is your decision, Prince Lyonidas?" she repeated.

"Oh, decision, yes," he stammered. "This one, Samuel, has stolen

the other's ram. Samuel is a thief. Kill him."

Samuel collapsed on the spot, blubbering incoherently for mercy.

Harris looked almost as stricken. He hadn't wanted vengeance, only the

price of his ram. Most of the rest of us were horrified as well. Only

Queen Selay remained calm. She waited for Samuel's wails to die down

then addressed Lyonidas.

"Very well, Regent. Shall we execute Samuel's wife and children

as well? Without him, there is no way they will survive the winter.

Or would you prefer that they starve?"

"No, of course not. Let someone else take care of her," Lyonidas

replied.

Now, we all knew that Samuel's wife was part of a large family and

would not really starve. But, Lyonidas did not.

"Who do you recommend?" the Queen asked.

Lyonidas was getting a bit flustered, "I don't know, doesn't she

have any family?"

"Does it appear to you that Samuel is prosperous, part of a wealthy

family?" the Queen's interrogation continued, though it was the regent

who was now on trial.

Lyonidas studied the men before him. Neither were dressed in the

clothes of the nobility but even between them it was clear that Samuel's

clothes were of lesser quality than those Harris wore. I could see

Lyonidas trying to find another option. Mother's question had two thrusts

in it. If Samuel's family couldn't support his wife, then surely Samuel

couldn't pay restitution for the ram, either.

A moment of vulnerability showed in Lyonidas dark eyes, before he

hardened his expression. "If you have a better idea, tell it to me."

Now the challenge was back on the Queen, but her tight smile showed

it was expected.

She had not actually answered any of Lyonidas questions, replying

instead with questions of her own. She paid no more apparent attention to

his order. Looking at Harris while pointing at Samuel, she asked, "Do you

desire this man's death?"

"No, Your Majesty. The ram was not worth a man's life."

"What do you think would be fair?" she asked. At this, Lyonidas

twitched as though bitten by a flea. Such an obvious question and he

didn't think to ask it.

Harris was a little surprised as well. He looked at the man trem-

bling at his feet for a moment, then answered, "Perhaps if Samuel gave me

the lambs which issue from the ewes fertilized by my ram."

"I'm afraid that's not good enough," Queen Selay declared. "He will

indeed give you the lambs. In addition, he will labor for you on further

improvements to your farm. His sentence will continue until he uses the

skills he will learn in working for you to make similar improvements in

his own farm. If he fails to apply himself, you will report back to Us."

Now her voice took on a harder tone, "Do you understand and accept

this judgment, Samuel?"

For one who had a moment ago faced execution, the sentence seemed

light indeed. Samuel got to his feet with nodding acceptance, looking

sideways at the neighbor who now had control of his life.

Before they could turn away, Queen Selay's voice froze them as she

addressed Lyonidas. "If, that is, this judgment is acceptable to the

Regent?"

Lyonidas could only nod at the obvious justice. He looked up as

the next couple of peasants approached the dais and sighed at the thought

of another interminable trial.

"Queen Selay, as I have just arrived, I would like to get settled

into my accommodations. I'll leave you to hear the remaining petitions."

She nodded gravely, "As you wish. Perhaps you would like an escort.

Princess Cherysse, please accompany him."

I stepped forward in reflex to her order, but in confusion as well. I

thought we were not going to encourage Lyonidas in his pursuit of me. He

held out his arm in easy courtesy and my hand took its place on his. We

swept from the throne room with an overlarge escort of all the tan-garbed

men, my own guards, and Julia.

"I don't believe I have met your companion," Lyonidas stated once our

circus had gotten underway.

"This is my late brother Tamor's betrothed, Julia," I replied.

Lyonidas bowed to Julia. There was no apology in his voice, but

he spoke with honest respect, "Your betrothed was a valiant warrior, of

great courage and skill."

"It is history," she replied. Her eyes wandered up and down

Lyonidas' lanky frame and implied it might as well have been ancient

history.

A few strands of hair, no longer contained by combs and pins, had

drifted in front of my face so I tossed my head to get it back behind

my shoulder. It didn't all go where I wanted so I gathered it in the

hand not held by Lyonidas and pulled it back. In the course of this,

my bosom had pressed against his arm. Of course since it wasn't really

me, I didn't realize it immediately and we walked along with my new curves

rubbing softly against his much harder forearm. When my hair was out of

the way, I looked up at him to find his own gaze focused rather intently

on the interaction. Once I realized what had happened I moved clear, but

not before the smile on his face ignited a fire in my cheeks as bright as

Julia's hair.

Julia sniffed, then seemed to have trouble with her breathing, sud-

denly feeling the need to take several overlarge breaths. Her gown,

unlike mine, displayed at least a part of attributes I only simulated and

the deep breathing captured my attention. I almost stumbled on an uneven

place in the pavement, clutching at Lyonidas' hand for stability. For

some reason he had missed the same step.

With that distraction, or perhaps release from distraction, I

oriented on where we had gotten in our walk. The section ahead was

normally reserved for nobility and a very few select companions, not

the whole circus behind us. All but one of my guards drew up to their

accustomed waiting area, but the swirl around Lyonidas continued.

"I'm sorry, Prince Lyonidas, but your guards are not permitted

beyond this point."

"Is that so?" he replied, suspicion in his eyes.

Julia interrupted with a toss of her own hair, "Surely, Prince

Lyonidas, you don't fear women and servants, do you?"

A grin lit his face at her comment and his response was laden with

undercurrents of humor, "My dear mother has taught me that the female of

the species is much deadlier than the male."

"That you can rely on," Julia laughed. I was about to make a comment

of my own when Lyonidas waved at his guards to take a position at the

door, all but one that was indistinguishable from the rest, at least to

me. Lyonidas bowed me past the portal and held his genteel pose even as

Julia entered behind me. Somehow, she managed to make her somber gown

flippant and light as she passed. I had moved my own, of course, merely

to stay clear of the doorway.

It had been decided that Lyonidas would stay in Tamor's rooms. Queen

Selay intended to retain the royal apartments unless forcibly removed. I

steered Lyonidas to the correct wing with gentle pressures and we arrived

at our destination without letting it seem like there were any choices.

Tamor's rooms were entirely befitting a crown prince and Lyonidas was

clearly pleased.

"And where are your rooms?" he asked me, a grin back in his eyes

that made me feel most strange.

"Down the hall," I admitted, pointing vaguely.

He asked Julia the same question. It was a good thing that Mother

had moved her to rooms adjacent to the royal suite, or Julia might have

had a late night visitor. Then I remembered that she had the same dis-

incentive to dalliance that crushed my waist. Still, I didn't want her

to be too available to Lyonidas.

Julia and I left Lyonidas to get settled in his rooms. As we left he

was going around examining Tamor's martial momentos. It looked like he'd

be quite satisfied with the decor. As soon as we were out of earshot, I

turned to Julia.

But her own words cut mine off before they were voiced, "Cherysse,

you're not supposed to be encouraging him!"

"Me? I'm not the one throwing myself at him!" I shot back.

"You're not? Then what were you doing rubbing you bosom on his arm

the whole way down the hall?"

"That was an accident. I didn't even notice while I was fixing my

hair," I claimed.

"That's another thing, flipping all the blonde hair around. Like his

eyes weren't glued to you already!"

"Well, at least I wasn't hyperventilating for effect!"

This brought a blush to her cheeks and enough pause in our ranting

for another voice to intrude.

"Ladies, attend me please." Queen Selay's quiet voice left no room

for other comment. She had apparently finished with the petitions and was

returning to her room.

We followed her with lowered heads, glaring at each other through the

bright-colored tresses that framed our faces. We followed Mother into

her rooms in silence though. Once we were inside Queen Selay moved

quietly to her usual seat, motioning Julia and me to nearby stools.

"Girls, you're going to have to work together on this," she began.

I interrupted her, "But Mother, Julia was being shameless. I thought

she was just supposed to keep Lyonidas off balance so he didn't become

to adamant about me too soon."

Julia got her next comment in before Mother could reply, "And that's

all I was doing, trying to keep his interest from being totally focused on

Cherysse. But the way she was acting, that took some doing!"

That infernal maiden's lover kept me from gathering the breath I

needed for the reply I wanted to make and once again the slight pause

gave Mother room to speak.

"Quiet, both of you," she ordered.

The glare Julia gave me was a sight to behold. Her green eyes had a

fire in them that threatened to bring down the castle, fed by the blaze

always shown in her tumbling hair now that she was forbidden to pin it

up with maidenly modesty. Since we weren't allowed to speak, I tried to

let her know with my own gaze that she wouldn't get between Lyonidas

and me.

Mother sighed as she looked at us. After a moment, she spoke first

to that redheaded tart, "Julia, Cherysse is, um, struggling with her, um,

reactions to this situation. Instead of berating her you should help

her find more appropriate responses. It is important that Lyonidas be

attracted to her, just not exclusively focused on her."

I found myself sticking my tongue out at Julia at Mother's comments

though I couldn't remember the last time I had done that. Mother saw it,

of course, and then it was my turn.

"Cherysse, you are above all a Princess of Achaiea. You will behave

like a lady. However, the reason you wear your maiden's lover is because

I understand how difficult it is to maintain decorum. Nonetheless, you

shall behave."

"But Mother," I whined, "you asked me to escort him, and rubbing

against him was an accident."

Mother ignored Julia's snort and went on, "I asked you to escort him

because we need to maintain his interest without letting it become over-

whelming. It will be a delicate balance and will require great care. We

cannot afford further accidents."

She looked at us both, demanding obedience with her eyes. I looked

at Julia, who looked at me, the challenge still in her eyes. Queen Selay

cleared her throat in a manner that I had learned the hard way meant this

was non-negotiable, so I looked back at my mother and nodded in submis-

sion. Julia followed suit, and I thought the incident was closed. No

such luck.

"Cherysse," the Queen ordered, "you will spend the balance of the

day in your chambers. You are obviously overwrought by the stresses of

our recent problems. Julia will be escorted by Lyonidas this evening."

My protest died on my lips at her stern look. This time it was Julia

who stuck her tongue out at me. The unfairness of it was somewhat re-

lieved by Mother's next command, "Julia, you will remember that your

goal is to keep his interest, not win his love. That is for Cherysse,

but only when the time is right. I want you to be a model of propriety

tonight."

I could see Julia winding up for either protest or denial or some-

thing, but Mother's stern look forestalled her as well. She nodded once

again.

A thoughtful look appeared on the Queen's face as she looked at us.

"Actually," she said, "this is probably for the best. A bit of jealousy

between you will inflate Lyonidas' already substantial ego and keep him

from looking too closely at the things that will be happening. However,

the two of you will remember your duty and keep yourselves under control.

Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother," I replied, simultaneously with Julia's "Yes, my

Queen."

Still, Julia was the one to go to the arrival dinner that evening.

I spent it in my rooms with my music and my books, and my one true friend,

Wraith.

Chapter 6 - A Picnic

The next morning I was summoned to Mother's chambers quite early. I

wrapped a dressing gown around my always-present steel companion and went

to her rooms without delay. I still wanted to find out why she had al-

lowed Julia unrestricted access to my, that is, to Lyonidas.

I found Julia already in the room, also in a dressing gown. Mother

was wearing much the same. She ushered us in to her private bathing

chamber which was dominated by a quite large tub, already filled with

steaming water and sprinkled with fresh rose petals.

"All right, girls, this will be our normal practice from now on.

You will bathe in my presence since it will require removal of your

maiden's lovers. After that, I will replace them and you can get dressed

for the day."

I was so excited at the thought of getting out of my constricting

tormentor that I didn't realize for a moment that Julia was part of the

same plan. Instead I whirled to present my back to Mother, dropping

my dressing gown to allow her unrestricted access to the lock and flexible

steel rod. I was not to be released immediately, though, since first

Mother had to reattach the conventional lacing panels to relieve the

pressure on the closures. It became even tighter, a feat I would have

sworn was impossible, but then I hard the faint click of the lock being

released and the slither of the rod withdrawing from the interlocking

loops.

Still I had to stand there until she released the lacing panels as

well, but with each inch of the flexible rod's withdrawal, my most inti-

mate discomfort was relieved. I had become used to the sensations suf-

ficiently to ignore it, but it had never been comfortable. Even the

continuing constrictions at my waist paled to insignificance in comparison

with the almost obscene pleasure of releasing the lower binding. Finally

even my waist was free, the silken undergarment also removed, and Mother

was shooing me into the bath.

I entered it gratefully, letting the heat soothe the many pinched

points of my flesh, and most of all soothe the aching compression of

those parts of me incongruous with my general appearance. I let my eyes

close with pleasure and sank down until only my nose was clear of the

perfumed water.

A surge in the water roused me as I felt another body enter the tub.

I looked up to see Julia, naked as a nymph and twice as lovely slide with

her own gratitude into the embracing warmth. In a single heartbeat the

dull ache I had been gently assuaging climbed to sharp need, causing me to

gasp.

"What's wrong?" Mother asked.

"Um, nothing, uh, nothing really," I lied.

Mother's eyes got shrewdly sharp for a moment, but she nodded accep-

tance of my words, if not their content. She handed me a bar of scented

soap and while I worked on the parts below the water line she began to

work other soap into my blonde tresses. Once Julia's eyes opened from

their own initial bliss, soap was handed to her as well and she began her

cleansing ritual. Her hair was as long as mine and perhaps even fuller,

acting as a thick sponge to draw a mass of water from the bath. When the

time came for Mother to wash Julia's hair, she raised herself up to rest

her elbows on the edge of the tub.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, or whatever, this exposed assets that

captured my attention a thousand times more thoroughly than her enhanced

breathing exercises had done the day before. They were so, lovely, so,

shapely with smooth flowing curves that changed in complex yet always

compatible ways. The . . . um . . . accents, were spectacular, dark and

mysterious and much larger than I expected. The ache hidden under the hot

water became much more intense, much more demanding. If I had to put that

infernal outfit on at this time, well, the kingdom would never see an heir

from my bloodline. Still, I couldn't tear my eyes away. Or, at least I

didn't think I could. Though I stayed soaking in the bath after Mother

finished with my hair, when Julia was finished she was told to stand up

and get dressed. That revealed a distraction that made even her other

treasures seem, well, never uninteresting, perhaps challenged for

attention.

Julia seemed unaware of this and slipped on a thin robe while she

began to run towels through the heavy mass of her fiery hair. I still

stared. I knew I was doing so but I couldn't tear my eyes away from

the slim goddess sitting in the morning sunlight, her damp robe caressing

her so intimately.

"Cherysse!" Mother said sharply, and I realized it was not the first

time she had called.

"Um, yes, uh, what?" I babbled.

"Stand up, you now need to dry yourself," she ordered.

"I, um, well, um, not now," I muttered quietly, trying not to let

Julia hear.

"Yes, now!" she said even more sharply.

In the face of a direct order I really had no option. I stood up,

revealing a surprisingly slender waist of my own, and a bit of shape

above due to the forced redistribution of what little excess flesh I

owned. Still the water was deep enough that the most strident disclaimer

of my femininity was concealed.

"All the way," Mother demanded, but gently. She was trying to get

us both through this issue. I didn't think she knew, though, just how

much of an issue had 'arisen.'

I would have been better off to have obeyed immediately as my exten-

ded reluctance had captured Julia's attention. When I finally stepped

fully from the water her eyes widened in surprise then narrowed in con-

centration. I was too embarrassed to study her reaction more closely,

turning and reaching for my own robe.

"You'll both have to get used to this," Mother explained. "It is

normal for noble companions protected by a maiden's lover to help each

other in their needs. That is all that you are doing. Remember that."

Julia's eyes now twitched in a grin she tried to keep off her lips.

"It appears that will be easier for me than for, um, Cherysse."

"Actually not," Mother cautioned. "Cherysse will not find it dif-

ficult to think of you as female. You will have to be careful not to let

anything slip."

"Cherysse was so perfect that I had quite forgotten," Julia said, and

I tried to decide if that was good news or bad.

"As I hope all others in the castle will do without a constant remin-

der," replied the Queen.

By this time both of us had toweled our hair dry enough to stop

active dripping, which was all that we needed before we dressed. Once

we were again in our diabolical devices the palace servants for hair

dressing and cosmetics would attend us. Before Mother brought our

lovers back though, she handed each of us a sharp blade.

She ordered us, "Remove all the body hair from each other. It is

important to be as smooth as possible under the garments."

Julia looked at me, a spark of humor in the green jewels of her eyes,

then dropped her robe without comment.

I should have done it first, for the sight of her once again nude and

glowing resurrected my interest, and its undeniable sign.

"Oh, you poor . . dear," Julia giggled.

"It's not funny," I snapped.

"Actually, it is," she disagreed, "but it's no more ladylike of me to

recognize it, than it is of you to . . show your interest."

Her humor still shown forth with bright glory from her eyes, and it

just would not be denied. Even Mother was struggling to contain a grin. I

finally gave in and laughed with them. But I decided I could have a

little fun of my own.

"So, Julia, Mother says we need to help each other, closer than

sisters," I began. She nodded, still laughing, before she really absorbed

what I had said.

"Then perhaps you could give me a little help with my, um, need

before we are again imprisoned," I grinned.

Her eyes flashed with instant anger at the thought that I would

suggest she would do such a thing. But before she used the blade she

held to solve the problem permanently, she realized I was teasing and

calmed down. Somewhat.

"I suppose I deserved that," she grumped.

Mother nodded on my behalf, since I was treading lightly right at

that moment.

"This will require you both to be tolerant and helpful, not make

fun of each other. Now finish your duties."

Julia had very little body hair and the fine down that was all I had

ever possessed grew slowly. As a result, it was only a few minutes with

the blades and soothing oil before we were each as smooth as porcelain.

If I had thought things through more carefully, I would have taken longer

so that I might delay the next step.

The only other thing that needed to be done before we went out to

the waiting servants was to be locked again into our enforcers of maidenly

virtue. The process was much the same as before. Actually, the days of

constant embrace had narrowed my waist and the corset portion fit more

easily. In the presence of Julia, though, the nether region was even more

uncomfortable than before. At least when she saw the real distress the

device caused me Julia's eyes showed correspondingly real sympathy. I

didn't think she'd make jokes about that problem again.

Though we had been at our morning bath for over an hour, it was still

only the first part of our daily preparations. The palace servants

brought forth gowns of more durable cloth for us that day, though they

were of course still black, still relatively simple in adornment. In

another hour we were ready to go to breakfast.

Lyonidas was just finishing up as we made our entrance. He stood

in welcome and I was gratified to see that his eyes went first to me.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" he asked me politely.

"In some ways," I reported.

"But not in all ways?" he asked.

Queen Selay interceded, "She has rested well, but I think she needs

to get some fresh air. It looks to be a beautiful day, today, and it has

been some time since the fields south of the castle have been inspected."

Lyonidas looked surprised. Well, so was I. "She conducts inspec-

tions for you?" he asked.

"It is a royal duty, and she is all the royal family there is left

besides myself," Queen Selay reminded the Regent with a voice too flat to

carry the emotion that showed in her eyes.

To his credit, Lyonidas looked embarrassed. To his further credit

he did not apologize for the war he thought they had won.

"Then I shall accompany her," he declared. "It is appropriate for

me to understand this land as well."

The look of satisfaction in Mother's eyes was almost too subtle to

see, but in the next instant her eyes found mine and I knew I had not

imagined it.

Hugh of Sandars was summoned to prepare the royal outing. Since

I was going, Julia would go. Our proper escort also required at least one

member of the palace guard. Hugh went off to arrange for horses and

provisions. Lyonidas summoned his anonymous tan-garbed shadow and

motioned that he should drop his hood.

"This is Strane," he introduced the man. Strane was dark with more

than hair coloring. He brooded under heavy brows, not happy at being

revealed.

"Strane, go find Olrin. The two of you will escort me. It is in my

mind that you need to know about this new land as much as I do."

Strane nodded without comment and left, followed shortly by the rest

of us as we completed our simple breakfast. Hugh had arranged things with

his usual efficiency and it was only when I saw the Achaiean guard who

would accompany us that I saw a potential problem. It was Drayson, the

one who had insulted me when it was unclear who would be executed as part

of Kragdle's consolidation of power. Though he was under sentence of

death along with the rest of us if my secret came out, still he had the

greatest reason of all to hate me.

The situation had to be resolved, and immediately. I expected some

sort of confrontation as I walked directly to him where he waited.

However, before I could speak and though it was a breach of protocol, he

blurted out, "Princess Cherysse, may I introduce my fiancee, Yvina? I

would do anything to keep her safe. And of course, my life is already

committed to your safety."

Well, that pretty well cleared up that issue. I had always disliked

Drayson because he was exactly what Father would have wanted in place of

me: big, blunt-spoken, strong as an ox and about as intelligent. His

betrothed, though, looked quite a bit smarter and I suspected his little

speech was the result of her understanding of the situation more than his.

She was a pretty girl, though not in Julia's class in more ways than noble

rank. Her brown hair was unbound per our new orders, but surprisingly

short. I converted my intended confrontation into a greeting to his lady

and we mounted our horses.

This was much worse than I expected. Riding side-saddle at a gentle

walk was no real problem. Riding while wearing that accursed maiden's

lover was problem enough, though. No position I could take relieved the

discomfort, compounded in my case in ways the designers of the device had

never considered. It was some time before I could overcome the distrac-

tion. Lyonidas noted my distress, though he misinterpreted the cause.

The lands we rode through were close enough to the castle to have been

plundered by the High Canyon horde and this was more than adequate ex-

planation for concern.

Lyonidas tried to open a conversation with an offer to participate

in the rehabilitation of the land, "We'll have to bring in some seed and

a few sheep for these people."

"It will take more than that," I observed. "This village has no

blacksmith, now, nor a potter."

"How can you tell?" he asked in surprise. Even Julia's eyes showed

she hadn't picked up on the telltale signs.

"The hearth in the forge is cold, though there is coal nearby. No

active blacksmith would allow that. The same is true of the potter's

kiln, though of course he uses wood, not coal. They have had enough

time to return to their homes if they were able. Without them, this

village will die. There is no mill here to give the site inherent value,

nor millpond or stream. Without local craftsmen there is no market

for a farmer's products and so they will be taken elsewhere."

It had been obvious to me though I had never been in the hamlet

before. Only after I explained did I remember that I had learned of

this interaction in one of the books I had ordered. I expected that our

Chamberlain already knew of this problem, but not many others in our

kingdom would recognize the signs.

"That is very, um, insightful," Lyonidas mused. For once even Julia

seemed to be impressed. At least, she made no immediate move to regain

Lyonidas' attention.

"Do all the women of Achaiea possess such insight?" he asked.

"Perhaps not," I answered. "While my brothers were learning sword-

play, I was studying other things."

For once, I actually answered a question with absolute honesty.

I'd have to remember this occasion.

"Until you came," I explained further though the explanation returned

to the problems High Canyon had caused us, "we had no need for people to

gather together for defense. As you can see, this hamlet had no barrier

wall. Our villages arise from economic causes. The farmers are efficient

at providing food, allowing specialized craftsmen to thrive as well. It

is our way."

By this time we were leaving the village. Since the High Canyon

horde had approached from the north the land on this side of the castle

returned to prosperity in a few miles. The villages showed the truth of

the signs I had recognized, with the forge and kiln if present at all,

always heated. One town we passed also had a mill near a bridge over a

stream.

"Drayson," I summoned the palace guard, "what is this place?"

"Not surprisingly, it is called Miller's Crossing. We have several

villages with that name. Your Father, the King, referred to this one as

the one with the wide wheel."

I saw that the millwheel was indeed strangely proportioned. The land

did not support a very high millpond and to make up the required force the

wheel had been made unusually wide.

"I see evidence of two blacksmiths here, though only one forge. See

if there is someone who could move to the other village we passed."

While he went off to obtain the information I requested, Lyonidas

looked carefully at the blacksmith's shop for the clues I had recognized,

then shook his head.

"I confess, my Princess, that I cannot see how you determined that."

I looked at Julia with a small smile of invitation, but she shook her

head as well. She might have the flirtation thing down better than I,

but it could be that I would keep Lyonidas interested after all.

"There are two anvils, of course, set up and ready for use. A single

blacksmith would only need one. If he had a spare, he would keep it out

of the way in that small shop."

While we waited for Drayson I rode over to his fiancee. When I

reached her side of our group I saw that she was not alone. Another

tan cloak was perched atop a horse quite near hers.

"Your Highness," Yvina said quickly as I approached. The tan cloak

moved back a bit.

"Who is your conversationalist?" I asked.

"This is one of the men from High Canyon," she offered.

"Really?" I grinned. "I never would have guessed."

"Good day, Olrin," I said to the man, making a guess despite my

words.

He started at my naming him, then pulled back the hood of his

cloak.

"Princess," he said. Only intense study under Kragdle could have put

that much sneer into so little inflection.

It angered me. We might have to submit to Kragdle, but even Lyonidas

treated me, that is, us, respectfully. This hitherto faceless minion of

High Canyon was not of our nobility and I would not submit to him until he

demonstrated the same power as his king. I felt the white-cold mind boil

up within me and let my eyes lock onto his.

"In the future, I will thank you to remember that these were our

lands for generations before you came. The wealth and peace you covet

are the result of my family's management. Do you think you can remember

that?"

His eyes stared unmoving until I finally let my own gaze relax. This

caused another small start in his taut body, followed by much more genteel

words, "Yes, Your Highness, I will remember."

"I'm not going to ask how you knew it was Olrin. I know the explana-

tion will be obvious as soon as you say it," Lyonidas said with a smile.

He had ridden up as I was speaking. Though he hadn't really seen the

depth of intensity in my will, he had felt the tension between us and was

trying to defuse it.

I nodded my head in acceptance of his decision, a grin of my own

feeling strange after so much controlled fury. Then I caught Julia's eyes

with a challenging grin for her as well and took as deep a breath as my

tormenting guardian would allow. Her eyes widened in shock first, then in

humor of her own. Lyonidas didn't notice her expression of course. His

eyes were riveted to the swell that graced the front of my dress. Julia's

gown was no more revealing than mine, this day, and Mother had apparently

had a bit better figure when her maiden's lover was tailored than Julia

did. Of course, that made my own life even more difficult, but it did

give me an advantage at the moment.

Julia's responding grin was wide enough to show her real pleasure

in the challenge. She moved her hand to flip at her hair, but I beat her

to that gesture as well, flicking my blonde tresses to capture the morning

sun. My motion caught Lyonidas' eye and redirected his focus, though

still not toward Julia. Behind his back she gave me a jaunty salute, then

a grin that promised further battle. Now, though, we were on the same

side and we both knew it.

Drayson returned before anything else could happen, confirming my

suspicion on the number of blacksmiths. Better yet, one was a senior

apprentice essentially ready to move out on his own. It solved a couple

of problems at once to help him relocate to the village nearer the castle.

We rode on. Now and then a peasant would approach us with a problem,

but more often one would approach us with flowers. This area was nicely

fertile and the people had time for luxuries like flowerbeds.

Lyonidas noticed. He didn't say anything but I knew it was no

accident that Mother had sent us through a devastated area to the closest

fertile area untouched by the recent war.

As it came near to noon a peasant woman came out with some hot, fresh

bread. It was excellent and while she refused payment, I made sure that

Drayson left her small child with some coins. We nibbled on the bread as

we rode but all it did was whet our appetites and Lyonidas soon called a

halt.

We had reached a small lake surrounded on three sides by trees and on

the fourth by a pasture let go to wildflowers. The farmers often did

this; rotating fallow fields to allow them to renew whatever made the soil

most fertile. The wildflowers were very inviting but I could tell the

crystal pure lake interested Lyonidas even more.

He directed his men to spread a blanket out near the water, then made

some excuse for Julia to look to her horse so that he and I could go there

by ourselves.

"You are a most wise young lady," he began as we sat. Of course, I

had to sit with a most prim posture due to my hidden "aid".

"Thank you, Milord Regent," I replied formally, but I smiled to let

him know I was not ungrateful for his comment. That was it, really, just

a smile of thanks for a compliment. It wasn't that there was meant to be

any other message in my smile. His own smile was quite open. It softened

his features from the too-spare leanness that reminded me too much of his

father. He really didn't look much like his father at all, once you got

past that leanness.

The gentle breeze kept blowing my loose hair, and I kept gathering

it up. Trying to prop myself on one hand, while frequently using the

other for my hair, kept me from enjoying much of the provisions that had

been laid out for us. He noticed my difficulty and reached out with his

own hand to gather my errant golden cape.

There was something about the feel of his hands in my hair that

affected me most . . . strangely. I felt my whole body tense, then relax

as though a potent elixir were flowing through it. My eyes closed as

though the world were receding and the only sensations I needed were

flowing through the strands of hair that his hand caressed. I felt myself

lean into his hand, pressing it with my cheek, squeezing my thick tresses

between my skin and his.

"Your Highness, Princess Cherysse," Julia's voice intruded into my

mind.

"Yes," I replied dreamily, not really caring.

"Your Highness, could I help you with your preparations, before our

return journey?" she offered.

What preparations? I was doing just fine. Or at least I had been

until she interrupted us.

Then it came to me just what I had been doing. It was wrong for a

woman to allow a man to fondle her hair, as wrong as having it down in the

first place. Only a lover should be allowed to touch me as Lyonidas had

been touching me and that forbidden caress had come near to making me lose

control.

I struggled to my feet in shame, not daring to look at Lyonidas, nor

even Julia. She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the trees a bit further

along the edge of the lake.

"That's twice you've let him in your hair," she hissed as soon as we

were private.

"Oh, Julia, I don't know what came over me. One minute, I was trying

to keep it out of my face, the next, he was, and after that . . ."

"After that, you looked like you really needed your hidden guardian,"

she finished for me.

"I never felt this way before. The only one who ever touched my hair

was Mother and she just brushed it for me, as I did for her," I promised.

"Well, you're behaving exactly right for a maiden of Achaiea, which

is exactly wrong if you want him to remain at a distance," she declared.

"You're right, of course," I admitted. "Thank you sister. I needed

you. I'll probably need you again."

"If he ever caresses my hair like that, you'll need to come to my

rescue," she giggled.

The image was so dreamy, both my memory of his touch and the idea of

Julia's hair being caressed, though in my mind the hand doing the cares-

sing of her hair was my own. I reached out to touch her flowing fire in

response to my dream and felt the same sort of energy from the other side.

Her own eyes drifted shut in languid surrender and I was reaching my hand

to capture her cheek when her eyes snapped open.

"Don't," she denied me. "We can't."

I snatched my hand back as though her hair were as hot as it looked,

my guilty shame renewed a thousandfold.

"If that's what that feels like," she mused, "we'll need to help each

other. A lot."

Then she grinned with her normal humor. "It'll take both of us to

protect ourselves from each other."

I wasn't sure I quite understood that statement, but it sounded right

somehow, so I smiled back. Before I could excuse myself once again, she

became businesslike.

"We both need to take care of things before the long ride back, and

unlike the men, or the common women, we need to help each other."

She was right, of course, and we did the necessary things. They

were embarrassing not erotic, and I was glad when we were done. I could

tell that Julia felt the same way, and in any event the moment between us

was quite thoroughly past.

Lyonidas had seen to it that the others were ready, and we were soon

on our way. The ride back was by a slightly different route but the story

was much the same. I could see that Lyonidas was impressed with the

wealth declared by time for flowers, for carved decorations on houses, and

for weavers who produced brightly-colored fabrics rather than uniform tan.

Queen Selay had clearly understood this, but it was unclear to me how she

had known that Lyonidas would accompany me when she had ordered me to go.

On our way back we passed the smaller keep where Duke Kestrel,

executed brother to King Andros, had resided. His widow, Duchess Amity,

greeted us as we approached. She was another who had known my real gender

but it was clear as soon as we got near enough for conversation that she

had been informed of the masquerade. I suspected the Chamberlain's usual

efficiency.

"Princess Cherysse, I am so glad you have come," Amity called.

"Can we be of assistance?" I asked.

Amity explained, "I have been summoned by the Queen and hoped to

accompany your party."

"Of course," I replied.

She was already prepared to travel. I didn't know why she hadn't

made her own way. We were only a few hours ride from the castle and Amity

had escorts of her own. Still, there was only one proper response to her

request, and we waited while she was helped to mount.

Though the remaining trip was relatively short, still it had been a

long day. Instead of a formal dinner the outing party retired to their

various chambers for a light supper and early sleep. I was almost ready

to summon my servants when Amy, Mother's favored messenger, arrived with

a summons to the Queen's chambers.

"How did the day go?" Queen Selay asked when I arrived.

I described it, beginning with the logistical matters we had

addressed. She was particularly interested in Lyonidas' responses,

which I reported as well as I could.

I also discussed the use of the white-cold mind on Olrin.

"Be careful," she advised, "that was another use of anger for power.

It is a too-easy trap to take your strength from emotions. In time, they

will be using your strength rather than being used."

I was ready to declare my acceptance of her logic, but she smiled to

show she already knew I was being careful and spoke again, "What about

Duchess Amity?"

I was about to describe that portion of the trip, when Mother inter-

rupted, "Yes, I know what happened, tell me why."

"Why did you summon Duchess Amity to the castle?" I asked to confirm

the question.

At her nod, I said nothing for a moment, trying to decide. Amity was

another of the Achaiean nobility, native to our land rather than immi-

grated like Queen Selay herself. She was a bit older than me, closer in

age to Queen Selay. Both could have been factors.

"So that you would have someone your own age among the nobility," I

guessed.

She laughed, a small laugh, but better than the despair she sometimes

showed and I was thankful for that at least.

"Well," she said, "your instincts are good, now tell me why that is

important."

At my befuddled look she explained, "I am sure that Kragdle will soon

be sending men of my age to woo available Achaiean noblewomen. I want

Amity to be here at court where I can take advantage of her as a prize."

"Is there no one who you won't use in your plan?" I complained. Then

I wished I could have the words back as I saw the pain in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mother," I continued. "That was unfair. All loyal

Achaieans owe our nation their very lives. What you ask of her is no

more than you ask of yourself."

Her soft voice reached out to me, "Or of you, my child."

Chapter 7 - A Dangerous Sunset

Lyonidas quickly demonstrated that his disdain for court functions

was not a passing whim. At the next scheduled petition review he arrived

on time, nodded politely to Queen Selay, and listened attentively to the

first case.

Or tried to. It was another longwinded review of some minor matter.

That was actually surprising to me. Typically, the Chamberlain would have

taken care of these less important issues, except for a token few peasant

petitions at each session. In the past the peasant petitions had come

near the end of the session, as they had been the day that Lyonidas had

returned. However, for the first full session Lyonidas attended as

Regent, peasant petitions came first.

The issue at hand dealt with a complaint that a farmer's hens had

quit laying eggs when the defendant's dog had treed some sort of animal

near their pen. Both the dog's barking and the creature's threat had

frightened the stupid chickens.

Lyonidas had learned at least part of his lesson. His first question

for the plaintiff was to ask what the man would like to have done. Here

was another surprise. The man had been stuttering and stammering and

took forever to get anything out, until that question. In contrast, this

answer was immediate. He wanted restitution, not revenge. Lyonidas

nodded as though this were a wise request but then stood pensively.

He looked at Queen Selay.

She smiled back quite serenely.

He looked at me.

I struggled to match Mother's quiet smile.

A bit of twitter started up among those in attendance and I could

see a flush start to creep up Lyonidas' neck. I knew I shouldn't help

him until Mother offered, but . . . well, I don't know why . . . I just

couldn't let him stand there unsupported.

"Milord Regent, if I may be so bold as to ask a question," I said

quietly.

His nod was so full of gratitude that I now felt worse for having let

it go so long.

I spoke to the plaintiff. "Do you know the defendant very well?"

He answered shyly, but without the painful slowness of his earlier

testimony, "Yes, Your Highness. We have been neighbors for years."

"What skill does he possess that you most admire?" I continued.

"Well, he's pretty good with animals. He spends a lot less time

whackin' on his mule to get it to do what he wants than I do on mine."

This caused a titter of laughter to go through the throne room,

which in turn caused the man to shuffle uncertainly. His poor hat,

which he had removed when he entered the chamber, had already been twisted

as he testified. Now his white-knuckled grip threatened to destroy it

entirely. I was about to offer a solution to the case but something made

me stop. Instead, I just looked at Lyonidas, smiled another quiet smile,

and stepped back to my place by Queen Selay's side.

His eyes first widened when he saw me yield the floor to him, then

softened in a way that was most . . . unsettling. Now it was my turn

to blush and look at the floor, but when I raised my eyes to his, they

were still looking at me with that strange expression.

Lyonidas straightened up and looked directly at Queen Selay, whose

expression seemed not to have changed a whit. Now, Lyonidas had a con-

fident smile of his own to match her serenity.

"You," he said, pointing at the defendant, "will trade mules with

this man until you have trained the one he currently has as well as your

own. In addition, keep that dog under control. If you're such a good

animal trainer then that should be within your grasp."

"Is this acceptable to you?" he asked the plaintiff, whose head

jerked in a marionette nod.

Then, in tones obviously matching those Mother had used previously he

said to her, "If, that is, this judgment is acceptable to the Queen?"

She nodded with grave acceptance, then glanced at the Chamberlain.

Hugh called out for the next petition to come forward.

When it was apparent that this would be another minor peasant squab-

ble I was even more surprised. I had been attending these petition days

since I could walk and I had never seen so much time spent on so little

substance. The sigh Lyonidas released when the context of the case became

apparent was almost as comical as the previous plaintiff's nervousness.

He stood there quietly though, hearing the case through.

After once again determining that this plaintiff wanted restitution

as well, he asked the newest question in his judicial arsenal and deter-

mined that the defendant's wife made excellent bread. Lyonidas assigned a

penalty of providing her hitherto secret recipe to the plaintiff's wife.

The plaintiff's pleasure at this verdict was obvious to all, but I thought

the defendant's horror was more interesting. I made a mental note to meet

his wife some day.

Yet a third pair of peasants came forward and this was just too much

for Lyonidas. He glanced around as though looking for some sort of escape

from overwhelming enemies, to once again find his gaze captured by the

Queen's serene smile.

Though I wasn't looking at her I could feel a tension in her shoulder

where my hand lightly rested. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but I

could hear the power within it.

"Prince Lyonidas, I'm afraid these proceedings are taking up a lot

of your time. Perhaps I could continue in your stead in order to allow

you to take care of your other duties."

There had been a slightly glazed look in his eyes while she spoke,

but as she concluded his head nodded with the same marionette motion we

had seen earlier on the first plaintiff. Then he jerked and nodded more

naturally.

"Your Majesty, if I could impose on you to carry on here, I must

make preparations for the arrival of additional nobles from High Canyon.

King Kragdle desires that more of our people should learn some of the

skills for which Achaiea is famous."

Then I heard a mutter that I don't think he really intended to reach

either my ears, or Mother's, "Though courtly formality is certainly not

one I intend to export back to High Canyon."

"Of course, Milord Regent, as you wish," Queen Selay replied, then

looked over at Julia. "Julia, please escort the Regent."

Julia roused from wherever her mind had taken her and looked up with

a bright smile at Lyonidas. His own smile answered hers and they swept

from the room with more energy than combined in all those required to

remain.

It was only after they had left that I realized that there were no

High Canyon nobles left in the room, only a couple of faceless guards

interspersed with our own Achaiean soldiers in a joint detail.

Queen Selay's next glance was to the Chamberlain and he nodded brief-

ly. Instead of letting the peasants present their own case, Hugh summa-

rized it and recommended a resolution. Mother nodded and the case was

disposed of within minutes. The next case was much more substantial,

dealing with the allocation of lands among the survivors of nobles killed

in the recent war. Queen Selay decided that with dispatch but imme-

diately after she had elevated a young lord to a newly defined barony, she

paused.

"Baron Spencer, will you swear fealty now?" she asked, but in a tone

that made it an order.

"Of course, Your Majesty," he answered, moving to kneel before her.

"No" she interrupted him, "my position is temporary. You must swear

fealty to the Princess."

He was surprised but not unwilling. Actually, from the look of as-

sessment he gave me I wondered if he actually preferred the gesture. His

father had been one of the outlying nobles and we had never before met.

To the best of my knowledge he knew nothing of our masquerade. Certainly

his demeanor betrayed no hint that he thought I was anything other than

what I appeared when he knelt and offered his hands to mine.

As I stepped forward I felt a strange tension again, like what I had

sensed when Mother had spoken to Lyonidas. It was as though the white-

cold mind were gathering energy, but distant somehow. Before I had felt

like a sword heated to blinding brilliance, hovering before an equally

brilliant field of snow. Now I felt as though I watched that same sword

from just far enough away to avoid the heat, yet still it moved under my

command. I took Spencer's hands within my own, their dark strength

contrasting sharply with my own pale fingers, and looked in to his eyes.

As I repeated the standard words I realized another aspect of

Mother's plan. This oath bound Spencer to me as his King, even if he

didn't realize it at the time.

"Spencer, Baron of North Vale, do you swear fealty to Achaiea and to

her Monarch? Do you swear to lay your fortune at her feet and if need be,

to sacrifice your life on the altar of her protection?"

I felt the strange new aspect of the white-cold mind flow from my

eyes to his as Spencer answered, "I swear." With whatever senses Mother

had shared when she impressed her mannerisms upon me, I knew that Baron

Spencer was now loyal with a force beyond words. His life now belonged to

me, personally.

Then he blinked and grinned and I knew he didn't find the prospect of

belonging to me, personally, at all distasteful. Or, at least, he didn't

think it would be. I smiled in reflex and saw his grin widen to something

almost childlike in its pleasure, though there were undercurrents that of-

fered promises decidedly not appropriate for children.

And that awoke within me feelings that I definitely didn't want to

examine right then. I let his hands drop and stood back to my place,

feeling his eyes on me even as my own eyes looked at Mother. She nodded

slightly to reassure me that this was acceptable to her then glanced at

Hugh to call for the next petition.

A dozen barons were confirmed that day, each swearing fealty to the

realm, but through my hands and so to me as well. Each time I felt the

power build within me as I took their oath, channeling through them into a

much tighter binding than they might have thought they were going to be

making.

Yet all these acts took surprisingly little time, less actually than

had been spent on just the two cases that Lyonidas had personally re-

viewed. This was more like the petition audiences that I remembered:

focused, efficient, and purposeful. After a short but busy time, Queen

Selay stood.

"Cherysse, please accompany me," she ordered, which amounted to a

dismissal of the others in attendance.

I followed her to her chambers, where she sat in her accustomed

chair and waved me to a nearby stool. Greyshadow was in her lap before

she could speak but as soon as the cat was settled she challenged me.

"What did you observe today?"

"Lyonidas doesn't have a chance. Kragdle doesn't have a prayer," I

answered bluntly, if obliquely.

Queen Selay laughed, but nodded as well. It was good to hear her

laugh. She'd done precious little of that since Father had died. Another

nod urged me to continue.

"Is that what you meant about using the white-cold mind without being

consumed by it?" I asked, again with a comment that would have seemed

irrelevant to most of those who had attended the audience.

"Yes," she replied. "You don't need, in fact don't want the con-

suming anger if all you are doing is reinforcing a desire the target

already possesses. Yet the reinforcement is strong. I don't think

Lyonidas will be back to hear more petitions. And you need never doubt

the loyalty of those who swore fealty to you today."

I mused, "The next time you have a council meeting I assume Hugh will

have trivial issues lined up until once again Lyonidas escapes."

This made her smile again, pleased that I had noticed the irregular

agenda, "Yes. We'll use the rest of the time to reinforce the oaths of

fealty of the council members. We need to get that in before these new

nobles that Lyonidas referred to arrive and become involved."

"Mother, do you play me with the same skill you use on Lyonidas?"

"What do you think?" she didn't answer. I recognized the technique,

but didn't know exactly what to do about it so I answered her question

instead.

"I don't know. Everything I do seems perfectly reasonable," then

I had to giggle, "well, except for wearing dresses. But sometimes I

look above my head for the strings you're manipulating."

A somber look appeared on her features. She nodded to me in confir-

mation of my perception and of respect for my insight.

"Dear child, there are things that you need to do that I don't think

you could do without my help. Things that I don't think I want you to

be able to do on your own. Yet they are necessary if Achaiea is to sur-

vive, if you are to survive. When the time comes that you recognize all

that I have done to you, please don't hate me."

"Mother, I could never hate you!" I denied, but she only looked

away in refusal to argue.

When she looked up again, new resolution was in her eyes. And a

new topic was on her lips.

"Tonight we will have another formal dinner. This time, since

Lyonidas has enjoyed Julia's company for the day we will focus his atten-

tion on you for the dinner. You must, of course, wear your mourning

black, but I promise you that the black gown you wear will outshine any

other gowns no matter how colorful."

True to her words, the gown she chose for me was breathtaking. Or,

at least it would be breathtaking. Since my infernal steel companion kept

me constantly breathless I had none for the gown to take. Still, it was

beautiful. Some subtle artistry of the designer had made it seem indecen-

tly revealing, while actually concealing everything. A part of that was

the fit. The skirts didn't start to expand until much lower on my hips

than usual and above that every curve was caressed with shimmer and shine.

Accents of golden thread and decorative jewels ran along the limits of

propriety for mourning, but with the Queen's acceptance no one else would

presume to judge otherwise.

In contrast to the theoretically somber gown, the Queen instructed

the palace cosmetician to make my face vibrant and cheerful. Which didn't

take much effort. The gown was so pretty and the thought of an evening of

attention from Lyonidas was so . . . interesting, that I had plenty of

pleasure on which to build. Still, it took a good deal of the afternoon

for the servants to prepare me to Queen Selay's satisfaction. I was more

than anxious to go when she finally declared me ready.

Her faithful servant Amy was sent to inform Lyonidas that we were

awaiting his pleasure to escort us to dinner. As Regent he was required

to attend to the Queen. This left his apparent second in command, Strane,

to escort me. Olrin attended Julia and one of the new High Canyon

arrivals was escorting Duchess Amity when we met them.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Queen Selay observed when we

came close to Amity's escort. He was a bit older, perhaps 45 to Amity's

40, yet still fit, spare with the look of campaign deprivations.

Lyonidas made the introductions, "This is General Reynal. It was

he that held High Canyon while my Father was, um, occupied elsewhere."

Reynal's eyes observed my dress with a combination of appreciation

and distaste. He was clearly not too old to enjoy the look of a pretty

girl, but the form-revealing fit was a bit too much for a man steeped in

traditions of flowing robes. While his eyes were making their insulting

inspection of my body, I remembered that Mother wanted the relationships

as confused as possible. So when his stare reached my face I let a little

smolder into my eyes to tease him.

Teasing this man would likely be a highly hazardous pastime. His

eyes sent a message of ownership my way, declaring that I was his for

the taking, anytime he felt like it. It was not sensual, it was con-

suming. He would use me for his pleasure whether it pleasured me or not.

All that passed in the space between heartbeats, in the tiniest twitch of

his thin lips and of his glittering dark eyes.

But it still made me angry. I was a Princess! I was not a plaything

for him or any other jumped-up High Canyon thug. Instead of cowering

before his power, I felt the white-cold mind building within me. All that

I let out though, was the heat of apparent passion barely under control.

If he wanted me, he'd have to come take me. It might be worth it, but it

wouldn't be easy.

This counter message took only another heartbeat, over by the time

Mother had us moving forward again. I tossed my hair dismissively as I

turned back to Strane and followed the Queen and Regent to the table.

Most of the escorts were wrong, of course. Queen Selay was un-

touchable as the widow of the late King, escorted by Lyonidas the Regent

as a courtesy. Lyonidas was actually intended for me in Kragdle's plan

which bumped Strane to the next ranking maiden, Julia. Poor Olrin fell

off the end of the train as odd man out. Only Reynal and Amity were a

potentially correct pair.

Hugh the Chamberlain knew how this game was played as well as anyone

so as we were seated the right pairs were appropriately arranged. Mother

and Lyonidas sat together, but I sat beside Lyonidas, with Reynal on

mother's far side. That was probably a good thing since the energy that

had flowed between the High Canyon general and me could quickly have

gotten out of control.

Strane sat next to me, but Julia was at his other side. Poor Strane,

if I had any sympathy for someone from High Canyon, it would be for him.

The relaxed power that Lyonidas displayed so casually was almost Achaiean

in its openness. Strane was at the other end of the personality spectrum,

a typical High Canyonite. He was dark, brooding, no clearer to read when

his hood was back than when he was cowled. No more hopeless romance could

ever have existed than his pursuit of the flame-haired Julia with her

mercurial moods, ready wit, and sharp tongue. Yet he attended her with

ponderous duty, excruciatingly polite, totally unresponsive to her not-so-

gentle barbs.

"So, My Princess, how did your day go after I left the audience of

endless petitions?" Lyonidas interrupted my musings. In his tone was

a clear statement of possessiveness of a different sort than Reynal

broadcast.

"It was duty, Milord Regent," I sighed. Mother's ploy to keep him

from wanting to come back provided appropriate responses for me.

"What did you do?" I asked in an attempt to change the near-term sub-

ject that was as obvious to Lyonidas as Mother's long-term plan was

subtle.

"Julia and I worked with the castle staff to find suitable quarters

for the new arrivals," he explained.

"And did you find our secret arsenals of deadly new weapons in your

explorations of the castle?" I teased.

He smiled to show he understood the humor, but then countered with a

serious statement, "There are no deadly weapons, only deadly men."

"And deadly women," he concluded with a laugh, resuming the light-

hearted tone of the conversation.

"Why, Milord Regent, in the short time I've known you that is the

second time you've made reference to deadly females. It seems to be some-

thing of an obsession with you." My grin had a challenge in it, though

not of physical confrontation.

"If you had ever met my mother, you would understand," he chuckled in

return.

"Much like your own mother, actually," he observed lightly, though

with enough voice that Mother overheard.

"Not surprising," she replied. "Giselle is my cousin."

"Your cousin?" I exclaimed in unbelief.

"Yes. She was sent as envoy from my homeland, Vidalia, to the court

of High Canyon. In time, a message was sent to Vidalia requesting her

hand for the crown prince, Kragdle. We had never met the man, but the

alliance seemed appropriate. Perhaps it has been. At least Vidalia still

lives independent of High Canyon."

"Please, Your Majesty, no recriminations tonight," Lyonidas pleaded.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "You're right, we must move forward."

"So, what did you see on your tour?" I tried to return the conver-

sation to lighter topics.

"More rooms than I have ever seen in one building before," Lyonidas

answered. "You could spend your whole life without seeing the sun."

The horror in his expression was overdone for comic impact, but I

could see the underlying truth into his heart. It was one we shared.

"I know what you mean. I spend much time at my studies, my music,

and my art, but I try never to miss a sunset."

"Did you know," I continued, "that from high enough up you can ac-

tually see the darkness flowing across the valley?"

His eyes got a faraway look of nostalgia, "Yes. I know. I have

often watched it race along its appointed course. From the mountains

of my homeland."

"It must be beautiful," I mused quietly.

All of the sudden his eyes cleared and he looked directly at me,

"Once upon a time I would have said it was the greatest beauty that

existed in all the world."

I blushed at the intensity of his gaze, flattered at the same time I

was embarrassed. Before I had to make a response, though, Julia's crystal

laugh caroled out as one of the strolling minstrels turned an especially

witty phrase. Lyonidas looked at her with first automatic annoyance and

then a resurrection of the look of appreciation that had recently been

mine.

I reached for a roll, letting my unbound gold flow forward. It

happened to cut off his view of Julia. He jerked at the interruption in

his concentration then grinned with a self-satisfied sort of complacency

that was infuriating at the same time it was challenging.

Lyonidas used my silence for an opportunity to talk with the Queen

and Reynal for a moment while Strane was still trying to capture Julia's

interest. So for a few minutes I was alone in the crowd, lost in my own

musings. As I was about to try and return to the rest of the world, Queen

Selay stood.

"Milord Regent, though the sun is only now setting there are other

duties that must be attended to before retiring. Princess Cherysse has

her studies, as I know she told you, while Julia and I are still dealing

with the demands of administration since all our men have been taken from

us. If we may be excused?"

"Of course, please allow us to escort you back to your chambers," he

replied. It was uncharacteristic of Mother to return to a topic after a

request to avoid it, but it was no accident. She wanted Lyonidas to feel

the guilt and to recognize the cost to a once-prosperous society. While

his tone was light and his actions brisk, I could see the hurt in his eyes

at her comment. A part of me wished away that hurt, while another part

chided myself for not using my wishes to remove the cause of that hurt.

We were soon back in the private part of the castle. My claim to

watch the sunsets was a true one so before I removed the black gown I

climbed to the highest balcony of the central keep. I had watched the

sunsets from there since before I could clearly remember. The Chamberlain

had laughingly told me once that the people of the castle used the last

moment when the evening sun lit my golden hair as the official definition

of sunset.

So it should have been no surprise when I found Lyonidas already

there when I arrived. He could have heard the story anywhere, or even

determined for himself that this was the best place from which to watch

the declining sun. When I stepped from the doorway he was seated easily

on the surrounding ledge, careless of the long drop so close beside.

"So, you do watch the sunsets," he smiled, no real doubt in his

voice.

"Yes, when I can."

"It is very beautiful up here," he said softly, though he was not

looking over the valley when he said it.

I just nodded, and moved to stand near the protecting ledge myself.

It always surprised me how much the colors changed as the sun went

down. Sometimes, the land turned a deep purple, others it just grayed

into oblivion. Yet others, it seemed as though all colors appeared in

such quick succession that I didn't dare blink for I'd miss entire ranges

of beauty. Those times always seemed magical, as though God were making a

special show of artistry just for me.

This night was one of those, though this time the show was not just

for me. Lyonidas had moved to stand beside me and watched as silently

transfixed as I was myself.

The last golden glimmer finally disappeared over the western pass and

we were left with only the twilight afterglow.

Lyonidas reached out to caress my hair from his position beside me.

His soft voice barely disturbed the quiet, "It's officially sunset."

"So you've heard of that silly saying," I said as I turned to look at

him.

"You look incredibly beautiful tonight," he said, still so softly I

had to hold my breath to hear him. Or maybe I just found myself holding

my breath.

"I thought you preferred redheads," I accused, and felt a little pout

forming as I remembered his look at Julia.

Perhaps I shouldn't have called attention to my lips. Or maybe it

was exactly the right thing to do. Right then my emotions were so out

of control I couldn't possibly have judged good and bad, right and wrong.

All I knew was that his arms were around me, and his lips were crushing

the pout out of mine with fierce intensity. His hands were caressing my

hair and I surrendered to the sensuality, letting his lips control the

kiss, his hands invade my tresses, his body define the curve mine must

take. I felt one hand leave my hair and begin a slow, possessive caress

down the curve of my waist, down to the swell of my hips revealed by the

low flare of the skirts on this so-seductive gown.

"Cherysse," he murmured into my hair, the word itself a caress.

I turned my face back to his and offered my swollen lips in demanding

surrender. My body swayed into his hand, begging without words for his

touch. My heart was beating far too fast to support my frantic need and

that terrible device within my dress wouldn't allow me the breath I so

desperately cherished. My world began to darken with more than the

absence of the sun and the last thing I remember is clutching at his broad

shoulders for support as I swooned into oblivion.

Chapter 8 - Love War

• My faint was driven by pure emotions, without underlying physical
• basis. As soon as I surrendered to the lack of air, my body
• relaxed and I began to recover. My first sensations, though, were
• internal, a sort of dreamy half life without demands or purpose.
• I knew that I could climb back to full consciousness but it just
• seemed too hard.

• Despite my lethargy, awareness continued to expand. I knew that
• strong arms were carrying me. Then it came to me that I was
• wearing a dress and that this was wrong. I, Deacon the First,
• Monarch of Achaiea, should not be wearing a dress.

* But it didn't matter.

• I remembered that I had let a man kiss me and that I had wanted
• his kiss. No, needed his kiss more than breath itself, in the end
• surrendering my last bit of breath in favor of another heartbeat
• with his lips caressing mine. And this was terribly, terribly
• wrong.

* But that didn't matter either.

• Just as it didn't really matter that I realized there had been no
• physical response, no increased discomfort in my most intimate
• recesses. My body that always reacted to Julia's nymph-like
• beauty in our shared baths, had not cared a whit for the
• sensations that had so compelled my mind.

• Nothing seemed important enough to make me give up my lazy drif-
• ting, a spectator within my own mind to the actions of the persona
• imposed on my world by Mother's power.

The overwhelming emotions that had caused me to faint passed quickly.

It was unseemly for a princess of Achaiea to appear weak, though, so as

soon as the first thread of consciousness returned I struggled to full

awareness. I realized that I was being carried in the strong arms of

Lyonidas and for just a moment my desire for that comfort warred with my

sense of duty. Instead of squirming to be let down, I lifted my head from

the graceless loll in which it trailed and rested it on his broad shoul-

der. This put my lips in interesting proximity to his ear.

"I'm all right, now," I whispered from very close range, more soft

breath than real voice.

He turned to look at me, which changed the proximate part of his

visage from ear to lips that seemed compelling beyond resistance. I

lifted my own to renew that heavenly touch, but his drew back.

"What happened to you?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"You," I replied.

"Hardly," he argued, "I don't have that effect on other girls."

"Well, maybe it is me, then. I wouldn't know."

"Are you saying I'm the first man who has ever kissed you?"

"Um, hmm," I murmured, relaxing my head back on to his shoulder.

"Actually," I mused with a grin, "you took my breath away."

He was about to say something but I saw that we had descended back

into the more open corridors. I didn't want to have to go through all the

explanations that being carried would require, so now I did wiggle in his

arms to be let down.

He obliged, slowly, more carefully than I really required. At least

since he hadn't kissed me again. I saw a smug grin on his face that would

have looked quite silly if I didn't think there were a matching smile on

my own.

He escorted me to my chambers, pausing at the doorway. "May I come

in?"

"Why, Milord Regent, the terms of surrender grant you free access to

all the castle," I reminded him.

He just stood there. The hurt look on his face hit harder than my

earlier faint and I dropped my eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Lyonidas, that was unfair. You have not taken improper

advantage of any of your rights. Please, do come in," I said quietly,

even as I moved to the bell pull.

"What are you doing?"

I tugged on the cloth strap as I answered, "Summoning servants. It

is not proper for us to be alone together for more than just a moment.

Also, this is my mother's gown and I will need help removing it so that I

can return it to her."

"Did you know that was the first time you ever called me Lyonidas?"

he asked.

"When?"

"Just now, when you were apologizing."

"Oh, well, I won't do it again," I promised.

"No, please, I like it when you call me Lyonidas. Never has my name

sounded more . . . worthy."

"It is hardly my voice that makes you worthy," I demurred.

"It is only your voice that makes me worthy," he disagreed, moving

toward me.

I turned away to needlessly straighten some things on my desk. Now

that the moment on the high balcony was passed and I had my wits about me

again, I realized that this was much too fast for Mother's plan. Besides,

the servants would be here in a moment.

He took the rebuff with good grace, the smile on his face adding a

rueful element that showed enough experience with women to roll with the

punches. He still moved closer, though. His large hands reached out to

touch my books and his glance swept over my paintings and my musical in-

struments.

"Have you read all of these?" he asked.

"Most of them. How else do you think I was able to quote your Holy

Writ when your father was threatening us?"

He let his fingers trail idly over the top of the books, while his

eyes took in my latest painting, still unfinished. I could have told him

that was a bad idea but I was also looking at the painting.

When his hand got far enough toward the corner of the shelf, a tiny

quicksilver paw struck too fast to be seen.

His reflexes were good. He had his hand drawn back before I even

knew he had been touched.

"What was that?" he yelled, reaching for a belt dagger.

I giggled. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. My

humor didn't help his humor at all, but at least he calmed down since

my attitude showed no trace of fear.

"Oh, that's one of our secret weapons," I lied with a broad enough

grin to make it clear I was joking.

Reaching into the dark corner, I pulled Wraith into view. The tiny

bundle of fur almost disappeared in the next heartbeat as I cradled her

in my arms. The shimmers and shines in my elegant black gown provided

just enough light to match her smooth dark gray.

Lyonidas grinned now that he understood the nature of his fierce

attacker, "If Reynal saw you with a cat, he'd think it was a weapon.

There's something about cats that affects his health. A few minutes in

the same room with one and he is sneezing and itching. He hates them.

He also thinks all the women of your family are witches and that you

keep cats as part of your sorcery. Mother has one, too, you know, back

in High Canyon."

To show that he was not himself afraid Lyonidas reached out slowly

and took the bundle of dark fluff into his own hands. The little traitor

started purring almost as soon as his hands started caressing her. For an

insane moment I was actually jealous of my kitten!

I picked an imaginary piece of lint from my bosom, and smoothed a non-

existent wrinkle from the second-skin tightness of my gown. My motions

drew his eyes as though I truly had a magic spell and I let a little

throatiness into my voice when I spoke, "Are you saying that the women of

Achaiea need magical powers to attract men?"

The flush that grew from his neck to his ears was most gratifying,

but just then we heard a knock at the open door.

"Your Highness, did you call?" Minah asked. She knew that I had

called, of course. Minah was Amy's daughter, and it looked like she was

going to be filling for me the role that her mother had filled for my

mother. Whenever I needed anything, quiet Minah seemed to be handy.

"The women of Achaiea HAVE magical powers, whether they admit them

or not," he murmured just loudly enough for me to hear. His flush receded

slowly as he handed Wraith back to me, embarrassment transformed to shared

amusement, no less frustrating because it was expected.

"Your Highness, Her Majesty the Queen has requested that you attend

her as soon as your other activities permit," Minah announced with a smile

of her own. For the first time in my life I understood how important

loyalty in a servant can be. Minah's eyes promised absolute discretion.

Still, duty called even louder than the joy of Lyonidas' company so

I nodded and moved to the door. For the moment I kept Wraith with me.

Lyonidas escorted us as far as Mother's door, then bowed courteously.

Inside, I was not surprised to find Julia, but Duchess Amity was

also in attendance. Mother's smile of greeting showed a bit of concern.

"Cherysse, dear, are you all right?" she asked.

"Of course, Mother. I was just watching the sunset as usual."

"Alone?" Julia asked with an impossibly high arch to one elegant

brow. In the next instant her eyes lit with a smile of shared secret that

eliminated any hint of argument. Was there another hint in those eyes?

A message to talk with her in private?

I didn't answer her question, or perhaps my blush answered for me.

Mother's concern was not relieved by my silent admission. She looked pen-

sively at me for a moment then glanced sidelong at Amity. Her features

firmed as she reached some internal decision and gently waved me to my

accustomed seat.

"We need to decide how we shall proceed," she began. "Cherysse,

just what did you do with Reynal? Amity informs me that he thinks you

are some sort of evil incarnate, and a strumpet to boot."

I giggled at the thought of the proud general afraid of a mere slip

of a girl. My giggle disturbed the nearly-sleeping Wraith, who mewed a

small complaint. This made my laughter grow to something almost too vi-

brant for propriety for I now had a truly interesting bit of evil in mind.

My first comment answered her question, though, "He was leering at

me when we met, looking at my gown, or what's in it, instead of my face.

Since you said you wanted relationships to be confused, when his eyes

finally reached my face I smiled at him."

Julia interrupted with a grin of her own, "I saw that smile. If you

could bottle it, we wouldn't need firewood to keep the castle warm this

winter."

I just looked at Mother. She knew even better than I where that

smile had come from. When she sat quietly, I went on to the next part

of my thought.

"Did you know that Reynal hates cats? They make him sick somehow.

And he thinks they are signs that we are witches."

"Indeed?" Queen Selay mused, now once again a Monarch plotting for

the safety of her realm. Even if it was my realm.

"Amity, did you have any other impressions of Reynal?" she asked.

Her Grace thought for a moment then replied, "I may have misrepre-

sented Reynal's attitude. He thinks that you and Cherysse are indeed

witches, but I sensed a real lust on his part for the princess. It would

not be good for them to be alone together."

"That seems like a lot of reaction for a smile," Queen Selay mused,

once again looking at me.

"Well, I just started with a smile," I repeated, "but his eyes showed

a predatory disrespect that made me angry. I suppose I let a bit of chal-

lenge into my expression."

"Challenging Kragdle's top general?" Amity responded, distressed.

"That could get us all killed."

"We could all be killed at any time," Queen Selay replied. "But

Cherysse, we don't want Lyonidas feeling you're playing him for a fool.

You better not 'challenge' Reynal again."

"But Mother, I must!" I protested, my grin showing there was more

than simple flirtation on my mind, "and you must also."

Her expression showed her question so I explained, "I know you intend

to get Lyonidas to stop attending council sessions in the same way you got

him out of petition audiences, by boring him. Reynal might not be so easy

to run off. His sense of duty might keep him there long enough to see our

plan, or at least to keep you from running the kingdom as you must. I

think at the next council session you and I should both bring our little

friends. Don't you?"

With that I lifted Wraith a little. Mother looked down at Grey-

shadow, in her lap as usual, and a fierce, predatory grin that made

Reynal's look positively weak appeared on her face.

"Since there are enough seats in the chamber for the whole council to

sit, I'll make sure that Hugh places Reynal close to one of us," she

promised.

Then her eyes got pensive again and she turned back to Amity.

"Duchess, what would be the reason that you think Reynal lusts for

Cherysse? Is it just her beauty?"

"No, now that I understand their interaction when they met I think

the attraction is for Her Highness's strength of character, the challenge.

Do you suppose I should try to be challenging to him?" she asked, the

prospect clearly not pleasing to her.

"Not at all, dear," Queen Selay assured her, "just the opposite. We

need to confuse things, not clarify them. If Reynal is intended for you,

and he prefers a strong-willed woman, then you will give him quiet weak-

ness. Cling to him in your despair, cry a lot. It should make him even

more aware of both Cherysse and Julia."

Julia's eyes met mine and we shared a conspiratorial grin. We could

pretend to be jealous of each other for the benefit of Lyonidas, while at

the same time trying to make Reynal jealous of Lyonidas. This could be

interesting!

Queen Selay motioned to the servants and we all went to the dressing

area to have our gowns removed. Unfortunately, while the Queen and the

Duchess could relax after their formal clothes were removed, Julia and I

were held as tightly held as ever. At least the skirts on our dressing

gowns were less full and less bother than the gorgeous gowns, though I

surrendered mine with a wistful sigh.

Mother noticed, of course. She noticed everything. Another glance

at Amity preceded another consideration of her previous decision. Her

expression warned me to be careful, but as we settled back onto seats

she required a more complete explanation, "Cherysse, tell me what really

happened on the balcony."

I had thought I had gotten over the intensity of the emotions but

when I thought back on my sensations on the balcony, I felt my heart begin

to flutter again and my breath begin to get short. I could feel a flush

of heat color my cheeks and looked out the dark window rather than meet

Mother's eyes.

"Cherysse?" Mother's voice asked again, gentle, but insistent.

It drew my eyes. I saw understanding there with neither ridicule

nor judgment and it encouraged me enough to start. "Well, um, when I got

to my balcony, uh, Lyonidas was already there."

Mother sat quietly. Amity was interested in an amused sort of way.

Julia was interested in a strange sort of way that I couldn't quite figure

out.

"We, uh, watched the sunset together. I, uh, well, he said I was . .

. beautiful."

Duchess Amity interrupted with a smile she meant to be encouraging,

"An understandable sentiment, I'm sure."

"Yes, well, he had been, um, looking at Julia a lot at dinner, so I,

um, suggested maybe he liked red hair better. I was sort of unhappy at

the thought and I guess I was pouting a little."

"I've seen that pout," Mother smiled now.

"Yes, well, um, Lyonidas saw it too," I tried to conclude.

"And then?" now Julia encouraged me to continue, though her tone was

less amused.

"I, um, guess it drew his attention, or something, and well, he, uh,

put his hands in my hair," I blurted.

"You let him touch your unbound hair?" Amity was horrified.

"Three times now, isn't it?" Julia asked innocently.

I sent her a dagger glance that bounced off her strange expression.

It wasn't condemning like her words might have implied, there was some-

thing else in there.

"Was that all that happened?" Mother asked.

I shook my head. No one offered any reprieve, though, they just sat

silently.

Gulping the little air that I could in that diabolical device, I

stammered, "Then he, um, well, kissed me."

I looked at Julia, ready to kill her if she even gave me a dirty

look, but she was suddenly as interested in the dark window as I had been.

All of the sudden her strange expression became clear. "He kissed

you too," I exclaimed.

Her blush offered the closest competition for her fiery hair of any

sight I had seen in Achaiea. The briefest of nods might have gone un-

noticed if not for the ripple it started in her flame-red mane. I coul-

dn't decide whether to be angry, or jealous, or both.

Finally I laughed, "That two-timing son of a desert snake." I had

passed on further kisses because I didn't want to get too far ahead of

Julia, and all I was doing was catching up. A most unladylike phrase

almost made it to my lips, caught at the last instant.

Mother was surprisingly uncomfortable that I should make such an

insult to Lyonidas' ancestry. I mean, really, a man had put his hands in

my unbound hair three times, and kissed me. I was practically a woman,

not a little girl. I could say what I pleased.

"Julia?" Queen Selay's interrogation shifted targets, thankfully.

"Well, we were walking back up from the lower storage chambers, and

I, um, slipped, on the steps. Lyonidas caught me," now she tried to es-

cape with half an explanation.

"Funny," I teased, "I've been up and down those steps a hundred

times and have never slipped."

"Shhh," Mother demanded, then looked again to Julia.

"Well, um, he, uh, sort of held me for a bit longer than was, um,

necessary. One of his hands ended up in my hair and he started, uh, twir-

ling it in his fingers."

Amity's eyebrows were headed for her hairline at this second revela-

tion of the sorts of things that happened when maidens unbound their hair.

Julia was caught up in her own tale now, a dreamy expression showing

her fondness for the memory. "My eyes sort of closed on their own, and

the next thing I knew his lips were pressing into mine."

"I almost fainted," she concluded softly, wistfully.

This caused me to twitch uncomfortably. Mother caught my motion,

and raised an elegant brow in regal demand.

"I did faint," I admitted.

"Well girls, it appears that Prince Lyonidas needs little help from

us to keep his attention well distributed between you," Queen Selay de-

clared with wry amusement.

"Well, I never," Amity huffed.

"No, and that's the way you should remain," Queen Selay ordered,

making our behavior acceptable as the result of similar orders.

"It seems you young ladies have had a busy day and tomorrow is

another bathing day. Off to bed with you both. You'll need your sleep."

I don't suppose I've ever been so happy obeying one of her orders.

But surprisingly, sleep took a long time coming. Memories of the sunset

kept flickering through my mind, and of what followed. It made me wist-

ful, and yet somehow uncomfortable at the same time. Like something

inside of me was more horrified than simple propriety would demand.

Chapter 9 - All Kisses Are Not Created Equal

Bathing the next morning started out as usual. The heavenly feeling

of release from my steel guardian, the soothing warmth of the bath were

each so desirable I'd never willingly miss an opportunity. Together, I'm

not sure even the safety of the realm could convince me to pass the

chance. Though it was always wonderful to be released, I was actually

becoming somewhat accustomed to the constriction. Even without the tight

corset section, my waist had narrowed appreciably. The excess flesh had

migrated to my bosom and hips, which now had a decidedly feminine shape at

all times.

Julia never looked anything but beautiful. Her own imprisoning gar-

ment had not needed to enhance her delightful curves more than the barest

amount. Each day as I rubbed my pained ribs under the scented water, I

watched her delicate form slip into the tub with envy. Mother always gave

me as much time out of my maiden's lover as possible so I was always the

first into the tub and the last out.

Mother and I had always been close. Indeed, I knew Father had con-

sidered us too close. She had impressed her own memories on me, but not

all of her memories. Those dealing with her married life were private to

herself and her lost husband so I had a strange combination of experience

and naivet� to work with in understanding how to act. She had opened her-

self to me in a most strange and intimate manner, yet there were still

things I didn't feel I could talk about with her. This morning when Mother

needed something from the other chamber and left us alone for a few

minutes, I leaned closer to Julia.

"Will you answer a few questions for me?"

"If I can."

"Does, um, Lyonidas kiss well?"

"Yes," she replied, a dreamy reminiscence in her eyes.

"I mean, uh, does he kiss better than other men?" I persisted.

"I've only been kissed by Lyonidas and Tamor," she answered.

"Well then, uh, which of them was, um, better?"

"It's not a case of better or worse, they're just different."

I kept pushing, "How?"

"They just are. Tamor was stronger, and even taller, and he had a

mustache. He was sort of, um, powerful," she tried to explain, but I

could see her mind drifting back into memories.

"Lyonidas seemed terribly powerful to me," I mused with my own

memories.

"Well, yes, he has a rock-solid strength," she smiled, "but he's

gentle, too. He keeps that strength under control. Tamor was as likely

to sweep me off my feet as caress my hair. Though he did that as well."

"That doesn't seem as, um, nice."

She laughed, "Well, sometimes you don't want nice. Sometimes it's

grand to be swept off your feet."

"Do you like that better than gentle?"

The dreamy look was back in her eyes, "No, gentle is, well, special.

If I had to pick just one way to be kissed, it would definitely be

gentle."

"Even more gentle than Lyonidas?"

Julia looked at me with a strange expression in her eyes, as though

seeing me for the first time, or in a new way.

"Maybe," she admitted.

We had been whispering to make sure that our conversation didn't

draw Mother back in from the other room. As we talked I had moved closer

to Julia so that we could be very quiet. When she looked at me in that

new way I was close enough to touch her hair myself, as I had done that

day in the woods. My hand drifted over almost of it's own accord and I

let my fingers twine slowly through the fiery brightness. Her eyes

drifted languidly closed, surrendering to the incredibly sensual feel.

Her full lips were just inches from mine, deeply red, soft . . .

Though a part of me knew that this was dangerous, that Julia was

fully capable of killing me herself if she felt insulted, I had to kiss

her. I let my hand caress the back of her neck to steady her, and brushed

my lips lightly against hers even as my own eyes were pulled inexorably

closed.

If she had exploded from the water, I wouldn't have been more

surprised. But instead of anger, I felt her own hand on the back of my

neck pressing me tighter. I surrendered to her pressure even as I let

an underwater hand lightly stroke her trim waist. She responded to this

caress with an even stronger pull in my hair, catching a handful as a taut

leash.

Then I felt her lips open. And felt her tongue.

It danced on my lips like a fairy sprite, demanding entrance without

force but nonetheless insistent. I surrendered to that demand as well,

letting my own lips part. Her tongue danced in to find my own tongue

wondering what part to play in the tune she was defining.

She taught me what I needed to know.

My hand drifted higher, exploring a swell that revealed hidden firm-

ness of ribs under smooth skin.

Then that firmness gave way to even softer fullness.

The complex curves that made her figure so fascinating when she

slipped in and out of the bathing tub were even more intriguing to my

sightless fingers. The texture was as smooth as sight predicted but

more resilient, more vibrant. The weight of the swell my fingers explored

was both greater and less than I expected. Fluid where I expected stiff-

ness yet gently insistent on holding a wondrous shape.

Then my body betrayed me, or revealed me. A stridently excited

part of me brushed against her smooth leg and she jerked away from the

touch. I jumped back in embarrassment, sloshing water from the tub. The

return wave washed higher up on Julia than she expected and caught her

full in the face.

"Oh Julia, I'm so sorry!" I wailed. Now she was going to kill me

for sure.

Her sputtering could have been the prelude to an attack by her

famously vicious tongue, now employed to cut where it had so recently

caressed. Instead it transformed to giggles as she caught a look at my

face. I don't know what my expression looked like but I felt like the

worst fool God ever inflicted on the earth. If any of that showed, I

deserved to be laughed at.

She stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath and smile at

me where I sat as far away as the tub allowed. Then her eyes softened.

"Yes," she observed as though considering it analytically, "gentle

can be quite . . . desirable."

I still felt my cheeks flaming, but her smile had a gentleness of its

own and I merely felt like I wanted the world to swallow me into oblivion

rather than provide some more spectacular demise. The closest I could

come was to slip beneath the water of the tub, which I did. Her hand

grabbed the last of my blonde locks as they floated on the water and

pulled me back up.

"Oh, don't be that way. I enjoyed it! Didn't you?" she grinned.

"I should think that would have been obvious," I mumbled.

"Not too bad, actually," she giggled, an arched brow and an overdone

glance indicating interest in seeing the response she had so briefly felt.

Even though her glance was meant as a joke, I felt my hands reflexively

hiding my underwater messenger. This made her laugh even louder just as

Mother reentered the chamber.

"What's so funny?" she asked lightly.

"Oh, Cherysse and I were just reviewing the things that happened

yesterday," Julia said airily. Somehow the word 'just' didn't belong

in that sentence. Still, her claim had allowed me the time to get my

flush under control, at least to the point that it looked like a result of

the hot water, not internal energy.

"Well, I found a lighter soap for your hair. Now that you're both

wearing it unbound it will get a lot more sun. We need to keep it from

getting dried out. The palace cosmetician promises that this will work

better, without dimming the bright colors you both possess."

With that, Mother was briskly business like as she continued with

her morning duty. Still, Julia managed to catch my eye, and her lips

moved in an almost-instantaneous pucker that offered a rematch. I don't

know if her offer was real, but the effect on me was real, both above and

below the water line.

"Cherysse, you're getting flushed. Is that water too hot for you?"

Mother asked.

"No," I blurted, then wondered what excuse I should use. "I

guess I was just remembering, uh, yesterday."

"You'll both need to take it easy with Lyonidas today. We can't

let things go too fast," Queen Selay instructed us. Then her eyes got

harder than I had seen since Father died. "We need time to arrange some

removals without blame falling on ourselves."

Removals? She had not used that term before but I knew what she

meant as soon as I considered it. Someone from High Canyon would begin to

return the blood price we had paid for our peace.

Thoughts about her plan filled my mind as we went through the rest of

our preparation ritual. The maiden's lover, though not so cruel about my

waist, was as unpleasant as ever in its most intimate duty. Julia and I

were dressed in tailored black dresses that, while less sensual than

evening gowns left no doubt about the curves under the material.

Preparing our hair seemed to take longer than usual though, with

false starts where a style was combed out and another set in its place.

I had long ago learned with Mother that the appearance of disorder was

likely an outward sign of deeper structure. The edict that Lyonidas had

announced on the day of our surrender allowed some latitude in details

of our hair arrangement. The court protocol experts had been working to

define a new structure of hair ornamentation that resurrected the identi-

fication of my noble rank while allowing the main mass of golden honey to

flow unrestricted. Today, it seemed, Mother was going to establish a new

style for that main mass. Under her directions, the palace courtiers made

my hair wonderfully thick, soft and wavy, alive with highlights. When I

saw the results, I was more than pleased, though it had taken quite a long time.

Julia was incredibly beautiful. Not for the first time, I felt a

sharper ache under my constraining garment. Not for the first time I

cherished her bright energy, her flamboyant joy, her ready wit. My

thoughts were ambiguous as I hugged her before we sortied from our

dressing chamber, but for the most part it was the warm embrace of

sisters.

At least, on her part.

At least, I thought so.

Maybe.

Our preparations had made us very late for a scheduled meeting of the

High Council of Achaiea, a gathering of nobles and key guild leaders.

Just as apparent disorder was not proof of disorganization, tardiness on

the part of Queen Selay could be expected to have a deeper purpose. A

portion of that purpose became apparent when our Achaiean entourage de-

toured by way of my quarters on the way to the Council chamber. I ga-

thered Wraith into the dark arms of my dress in counterpoint to Greyshadow

in the arms of the Queen and we arrived in the Council chamber almost

exactly one hour late.

Not surprisingly, Lyonidas was in attendance. So was General Reynal,

and Strane. Hugh of Sandars had packed in a much larger contingent of

Achaieans than had been the practice in the past, including the recently-

elevated Spencer, Baron of North Vale. His was the first issue before the

Council.

As our official party took the remaining seats, excluding only the

King's High Seat, I coincidentally found myself next to Reynal. Wraith

took one look at him and hissed a most unladylike challenge, one which

Reynal looked more than ready to answer. However Queen Selay had her

own dark cat with her and none of the High Canyon representatives knew

that this was not the usual case. I contrived to lean against the arm of

the hard chair, allowing Wraith to peek out at Reynal over my elbow. She

gave an occasional reminding hiss to make sure that Reynal was aware of

her displeasure.

"I'm so sorry we're late," Queen Selay claimed. "Since you have

decreed new hairstyles for all the maidens, our preparations simply take

longer."

I knew it would somehow turn out to be Lyonidas' fault. Or at least

someone from High Canyon.

It was not a coincidence that the chairs of the Council chamber were

uncomfortable, excepting only the King's High Seat, and the Queen's.

Those who had been waiting so long were almost comically glad to see the

meeting finally begin.

It seemed that North Vale had been approached by various wood con-

sumers, a shipyard and a furniture guild among others, for permission to

remove trees from an untouched forest near the border of North Vale and

its western neighbor. The neighbor, Clfton, under Baron Sutherland, was

concerned that removal of the trees would allow the spring rains to flood

his fields. Establishing this situation took an inordinate amount of

time as experts in different woods make presentation on the quantity and

suitability of North Vale's trees for various applications. This was fol-

lowed by other experts who discussed expected rainfall, normal stream

sizes, and anything else that Hugh had been able to invent as part of the

discussion.

The actual decision was obvious. North Vale would be allowed to re-

move the hardwoods suitable for the specific uses envisioned by the wood

consumers while leaving other trees in place. Yet reaching this obvious

conclusion took almost 3 hours of Council time.

By this point Reynal was openly suffering. His eyes were red and

watering in a way that looked too close to crying for his manly image.

His nose was alternately dripping in a most ungenteel manner, or being

wiped on an increasingly sodden sleeve. His breath rasped in and out

like a blacksmith's bellows, each exercise deliberate, forced, and wheezy.

Hugh had orchestrated things nearly as well on the next case. A

farming baron wanted to change from wheat to oats but was unsure of ade-

quate water supply. After further interminable testimony it was deter-

mined that an irrigation system that had already been planned, financed in

part by the crown would resolve the issue. All that the baron needed to

do was delay his change until the irrigation system was in place. This

took only two hours to determine. In the end, another obvious decision

followed monotonous, largely irrelevant pedantry.

It wasn't even clear who made the obvious decisions. The presenter

would seem to discover the solution in the course of his discourse and

everyone would find themselves nodding their heads in concurrence. Hugh

would state the decision for the record and motion for the next topic.

At the calling of the third issue, which revealed at least a dozen

men who obviously expected to speak, Lyonidas stood up.

"Your Majesty, if you would consent to continue without us, General

Reynal has always been a sparring partner of mine, and I feel the need to

sharpen my skills with his aid. We had planned that after the Council

session but it is taking a bit longer than we anticipated.

"Of course, Milord Regent," Queen Selay nodded graciously.

She had no chance to reinforce Reynal's willingness to leave, but

his streaming eyes showed that no reinforcement was really required.

The departure of the ranking High Canyonites provided sufficient excuse

for the rest of their contingent to attend to other duties and the Council

chamber soon held only Achaieans.

"Very well, Hugh, let's get to the real business," Queen Selay or-

dered as soon as the door closed behind the last tan-garbed intruder.

The real business consisted of more oaths of fealty to Achaiea,

through my hands. These were repeated oaths from those who had held their

positions before. However, most of them were in on my secret, both that I

was really male and that I was already crowned King of Achaiea. They were

prepared to repeat their oaths with full knowledge of the dual meaning.

I gathered the power of the white-cold mind behind me as I prepared

to accept the oath of the first Council noble. When I attempted to use it

to forge a deeper link though, I felt resistance. This man, Baron Suther-

land, was accustomed to power, accustomed to his duties to the realm and

to the crown. But he was also aware of the crown's duties to him and

wanted to see that commitment on my part just as I wanted to see his

promise of fealty. No words were spoken, but I knew that I could not

force his loyalty without recourse to the consuming fire of anger.

I looked at Mother. Her face showed serenity except in a tightness

in her eyes that showed she realized this was as much a test of me as of

the assembled Achaiean nobles. I did not have the force of personality

that my Father had enjoyed, nor even the martial respect of Bareth. I

had even surrendered my outward manhood to a disguise unthinkable for a

warrior of Achaiea. What made me think I was worthy to be monarch?

Queen Selay's blue eyes held my gaze, calm and untroubled. She

had confidence in me. They invited me to look within myself for the

solution with a message that was almost audible.

Invited.

Look within myself.

I remembered the time when she had impressed her personality on me

and that the sensation I had experienced was not that of her mind coming

to mine, but of mine going to hers.

All this introspection took place within the space of two heartbeats.

I looked back at Sutherland, took his gnarled, scarred hands in my soft

ones, and offered him a look into my mind with a bridge formed of the

white-cold power.

His eyes widened in surprise. No other ruler of Achaiea had ever

possessed the power that allowed me to merge my mind with his. It gave

us each insights into the other, an enduring bridge not made of words.

When the time came for the words, there was no resistance.

"Baron Sutherland, do you swear fealty to Achaiea and to her Monarch?

Do you swear to lay your fortune at her feet and if need be, to sacrifice

your life on the altar of her protection?"

"I do," he replied strongly. Strangely perhaps, almost like a

marriage vow, but perhaps not so strangely at that. The loyalty we owed

each other was no less sacred that that of husband and wife.

The rest of the oaths proceeded normally until the time came for Hugh

of Sandars, Chamberlain of the realm to swear his own fealty. I opened my

mind to him while searching his and found a different sort of resistance.

Hugh was so committed to the preservation of Achaiea that he could find no

room in his heart for a separate loyalty, even to the one who wore the

crown. It was not that he didn't want to serve me, but he was honestly

concerned with the potential for a conflict between my best interests and

those of the realm. It troubled him that he might be forced to choose and

so be forsworn to one or the other.

That conflict provided me with a lever into his mind. He wanted an

honorable resolution to his internal conflict, and I could use that desire

to impress compliance just as Mother had impressed femininity on me once

given an inroad into my mind. I could feel the power forming about me

as I readied a probe into Hugh's mind and I knew it would be successful.

Then I drew my hands back from his.

"No, I will not do this," I told Mother.

No one else really knew what I was talking about. A few probably

thought I was refusing Hugh's oath but I couldn't address their concern

right at that moment.

Mother knew Hugh from before I was born. She had selected him for

my tutor though neither he nor I really enjoyed that relationship. I knew

without proof that she knew exactly what was troubling me.

Yet she said nothing. She just left me to determine how to proceed,

the same small tightness in her eyes indicating another, perhaps even

more important test.

I turned back to Hugh. "Lord Chamberlain, will you step aside with

me for a moment?"

He nodded, of course, and we stepped into a small side room.

"Hugh," I said in a familiarity I hadn't used for ten years, "do you

trust me?"

"Yes, Your Highness," he replied.

"No, Hugh, not Highness. Do you trust ME?"

"I don't even know who you are," he said softly.

"Do you think the clothes I wear change who I am?" I asked.

"It's not the clothes. You have been acting strangely ever since

you decided to attempt this masquerade."

"Do you know why?"

"No, though it has given me more reason to believe that your Mother

may truly be a witch," he admitted uncomfortably.

"She is, of a sort," I admitted in my turn, which brought his breath

to a long halt.

"She has a power of mind that allowed her to teach me what I needed

to know for this masquerade. I learned it all in a few moments when she

opened her mind to mine. Do you believe it?"

He nodded slowly, a light dawning in his eyes as he cast his memory

back over their decades together, resolving conflicts within the context

of this new reality.

"I have that same power," I claimed bluntly.

He nodded again, even more slowly. No fear, but some suspicion

lurked in his eyes.

"I could have used it to force you to be loyal to me," I claimed

further.

He nodded once again.

"Do you know why I did not?" I asked.

"Because you are your father's child as well as your mother's," he

answered obliquely. He saw the confusion on my face and continued.

"Your father, King Andros, was the most honorable man I have ever

known. He listened to your mother's advice and followed it almost always.

But I think if he had the power you describe, he would not have used it.

He always remembered that he might make a mistake and required honesty

from those he respected, even before obedience."

I nodded, knowing that there was more unsaid.

"I'm not sure your mother has that same humility," he concluded.

"Perhaps not, but she has required all the nobles to swear fealty to

me, not to herself," I reminded him.

This brought a new look into his eyes, one of deeper examination of

his memories.

I offered him a resolution to his internal conflict. "I think Mother

will do whatever it takes to restore Achaiean rule. She is harder than

Father regardless of her outer feminine softness. Yet in her own way,

she honors him as well by working to ensure Andros' blood retains the

throne. It may not be humility which constrains her, perhaps the oppo-

site. She may have the pride to believe she can accomplish any goal.

It is just that her goal is focused on Andros' memory and on Achaiea,

not on herself.

"And your goal?" he asked, a sharper look in his eyes as he returned

from his memories.

"To restore Achaiea," I declared.

"Just that?" he demanded further.

"Do you think I would dress as I do if I were worried about my own

future?" I asked in turn. "The circle of those who know Cherysse is

expanding further and further. I will never be respected as Deacon,

even if the High Canyon invaders leave. But they will leave!"

The intensity of this final claim surprised even me, though not as

much as Hugh's next action. He knelt before me and held out his hands to

mine. I took them, and without my urging he swore the oath of fealty.

Though I used no power to reinforce it, I saw in his eyes a commitment as

great as in any whose mind I had touched. For the first time, I knew that

I really would rule in Achaiea.

Chapter 10 - First Blood

Even Queen Selay was surprised by the expressions of friendship

that Hugh and I wore when we re-entered the Council chamber. I could see

a question in her eyes, but also acceptance that if I was satisfied, she

would accept whatever had happened. That was enormously satisfying,

especially coming on the heels of Hugh's true acceptance of me as well. I

smiled my gratitude to her then took my place back at the table.

Though we had spent an inordinate amount of time on trivial issues

and then had confirmed the fealty oaths as well, there were still real

issues to discuss. We needed to decide how to meet Kragdle's demands for

what amounted to tribute (couched in terms of mutual sharing of skills,

though the sharing appeared to be all one way). Food and water were

hardly worth transporting though specific delicacies would make the

journey. Kragdle, to his credit, was more interested in our techniques

with metal working, with medicine, and with book publishing. These were

intellectual property that were at the same time easiest to transport

and, to us, most valuable.

We were not quite openly rebellious. If called to account for our

decision, we had superficial justification that the plans for full trans-

fer were scheduled so that artisans in High Canyon would be able to under-

stand the steps. In actual fact, we held back the true secrets totally,

showing activity without compromising our advantage. If you don't know

what you don't know, you can't tell what you're not being told.

It took all day. In fact, the meeting continued well past its

appointed hour so supper was scheduled for after sunset rather than be-

fore. I suppose this was best since we somehow never got around to tel-

ling those from High Canyon and so Lyonidas must have been waiting to be

summoned to dinner while I stood alone on my balcony, watching the sunset.

It was a curiously grey sunset. The color just leeched out of the

world as darkness fell. That must have been what made me feel so lonely.

That must have been the reason my heart was so heavy when I finally turned

to descend the stairs.

Lyonidas did his best to lighten the mood at supper. He described

his sparring with Reynal in terms that were mostly self-deprecating,

but I noticed that Reynal was sporting a swollen eye while Lyonidas was

unmarked. I had never really seen personal combat among the High Can-

yonites and wondered if it somehow reflected their amorphous campaign style.

Drayson, the sole Achaiean warrior invited to the head table, took

advantage of a break in Lyonidas' report to offer a suggestion to Reynal.

"General Reynal, if you wore a more effective helm you could protect

yourself from such injuries as you display."

"A warrior does not protect, a warrior attacks," Reynal sneered.

Drayson bristled, "A warrior exists to protect his nation and

people!"

"The people ARE the warriors!" Reynal declared, getting louder.

About this time I was wondering if Lyonidas would step in but when I

looked at him he was looking at me, of all people. I mean, it was nice to

have his attention but did he expect me to do something?

Perhaps he expected me to rein in the Achaiean knight as though it

were his fault they were arguing. Well, I wasn't going to do it. Drayson

and I had sworn fealty. Reynal was an interloper.

Nonetheless, I interrupted them. In my (actually Mother's) sweetest

voice, a real simper, I asked, "General Reynal, have you seen my kitten?"

"Huh, what?" he replied, unwilling to be distracted from his poten-

tial foe.

"My little kitten, Wraith. She was so attracted to you, today. I'm

just sure that if I can't find her, she'll find her way to you."

"A cat? Attracted to me?" he snorted. Then suspicion flared in

his eyes as he realized I might use the cat to irritate him whether the

cat wished it or not.

I stood up, and nodded to Lyonidas. "Well, it's been a while since

I've checked on her. I suppose I should go do that, and I have my evening

studies. If Milord Regent will excuse me?"

He nodded gravely, though the twinkle in his eyes gave away his

appreciation for my sharp-edged tease. My pout sent him a message that he

should have handled this himself, but since he didn't I would. I was not

really happy about this. We were in a strange limbo relationship with our

invaders. They had returned most of their horde to High Canyon and we

could probably overwhelm those who were left. However, they had our

promise not to reinitiate hostilities. Instead, we were in a sort of

unwelcome guest situation where we had duties and they had claims. None-

theless, guests had duties, too. I decided I'd make sure they remembered

that.

"General," I turned to Reynal, pure sweet honey dripping from my

voice, overdone enough even he knew it was fake, "if I can't find my

kitten, could I count on you for help in searching for her?"

"Um, well, I have, uh, other duties this evening," he claimed.

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, I guess that cuts your supper short as

well, then," I offered false sympathy. I also made it clear that his

claim that he wouldn't have time to help me meant he didn't have time to

sit around arguing.

He looked at Lyonidas, who nodded, his mouth showing continued

gravity, his eyes sparkling even brighter. Without another word, Reynal

left the table.

As I turned to depart myself, Queen Selay took this moment to put

her own mark on the evening. "Julia, please accompany her."

Julia's face fell at the her lost opportunity to be alone with Lyoni-

das, though of course the room remained nearly full and Strane was her

theoretical escort. Still, Mother was clearly working to keep both of us

from our tall Regent for a while.

Those few days set the tone for the next few weeks, and then months.

Queen Selay, with the Chamberlain, really ran the kingdom while Lyonidas

and Reynal tried to accelerate the transfer of knowledge from our crafts-

men to their homeland.

Perhaps once or twice a week, Lyonidas would join me on the balcony

for the sunset. We just talked though, of inconsequential matters. Most-

ly I avoided his eyes so that he couldn't see the longing in mine. Mother

never again left Julia and me alone in the bathing chamber. Yet, when I

looked in Julia's eyes I dreamed I saw a longing there as well. I felt

pulled in directions I didn't understand and withdrew into a quieter

personality not so directly a copy of Mother.

One morning as the seasons turned later into fall, when Julia and I

moved from our baths into the dressing room we saw Mother dressed in a

deep red gown instead of her constant black. Other gowns were laid out as

well, the blue one I had worn the day I became Cherysse and a beautiful

dark green one that was obviously intended for Julia.

Julia ran to her dress with joyful exultation, giggling with her

attendants as she caressed the soft, rich fabric. I just looked at

Mother.

"Is the period of mourning over so soon?" I asked.

"It has been three months," she confirmed.

I realized I had been in shock the first time I had worn the dress,

too overcome with the situation and the fresh impression of Mother's

personality to really understand the beauty of the gown she had selected

for me. It was every bit as enticing as the sleek black gown I had worn

the evening that Lyonidas kissed me. Perhaps more. It certainly fit as

well. Without the constant control of my steel guardian it would never

have closed about me. Yet, it had light-hearted touches in decorating

accents that had been absent in the elegance of the darker dress. When I

was fully dressed, I swept my flowing skirts back and forth before the

mirror, relishing in the wide swirl. A twirl around revealed that the

dress was cut full in the hem, allowing a surprising amount of petticoat

to show when my motion provided the energy. It was a dress made for

dancing.

This brought me up short. Dancing? With whom? Flirting with

Lyonidas to keep him off balance was one thing. That was duty. But

looking forward to dancing just because I was in a beautiful dress? What

justified that? I had still only been kissed twice, once by Lyonidas

(well, all right, he kissed me more than once, but only on one occasion),

and once by Julia (well, I had actually kissed her). Both had given rise

to strong responses within me, but strongly different as well. I couldn't

decide which one was wrong, but it didn't seem that both could be right.

Julia, on the other hand, seemed to have no concerns at all. She

had been dutifully somber at least on public occasions, but her internal

energy could not be contained forever.

"Oh, Your Majesty, could we have a party tonight? Please?" she

begged.

Even Mother was not immune to Julia's charms. I knew if she asked

something of me that way, I would give her the keys to the kingdom itself.

Mother merely smiled though, and nodded.

The rest of the day was spent in preparation for the celebration.

Formal, official mourning was over. For those maidens who had not lost

loved ones in the war, all mourning was over and they were free to get on

with their lives. I suspected our castle was not the only dwelling hos-

ting a part that night.

When we were finally ready Mother sent Amy to inform Lyonidas. Some

little time later we heard a knock at the door, followed by Amy's

entrance. Lyonidas followed her through the door with casual ease until

he saw us. Then he froze in midstep, a look of wonder spreading over his

face.

Resuming his motion, he glided up to where Julia and I stood, stopped

with his hands on his hips and let his gaze drift languidly from the floor

to our carefully waved hair. Although his words were supposedly to

Mother, it seemed as though he were talking to himself.

"Fire and sunlight, green forests and deep blue sea. Your Majesty,

it is only with greater self-control than I can believe I possess that I

do not issue another decree. Maidens of such surpassing beauty should

always wear colorful gowns. Not that even these gowns can match these

maidens."

His eyes had tried to take in both Julia and I simultaneously, in the

end flickering back and forth between us. As he finished he was looking

at me and for some reason I wanted his attention to remain with me.

"Milord Regent, I seem to remember at least one black gown that

seemed to meet your standards for a maiden's attire."

He refused to be cowed, grinning instead, "Yes, but that was so

long ago!"

"Not so long that I have forgotten," I whispered.

"Nor have . . ." he tried to reply, interrupted by Julia.

"May we go eat?" she complained. "I'm hungry."

Mother contained her own grin and looked to Lyonidas with an upraised

brow.

He nodded to her, bowed low to Julia and then to me before

offering his arm to the Queen.

Our escorts sorted out almost as before. However Drayson's fiancee,

Yvina, had pleaded illness and Olrin, the High Canyonite had claimed duty

of some sort or another. Our procession then was; Queen Selay with Lyoni-

das, Strane with me, and Drayson with Julia.

We met General Reynal with Duchess Amity near the dining hall. She

seemed to cling to him more and more lately, never standing straight and

tall. At least, not when anyone from High Canyon was around.

The meal itself was as much a harvest feast as an ordinary dinner.

Though our nation had lost much in the war, still, there was enough for a

sumptuous meal. We had introduced those from High Canyon to a wider

variety of spices than they had been accustomed to, which required a

correspondingly wide variety of dishes to take full advantage of their

impacts to taste. It was almost a treasure hunt, finding the gems of

delicate sensation among the fires of wildly-spiced concoctions. The

first bite was always tentative, the next intake divided almost equally

between another bite and a quick gulp of cooling liquid.

Of course, Julia and I could only taste a few bites of each course,

constrained by our garments to almost-fully-compressed stomachs. The men,

on the other hand, ate hugely and imbibed even more hugely on the fine

beers from the year's harvest. Finally though, even this great meal was

done.

At a nod from Queen Selay attendants cleared some of the lower

tables. The musicians that had been providing gentle music during our

meal now switched to lively dance tunes. Lyonidas was on his feet as soon

as they started to play.

"Your Majesty, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" he asked

politely.

"I think not," she smiled. "At least, not until the musicians burn

off a little of their present energy."

"Then, My Princess," he smiled to me. I wanted to say yes but dan-

cing had never been a favorite activity for me. I was too slight to

provide a suitable partner for most of the noblewomen in the palace and

looked like a silly child whenever I tried. An automatic refusal sent a

ripple through my hair before I even realized that I would now be expected

to be the slimmer, shorter partner.

"Won't someone dance with me?" Lyonidas appealed to the sky, or at

least the ceiling.

"I will!" Julia called, standing so quickly that Strane had no time

to assist her.

Lyonidas' grin widened as he offered his arm to my redheaded rival.

They made a lovely couple. Julia's bright energy found a kindred

soul in Lyonidas' easy humor. He knew our dances well. As I watched

them, I settled ever more deeply into my seat. That could have been me,

I realized. Should have been me, my heart shouted!

They danced several quick, light airs before returning to their

seats, breathless and laughing.

Lyonidas took his seat next to me and looked at me in my ill humor.

He leaned closer and whispered, "Do you remember what happened the last

time I saw you pout like that?"

I jerked upright in my chair and looked at him in horror. He

wouldn't dare kiss me here! Would he? Maybe?

He laughed at the complex emotions I knew must have been playing

across my face then teased, "Perhaps you should have accepted my

invitation to dance."

"Perhaps," I replied, my response more reflex than clear decision.

"I mean, uh, now that, um, my, uh, meal is settled."

"Is it settled, then?" he asked.

"Yes, I believe it is," I answered, letting my eyes meet his clearly

for the first time in a very long time.

He stood again, moving to assist me with my chair. I rose to my

feet with shaking knees, still torn between desires that seemed to have

no common ground. At that instant though, the compelling urge I had

was to dance with my handsome escort.

The musicians continued to play light-hearted tunes. It was amazing

to me how expressive my gown was. As was proper, I gathered up the full

skirts in one hand as Lyonidas took my other and placed his hand upon my

waist. He was a strong lead, letting me know with sure pressures on hand

and hip what motion he intended and intended for me. I surrendered to his

guidance, responding as much to the music as when I played my own instru-

ments.

It was wonderfully cheerful. As we gained familiarity with each

other he began to initiate even more adventurous motions, finally whirling

me under his high arm as I lightly moved first away, then back to his

touch. I had dropped my skirts with the motion and my twirl had lifted

them high enough to cause a gasp from the crowd, followed by a instant of

twittering laughter. But I didn't care, the music and my partner's enjoy-

ment of it had released me from cares at least for the moment.

I had long learned not to believe in coincidences when Mother was

in the room, so I felt only an instant of surprise when the next tune the

band selected was slower, and much more intimate. Lyonidas allowed me to

once again gather my skirts into my free hand, then snaked his own hand

farther around my back than before, bringing us almost into contact.

"Please, Milord Regent, it is not proper," I whispered. But he

didn't relent. At least, not without a price.

"Only on one condition," he warned. "You must call me Lyonidas

from now on."

"Can there be no exceptions?" I smiled.

He pulled me even tighter, now our bodies were touching, lightly it

is true but the pressures felt warmer than summer sunshine.

"What exceptions would you like?" he smiled. It was a most gentle

smile, except deep within his dark eyes where lurked a message I wasn't

sure I wanted to decipher.

"Perhaps, my Prince, we can think of something." Now it was my turn

to smile, my turn to let deeper thoughts show through the window of my

blue eyes.

"That's not a bad start," he grinned in acceptance.

I let a smile linger on my own lips to make sure we could pretend to

be speaking of inconsequential matters. "A start toward what destina-

tion?"

"What destination would you like?"

"Milord, um, my Lyonidas, you are master here."

"I like that even better," he smiled even wider. "But my father's

warriors provide no authority over a maiden's heart."

"Is that the destination you desire?"

"Is it within reach?" he asked gently, stopping in the middle of our

dance.

Reality crashed in on me with heartless power. In all my life,

even on the day of our defeat, I don't believe I wanted anything more

than to be able to tell him that my heart was within his reach. But

that impulse died before birth, victim to a masquerade that was a greater

sacrifice than even my worst nightmares could have imagined.

Without further word I fled from the room, tears filling my eyes

beyond capacity and spilling down my cheeks. My sorrow knew no limits

that I could control and spilled into anger. Anger at Mother, who had

forced emotions into my heart that had no true place there. Anger at

Lyonidas, who represented the cause of our distress. Anger at myself,

for weakness and for being a thousand kinds of fool. Yet my anger did

nothing to stem the flow of tears.

When I reached my room, I threw myself on my bed still fully gowned.

My pillow worked to catch my tears, supplemented by the soft nose of

Wraith who tried to comfort the inconsolable. Only a knock at my door

shocked me enough to regain some small measure of my control.

"Yes, who is it?"

"It is Minah, Your Highness. I have come to help you undress."

My beautiful gown was rumpled and tear stained and somehow that was

too much to bear. I had no one I could cherish freely, nothing of true

beauty when even my gowns were borrowed from Mother. But I had enough

ugliness in my life, and didn't need to destroy what beauty was there.

"Very well," I called, rising from my bed.

Minah bustled into the room with emotionless efficiency, neither

noticing nor condemning my loss of control. I was released from the

beautiful blue dress without further damage and handed a dressing gown to

ward off the autumn chill.

"Your Highness," she said quietly, "I saw something I think should be

reported, but I'm not sure just how or to whom."

She knew who I really was, of course. Her manner told me this was

really a matter of policy for the realm, properly handled only by myself,

or Queen Selay, or possibly the Chamberlain. With a glance, I invited her

to continue.

"A few minutes before I came in here, I saw Yvina, Drayson's fiancee,

heading for the balcony two levels below where you watch the sunset."

"Yes, perhaps she wanted some fresh air," I said, not seeing any

significance to her observation.

"Yes, Highness, but as I reached this corridor I glanced back and

saw Olrin, the man from High Canyon, ascending the same stairs."

"Indeed. It was probably a coincidence."

"Perhaps, Highness, but it is not the first time I've seen that

coincidence. It seems to occur whenever Yvina feels ill."

"I had not noticed," I mused. "Does anyone else know of this coin-

cidence?"

"Not that I know of. Only your apartments are down this hall now,

among the Achaiean women. All the other lady's attendants use the other

stairs."

I stood up and started to pace about the room. A part of me wanted

to ask Mother for guidance, or Hugh. But a bigger part of me just wanted

to get back at the intruders from High Canyon. I had already known that

Drayson was not a terribly bright person. It was unlikely that he knew of

Yvina's actions. She, on the other hand, was quite sharp. Yet if she

were betraying an Achaiean because she thought her prospects were better

with someone from High Canyon, she was sadly mistaken. In some respects,

correcting her betrayal was even more important to me than getting back at

them for my own tribulation.

"Minah," I said judiciously, providing a rationale for what might

soon be a very important conflict, "it has been some time since Yvina

has been checked on by her fiance. Would you go and tell Drayson I am

concerned about her? If you know where she might be, you could tell him

that, too."

Minah's eyes had a shrewdness that made it clear she knew exactly

what I intended to happen. With a nod at her orders, she left. I sat

down to my studies, waiting patiently now that the wheels were in motion.

It was perhaps a half an hour later when I heard the commotion in the

hallway. Minah knocked on my door and entered breathlessly.

"Sir Drayson has just killed Olrin of High Canyon! He found Olrin

with Yvina, his intended, and killed him in a fit of rage! Milord Regent

has imprisoned Sir Drayson and intends a trial tomorrow."

"Imagine that," I said quietly.

Chapter 11 - Pulling Strings

The mood was decidedly more sober the next morning. Queen Selay and

I were in our accustomed places when Lyonidas entered the throne room. He

walked directly to the King's throne and paused, looked at Queen Selay

with a grimly determined expression, then turned and sat.

Queen Selay stood immediately, but before she could speak, Lyonidas

said, "Sit, Madame, or leave. But today I judge the life of a man. That

is a solemn responsibility and you should consider it a sign of respect

for this furniture that I choose to take on myself, at least for this

trial, the full position of king. Tell my father if you will, but today I

will sit."

This time, Lyonidas had the power of personality. For one of the few

times in her life, Queen Selay was overmatched. She sat again without a

word, though her eyes showed more worry than before.

As well they might. As did my own. My frustrated impulse of the

night before had resulted in the death of one man and it was clear that

Lyonidas considered the very life of another hung in today's balance.

Reynal had entered with Lyonidas, almost lost in the power of the

confrontation between the Regent and Queen. Now Lyonidas nodded to his

own General instead of our Chamberlain. Reynal responded by waving at a

High Canyon guard at a side door. In a moment, Drayson entered, surroun-

ded by four High Canyon warriors for once moving in a structured forma-

tion.

Drayson had not been harmed as far as we could tell. He was unarmed,

including stripping off his armor, but no signs of abuse or even fighting

showed on his face. He also walked with his accustomed long stride, not

apparently favoring any hidden injuries. His guards marched him to stand

before the thrones.

Once again, Lyonidas spoke before Queen Selay had a chance.

"Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you stand accused of murder. How do you

plead?"

Drayson didn't reply immediately. He looked at Queen Selay and then

at me. She met his eyes with calm dignity but I knew my own eyes were

showing horror and guilt. After a long enough pause to accept his state-

ment of loyalty to her, not to the Regent, Queen Selay nodded at Drayson.

"Not guilty!" he declared.

"You were seen standing over the body, your sword red with Olrin's

blood. Yvina testifies that you killed him," Reynal charged. Apparently

he was going to serve as prosecutor.

"Oh, I killed the coward," Drayson declared, "but it wasn't murder.

He was attacking my fiancee."

"She doesn't say that," Reynal denied.

"She's afraid of what you honorless scum will do to her if she tells

the truth," claimed Drayson.

Reynal bristled at the insult but maintained his tone when he spoke,

"Describe the situation you encountered that led you to believe Olrin was

attacking the woman."

"That 'woman' is my fiancee," Drayson growled.

"Describe the situation," Reynal repeated, the very flatness of his

tone promising no relief from his questions.

"I went to look for Yvina, who had said she was feeling poorly. A

servant told me she was on a balcony getting some fresh air, so I went

there. When I got close, I heard that she was not alone. Her voice

was muffled, as though she couldn't speak clearly, so I drew my sword and

moved quietly to find the reason."

Drayson's voice started to climb with rage and outrage and righteous

anger as he continued, "He had her forced against the balcony ledge and

was attacking her! As soon as I saw what was going on, I yelled at him.

He turned, reached for his own sword, and I stuck him like the pig he

was."

This caused a flush to climb Reynal's neck and an angry stirring

among Drayson's anonymously-cowled guards. My horror was growing as I

realized how I had used my knight's arrogance against Olrin, just as

surely as it worked against his own safety now.

It had always seemed from their amorphous fighting style that the

High Canyonites were undisciplined. Reynal proved the lie of that by

waiting until his flush subsided before speaking again. When he did

speak there was a sly softness to his voice.

"Tell us, where were Yvina's hands when you came upon them."

"What?"

"Where were Yvina's hands when you came upon them?"

"I don't know what you mean," Drayson replied, a suspicious look

on his face.

"Were they on Olrin's chest, pushing him away? Were they pinned

behind her body? Were they pounding on his shoulders? Where were her

hands?"

"I don't know, I guess they were, uh, around his . . . neck," Drayson

said. Even as he spoke, I could see realization seep into his body. It

sagged from his previous proud carriage to one of helpless, betrayed

shame.

Reynal was now brusque efficiency. "Did Olrin draw his sword com-

pletely and attack you with it?"

"No." Drayson's voice was almost too quiet to be heard.

Reynal was through. He turned to Lyonidas and said, "Milord Regent,

it is clear that while he may not have thought through things clearly,

Drayson did indeed murder Olrin. The woman was not being attacked and did

not need to be defended. Olrin had no chance to defend himself. I

suggest that there was no treason on the part of this man, only misguided

passion."

No treason on Drayson's part, perhaps, but what of me? To whom

did I owe my loyalty? Drayson was a weapon no less than the sword he had

carried and I had turned a weapon of Achaiea against a man of High Canyon

in defiance of our peace agreement. It had not been Queen Selay, nor any

other, the responsibility was mine.

As he intoned the words of doom, the face of Lyonidas was as sad, in

a different way, at the demands of duty as we had been when our men were

executed. "Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you are found guilty of murder.

You will be hung outside the gates tomorrow at dawn."

"NO!" Drayson roared, no longer slumped.

"No!" all the Achaieans cried, horror stricken.

"No," Queen Selay said quietly, her voice somehow cutting through all

the others.

Lyonidas looked at her with anger, ready to demand obedience. In-

stead of defiance though, he found calm determination.

"A Knight of the realm cannot be executed like a common peasant," she

explained. "He has the right to trial by combat. If you refuse this

right, you refuse to abide by the peace agreement."

Strangely, Lyonidas looked at me. I wasn't sure why. Maybe he

thought my scholarly studies were relevant. In any event it was clear

his question was for me.

"What does a man's martial ability have to do with his guilt or

innocence?"

"Milord Regent," I replied formally, "Drayson is not just a man,

he is of noble rank. The responsibilities of our nobility derive from

the fundamental tenet that our positions are the result of God's will.

Any judgment that offers conflict with God's will is blasphemous."

"And what if an ungodly man just happens to be the best fighter

around?"

"God would not let it be so, at least, not enough to overcome our

formal trial by combat."

"'Formal' trial by combat. You people have ritual for everything."

Now his exasperation started to show.

"Perhaps, but it has served us well for generations," I replied.

Lyonidas slumped back in the King's throne and muttered, "Very well,

describe your 'formal' trial by combat."

Instead of continuing, I nodded to the Chamberlain. Hugh stepped

forward and repeated the formula.

"The accused, being of noble rank, has the right to trial by combat.

He can choose any personal weapons, but all must be on his person at the

start of the combat. The King, uh, that is, I suppose, the Regent will

pick a champion to face the accused. If the champion is vanquished, the,

um, ruler will choose two champions. If they are vanquished, the ruler

will choose four champions. If they are vanquished, the accused has

demonstrated that God is on his side, and is exonerated."

Lyonidas had perked up a bit as this ritual was explained. Clearly,

we were not letting Drayson off easily. A gleam showed in his eyes and I

remembered Reynal's claim that the people, at least of High Canyon, were

the warriors and did not need protection. Our foes were a martial race,

not afraid of fair combat, confident in their own abilities. A duel to

the death was not uncommon among them, often for less lofty reasons. This

was looking like something reasonably similar.

"Who has been the King's champion in the past?" Lyonidas asked.

"The King has been his own champion, since Andros ascended to the

throne. He felt that the one who passes judgment should be prepared to

answer to God for that judgment. There have been no capital cases against

nobility since his death."

"And before that?" Lyonidas asked further.

Now Hugh was a bit embarrassed. "Well, in ancient times, only one

champion faced the accused. Six generations ago, then King Alcon chose a

champion, as he was himself aged. The accused dispatched the champion.

King Alcon then declared that two would face the accused. They, too, were

dispatched. The King declared that four would face the accused, who was

then vanquished. In the time since, no accused has ever survived to face

more than a pair of champions."

"So the King was not above helping God out a little, huh?" Lyonidas

mused.

Hugh was shocked at the Regent's attitude, "The King is God's chosen

ruler! It is only right that he should work on God's behalf."

Lyonidas drawled his response out enough to show his disdain for our

"civilized" rationalizations, "Riiight."

The tall foreign prince stood up and walked to face Drayson. There

was no languid ease in his carriage now, instead, he seemed to flow down

the steps like a shadow, "Very well, Drayson, you shall have your combat."

Before Lyonidas could proceed, Reynal called out, "Milord Regent, I

demand to be your champion!"

Never taking his eyes from Drayson, Lyonidas dismissed the claim,

"You demand nothing, General. You heard their tradition, the one who

makes the judgment defends it. That's just fine with me."

Finally breaking eye contact with Drayson, Lyonidas turned back to me

once again, "Is there an official time for this duel?"

I just shook my head.

"Very well, it shall be at noon, today, in the field where your heirs

were executed," announced Lyonidas. Then he turned away and drew the rest

of the High Canyon contingent with him, including even Drayson's guards.

They left without a backward glance.

Drayson stood there uncertainly. Then he drew himself up and bowed

formally to the Queen before departing toward his chambers.

The remaining Achaieans in the throne room started to stir as though

to leave, but Queen Selay looked sharply at the Chamberlain, who just as

sharply called everyone to order.

"There is yet another trial to be conducted today," Hugh announced.

Now Yvina was brought forward. Her escorts were Achaiean, but they

were as clearly guards as those who had accompanied Drayson earlier. She

was brought to stand before Queen Selay and though Yvina's face showed

defiance, with chin high and shoulders back, her eyes showed real fear.

Queen Selay began. "So, Yvina, what have you to say for yourself?"

Mother was apparently going to function as her own prosecutor, though

Yvina's specific crimes were unclear.

"Nothing needs to be said," Yvina claimed.

"Tell me, Yvina, where were your hands when Drayson found you and

Olrin together?"

"My hands?" Yvina said, looking down at them without comprehension.

Yet the question worked as well on her as it had on Drayson. Light dawned

behind those dark eyes as she realized that significance of her position.

One does not embrace an attacker.

Then Mother asked yet another telling question, one that I didn't

think she would even know to ask, "Tell me, Yvina, how many other times

had you met Olrin on that balcony?"

Yvina looked at her Queen with real fright in her eyes now. Mother's

question had showed she knew that Yvina's betrayal of her betrothed had

not been a momentary passion, but a repeated decision. She had no re-

sponse beyond a sagging of shoulders that made her look like she was

shrinking somehow.

"You have caused the death of Olrin, and shortly the death of Dray-

son. Perhaps after Drayson kills Lyonidas, which will certainly reignite

the war. Now, what have you to say for yourself?"

"Nothing," she replied, lowering her head in an unknowing parody of

Drayson's earlier shame.

Instead of further questions of Yvina, Mother now turned to me.

"Princess Cherysse, what punishment do you think is fitting for one

who betrays a betrothed, resulting in the death of two men?"

Was she asking about Yvina, or about me? Had I betrayed my knight by

sending him into a situation I knew would result in death? I felt the

shame of my own part in this and I knew it showed. Yet there was a

further message in her question and in her actions. It appeared Mother

had been aware of Yvina's nocturnal excursions long before I was. I felt

her hidden hand had been in my back that night, pushing me to actions she

had foreseen. Was her question really an offer to judge herself, the

Queen who had been a part of this too?

The passions of the night before had burnt themselves out of my

heart. I considered my actions of the night before and realized that I

would do them again, if the situation presented itself. Do them with

cold logic as a means to eliminate a High Canyon invader. I saw that

message in Mother's eyes as well. We had used Drayson as though the

sword in his hand had been wrapped in our own smaller grip. And we had

broken that sword in the use, consumed it to our ends with ruthless

determination.

In that light, Yvina was no more than a tool herself. Since it

seemed to be up to me I decided that I had had enough of breaking tools,

though Yvina would certainly not be rewarded for her betrayal.

"Your Majesty, there is a small village we passed on an inspection

tour. A new blacksmith has moved to the village to replace one killed

in the war. That blacksmith has no family. It seems to me that one who

betrays a noble should not be given a chance to do so again. Perhaps she

can make amends by providing a family to a hard-working craftsman."

"Oh, no!" Yvina moaned softly. All her dreams of wealth and power

were to be replaced by years of drudgery. Yet I thought it was just. It

was clear that Mother had expected someone, somewhere to give her an

opportunity like this, knowing that some girl would find a man of High

Canyon exotically attractive, or perhaps just more suited to over-reaching

ambition. Still, Yvina had been the one weak enough to provide the

inevitable justification and her example must control the impulses of

others.

Queen Selay nodded her acceptance of my sentence, then nodded to the

Chamberlain as well. Another quiet nod and Yvina was escorted from the

throne room in eerie silence as though directed by some telepathic com-

munication that did indeed arise from witchcraft rather than simple human

understanding.

Chapter 12 - Pulling Heartstrings

"You used me!" I accused Mother as soon as we reached her private

quarters.

"Yes, dear," she sighed, "just as I said I would do."

Then she gently made the counteraccusation to which I was so vul-

nerable, "Just as you used Drayson."

"How did you know what everyone would do?" I asked.

"How did you know what Drayson would do?" she once again answered my

question with a question of her own. This time, though, she answered it.

"Actually, I didn't know for sure who would be involved. I just set the

stage so that someone would be. I'm sorry it's Drayson but it was nearly

inevitable that Yvina would be the one to betray an Achaiean."

"And what about me?"

She looked at me with soft, sad eyes, "I didn't set out to have you

involved in this. I actually expected it would be Julia or Duchess Amity

since you've been so withdrawn lately. But when I heard that Yvina and

Olrin were meeting on that balcony, I expected you would be the one to

arrange the confrontation."

"Why didn't you do it yourself?"

"Because this is not the only time someone from High Canyon will die.

If I am clearly involved in each death, Kragdle will eliminate me on that

basis. Even if, like this, there is no direct linkage."

"Am I to be involved again?" I asked in sadness, yet resignation.

"I honestly don't know. Yet, if the opportunity arises, I will

expect you to do your part," then her voice softened, "as you have always

done your part, and more."

She moved to embrace me to offer comfort. In moments though, she was

sobbing with her own guilt. For some reason, though I was much more

closely involved, this relieved me of some of my emotional burden and I

ended up comforting her.

For only a few short moments. All too soon it was time to witness

the will of God, as reflected in the trial by combat. It was too far for

us to walk in our court dresses so Hugh had arranged for a carriage. He

handed us up into the soft seats and we rode out like we were going to a

picnic. At this picnic though, the only course was blood.

Drayson was already there. He had arrayed himself in armor that I

knew would have prevented me from even standing upright. His sword was

only of medium length, but it was heavy and I didn't want to think of

holding enough shield to stop it even if I didn't have to wear the other

armor. He looked like a fantastic dragon, all scales and heavy mass.

The High Canyon contingent had erected a pavilion tent nearby.

As we waited for noon, Reynal himself came over to our carriage from the

tent.

"Your Highness," he said, speaking to me rather than Mother, "Milord

Regent requests your company for a moment before the trial."

I looked at Mother but her eyes held no answers, so with Reynal's

help I stepped down from the carriage. It was only a few paces to the

tent and when I entered I found Lyonidas alone.

He seemed not to have dressed for the fight. His clothes were the

simple tan trousers and tunic that most of High Canyon wore below their

disguising cloaks. Yet he wore no armor at all, not even heavy leather.

He had no shield in the tent and the only sword was a thin, light blade,

albeit longer than the one that Drayson carried.

"I wanted to see you before the fight because you might not want to

see me after," he began.

What could I say to that? If he were maimed, it might be more likely

that he would not want to see me. Actually, considering Drayson's size

and armor against Lyonidas in his tunic and thin sword, it was likely I'd

only be seeing him in his coffin. My impression must have shown in my

face because his own showed a rueful grin.

"Oh, not for that reason. I will not be wounded or dead. I will

execute Drayson as surely as a noose or the headsman's axe. If that

satisfies your sense of honor, so be it."

"No, it is because I will kill him that I wanted to see you now.

After, you might hate me, if you don't already."

"I don't hate you," I admitted quietly. I didn't know what I felt,

but hate was certainly not it.

"You've never let me near you since that first sunset together."

"It would not be proper," and that was an understatement of classic

proportions.

"I'm not too terribly concerned about what's proper," he said softly

as he moved closer to me.

When he reached me his arms slid around my waist like entwining

snakes and I felt myself pulled once again to form my body to his. He

bent me backward slightly, enough that I had to look up at him and needed

to put my own arms around his neck for support. His warm lips caressed

mine so softly that I lifted mine in reflex to confirm the touch. Then

one of his hands stole up my back to twine in my hair and the sensual feel

of it combined with the warmth of his kiss to drive my traitorous heart

into frantic responsiveness, clutching at him as though my world would end

when the kiss ended.

It was nearly so. When he released me I had so little breath that I

swayed where I stood, clutching now from physical need more than emo-

tional. Somewhere in there my eyes opened (when had they closed?) and I

saw his bemused grin from such a tantalizing close distance.

"Now I have an incentive to win," he smiled. "After that kiss I know

that you do not hate me. Promise me that you won't hate me when Drayson

lies dead."

"Oh, Lyonidas, don't do this. Drayson is a fearsome warrior. I

couldn't bear it if you were killed."

"Dear Cherysse, sweet Cherysse, fear only for Drayson. You have not

seen me fight."

It was not bragging, the way he said it. His voice had the confi-

dence that Hugh of Sandars would use to declare that the agenda for a

Council meeting had been accomplished. It was a simple fact within his

expertise and the entire idea of error was simply silly. Lyonidas

gathered up his inadequate sword and waved me out of his tent as casually

as if we were going to the picnic our carriage ride had suggested.

I was not nearly so casual. If Lyonidas had chosen to pursue a path

designed to create the most possible conflict within me, he could have

selected none more effective. Drayson was my vassal and I owed him my

loyalty. Lyonidas was my enemy and it was my duty to repel his land's

invasion of ours. But Lyonidas was also my . . what?

He escorted me back to the carriage and up beside Mother. I was

unaware of any of this, too lost in my internal turmoil to notice where

I was. She saw my confusion and let me sit for a moment, but she inter-

rupted my thoughts when the two men squared off.

"You had better watch this, dear."

I lifted my head to see the men approach each other, the one I owed

loyalty to, and the one I owed nothing to. Right? It was that easy,

simple, one was an Achaiean and one was from High Canyon. But dear God,

one was Lyonidas!

Drayson waited patiently, crouched behind his shield, his broadsword

cocked behind his shoulder for a slashing attack that I knew for a fact

could cut through a three-inch tree. It would take a leg or arm from

Lyonidas without even losing significant speed.

Lyonidas approached lightly, the leonine grace that his name promised

very evident in his gliding stride. It never seemed that all his weight

was on either foot, yet still he made swift progress toward his opponent.

I wanted to call out to Lyonidas, to warn him, but I couldn't. I

knew that Drayson had developed a devastating initial attack, taking an

unexpected short step to allow him to reach an opponent who still con-

sidered himself safe. I had seen him knock down strong fighters with that

first blow. In all the times I had watched, only King Andros and Prince

Tamor were strong enough to withstand the blow without being driven to

their knees, and only Bareth had ever fully avoided it.

But even Bareth had fallen victim to the move the first time he had

seen it.

As Lyonidas neared the deadly distance from Drayson, my eyes began to

fill with unwanted tears. This man whose touch in my hair could bring my

heart to my throat, whose kiss could steal my very life away and welcome

to it, would soon lie dead. Yet I could not warn him. Drayson was a son

of Achaiea, my vassal. I had to just watch as he executed a man my heart

did not know how to live without.

Drayson launched his attack. The quick short step and powerful swing

reached out for Lyonidas' knee.

Which wasn't there.

Lyonidas had shifted his position in a way that I didn't really un-

derstand. It hadn't looked like a real step, more of a shuffle, though

that word is entirely too graceless for the smooth flow. Instead of

suffering a destroyed knee, his own sword reached out to nick at Drayson's

arm through a small gap between armor sections. It looked trivial, but I

noticed a stain of blood begin to spread.

Drayson followed up his initial move with power and surprising speed.

Like a spring coiling and uncoiling, his sword would accelerate toward

Lyonidas, slow after it had swung past, then accelerate back. His shield

covered his body well and I knew why he had survived the recent war.

Yet, Lyonidas and Drayson's sword never seemed to be in the same

place at the same time. It sometimes looked as though the sword had

passed through Lyonidas like he was thick smoke, yet a part of my mind

registered the fact that Lyonidas had moved back, then forward behind the

stroke to make another stinging jab. None of Drayson's wounds were

serious but each drew its own toll of blood.

It might not even have mattered that Drayson was bleeding. No one

human could sustain for long the energy of Drayson's attack. Soon the

very weight of armor that protected him became a deceitful trap, slowing

him ever more. He tried to retreat, but no matter which way he faced,

Lyonidas was somehow able to reach in from another angle to strike once

more.

I knew it was over when I saw Drayson's shield arm droop for a

moment. He lifted it even before Lyonidas could take advantage of the

lapse, but he would soon be too tired to protect himself. I couldn't

bear to watch it, but I didn't dare turn away and betray my lack of con-

fidence in my soldier.

Mother saw my distress and leaned over, "It is hard, dear, I know,

but Drayson's sacrifice is no less part of winning Achaiea back than

was Bareth's or even King Andros'."

And so it was. When the time finally came that Drayson could no

longer defend himself, Lyonidas actually stepped back a few paces and

saluted the tired soldier with an elegant flourish. But his next stroke

unerringly found a hole in the armor under Drayson's sword arm that the

shield was just too low to protect. He collapsed like a falling tree,

dead of a burst heart before even the pull of the earth could claim him.

Lyonidas showed no pleasure at this. He saluted the dead man

once again, wiped his sword on Drayson's tunic in a ceremony I didn't

understand but which seemed more gracious than proud, then nodded to Queen

Selay and me. At her responsive nod, he turned back into his pavilion.

Mother settled back into her seat with heartbreaking heaviness,

closing her eyes immediately after catching the driver's attention to let

him know to return us to the castle. I felt much the same but I couldn't

tear my gaze away from the pavilion. Did I see Lyonidas watching as we

drove away, or had I just imagined it?

With eyes still closed, Mother said, "I think you need to visit our

people in North Vale for a short while, before the winter snows set in."

"Excuse me?" I replied.

"I think you should leave the castle for a while," she explained.

"And leave Lyonidas alone with Julia?" I heard my mouth cry.

Convicted by my own lips in more ways than words, I knew Mother was

right even as she denied the worry my heart had expressed.

"No, she will accompany you. It will be hard on you both, for you

will be imprisoned in your maiden's lovers until you return. Yet, I think

you must get away from Lyonidas for a time."

"Yes, Mother," I answered, then leaned back into my own seat.

Such a simple, dutiful response. In part, I was too torn by the con-

flict within me to argue, regardless of the topic. But I also knew she

was wise in her decision. I definitely was not ready for more time alone

with Lyonidas, no matter how much a part of me wanted the opportunity.

We went down to a less formal supper than most, yet more formal as

well. The day's trial had made everyone stiffly polite, using manners to

bridge over the trust that had been lost. Even in that I saw Mother's

hand. She did not want trust between Achaiea and High Canyon. Unlike our

typical practice, and this was a sign of that lack of trust, we women took

our places without formal escort, arriving at the dining room by our-

selves.

Lyonidas arrived shortly thereafter. I never knew if he went to our

rooms looking for us or had on his own decided to allow us to come by our-

selves. Regardless, as soon as he saw us already there he moved to his

own seat with his accustomed languid grace.

His eyes were solemn, though. The lazy humor that he often used to

conceal the sharpness of his wit was absent that evening. Julia, who had

not come to the . . . execution, was the only one showing strong emotion,

and her emotion was anger.

I saw her about to say something to Lyonidas, something hurtful, but

I put my hand on her arm to stop her. That almost earned me the attack

she had intended for Lyonidas, but when she saw my face she subsided.

Instead of a loudly-voiced insult, she leaned close to whisper to me but

her question was interrupted by Queen Selay.

"Milord Regent, I must beg a favor of you," she began.

A suspicious light came into his eyes. When he first arrived in our

castle I expect he would have extended an open promise at such a request.

Now though, he merely nodded.

"It is appropriate for a royal inspection of our new, key barony at

North Vale. The trip, especially at this time of year, will be somewhat

extended, perhaps even a month in duration. Princess Cherysse will go,

but the recent conflict has left us without appropriate officers for her

escort. I need to ask you to provide an officer from High Canyon."

"I will go myself," Lyonidas offered instantly.

"As you wish, Milord Regent," Queen Selay replied calmly, then con-

tinued, "but you, yourself have asked for reports on the new forging

process. Will you delay that activity until your return?"

"Oh, yes, and that involves General Reynal as well," Lyonidas remem-

bered. "He will be responsible for implementing the new procedure in High

Canyon."

"Very well, Strane shall lead the escort," Lyonidas decided without

further hesitation.

"As you wish," Queen Selay repeated, this time offering no concerns.

"Who else will go?" Julia asked, though her eyes were on me. I nod-

ded even as Mother announced the content of the party. It would consist

of myself, Julia, my servant Minah, and such soldiers as Strane felt

appropriate. Actually, that turned out to be the list only of those with

rank or significant responsibilities. In fact, when we would finally set

out the next day Julia and I each had several additional attendants.

Our impending departure put an additional damper on the mood of the

evening. We soon broke up. As we left, Queen Selay indicated that both

Julia and I were to accompany her.

When we reached Mother's chambers, she caught Greyshadow up into her

arms before speaking.

"Girls, I am sorry for doing this to you. I spent one extended jour-

ney in my maiden's lover when I still wore it, and it is not a pleasant

memory. You will need to help each other throughout the trip in most

demeaning and intimate duties that can nonetheless not be trusted to

anyone else. Are you prepared to do this?"

Of course, there could be only one answer. Julia and I nodded in

unrehearsed unison.

"Majesty, why are we doing this?" Julia asked.

"It is necessary for both of you to be out of the castle for a time,"

Mother began, but then she continued, "and there is now another reason.

Strane must not survive the trip."

This dramatic order was delivered with no more emotion than Queen

Selay had used to accept Lyonidas' decision to assign Strane to the duty.

It was as though it didn't matter to her and I realized that in large part

this was the case. Lyonidas had unknowingly passed sentence of death on

Strane by naming him to head our escort. Once again, Mother had set up

the situation through her claim of inadequate availability of Achaiean

commanders without targeting a specific individual.

Yet, it was no great stretch of the imagination to recognize that

Lyonidas had scarcely had a choice. His own officers were limited now

that Olrin was dead. Only Julia's face showed surprise at our new task.

God forgive me but I saw the necessity even as Mother was wording her

command.

"Do you have a plan for how we are to accomplish this?" I asked.

"Not specifically, but in general, yes," Queen Selay answered.

"Strane is obviously intended for Julia. I suggest you tease him

and Julia can defend him. It will appear as though his approaches are

finally meeting with some success. I think, Julia, you might even manage

to let him kiss you, as you allowed Lyonidas. I'm sure he will report

this."

Julia looked puzzled, "I don't understand."

Queen Selay sighed and began to speak, but I interrupted her with an

insight that I knew must be correct, "By the time this happens, or at

least soon after, the autumn rains will come to North Vale. After Strane

has an opportunity to report his progress, when no suspicion will fall on

you, he will slip on a wet stair or you will find it necessary to ask him

to fetch you something that requires him to go into the rain and he will

become ill."

Mother nodded, looking at me. Her eyes held a greater sadness than I

had seen at any time since her husband died. There was horror there as

well, and guilt. Not at the death of an invader, but at the death of the

innocence that had once been mine. I kept my own eyes strong with purpose

to let her know I accepted this duty as I had accepted the other strange

duties that had come my way. At this, the complex of emotions in her eyes

became too convoluted for me to follow even with our more-than-natural

closeness. I fancied I saw gratitude there, and perhaps even more respect

than had been typically present.

But it may have been more sadness, or a recognition of her own duty.

The next day dawned bright and clear, as though an omen for our

quest. The roads were passable for carriages at that time of year so we

would be able to travel in some comfort. Mother had prepared us that

morning with a most careful bathing session. We were shaved closely in

all areas that would be inaccessible once our journey began. Special oils

and lotions were kneaded into that soon-to-be-covered skin. I was as

comfortable as I had been since my masquerade began, just before she once

again locked the device behind me.

It took us four days to get there. My comfort level had fallen dra-

matically. Julia and I helped each other in ways that were too intimate

for sisters, let alone a man and a woman. Even lovers would not be forced

to take part in necessities so basic, so crudely undignified. It was not

an opportunity for closeness even as we were forced into total dependence.

North Vale was headquartered in a much more compact manor house than

Stalwart Guard. We were given the best accommodations in the entire

castle, adjacent rooms. I saw evidence of items recently removed when I

was directing Minah in where to put my personal belongings so I knew our

chamber had not been idle.

"Whom have we displaced?" I asked my servant.

Trust her to have already developed informal information sources.

"Baron Spencer and his wife, Pamela."

"And where have they gone?"

"They have displaced in turn their eldest daughter. And to answer

your next question, the two daughters are now sharing a room."

"Well, at least everyone has a bed," I sighed as I tried to rub an

itch that was hopelessly locked away.

"Um, your pardon, Highness, but that's not so. The bed in young Lady

Elissa's room, the eldest daughter, is too small for the Baron of North

Vale. He has had a pallet of blankets prepared on the floor. Similarly,

Lady Elissa will sleep on the floor of her sister's room."

"In this entire castle, is there only this one large bed?" I asked,

running my hands over the sumptuous quilt.

"No, Highness, there are several. Milady Julia has another in her

room and I am sure that some other families have larger beds as well.

The Baron did not want to displace more families, though."

I looked at Minah, who looked back with innocence too complete to

be real.

"Very well, Minah, go tell Julia. Then ask the Baron if I might have

a moment of his time."

Never believe that you control servants. Minah knew the responsi-

bilities of royalty as well as I did. I could not squander such comforts

as the castle possessed on myself. Nor even allow Julia to do the same,

though I knew she would not want them at the price the Baron was paying.

In fact, Julia was in my room when the Baron arrived.

"What is the problem, Highness?" he asked as he entered.

I tried to begin with pompous gravity but my grin definitely did

not help the image, "Actually, Baron, I have several problems. First,

you and your Lady have got to stop calling me Highness all the time.

Call me Princess Cherysse, if you must, or just Cherysse."

He waggled his heavy eyebrows at that, but nodded his head as a grin

to match mine appeared on his face.

"Second," I continued, "we are not satisfied with the room arrange-

ments."

At this his face fell. As Minah had discovered, we had the best

that the castle had to offer.

"It is unseemly for young women to take up such wonderful beds as

these, while the lord of the manor sleeps on the floor, as does his daugh-

ter," I went on.

"How did you find out about that?" he asked sharply.

"Really, Baron, I am on an inspection tour. I am expected to find

out about things in North Vale."

"What do you propose?"

I smiled to let him know I was happy with my decision, "Julia and I

will sleep in this room. You and your Lady can have the room you so gra-

ciously offered to Julia, and the Lady Elissa can have her own room back."

His heavy brows waggled again. Partly, I supposed, at the depth of

my information. Partly from relief, I suspected.

He smiled again, much larger this time, and nodded. "As you wish,

Highness. I mean, Princess."

I sighed at his attempt to circumvent my direction, but let him go

without further argument. After his contingent left, I turned to Minah.

"Go get some of the extra bedding that they were using for a pallet.

I will need some of it in here. Julia will sleep in the bed."

"Highness, it is not seemly," Minah began to argue.

Julia's face had also clouded up when I indicated that I would give

her the bed to herself. For once, though, rather than give sharp-tongued

voice to her thoughts on what appeared foolish to her she just walked

over and embraced me.

Her green eyes seemed incredibly bright when she said, "I will sleep

with you."

I began to protest, but her slender finger tapped my lips as she

continued, "After all, wearing these things, we can hardly do anything

but sleep!"

I smiled at the wisdom of her words and nodded to Minah. We com-

pleted our unpacking and went down to the first full meal we had enjoyed

since beginning our journey.

Strane was there. Though he had a few soldiers with him spaced

around the dining hall, there were no others of rank from High Canyon

present. I sent a quick warning glance to Julia, then started in on him.

I had been teasing or finding fault for most of the journey.

"So, tell me, Milord Strane, are your men settled in?"

"Yes, Highness. The quarters are needlessly adorned, but we will

make do."

"What adornments, beds?" I grinned.

What could he say? If he claimed not to use beds, he would seem

uncivilized. Yet, to defend the need for beds would seem soft.

Instead, he did as he often did and merely glowered. I had never

demanded an answer to one of my teasing barbs so he often retreated into

silence.

Julia came to his rescue yet again. "Oh, Cherysse, don't be cruel.

You know the men of High Canyon use beds, just as we do. I'll bet it's

the fancy tapestries and memorial records that are contained in the

barracks."

"How did you know?" Spencer, Baron of North Vale asked.

"Because there are tapestries and records in every barracks room in

Achaiea," Julia laughed.

She took Strane's arm in a scandalous show of affection and walked

with him to the table. Spencer already held his Baroness's arm, leaving

me unescorted. A moment of confusion showed on his face before I took

his other arm with my own laugh and we moved to our places.

The dinner was hardly joyful. Strane's dark visage cast a cloud over

the table but that wasn't unusual. I managed a few comments about the

contrast between Achaiean wines and High Canyon ale, though in fact I

drank very little. Then I managed to leave the table while Julia and

Strane were still finishing so that she did not have to leave with me.

It was almost an hour later when she arrived in our room. The frown

on her face would have sent most who knew her running for cover but since

I had no place to retreat, I decided to attack.

"What's the matter?"

She looked like she wanted to use language unbecoming to a lady, but

managed to keep the words that came out under control. "That Strane is

the coldest, stiffest, most distant man God ever made!"

"What happened?" I felt like a prosecutor extracting testimony from

a witness.

"I asked him to escort me to somewhere we could watch the sunset.

He marched precisely one cubit from me the entire way. You'd think that

a warrior from High Canyon could hardly walk a straight line as fluid as

their fighting style is, but Strane never wavered. When we got to an a

appropriate balcony, I leaned against the ledge, but he stood stiff. I

asked him about sunsets in High Canyon, to which he replied they were

much the same. I asked him about the number of stars in their sky."

"Much the same?" I interrupted with a smile.

"No," she finally started to relax and gave me a smile in return.

"Actually, they have 'perhaps as many'."

"Ah, of course."

Her eyes took on a bright twinkle when she continued, "I mentioned

that it was getting a bit cool on my shoulders."

"Scandalous!" I snickered. "Such invites a strong arm to provide

needed warmth."

"Not for Strane!" she was mad again. "He suggested we go back

inside!"

"And so you did," I concluded for her.

"And so we did," she confirmed.

"It appears you have your work cut out for you," I observed.

She grumped, "Well, not tonight."

I laughed and nodded. Minah was just outside the door, as usual, and

in a few minutes we were out of our dresses and in our nightclothes.

There was a moment of awkwardness as we thought about actually going to

bed together. After that moment, though, I waved my hand over the bed

and said, "Right side or left?"

"Just as long as you don't take the middle," she grinned.

"No promises," I replied, moving toward the warm covers. North Vale

was already chilly by Stalwart Guard standards and I certainly didn't want

all the steel I was wearing to get cold.

We were both chilled, actually, and it appeared that Spencer and

Baroness Pamela must sleep close together, for before we knew it Julia

and I were snuggled together. It must have been caused by the residual

shape of the mattress left from the previous occupants.

Chapter 13 - More Than Sleeping Together

I truly had inspection duties to accomplish as part of this trip so I

spent much of each of the next several days out and about the lands of

North Vale. I had become accustomed to the discomfort of riding in the

maiden's lover, even sidesaddle, and actually enjoyed the crisp autumn air

in the higher elevations of this barony.

The logging operations that had once occupied an inordinate amount of

a Council meeting were proceeding at good pace. This would actually re-

sult in less flooding of Clifton, the neighboring barony. The roads into

the virgin forest that had been cut to support logging operations allowed

the woodsmen access to already fallen trees in place of live trees from

the periphery of the forest. Clearing these from the deeper woods would

have less impact on runoff than in prior winters.

On the other hand, Julia's task was not proceeding well. Strane

remained attentive, impossibly polite, and unbelievably unaware of Julia's

flirtations. I teased, she defended, Strane ignored. Julia began to

complain of bruises on her tongue from all the times she had bitten it

rather than launch a vitriolic attack on 'His Denseness' as she had taken

to calling him.

"I have done everything but rub my bosom against his arm as you did

with Lyonidas," she claimed one night as we readied for bed.

"That was an accident!"

"Right, and Strane is seething with passion," she snorted.

"He's probably afraid of what would happen, after the episode with

Olrin," I offered.

"No. One thing I'll say for Strane, I don't think he's afraid of

anything. I'm not sure why, but I think he'd walk into the fires of hell

if his duty required it."

That triggered an idea in me, "Maybe that's how you can get him."

Her eyes held no sign of understanding so I continued, "Make it

part of his duty to kiss you. Then he'll have no choice."

"I am not that desperate for men that I can only get a kiss through

appealing to his duty!"

I let a single arched eyebrow answer her comment.

I swear, the ends of her fiery hair began to lift like living flames

as she prepared to vent all of her pent-up fury at me for my implication.

Yet even as her eyes began to spark, her shoulders slumped.

"Perhaps you're right," she sighed.

I took her in my arms to comfort her, finding my lips near her ear as

my cheek cradled hers.

"No, my beautiful Lady, you are not desperate for men. But you may

need to appear so as part of your duty."

Her own voice was barely a whisper in my own ear, "Am I really your

Lady?"

"Now, and forever," I promised. In my heart that promise was more

than liege to vassal. I couldn't tell her that, though.

We held each other for a long, wonderful moment, though the moment

went nowhere but into oblivion. Then we moved to the bed and slipped

quietly under the covers, huddled together now as was our custom.

In the dark, her quiet voice had no trouble reaching my so-close ear,

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

Goodness, her troubles with Strane really were undermining her self-

esteem. At least this question was easy to answer.

"Milady Julia, you are the most beautiful of all God's creations, and

you are very pretty as well."

I could almost hear her smile in the darkness as she snuggled closer

for delicious warmth, all the more precious because it was unnecessary.

The next day dawned crisply clear with a special tang in the air that

promised it would be one of few left in the year. We were up and about

early, completing as best we could the inspection Mother had ordered. The

newly-created Baron of North Vale actually had things well in hand, which

I had known from the first day we arrived, but it was good to let him show

off his competence so that I could duly report it back to the Queen. We

recognized that the visit would soon have to end if we were go get back to

Stalwart Guard before the roads became impassable, yet we had not

succeeded in our secondary mission.

That night I retired early to my studies. I had brought along suf-

ficient new information that I had no lack of interesting concepts to pur-

sue. And I had brought my flute as well. Consumed in my private exer-

cises, I lost track of time. When next I thought of the hour it was

actually quite late, though Julia had not returned. I summoned Minah for

myself and had just gotten into bed when Julia arrived. She respected

my repose by saying nothing, merely removing her own clothes and donning

her nightgown unaided. She slipped in continued silence into her side of

the bed but instead of huddling close to me she lay with her back to me,

as far to her side of the bed as possible.

I wondered if I had done something unconsciously wrong in going to

bed so early. As I was trying to find some way to word an apology to an

error I was not even sure I had made, I realized that Julia was shaking

with silent sobs that were growing in intensity.

Rolling close to her, I snuggled into her back and wished once again

that my steel prison was not in the way. My false bosom held me back from

truly molding myself to her, the stiff cups threatening to jab her pain-

fully rather than provide healing warmth.

"Do you want to talk?" I asked gently.

In response, she rolled toward me and drew her arms in like a small

child. I wrapped my own arms around her and cradled her soft tresses on

my own shoulder to make a pillow for her. As though a dam had broken, her

tears burst forth accompanied by gasping sobs that threatened her with the

lack of air her own corset allowed.

"Tell me what happened," I ordered. Well, more of a suggestion

though with enough force to make it clear that her words would not be

selfish complaint but response to my opening.

"I . . . kissed . . . him," she gulped out between heaving attempts

to breathe.

"That was what you came here for," I gently reminded her.

"But it was awful," she cried. "We were watching the stars and I

said that a maiden's fondest dream was to be kissed by a strong man under

a starlit sky. He just nodded. Then I said, 'I am a maiden who has never

had that dream fulfilled.' He just nodded again."

She stopped at this point, too embarrassed to continue, but I urged

her on with a slight nudge.

"Then I turned to him and put my arms around his neck and kissed

him. Like a barroom strumpet. Like I had no pride at all. Like I was

so desperate for men that I had to fling myself at anyone who would put up

with me!"

Her gulping breaths became even more painful, "Then . . . when I

moved back . . . I saw the most . . . satisfied . . . smirk . . . on his

face."

Her anger began to overcome her shame, "He agreed with me! I could

see it in his eyes. He thought I was a cheap floozy, too overcome with my

own needs for any dignity at all!"

"That smug, self-satisfied, slug! I'll kill him for making me beg

for a kiss!"

Her voice had risen but I let my own quiet tones remind her of the

need for discretion even as I replied, "That's the idea."

It brought her up short in her tirade. If we were contemplating

murder, then acting a bit undignified was surely no greater crime. Or

greater demand from duty.

It defused her anger but in its place, shame returned. She buried

her face in my own long hair and shook once more with silent sobs. I

didn't know what to say. I didn't know what I should do but suddenly I

found myself doing something that I knew I shouldn't do.

I took her chin in my hand and lifted her face from my shoulder.

Lowering my lips to hers I caressed them with gentle warmth, trying

to replace the memory of her shame with one of true . . . what?

The pressure of her lips increased as she lifted her head to meet

my lowered one. Her arms clutched at me with strength fueled by a des-

perate need for reconfirmation of her femininity, of her desirability,

of her ability to feel passion from an act that had so recently filled her

with disgust.

I was only too glad to supply such reassurances as I could. Julia

herself had taught me some of the duet that lips and tongues and beating

hearts could play. I explored with her a new composition on that theme,

point and counter point, melody and descant, building to a climax that

created an almost-pleasurable pain in my so-terribly-confined intimate

reactions.

Though the room was already dark I felt a greater darkness flooding

in behind the pounding in my ears and the unsteady rhythm of my frantic

heart. I felt the strength leave my own embrace as the world receded far

away, connected by only the single thread of her lips.

Then even that faded away.

My next sensation was of a none-too-gentle nudge accompanied by a

silvery giggle.

"Do you always fall asleep in the middle of a kiss?" Julia teased.

Her good humor hid the fact that her own breath had become short enough

to demand most . . . interesting . . breathing exercises. Exercises I

could see only too well from my position.

I had been rolled over onto my back and now Julia leaned over

me, her bosom literally heaving with demand for air. It was as difficult

as anything I could remember doing to look up from that so-graceful set of

curves to meet Julia's eyes glowing softly in the dim light of our night

candle.

"I . . . would hardly . . . call it . . . sleep," I gasped.

"Perhaps your corset is just too tight," she offered in explanation.

An explanation accompanied by a wandering hand that traced the gentle

curve of my so-tightly-confined waist.

I felt my body move into her hand as though controlled by an outside

force. My heart started another upward spiral and my gasps became too

forceful for words.

She took pity on my predicament and lowered her lips for another

kiss before I died another small death. Her lips were softer than ever,

swollen now with more fullness than I had felt before. Yet as I once

again began to sense the greater darkness swallow me she lifted her

head and smiled at me.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Milady Wonderful, it is I who should thank you," I managed to get

out.

"No, though I am gratified that you found my kisses sweet," she

grinned. "But you have shown me in ways that cannot be falsified that you

do indeed find me attractive."

"I think that is a valid conclusion from our little . . . experi-

ment," I smiled.

"We'll have to tell the Queen to give you a bit less constraining

corset, though," she said.

"If only we could," I sighed. "But this has become my acknowledged

shape, now. All her gowns fit this form, not anything more relaxed. It

seemed like the only option at the time."

Julia snuggled down into the cradle of my arm again, snickering

quietly as she moved a portion of my hair that was soaked from her prior

tears.

"I guess I'll just have to help you get used to it," she whispered.

I wanted to ask her just what sort of help she had in mind, but the

moment was too magic for further words so I just tightened my arms about

her and held her until her regular breathing showed she had fallen asleep.

My own sleep was not so quick in coming. Who was I? What was I?

What was right for me? Why could both Lyonidas and Julia arouse such

passion in me that I would swoon within my too-tight corset? Why did only

Julia elicit a response from a more intimate area as well? How much of me

was me? And how much was Mother? The fruitless spiral of my thoughts

eventually claimed my consciousness but my dreams provided no clearer

answers.

True to expectations, Strane dispatched a message rider the next day.

He courteously offered to convey any messages we might have as well so I

included facts and figures from my inspections as though the data were too

critical to wait until we traveled ourselves. If our true purpose had

been no more than our claimed purpose, to inspect North Vale, we would

have set out ourselves.

But our true purposes were many and complex. We had been away from

Lyonidas for a time to keep that relationship from going too far, too

fast. In it's place Julia and I shared a togetherness that was much more

than sisters could understand. I tried to keep it out of my thoughts, to

keep it out of my eyes, to keep it from being proclaimed by my face, but

every time I looked at her fiery hair and sparkling eyes a blush would

mount my cheeks. I could feel it as though I carried a looking glass

around with me.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, as God is my witness I couldn't tell

which, a cold rain started that afternoon. The crisp chill brought color

to a lot of faces, giving the lie of apparent excitement to weather that

was drearily heavy.

I busied myself with my studies for the day and Julia had brought

a most intricate embroidery with her. We spent the day in our room,

carefully not looking at each other. Or so we pretended. But it seemed

only moments would go by and I would lift my eyes to find her own rising

to meet my glance. It always brought a flare of heat to my cheeks and a

smug satisfaction to hers.

One time when I looked up though, I saw her staring out the window at

the heavy grey skies instead of doing her work.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked.

"What we have to do to Strane," she answered.

"Do you think it is wrong?"

"No, it is our duty. We cannot meet them on the field of battle,

and they have stolen all our men from us. I will kill that cold man with-

out regret. Actually, I was just trying to decide how we might do it."

Julia, my strong, practical, lady, I thought. I wished I had her

fierce intensity, even if it made her seem harsh to others. I knew that

in her so-feminine breast beat a heart full of love and passionate energy,

but in her case she could balance it with a strength of character I could

only envy.

"Tell me of your thoughts," I requested.

At that, she turned to look at me. There was a hint of . . . what? .

. . guilt, or sorrow, or something in her eyes.

"There is a way, but I cannot do it alone. In fact, you would have

to strike the killing blow yourself."

I just nodded. Whatever the demands of duty, I had no choice but to

try and do my part.

She looked out the window as she began to speak as though avoiding

eye contact, or perhaps a mental connection with the distance out the

portal would provide an emotional distance from a cold-blooded plan for

murder.

"The balcony where we have been walking in the evenings is reached

through a dark stairway. There is a guard niche near the top, though how

an enemy could gain access to the balcony is not clear. Nonetheless, the

niche is there. If you were to hide in the niche, wearing a dark dress

and covering your hair, you could get behind Strane as we reached the

opening to the balcony. I could pause at the doorway. At this time his

back would be unprotected."

An elegant plan, simple, direct, and utterly unscrupulous. If I felt

restricted by the honor men require of themselves, I would have refused.

But for women who need to overcome their physical weakness by mental

toughness and guile it was perfect. I nodded once again.

With out decision made it remained only to work out the implementing

details. I sent Julia in search of an appropriate bludgeon, blunt so as

to support our excuse that Strane had fallen down the stairs. A sword

cut would hardly be appropriate. For myself, I went to my wardrobe to

find a suitable outfit. Among the many gowns that Mother had sent I

found a dark grey ensemble that seemed too useful for coincidence. The

outfit was really a knitted top with a separate skirt. The top was long-

sleeved and unadorned, though there was an overvest with bright embroi-

dery. And best of all there were leggings as I had once worn that could

be concealed by the removable skirt until the time came for quiet move-

ment, perhaps in tight quarters. There was a matching snood that would

contain my hair, though in accordance with Lyonidas' edict I would not be

able to wear that until the moment for stealth arrived.

When fully dressed all appeared normal. Before we went down to

supper Julia and I strolled in apparent leisure to her favorite balcony.

There, in the guard niche we placed the bludgeon and the snood. The cold

rain was blowing through the opening, though not badly. It was enough to

leave a sheen of dampness on the steps near the doorway, but not enough to

make an excursion obvious folly.

At supper it was difficult for me to act naturally. I was too intro-

spective, thinking of our plot, thinking of murder.

"Highness, you seem ill at ease this evening. Is anything the

matter?" Baron Spencer inquired politely.

I dredged up a grin and answered, "Well for one, you are still cal-

ling me Highness." Then before he could return to his question, I pro-

vided a reasonable answer, "It is the weather. I do not like cold rain.

I think I will probably retire early this evening."

"Not me," Julia chirped brightly. "I like a stormy night. I like to

feel the energy in the air and smell the fresh cleanness when everything

is washed new."

"Strane, will you escort me up onto our balcony again?" she asked.

In her eyes was an invitation that offered more than a simple walk. The

smug smile on his face would have confirmed me in my purpose if I had

wavered. The though that this cold, unfeeling man thought himself good

enough for my Julia awakened emotions within me that were as powerful as

they were confusing.

I excused myself to cover my distress at the thought of his lips on

my beautiful redhead's lips, his arms around her slim waist, his . . .

It took self control that I knew came from Mother's impressed per-

sonality for me to walk from the dining chamber with patient grace. Once

clear of the room I walked quickly through the small castle to our appoin-

ted rendezvous. My skirt was removed in a few seconds, the billowing

petticoats in only a few more. The inside of the skirt was dark enough to

conceal the pile of material, though I feared the delicate fabrics of the

undergarments would not survive the night. My brightly embroidered vest

joined the pile, itself inverted into equivalent darkness. The snood

covered my golden halo, such an inappropriate image for murder anyway, and

I took the thick club in my hands to wait.

Perhaps if I hadn't had to wait, I would have been less tempted to

think. Thinking is a dangerous pastime when you wait to murder someone.

My legs were free of skirts in public for the first time since the day I

had become Cherysse. I missed my beautiful skirts, my femininity. I

missed the graceful sweep of them and the illusion of protection the wide

buffer of petticoats provided. If anyone saw me now, my secret would be

exposed, my death would follow immediately. As would Julia's. As would

Mother's.

More than that, for the first time I would have to behave as a man.

Not as young Deacon, the boy child, but as Deacon the man, the killer. I

could no longer claim to be fulfilling my duty by smiles and delicate

gestures of my wrist. I had to be a man and do a man's work. Violent

work. Ugly work.

It was just an execution, I told myself, much as had been done to

Bareth and my uncles. Yet it was murder, too. It was well within my

abilities as Deacon, I told myself, but I felt much more like Cherysse.

Perhaps for the first time, I really wanted to be Cherysse. A girl would

not be expected to wait with a club to take a man's life. Brutally. From

the darkness like a coward. A man should not have to be a coward. A girl

should not have to be a murderer. What was I? What did I have to do?

My duty became clear before my heart resolved the rightness of it.

Julia gave me plenty of warning, chattering brightly as she ascended the

stairs. I turned the lightness of my face into the shadow and tried to

disappear as one more shadow among many. Her voice gave me a clear track

on their progress, along with the rustle of her skirts and tap of her

court shoes. Strane moved silently. Except for our plan I would not have

known he was there. So I waited until she was well past before carefully

looking out from the niche.

She stood on the top steps, drawing his attention past her shoulder

even as she stood within the last bit of shelter within the doorway.

"Oh, look, Strane, at the halo the moon makes through the clouds.

The rain must be slacking off."

My slim leggings made no sound at all as I stepped out from my

hiding place. The heavy club I held seemed surprising light in my hands

as I wound my body up in a deliberate imitation of the coiled spring that

had once characterized Drayson. It was an execution, I told myself.

The justification for my assassination rang within my mind as I

took the final step, "For my father, who never loved me yet whom my mother

loved. For my brother, Tamor, whom Julia loved. For Drayson, whose hands

I held between my own as I took his loyalty oath. And for Bareth, who

among all men was the only one that ever respected me."

The club caught Strane just at the base of his neck, sinking so deep-

ly that I knew the bones were crushed. He collapsed without a sound but I

caught him before he could hit the ground.

"Quickly, Julia, catch some water to put on his boots," I ordered,

gasping under the weight.

She dampened his boots and the step as well, adding some to her

own feet with foresight I didn't appreciate right then. Together we

held his body upright as I squeezed past to stand beside her on the

highest step. Then we pushed Strane's lifeless body down the dark stair,

losing it to gloom before it had even stopped moving.

"Let me get back to my room before you cry out," I said.

"Of course," she replied, a feral grin on her face that showed more

pleasure than I wanted to think about right then.

I had to dress before I moved past Strane in case someone else saw me

so it was a terribly long time before I was on my way. I was sure that at

any second someone would see his broken body, leading inexorably to a

demand for explanations I could not provide.

But my fear were groundless. In moments I again appeared the demure,

well-dressed princess. Picking up my skirts to avoid any contact with the

dead body, I moved quickly to my room. As soon as I was there I summoned

Minah to help me change into my dressing gown. She took the ruined

petticoats and hid them in a trunk of her own clothes, adding the leggings

and snood that were inappropriate for my attire.

Then we sat down to wait in a painfully-tense repeat of the night

of Olrin's murder. I almost fainted when a harsh knocking sounded at our

door.

"Your Highness, Princess Cherysse, come quickly. There has been a

terrible accident."

I nodded at Minah but sat quietly at my desk. When the door opened,

Baron Spencer himself stood in the doorway.

"What accident?" I asked as I stood quickly, letting him see my

hurry.

"Lord Strane of High Canyon has fallen and killed himself."

"What? How?" Playing a part was never harder.

"He and Lady Julia went to the balcony they have favored lately.

Julia says she slipped a little, and Strane fell himself in saving her."

"Is Julia all right?"

"Yes, fine, though she is shaken by the experience. She may also

have to fear a chill since her own shoes are wet."

As though this were a cue Julia appeared down the hallway, escorted

by Baroness Pamela and two or three other attendants. They swept into our

room as though they owned it, which I guess they did, and started strip-

ping Julia of her wet clothes even as I stood talking to Baron Spencer.

Minah took the edge of the door and started to close it in a pointed

demand for privacy. Nodding at her, I followed Spencer out into the

hallway and we went to look at the body.

It looked different in the light of the torches held by bystanders.

More crumpled somehow, helpless. No longer something to be feared, no

longer something that justified cowardly assassination rather than honest

combat. Strane had not been a man to like but he had not been without

honor in the service of his own king. For the first time I realized what

I had done in a way that was more than intellectual. I had murdered a

human being and that sin would be with me to my grave. It made me

suddenly ill to think of it and I nearly collapsed.

"Are you all right, Highness?" Spencer asked.

I just nodded, trying to swallow the bile that threatened my throat.

Trying at the same time to draw clean air into my lungs, and failing as

always within that despicable garment that imprisoned me. It was several

moments before I could speak.

"Have you examined the body? You're sure he was hurt in a fall?" I

asked.

"Yes, certainly. Look, there is no blood, no cut. Strane was a

strong man and no attacker could have killed him without a fight, except

with a stab from behind. Also, look here. His neck is broken, obviously

from one of the stairs."

The close range display of his broken body threatened once again to

overwhelm me and I had to turn away. Baron Spencer moved as though to

comfort me but I waved him weakly away as I leaned against a nearby wall.

When I could, I stood straight once again.

"You say he died protecting Julia?"

"Yes, Highness, at least, that is her story and it makes sense. The

top steps can get slippery. If she started to stumble, he would have

supported her which might easily have caused him to overbalance himself."

"Very well, or actually this is very bad. It will not go over well

with our 'guests'. Make sure that everyone involved makes a statement

witnessed by a priest, excepting only Lady Julia who will accompany me

back to Stalwart Guard."

"Are you leaving then?"

"Yes, as soon as possible in the morning. Have, um, something done

with the body so that we can transport it back with us. I'm sure Lyonidas

will want to see for himself. Oh, and get some of his men up here before

anything is moved. Make them witness as well, though they may refuse to

witness before one of our priests if they choose."

I sighed with all the emphasis my steel companion allowed and con-

cluded, "Now, I had better return to Lady Julia. I'm sure she is dis-

tressed."

Even the dressing gown had enough sweep to allow a distinct gesture

to emphasize my movement and I was unimpeded by further comments while I

returned to our chamber.

Julia was already in bed, looking very pale. I nodded to Minah who

started to shoo the other attendants away then spoke to Baroness Pamela

myself.

"I think we should just get some rest, now."

The Baroness looked at me and nodded, moving to follow the others who

were departing.

When she was gone, I dropped my own dressing gown and slid into bed

beside Julia.

"Are you all right?" I asked now in my turn.

"Yes," she said, trying a small smile. It didn't work very well,

but the effort itself was reassuring. "He looked so . . . different when

the torches arrived."

"I know. I didn't think it would be like this when we were planning

his death."

"His murder, you mean," Julia whispered.

"His execution, if you will," I replied. She nodded, not convinced

but not arguing.

"Hold me," she asked quietly.

"Only if you will hold me," I answered.

We wrapped ourselves together and lay in silence until at some point

sleep took us. Whether both together or one at a time I couldn't say.

Chapter 14 - Winterfair Day

If the trip to North Vale had been a saga of increasing discomfort,

the trip back to Stalwart Guard was an odyssey of unbearable torture.

The storm that had been the trigger for Strane's murder had been expected

to blow through and allow a few more days of moderate weather. Instead,

the clouds had lowered even further and the temperature had dropped low

enough that only the continued rain kept frost from forming.

It was apparent the next morning that we would never make it all

the way back in our carriage. Instead, we rode horses. Baron Spencer

provided sturdy carts for our baggage, including the body of Strane pic-

kled in alcohol and packed in a keg.

I knew beyond doubt that when the time came for me to pay for my

sin of murder my penance would be more of this trip. Unending rain caused

unending mud that spattered everywhere on this unending journey. The

itches under my maiden's lover that had been irritating on the trip out

and constantly troublesome in the ten days we had spent in North Vale

became a screeching demand for impossible attention with each jolt and

stagger and slip of my horse as we forced our way along a road turned to

glue.

The trip out took four days. The trip back took eight, and even

then it only ended because we required grooms to hold lanterns in our

path so that we could reach the gates of Stalwart Guard long after dark.

No matter how tired we were, and I was so exhausted I had to be helped

down from my saddle, Mother knew nothing was more important that relief

from our steel prisons. She had the water heated even as we were entering

the gates and I slipped into the warm embrace before saying a single word.

Julia was not far behind. It was the only time in my whole masquerade

that I couldn't be troubled to open my eyes to look at her slender form

when she slipped into the water.

Mother had even provided brushes, stiff enough to assuage the screa-

ming itches without being hard enough to damage our already-distressed

skin. I scrubbed all the places I could reasonably reach then began to

work on Julia's back. She returned the favor as soon as the worst of her

own torments had been relieved. Then we slipped down in to the heavenly

warmth and tried not to fall asleep lest we drown.

"An hour ago I would have sworn that I never wanted to be wet again,"

I mused.

"An hour ago, I was just swearing," Julia replied, humor re-entering

her body with the life-giving heat from the bath.

Mother began to wash my hair. She clucked and worried about the

damage that the bad weather and limited cleansing had caused, but nothing

was worth worrying about right then.

Julia's hair was in no better shape but it responded to Mother's gen-

tle ministrations, too. While for Julia it was humor, a sign of returning

life in me was my interest in Julia's form as she leaned her elbows

against the edge of the tub. She saw my gaze, even if Mother did not (or

at least pretended not to notice), but this time her grin and wink indi-

cated pleasure in my pleasure and appreciation. I think she got out of

the tub more slowly than was her typical practice, offering me finger-span

by finger-span of additional exposure.

If the water had been any shallower, I think my response would have

showed regardless of how low I settled into the slowly-cooling tub. It

didn't help that Julia wore a thick, warm robe rather than her usual thin

silk. At least, it didn't help enough. After all we had been through

together, after all the indignities that circumstances had forced us to

weather together, after sharing a murder, for the love of God you would

have thought I'd be past embarrassment at my physical response.

Well, you wouldn't have thought it if you looked. The bright color

on my cheeks was matched by a darkly red evidence of excitement that

wasn't going to diminish any time soon.

Mother noticed. How could she not? "Dear, that's not going to be

very comfortable."

"I believe I am aware of that," I said tightly.

"The palace hairdresser will simply not hear of you going to bed

with wet, tangled hair so you both have to suffer his ministrations before

you retire," she explained. "Considering the condition your hair was in

when we started cleaning it, I suspect he is right. But that means we

need to continue or it will be dawn before you even get to bed."

Continue. Such a simple word for such a trial. Still the maiden's

lovers had been cleaned while we bathed, the residue of a month of con-

stant contact with our bodies removed and the inner side oiled. The

silken tubes that had been our only protection from the steel were ruined

beyond repair, but at least these could be replaced with new ones now that

we were home. Once I was ready to take my part in our activities, Julia

removed her robe. Mother provided Julia and I with sharp blades to remove

the body hair that had grown surprisingly little under our devices. Oil

applied directly to the skin aided a moisturization that had been des-

perately needed. When we had completed all the preparation steps we could

reasonably include, Mother began the laborious task of lacing us into our

tormentors.

Actually, the fit was not too bad this time. My waist had shrunk

considerably and what fat I had had redistributed to hips and bosom.

Even without the maiden's lover I might be able to wear Mother's gowns.

Now why was that desirable?

Only in one area was the fit distressingly uncomfortable. However,

as it had done so frequently before, that very discomfort eventually

brought about a reduction in the distress, leaving it compressed enough

to minimize further problems.

Once we were safely locked away Mother handed us robes and we were

led into the outer chamber. The palace hairdresser insisted that we

spend what was left of the night with our hair wrapped around short,

thick wooden pegs, but by then we were too tired to care. Someone, I

never knew who, practically carried us to bed and I fell into a pit so

deep that minor distractions like wooden pegs and compressed intimacies

had no relevance.

The next morning they had relevance. Of course my maiden's lover

always had relevance in my life. Even the change in my body shape that

made it less painful did nothing to relax the stiffness at the bosom and

the rigidity in the nether plate. What was less expected was the effect

the wooden pegs had on my hair. Great, bouncing curls remained behind

when they were removed the next morning. With these energetic yet de-

lightfully feminine shapes to build upon the palace hairdresser provided

us with unfettered hair that was nonetheless formally styled. A new style

of formality, to be sure, but wonderfully elegant. Gowns to take advan-

tage of this energy were selected and we went to the throne room with

joyful exuberance.

Neither the joy nor the exuberance lasted very long. Lyonidas held

an inquisition into the death of Strane that was frankly hostile. Ac-

tually, Lyonidas was silent while Reynal was hostile. He started in on

Julia as soon as Mother took her seat.

"What were you doing when Strane met his untimely death?"

I interrupted her response. Perhaps a month in charge of an indepen-

dent party had awakened within me a sense of responsibility. Whatever the

reason, I would not stand idly by while someone attacked one who had been

part of my group.

My eyes locked on Lyonidas while I spoke, though my words were for

Reynal. I did not use the simpering voice I had once used. Instead, I

spoke in calm, reasoning tones, using only the musical animation of a

feminine voice to force Reynal to accept my intercession.

"Excuse me, General, but could you explain what is going on?"

He sputtered a bit, but I still looked only at Lyonidas. In his eyes

I saw pain and embarrassment and guilt, and even a bit of fear that I knew

was not for himself. I felt the power of the white-cold mind building

within me and I knew I could use any of those seams in the tapestry of his

mind to insinuate suggestions he already appeared half ready to accept. I

would not, though. This was not a time for coercion, not of Lyonidas. I

let a memory of our last kiss float up into my own eyes, balanced by

sadness of my own that one who had been so close to me would trust me so

little.

General Reynal was speaking by this time and I let his words become

part of my conscious thoughts.

"We are trying to get to the bottom of what happened to Lord Strane."

I finally let my eyes move from Lyonidas to Reynal and asked, "Have

you read the reports we provided?"

"Yes, but there are several irregularities," claimed Reynal.

"Which things in the reports, specifically, seem irregular?" I asked,

still speaking in dulcet tones of sweet reason, eminently ready to help

in any way that I could. As long as that did not involve interrogation

of my people directly.

"I don't believe Strane would just slip on some steps and fall hard

enough to break his neck!" Reynal declared.

"Have you inspected Lord Strane's body?" I was finding that the

Queen's technique of asking questions instead of answering them was pretty

effective.

"Yes, and the damage is not right."

"His neck is not broken?" This earned him the derision of an ele-

gantly lofted eyebrow.

"No, it is broken, all right, but not from a fall," Reynal asserted.

"Have you seen the steps at North Vale?"

"No, but, . . ."

I interrupted again, "Then on what basis do you make that claim?"

"Strane would not have fallen. He was the most sure-footed rock

climber in High Canyon."

"Did you know he often went to that balcony with Lady Julia?" Now I

was controlling the questions, sending them into a tangent that Reynal had

not expected.

"Yes, but . . ."

"Do you know what they would do on that balcony?" This brought a

nice gasp from the audience in the throne room.

Reynal just snorted, but my eyes were back on Lyonidas, and I spoke

again before Reynal formed an answer.

"It seems that some men of High Canyon visit Achaiean maidens on high

balconies. Sometimes they kiss." I let pain that was only too real into

my eyes as I said this and then let my eyes drop when I continued.

"Sometimes, I suppose, the men of High Canyon even enjoy this experience

enough to look forward to doing it again."

I sighed, still looking down, then with a shrug I looked up and care-

fully avoided Lyonidas' eyes. "Though I wouldn't know about that. Still,

Lady Julia has told me that Strane kissed her the night before. He seemed

most anxious to return with her to the balcony that evening, though it was

raining. She hesitated at the doorway and slipped."

Now I turned to look Reynal directly in the face and gathered up the

power of the white-cold mind to full purpose. My voice hardened with

righteous anger as I continued, "General Reynal, Strane was a man whom my

closest friend found appealing enough that she would consent to his kiss.

He gave his life to protect her from injury. I don't care whether he was

from Achaiea, or High Canyon, or some place we've never heard of, that was

a noble gesture. I will not have you degrade the nobility of an honorable

man with accusations formed from ignorance. You have the sworn statements

of your own men that this was an accident. You have the sworn statements

of Achaiean nobles that this was an accident. Will nothing satisfy you

except more blood?"

I had reinforced this claim with all the power of the white-cold mind

that I could call upon. Reynal wanted to believe that Strane had died a

noble death rather than an ignoble one. His only possible murderer was

Julia and the thought that a mere girl could have beaten a warrior of High

Canyon was distasteful to him. With these existing desires to build on

Reynal was no longer a problem even as I finished speaking.

Lyonidas was another matter. I refused to use the special powers

of my mind on him. I don't know why, but I would not extend the lie I was

living to even greater deceit. Instead, I looked at him then moved to

kneel at his feet.

With head bowed as though to the executioner's axe, I offered, "If

only blood will satisfy you, then take mine. No one is more responsible

for his death than me."

Sometimes the best way to lie is with the absolute truth. The con-

viction in my voice needed no special enhancement since it was true.

Regardless of the falsehoods I had showered on Reynal, I had not lied to

Lyonidas. And so I had not had to use the power of my mind to impress on

him belief in a lie, however desirable.

His large hands reached down to me, one to cup my chin and gently

force me to look up, another extended in an offer of support in rising. I

let my hand accept his offer and let him help me to my feet.

Though I had not used any powers beyond those available to all women,

still there was conviction in his eyes as great as that I had imposed on

Reynal.

"Let there be no more talk of this," Lyonidas pronounced. "Strane

died in an accident and no further pain will change that fact. Come,

let us all take an early lunch and have you tell us of your journey."

He glanced at Reynal for acceptance but that was already in place.

Though it would have been more proper for Lyonidas to escort Mother, he

did not relinquish his hold on my hand and we walked to the dining hall

together. Neither Mother nor Julia had said a word in the inquisition,

though both wore small smiles of gently surprised appreciation for the way

things had turned out.

The rest of the day went much better. Julia's sharp wit found humor,

now that it was in the past, in things that had been impossibly unpleasant

at the time. It seemed that each clod of mud that had hit me in the face

had been deliberately aimed by a particularly accurate horse, coinciden-

tally the one that she was riding. She, on the other hand, had stayed

pristinely clean throughout the journey, though she had slipped in unno-

ticed since the drenched woman on the horse next to me had clearly been

someone else, not the elegant Julia.

While she was entertaining the dinner guests, Lyonidas leaned over

and whispered to me, "Did you visit any balconies while you were there?"

I nodded, a small smile playing at my eyes.

"Did you visit them with anyone?"

This time I shook my head in negation. I could see the humor in

his eyes, the promise that I had once wanted so much. Yet now I only

wanted Julia's kisses, right? Why did the smile on his lean face interest

me so much? Why did my breath get short at the thought of standing once

again on a balcony with Lyonidas?

I felt the flush building in my cheeks even as I pointedly leaned

back to listen to Julia's latest story. After a moment, when I glanced

back, Lyonidas was still looking at me with that humor in his eyes. I

couldn't meet his gaze. I let my own glance slip downward to study the

frilly cuff on my elegant gown until the corner of my awareness absorbed

that he had leaned back into his own seat.

There was no chance to find out what balcony excursions he might have

wanted that week, nor the next. The autumn storms had come in earnest for

that year, making all exposed parts of the castle too unpleasant for noc-

turnal exploration. Instead, after supper I would retire to my rooms, to

my music, to my studies, to my painting. Usually I would play for a while

before turning to quieter pursuits. After my room had fallen silent one

evening Minah knocked discreetly, then entered.

"You play very will, Highness," she said.

"It's nice that you think so," I smiled in return.

A conspiratorial grin lit her face as she said, "Oh, I'm not the only

one who thinks so."

She was begging for a question, but she didn't have to beg too hard.

I gave her what she wanted immediately. "Who?"

"Well," she giggled like a happy child, "it seems Milord Regent has

found occasion to wander by your rooms most evenings lately. He stands

outside while you play, then moves on when you stop."

"Lyonidas listens to me play?" I needed confirmation.

"Yes, Highness, nearly every evening."

"Hmm," I mused, "then Minah, this is what I want you to do . . ."

A few nights later tunes of High Canyon found there way into my prac-

tice sessions. Minah had found someone who knew some of Lyonidas'

favorites. I had no idea how Minah found out what I needed, or who she

asked, but she seemed to me to be the best spy in the two kingdoms, at

least for matters like this.

It was only at the end of the month, nearing Christmas, when the rain

finally changed to softly-falling snow. Behind this last front the air

was crisply cold but the clouds were gone and there was no wind. The

contrast was wonderful. The sun was bright and almost seemed warm. The

soft blankets of snow seemed clean and pure after ages of drear. Clearly

a celebration was in order.

It even got brought up in Council, by Lyonidas who surprised us by

attending. His seat had been left empty to reflect his right to attend,

but he hadn't bothered since the first interminable session on mundane

matters. Mother and I still brought our cats so Reynal found his duties

took him elsewhere even on this occasion when Lyonidas attended.

Hugh of Sandars rose to announce the first issue. Not surprisingly

he had something boring on tap just in case a High Canyon noble chose to

attend. Before he even got started, though, Lyonidas gently interrupted.

"Your pardon, Lord Chamberlain, but I wonder if I might take the

Council's time to discuss an issue of some importance before you get to

your scheduled topics?"

Hugh wouldn't have looked more surprised if Lyonidas had reached

out and tugged on his beard. His mouth fell open just as though his

beard truly had been pulled and he spluttered incoherently for just a

moment. Even Queen Selay didn't surprise him with topics. If there

were something she wanted discussed, she informed Hugh and got it on

the schedule beforehand.

Still, there was nothing he could do but agree so he nodded jerkily

and sat down.

I had been watching Lyonidas, after a brief glance to absorb the

impact on Hugh, so I saw the warm gleam in his eyes before he spoke. A

grin that he couldn't quite contain started to show as Hugh spluttered to

his seat, prompting a grin of my own that I tried very hard to hide from

our honorable Chamberlain.

Lyonidas stood as he addressed the Council, "Good members of the

Council of Achaiea, you know that we of High Canyon do not celebrate the

birth of your Christ. Still, we do honor the solstice that represents the

turning of the seasons toward longer days. I would like to suggest a

holiday, a Winterfair, that we can both celebrate. The weather has

moderated at least for a while and I think the people could use a little

warmth in their hearts to offset the cold."

Would he have even cared six months ago when he first arrived? Six

months ago! I had not even realized it had been so long. The changes in

Lyonidas were dramatic. Where before he had been a strange man of High

Canyon, with more wit and humor than others, now he was more a strange man

of Achaiea. He knew of the workings of an agricultural society with

specialized craftsman. He knew of the benefits of restitution over

punishment in justice. Yet I had not realized he knew of the joy that his

father seemed to have denied in his own life. There is a great difference

between a simple sense of humor and a joyful appreciation of God's world.

It seemed that Lyonidas had bridged that difference.

As Lyonidas sat down, Hugh looked at Queen Selay. Queen Selay nodded

to Hugh and said, "I think that would be a good idea. Let us proclaim it

quickly before the weather changes yet again."

Hugh nodded, recovering his dignity. He had been afraid that

Lyonidas was going to announce some onerous new tribute or demanding

schedule for transferring the skills of our craftsmen. Instead, the

suggestion had been as light in enduring importance as the matters that

Lyonidas believed the Council typically considered. Our Chamberlain

quickly assigned actions to those who would see that the preparations

moved with good pace, then once again stood to announce the first official

item on his schedule for the meeting. Lyonidas took this as his cue to

excuse himself. Our Regent probably misinterpreted the sigh of relief as

he left. It was not really because he left. It was because with him gone

none of us had to listen to the deliberately pointless discussions that

were meant to drive him away.

The Winterfair celebration was held on the second following day.

The weather still remained clear. Hugh took advantage of this by having

outdoor activities in which most of the castle staff participated. There

was a massive snowball fight and for the first time warriors of High

Canyon and of Achaiea joined sides against their officers. And there

was a contest for the most fanciful sculptures in snow.

I was looking down on the courtyard from my balcony when I felt a

presence nearby. Lyonidas had joined me. I looked at him from within the

fur-trimmed cowl of my cloak.

"What brings you up here, Milord Regent?"

"You're not supposed to call me that, My Princess."

"It is proper," I protested, but softly.

"It is not," he denied. "It is too distant. More distant than we

should be."

I didn't know what to say, what to do. A part of me was calling

out to accept his offer of closeness, to cling to it, to build my life on

that closeness. Yet a part of me thought always of Julia, every minute

of every day. How could I resolve those two desires?

Instead of answering, I looked down at the courtyard, "The snow

sculptures are very creative."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him lean against the parapet.

"You're changing the subject," he claimed with a grin I could hear

without looking.

"Which sculpture is your favorite?" I asked.

He chuckled at my obstinance, but he turned to look at them. This

turned out to be a bad idea, at least as it applied to the problem I was

trying to avoid.

"I think that one down there," he indicated with a pointing finger.

The sculpture he selected was quite readily recognizable as a man

and a woman. The man was quite tall, though lean. The woman was slender,

yet shapely. One of her hands held the hem of her gown while one of his

hands was around her waist. They were clearly dancing, but dance was not

the end of the story portrayed by the anonymous artist. The figures in

the sculpture were standing very close together and they leaned toward

each other in a motion that would consummate in a kiss.

"Now, who do you suppose the artist is portraying?" he mused, that

grin still so apparent in his voice it needed no visual confirmation.

"I don't know. Perhaps the artist should add some color details," I

replied. "Don't you think the woman should have red hair?"

"No," he said softly, "I do not."

The grin was out of his voice, replaced by something not as simple

to define. I looked to see his expression and found him now standing

close to me. Very close.

His hand slid softly through my golden tresses. The overwhelming

sensuality of it drew my eyes closed as though there were some hidden

mechanism. Generations of Achaiean women had reserved that touch for

their lovers only and it spoke of love even more than a kiss.

Or perhaps not, for in the next moment his lips were warming mine and

their touch was even more absorbing than his hand in my hair. The hand

that captured my waist and pulled me closer to him was hardly needed for

my body swayed to conform to his even as my arms reached to embrace his

shoulders.

Was it a good thing or a bad thing that my body now fit within my

steel prison so much better? Where before a moment of his kiss had caused

me to swoon, now my breath sustained me. Barely. My heart pounded with

desperate needs that I didn't understand. But it was not lack of air that

interfered with my breathing.

From some distant place I became aware of applause and good-natured

shouting. It seemed unimportant. Nothing in the world was more important

than the touch of his lips but Lyonidas drew back just a little, though

enough to turn his head.

Down in the courtyard a crowd had gathered around the snow sculpture

we had been admiring. The artist, a young man who clearly had the ap-

proval of the group around him, was adjusting his figures. Where before

they had been only close to kissing, now the postures had been changed

and the kiss was a realized promise. The attention of the crowd clearly

was encouraging him to make his creation match the reality on our balcony

and he was ostentatiously studying us to make sure he had his composition

correct.

"Oh, we should not be doing this!" I gasped. Well, all right, the

gasp was as much to get my breath back as out of any sense of propriety.

"Why not?" Lyonidas grinned. "Didn't you enjoy it?"

"But it is broad daylight!"

"Yes, and a very fine day it is, too."

"But there are people watching!"

"Yes," he agreed, "and enjoying what they see. Don't you want your

people to be happy?"

"Yes, but . ." his lips interrupted my protest and it died away,

never to be resurrected.

Chapter 15 - Winterfair Night

News travels fast in a small community and by the time I had descen-

ded from the high balcony to the hallway near my quarters it was not a

question of whether Mother had heard of our very-public kiss, but how

many times. My feet had barely been touching the flagstones as I descen-

ded the stairs. My cheeks were rosy with more than the cool air, my eyes

alight with more than the bright sun. Then I saw Mother standing at the

doorway to her chambers that I must pass on the way to my own. If I had

been thinking of more than myself, I would have expected it. As it was,

surprise died before I hardly had a chance to recognize it. At least,

surprise at seeing her and the look of concern on her face. I was sur-

prised though, to see Julia standing with her as they obviously waited

for me to come by.

I could have done without seeing Julia right then. In all my life I

had never met anyone more beautiful. She was warm and caring, but strong

enough to use her lightning wit and razor tongue when her sense of right

and wrong was violated.

And I had violated it. We had worded no promises between us, but

our nights sleeping in each other's arms had brought us close enough that

no words should have been needed. Our kisses had stirred my heart and my

blood to levels that made all previous intimacies fade into distant

memory.

Yet, almost as soon as I was back in Stalwart Guard I had turned to

another.

To a man.

What had my kisses for her meant? What had my caresses of her so

vibrant hair meant? She knew what they had meant to her, but what

meaning could they have had for me if I turned away so quickly when

another was available? One with whom she could not compete, if my

interest were in men.

In her eyes I could see only betrayal. I would have preferred to

see fire in those green jewels, fire like I had seen so many times

before.

Though I had just been kissing another my heart went out to Julia

and I reached for her in a renewal of the embrace we had so often shared.

She turned away from me, turned back into Mother's room, turned her

back on me.

I moved to pursue Julia but Mother's arm held me back. Her eyes al-

lowed me to move into her room, but not to touch my fire-tressed girl-

friend. Mother's look also commanded me to silence. It was like a blow

to me to realize how disappointed they each were in me. My own shoulders

sagged, my own head drooped, my own eyes filled near to overflowing with

shame and confusion.

Mother's gestures motioned Julia and me to our accustomed stools as

she took her own seat. Greyshadow provided a moment's distraction and a

focus for my eyes that couldn't meet Mother's or Julia's. I expected a

scolding that would be all the worse because it was delivered from pain

and disappointment rather than anger. Bowing my head even lower, I rea-

died myself for the attack from which I had no defense.

Mother's words were for Julia, though. "Julia, are you familiar

with the legends of our family?"

Julia looked up in surprise. I had been aware of how her own des-

pair had pulled her head down though I couldn't look at her directly.

From the corner of my vision I saw her motion followed by a shake of

negation in her flowing mane.

"I'm sure you've heard something," Mother pressed.

Julia's eyes glanced at me for the merest heartbeat, then she re-

plied, "Well, I never gave them much credit. Witches with strange

powers to control men's minds. It is not possible. I have watched

you since Tamor first invited me to live here and I know you are not

in league with the Evil One."

"No, we are not in league with the Evil One. Yet in a way the

legends are correct. In my family we have the ability to influence

people's minds. It is not infallible, but when it works it can provide

amazing results," claimed Mother.

"Let me show you," she said, capturing Julia's green eyes with hers

of brilliant blue.

"No, Mother!" I cried, stepping between them.

Julia started where she sat, and Mother sat back abruptly as well.

She looked at me with a frown that showed surprise and confusion more

than anger.

"Mother, this is not right. Do not cloud Julia's mind, sharpen it!

Let her help us with her wisdom and judgment," I demanded.

"Cloud my mind?" murmured Julia, even more worry on her face.

"What Mother says is right. We have the ability to influence

people's minds. Sometimes. But it is wrong to use it on people you

respect . . . and love . . . without their understanding and consent."

"Love?" Julia whispered, picking up on one word from my declaration.

"Yes, love," I whispered back as I knelt at her feet. I took her

hand in mine and gently kissed it, then pressed it to my forehead as I

knelt before her, my gown spreading wide around my legs.

Mother coughed delicately, causing Julia's head to come up even as I

held my submissive pose.

"Cherysse is right. We should explain without artificial enhance-

ment to our words." Then she paused for a moment before continuing,

"That honesty will make her a good Monarch when the time comes for her to

take her rightful throne."

A compliment? My shameless display on the balcony warranted many

things, but hardly a compliment!

"Cherysse, take your seat again and I will explain, this time without

additional, um, persuasive effects."

I did as I was bid while she continued, "Julia, what I said was

true. Under the right circumstances we can influence others with force

beyond words alone."

"We?" Julia asked.

"Those in my family who have our distinctive blue eyes," Mother ex-

plained. This caused Julia's eyes to flick to mine. Her green eyes

widened even further than their shining norm as she reminded herself

of the similarity between Mother's eyes and my own.

I nodded to her in answer to her unasked question, then we both

looked back at Queen Selay.

"Yes, Cherysse has the power as well. She has used it with greater

discretion than I would have expected in one so young. But then, she

among us all has had to grow up very quickly in this last half year."

"One of the things this power allows us to do, if the subject is

willing, is to share a part of ourselves, to create a mirror personality

within an existing mind. Deacon could never have been convincing as a

woman. Cherysse was created when I put aspects of my mind into

Deacon's."

Finally Mother explained the strange feelings I had been experien-

cing. Explained them, though I wasn't sure how to react to her words.

"That is why she has been so attracted to Lyonidas. Those parts of her

mind that allow Cherysse to be convincing, to move in a feminine way, to

understand what it means to be a woman, exist even as those parts that

are Deacon exist. Those parts that are Deacon are attracted to you."

Then Mother sighed and her tone became apologetic, " I was forced to

rush when I imposed Cherysse on Deacon's mind. There was no time for

fine tuning. Subtleties are uncertain in any event. Since then any

further modifications would be even more uncertain and we could not take

the chance of arousing the suspicions of Lyonidas or Reynal. As a result

it is as though the Princess is two persons. On the outside, especially

when she is near a handsome man, her feminine persona is dominant. I had

to make this so since it is at this time when she is most vulnerable if

she behaves inappropriately. Yet when no man is around her true person-

ality can emerge, at least partially."

"Cherysse cannot truly control which persona is dominant, but she is

honest to the feelings of that person," Mother concluded. "In her heart

of hearts, or perhaps I should say in 'his' heart of hearts, Deacon loves

you, Julia."

"And you agreed to this mind control?" Julia asked me.

A good question, for which I had no really good answer. "I don't

know. I didn't understand it at the time sufficiently to truly agree.

But at the time we had no alternative."

After a moment's further thought I realized, "We probably still

don't."

"No, perhaps now less than ever," Queen Selay agreed. "We are

about to move into the most dangerous part of our plan. Once we remove

Reynal, Kragdle is sure to return."

"Remove Reynal?" I asked.

"Yes, but I cannot afford to have either of you involved," she said,

dismissing my obvious curiosity.

Queen Selay straightened in her seat and gave additional orders.

"Julia, you need to accept your defeat in obtaining Lyonidas' affections.

Since you were not yet married to Tamor you can officially end your mour-

ning at the feast tonight. Be polite to Lyonidas, but flirt with anyone

else who catches your fancy. Make it clear that there is no hope of

coming between Lyonidas and Cherysse. If Lyonidas petitions his father

to overrule our period of mourning, it will add to Kragdle's reason for

returning. Yet he cannot now come before the spring. Only the hardiest

of messengers can make the passage to High Canyon at this time of year."

Her eyes showed soul-deep pain as she continued to me, "Cherysse,

you will need to let things continue with Lyonidas. He has made a public

claim to you and you must acknowledge it. Become more submissive to him

but keep your strength with all others, particularly with Reynal."

"Both of you," she continued, "when you can do so without it being

obvious to Lyonidas, taunt Reynal. Make it clear that he is not man

enough to interest you."

She stood up in dismissal. "Now, we need to get ready for the

feast. Cherysse, I have a gown that is identical to the black gown you

once wore except that it is in a blue so deep it appears almost as dark.

Julia, pick something distinct, perhaps something with more decoration

to contrast with the simplicity of the gown that Cherysse will wear. We

want everyone's eyes on one of the two of you tonight."

And that's certainly the effect we achieved. The deep blue gown

was indeed a near-copy of the black gown I had worn the night that Lyoni-

das had first kissed me. He was quite flattered by the obvious reminder.

Men are so predictable! Julia's gown, on the other hand, was delicate

and intricate and did full duty to the many moods she was known to

display. We actually received an ovation as we entered the dining hall

that evening.

Lyonidas was easily polite, yet whenever I happened to look his way

I saw his eyes on me. In part it was flattering, but in part it was also

disconcerting. I'm afraid I drank a bit more wine than I normally did.

Yet I could eat no more than normal with my forced-small stomach. As a

result, when the time came to dance I was much more exuberant than usual.

Reynal leaned over during one of our breaks when Lyonidas had escor-

ted me back to our seats and loudly stated, "It seems that our Princess

is quite happy tonight. Perhaps she enjoys making a spectacle of herself

before the castle courtyard crowd."

Lyonidas and I had both reached for our cups the moment we sat down,

but perhaps I had taken a smaller sip so I was the first that could

react.

"General Reynal," I smiled at him with even more heat than the first

time we had met, "perhaps it is just that Lyonidas is man enough to awa-

ken a woman's ardor."

And perhaps it was just coincidental that Duchess Amity, seated next

to Reynal as usual, had taken that moment to doze off. Lyonidas splut-

tered into his wine and those around tittered most satisfactorily. Rey-

nal's face grew brighter than Julia's hair. He stood abruptly, poking at

Amity.

"Madame, it appears it is time for you to go to bed. I will assist

you," he growled.

Julia picked up her own wineglass and pretended to murmur into it.

In fact, her voice was loud enough to carry clearly. "The man for me

won't need to assist me to bed. I'll be there first, anxious and ready."

Reynal's back, all that we could still see, got even stiffer than

his normal martial posture. He said nothing, however, merely helping the

groggy Amity out of the hall. After their departure the feast got merry.

Julia danced with a dozen men but I accepted invitations only from Lyoni-

das. I don't think Mother even needed to pull any strings to make sure

that the musicians played at least a few slower, more intimate tunes

whenever Lyonidas led me onto the dance floor.

Still, there were enough faster melodies that we often needed our

wine when we returned to our seats. As the evening wore on, I realized

I was getting even less inhibited. Finally, after an extended giggling

session where everything anyone did seemed hilariously funny, Lyonidas

stood and offered his arm to me.

"My Princess, I think you need some fresh air."

"My Prince, that is not all that I need."

I clung to his arm with more need that I had expected as he led me

from the hall. Our path to my balcony, our balcony now, led by his cham-

bers. At the doorway, I glanced inside.

"You haven't changed things much from when Tamor was here."

"I suspect he and I could have been friends under other circumstan-

ces," Lyonidas mused as he followed me into his room.

The few steps away from Lyonidas had reminded me of how much I had

had to drink. I staggered slightly, leaning on the corner post of Lyoni-

das' bed. His arms were immediately around me to steady me.

"Do I really awaken a woman's ardor?" he breathed into my ear.

My answer was my lips, given without words. He took them as his

own. His hands explored the smooth sleek curves revealed by my so-seduc-

tive gown. I leaned into his body, forming my own to his in a more

ancient dance than any played by the musicians. I felt with a distant

part of my mind as his hand began to undo the lacing that held my dress,

but it was unimportant. Nothing was important but the warmth of his lips

on mine, the hardness that had made it's presence so obvious between us.

For all that the gown fit me like a shiny skin above the skirts, yet

those skirts started low enough that my hips had expanded. When Lyonidas

had released the laces my dress would have slipped to the floor unimpeded

but for the petticoats that gave such elegant fullness. These Lyonidas

also released, but it was the loss of their weight that finally intruded

into my distracted passion.

I stepped back from Lyonidas in just my chemise, trying to get my

drink-clumsied legs free of all those acres of fabric.

And fell sprawling, my chemise flying up to reveal what little it

had concealed. Or perhaps the very great secret it had concealed for the

gown itself left little to imagine about my form. Yet with my chemise up

around my armpits Lyonidas could now see the maiden's lover that had been

hidden behind the fabric.

"What is that thing you wear?" he asked as he helped me to my feet.

I just tried to pull the thin material of my chemise down to conceal

once again my hidden tormentor. My shock and dismay and embarrassment

and whatever coupled with my drunkenness to give me the hiccups. If

there were anything more that could be done to make me feel terrible, I

couldn't imagine what it would be.

So I did what seemed to be my only logical action. I started to

cry. My sobs reinforced my hiccups and my embarrassment grew further.

Lyonidas tried to comfort me but I was too distressed for his embrace and

turned away, waving my arm behind me to make him keep his distance.

He didn't. Instead, I felt his strong arms around my waist as I

turned to the wall. To his credit he just held me, not using the oppor-

tunity to explore further the diabolical device that I had never hated so

much in my life.

"What is this thing?" he asked again, though softly, uncritically.

"It's called a 'maiden's lover'," I explained between sobs. And

hiccups. "It's purpose is to make sure that my virtue remains intact,

even if my own heart is not strong enough."

"Who makes you wear such a thing?" he asked in amazement.

"Mother, but it is our custom. Julia has her own. In our tradition

the mother of a bride gives the key to the groom's mother, who then hides

it somewhere in the groom's belongings. The couple must find the key

before they can consummate the marriage."

"Some custom! And I thought we in High Canyon were often cruel."

By this time my sobs were getting under control, though not my

hiccups. There was so much horror in his voice that I had to giggle.

"Well, (hic) it's supposed to give the bride an incentive (hic) to

be nice to her new (hic) mother-in-law. So that she doesn't (hic) hide

the key too well (hic).

The humor was back in his eyes when he heard the humor in my voice.

He turned me around and offered to solve another of my problems, "I have

a cure for the hiccups, you know."

"Really (hic)?"

"Yes," he promised with a grin, "it involves controlled breathing

exercises."

"Breathing (hic)?

"Like this," he said, lowering his lips to mine.

I highly recommend the High Canyon cure for hiccups.

Unfortunately, that was the only need for which he had an immediate

cure, and it was not my most pressing need at that. Actually, with that

thought I realized I did not have a 'pressing' need. My maiden's lover

was no more painful that normal. It seemed only Julia could excite

passions beyond my mind. Well, and my breathing. Which was controlled

rather wonderfully by Lyonidas. For a time that seemed very long, yet

very short.

Somewhere in there his hands did wander enough to determine the ex-

tent of my imprisonment. The touch of his fingers along the borders of

my undesired armor sent shivers up my spine that defined the extent of

his effect on me as well as they defined the limits of my guardian gar-

ment. It was a powerful effect, yet it was an unyielding guardian.

Somewhere in there also, my hiccups vanished. I'm not sure what

controls there were on my breathing, but it was definitely affected.

When he finished his cure I was breathless, but a lot more sober than I

had been.

I put my head on his shoulder and sighed, "I'm sorry my Prince. I

should not have drunk so much tonight. It made me forget my prison in

favor of my desire."

I felt his head nod above me but he said nothing. He just held me

quietly.

After a long moment I kicked at the pile of clothes that I had

thought to escape. Clearly I needed to dress again. The thought of once

again putting on that beautiful gown created within me a sense of con-

flict as great as that from kissing Lyonidas after kissing Julia. Who-

ever I was, I now wanted to wear beautiful clothes. Clothes like those

scattered about the floor of Lyonidas' room.

Lyonidas noticed my motion of course. He was so wonderfully atten-

tive to me. Taking the innermost petticoat from the pile, he once again

tied it about my waist. Just like a lady's maid he helped me to dress,

finally lacing the back of the gown until it fit as sleekly as when I

first sortied forth from my chambers so long ago that evening.

"I think I could still use some air," I murmured.

"I think we could both use some air," he agreed. He grabbed a cloak

from his room and we went to mine, though this time he carefully remained

in the hallway when I went in. In just a moment I had a cloak and gloves

of my own. We ascended to our balcony and watched the brilliance of the

winter stars, glittering like chips of ice not too different from the

sparkle of frost on windows in our courtyard.

"The stars shine like your eyes," he offered a different comparison.

I looked up to him, which was fast becoming a favorite pastime due

to the predictable effect. In a heartbeat our lips were once again

warming each other, though the heat that arose had more to do with rapid

heartbeats than the temperature of our touching skin. I had surrendered

to his control once again, letting his hands shape my posture to best

advantage against his when lights and shouts interrupted us.

"Milord Regent! Your Highness! Come quickly!"

"What is the matter?" we asked in unpracticed unison, equally iden-

tical tones of petulance in our voices.

"General Reynal has attacked Duchess Amity! He has been caught in

the act! The Regent must judge at his trial!"

Chapter 16 - Blind Justice?

The servant that had found us turned immediately back down the

stairs. We followed, after a glance at each other that revealed no

greater understanding in either set of eyes. The servant led us directly

to the throne room, already largely populated. Queen Selay sat in her

high seat with Julia in the position I often occupied. A flicker of a

glance from Mother and I stood beside Lyonidas instead of displacing

Julia, though I was not sure why that should be my place. While I was

handing my cloak and gloves to Minah, Reynal was brought into the

chamber.

He appeared more disheveled than actively abused, but it was signi-

ficant that all four of the guards that escorted him were Achaiean. He

also looked more confused than I could remember seeing him. Angry, sus-

picious, arrogant as always, but still there was that surprising note of

confusion as well.

Lyonidas, who never sat in the King's throne except when hearing

a capital case, remained standing. His first words were to his general,

"Reynal, what is going on here?"

"These fools are accusing me of something. It doesn't make any

sense."

Queen Selay now spoke, "He is accused of assault on my sister-in-

law, the Duchess Amity. Sexual assault."

"What?" Lyonidas asked.

"Preposterous," Reynal snorted simultaneously.

Before either could speak again, Queen Selay continued, "Milord

Regent, in the laws of Achaiea and the claimed laws of High Canyon, rape

is considered a capital offense."

Lyonidas whirled to look at her to find a calm but determined ex-

pression on her face. Her strength of will was such that she didn't even

need to glance at the King's throne to make it clear what action she

expected Lyonidas to take. In this case he had no desire that Mother

could reinforce with the white-cold mind so I knew his choice would be

his own.

All this took only a few heartbeats even at the accelerated pace my

own was struggling to sustain. In fact, before Reynal even got past his

spluttering expletives the challenge had been made . . . and the resul-

ting decision. Lyonidas turned and sat in the King's throne. Now, as I

took my place it was in the position taken by a Prince's intended, with

Queen Selay in the role of dowager Queen. It made it look like I was

there to support Lyonidas, not Mother.

A glance from Lyonidas and Reynal stilled his expostulations.

Lyonidas took on the role intended for him, but not in a way he ever

intended. "Who brings these accusations?"

"I will do, for now," Queen Selay proclaimed.

At Lyonidas' nod, she began her interrogation. "Reynal, tell us

what happened when you left the dining hall."

"Nothing. I took Amity to her room," he made a surly reply.

"And then?"

"Well, she invited me in for a drink of wine. She had been drinking

too much at the feast, but she insisted that I share one last glass with

her."

"Did anyone else see Her Grace drink too much at the feast?" Queen

Selay asked of the room at large.

"Actually, no," Hugh, the Chamberlain replied. "I was monitoring

the servants as usual and no special amount was taken to Her Grace."

"Was she in the habit of drinking to excess?" Queen Selay now asked

the Chamberlain.

"No, she always drank quite moderately."

The Queen now turned her questions back to the accused. "General

Reynal, on what basis do you accuse Duchess Amity of excessive drinking?"

"Well, she was nodding in her cups, at the table. You all saw

that," he replied.

Julia spoke up now, "All I saw was her nodding off, perhaps from

boredom rather than drink."

I felt as much as saw Lyonidas respond to this observation with a

tightening of his already tense shoulders.

"Was Duchess Amity in the habit of inviting you in to drink in her

rooms?" the Queen continued.

"No, this was the first time," admitted Reynal.

"Was she in the habit of inviting you into her rooms for other

reasons?"

"No! This was the first time, all right?"

Queen Selay demonstrated her typical disregard for questions from

others and continued, "Did anyone else see her invite you in?"

He just shook his head no, a look of concern beginning to grow on

his features. His eyes sought out those of Lyonidas but I could tell

that the Regent would not meet his gaze.

"What happened next?" asked Queen Selay.

"I don't remember," Reynal muttered.

"What?!" This question came from Lyonidas.

"I don't remember," Reynal repeated, louder.

Queen Selay paused to see if Lyonidas had further questions. At

his silence she asked her own. "What do you remember?"

"The next thing I remember is a bunch of shouting, and someone hol-

ding my arms, and this blasted headache!"

"Very well," the Queen responded, then looked to Lyonidas. "With

your permission, Milord Regent, I would like to ask questions of others

who were there."

At his nod, Queen Selay nodded at Hugh, who nodded in turn at a

guard by a side door. From this door marched another Achaiean guard and

Mother's servant, Amy.

"Who was the first to come upon the scene?" Queen Selay asked again

of the room at large.

"I was," Amy replied.

"Tell us what you saw."

"I saw Her Grace struggling under the arms of General Reynal. He

had his arms around her, but her own arms were against his chest."

At the Queen's nod she continued. "Her Grace's clothes were, uh,

all torn. Her, um, bosom was exposed and her skirts were stripped away."

"And General Reynal?" the Queen pressed.

"His, um, well, he was, um . . ." she hesitated.

Lyonidas was impatient. I could sense his concern with the way

things were going in this shortness with Amy. "Tell us what happened!"

"His manhood was exposed!" she blurted out.

"What!?" exclaimed Lyonidas.

Amy didn't answer, just blushed furiously and looked at the floor.

Before Lyonidas could pursue her further Queen Selay asked a question

of the guard near Amy.

"What did you see?"

"Well, I came when I heard the screaming from my post at the en-

trance to the private corridors. I guess it was Amy I heard. Anyway,

when I got there, Her Grace's clothes were as Amy described. Both Her

Grace and Amy were struggling with General Reynal, with their hands

against his chest as he leaned over them."

Now Lyonidas asked, "And General Reynal's condition?"

"He was, um, as Amy described," claimed the guard.

Queen Selay resumed as questioner. "What did you do?"

"I took his arms and tried to pull him off the women."

"His reaction?" This was from Lyonidas, in a sort of two-sided

interrogation.

"He seemed to sag in my arms, as though defeated. When the women

had retreated into another room, I let him fasten himself up. By this

time other guards had arrived and we took him into custody. I saw to it

that the Queen was notified. She told me to find you. It, um, took a

bit longer to find you than I expected, Milord Regent."

Lyonidas gave a quick glance to me, a bit of heat showing at his

neck, before he asked, "Did General Reynal say anything?"

"Well, Milord, it was not very clear," replied the guard.

"What did he say, man?!" Lyonidas demanded.

"He was mumbling, mostly, but it sounded to me like, 'stupid bitch'.

Your pardon, Majesty," the man said stiffly to Queen Selay.

As though this were her cue, Queen Selay asked a new question, "Amy,

was there wine in Her Grace's room?"

"Yes, Majesty, always. But she hardly ever drank any."

"Was any drunk tonight?" the Queen asked.

"No, Majesty, the bottle was full," replied Amy. This brought a

shocked gasp from the entire throne room.

"That's a lie!" Reynal shouted. He had not contradicted the other

testimony. Instead, the confused look had become stronger than ever.

Instead of replying, Queen Selay merely looked at Hugh, who gestured

with his head for a nearby servant to leave. In a few minutes the ser-

vant returned with a bottle of wine in his hands.

"This is the bottle that was in Her Grace's room!" he announced.

It was unopened.

"That's not right!" Reynal shouted. "Lyonidas, can't you see what

they're doing? They put something in the wine to drug me and then made

up all the rest!"

"You will have your chance to speak later," Lyonidas grimly replied.

"For now, we are just trying to gather facts."

"Milord Regent," Queen Selay said, "I think there is one more person

whose report we should hear."

On that cue, Duchess Amity entered from the same side door that had

provided entrance to Amy and the guard. She was wrapped in a long cloak

and seemed to have shrunk somehow. It was almost as though she were a

young girl, not in her face or hair which were the same, but in her al-

most painful timidity.

Julia left her place by Queen Selay's side and went to Amity. She

put her arms around the older woman and helped her to stand in front of

the high seats.

"Tell us what happened," Queen Selay ordered, but her tone was soft

and gentle.

"I have not been sleeping well lately. It was at Christmas so many

years ago that Duke Kestrel had taken me as his wife. The memories made

my bed seem so lonely that I often slept hardly at all. I suppose I was

just too tired tonight, so I admit that I dozed off in my seat in the

dining hall. General Reynal took me to my room, and then, and then he .

. ."

She started to sob. Julia tried to comfort her. I was about to

move to her myself but some instinct prompted me to look at Mother,

whose eyes ordered me to remain in my place.

"Take your time, but you must tell us what happened," Lyonidas now

said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"General Reynal had been trying to get me to accept his advances for

some time," Amity claimed.

"I had not!" denied the general.

"Silence!" Lyonidas ordered with even greater force. Then, again

softly, he said to Amity, "go on."

"I was still sleepy when we got to my room. I turned to thank the

General for escorting me, when he started to push me back into my

room. He reached out . . . and he . . . grabbed me!"

Her voice had risen with this last declaration, and she seemed to

take power from her own anger for her voice became stronger, more stri-

dent. "When I pulled back, he tore my gown! He grabbed my bosom and

fondled me! Then he ripped my skirts away!"

By now she was shouting, but the sharp-edged tones of her voice

clattered to a stop like shards from a breaking window, leaving dead

silence in their aftermath.

Julia was the one who broke the silence. Almost in a whisper, she

asked, "And then?"

Her soft voice was answered by an even quieter voice from Amity,

only audible because of the absolute silence in the chamber. "And then

he took his manhood from his pants and tried to force it into me."

"Tried?" Lyonidas seized on the key word.

Amity only nodded, but her shoulders straightened a little and she

held her head a bit higher.

After a moment she continued without further prompting. "I held

him off as best I could. He promised me that if I screamed he would kill

me, but I held him off! When Amy showed up she screamed and tried to

help me. I guess her scream brought others. When I could get free of

him, I ran to my other room. Amy helped me until we were summoned here."

Lyonidas had a look of horror in his eyes when he turned again to

Reynal. "General, now you may explain what happened."

"It is as I told you. Amity gave me some wine. It must have been

drugged. The rest is a pack of lies."

Julia released Amity, who was standing stronger now, and started

her own interrogation. "General Reynal, are you familiar with any drugs

that would produce the effects described?"

"Yes! There is one called 'canthus clove' that makes you weak and

confused, and makes you forget what happened while you were drugged,"

he replied.

"Where does one get this, whatever?" she asked.

"It is found, in um, some places in High Canyon," he replied

furtively.

"Is it generally available in Achaiea?" asked Julia.

"I should hope not! It is a state secret of High Canyon!" Then his

eyes widened as he realized he had undermined his own excuse.

"So it is not likely that anyone in Achaiea would know of it," Julia

concluded.

Her response was a sneer from Reynal. "Oh, I don't doubt you witches

have your own foul equivalent."

Julia ignored his comment, at least outwardly, but I could see color

in her cheeks that most of the castle denizens had long learned to use

as a warning.

Her tone was surprising though; seductive rather than sharp, heavy

with an unexpected promise. "General Reynal, are you a lusty man?"

"What?" he replied.

"Are you a lusty man? Do you enjoy being with women?" Julia repea-

ted. Then, before he had a chance to answer, she added, "Or perhaps you

enjoy being with boys?"

"I do not!" he shouted.

"You do not enjoy being with women?" Her tone showed more disap-

pointment than surprise.

"That's not what I said!" he yelled in frustration. "Ask any of my

men. I can handle my women!"

"Do you handle them all so roughly? Perhaps that is the only way

to get one to accept you." Julia now sneered, all heat banished from her

tones to leave frigid disdain.

"General Reynal," she continued, "you ask us to believe that Her

Grace invited you into her room, something she never does, and offered

you wine, something she never does. You say she drugged you but you

offer no evidence of this and the only drug that could so conveniently

produce the effect you claim is not known in Achaiea. Even if it were

available, her wine bottle is unopened. For your story to be true

Duchess Amity, Amy, the rest of Her Grace's servants, the guards, perhaps

even Her Majesty would have to have conspired together against you, yet

you offer no evidence of this, either."

Then Julia turned to Lyonidas and continued, "I think there is a

simpler explanation. General Reynal saw that Her Grace was sad and

lonely. He believed her to be more than a little drunk and decided to

take advantage of her weakness. Instead of being drunk though, she was

just tired. She fought off his advances until help arrived. All the

witnesses support this version of the story, the true version. Only

General Reynal offers an alternative version, one supported by nothing

but his unsubstantiated, hardly unbiased claims."

When Lyonidas next spoke to the General he had such a tired tone in

his voice that I found myself unconsciously rubbing his shoulder where my

hand rested upon it. His own hand rested briefly on mine.

"Reynal, have you anything further to say?"

"This is all a pack of lies. They have arranged things to look bad

for me, but I have done nothing wrong."

Lyonidas rose from the throne and stepped down to become face to

face with Reynal, then almost nose to nose.

"You mentioned that your men can attest to your enjoyment of women,

Reynal," Lyonidas began. "I can attest to it as well. I can attest to

you enjoying yourself a lot more than the women, especially in places

where my father's forces have been victorious in battle. I can attest to

your often-expressed belief that women are only good for one thing, and I

can attest to your disdain for what you consider to be weakness."

Lyonidas backed up a step or two as though the physical distance

were a part of a more important gulf between them.

"You disgust me, Reynal. I only now realize how much you have al-

ways disgusted me. Or perhaps should have disgusted me, for I know to my

shame that I sat around the same campfires with you and expressed the

same sentiments. Or at least, nodded along with you when you did."

Lyonidas then looked at Queen Selay, "Your Majesty, Reynal was

accused of sexual assault. By her own testimony, Her Grace has stated

that he was not successful in his attempt so I find him innocent of this

charge. But I find him guilty of assault, and of attempted rape, and of

more things than I even care to think about. In our law these are not

capital offenses and I will not execute him in punishment. You have

shown me that retribution is seldom appropriate anyway. However, I will

banish him from Achaiea and see that my father strips him of all his

possessions in High Canyon. These will be forfeit to Duchess Amity."

Then Lyonidas stepped over to Amity and gently took her chin in

his large hand. I had felt that same touch, though with Amity it was

not a prelude to a kiss, merely a way to get her to look at him.

"Perhaps, Your Grace, you can use Reynal's wealth to buy yourself a

new dress. Would that I could use it to restore your husband to you."

Lyonidas turned back to Queen Selay and asked, "If this is accep-

table to Your Majesty?"

She nodded tightly, then rose. Lyonidas never even looked back at

Reynal, just left the throne room himself. The pain in his eyes made me

want to follow him but the anger that was there kept him from seeing my

offer to go with him. Instead, I heard Mother's quiet tones, "Cherysse,

please come with me."

We reached her quarters in the normal few moments, accompanied by

Julia, Amity, and Amy the servant. As soon as the door was closed Mother

sighed. A tenseness left Julia as well. Surprisingly, instead of

sagging into a seat in a further sign of weakness, Amity stood taller and

threw off the cloak covering her.

"Amy, be a dear and fetch me something to wear, will you?" she asked

with no sign of her previous timidity. Her dress was torn as reported,

but there were no other signs of injury.

Mother took her accustomed seat and waved the rest of us to find

places of our own. I was so confused that I just stood there inside the

door until she spoke to me directly.

"Sit, Cherysse, we have more things to discuss."

"Many things, I think," I said with dawning comprehension.

Julia had relaxed enough for her sense of humor to return She re-

peated with ponderous mimicry of Lyonidas, "Reynal, you disgust me!"

"As well he should," Amity said, showing teeth in a feral grin that

transformed her round face into that of a lioness after a particularly-

satisfying kill.

Mother said nothing, or at least nothing with words. Her eyes met

mine though, in gentle challenge.

I moved to my usual stool and asked, "So, did Queen Giselle send us

anything besides this 'canthus clove'?"

Julia's eyes widened at my conclusion but it was obvious now that I

had a moment to think about it. I assumed that my impulsive red-headed

companion had been part of the conspiracy, but had only been told enough

for her limited part.

Mother just smiled, though the quiet pride in her eyes lifted my

heart into my throat almost as much as the kisses I had shared with

Lyonidas so short a time before. Then she answered, "No, not yet. But

she is working to send us something, or actually someone, who might be

even more helpful."

I just lifted an arched brow at her in invitation to continue.

Before she could, Julia interrupted.

"Wait just a moment. How did you know that Queen Giselle sent the

drug?"

"The drug is a state secret in High Canyon so it must have been

someone fairly high up in their nobility. Queen Giselle and Queen Selay

are cousins," I replied.

The light dawned in Julia's green eyes, revealing a bit of respect

as well as her accustomed humor.

Mother continued with her interrupted explanation, "After Reynal

escapes, Kragdle will . . ."

Julia interrupted again, "Reynal is going to escape?"

"Of course, dear. If he stays here in Achaiea until the spring he

may be able to get Lyonidas to think about things we don't want him con-

sidering. He will have to escape and try to make it back to High Canyon."

"In the winter?" Julia snorted.

"I didn't say he would make it all the way," Mother said, a cold

smile on her face that would have given me nightmares if I had seen it

when I was a child. Amity's round face, for all its predatory gleam,

could never match that diamond-hard implacability.

Amity had plenty of anger, though, regardless of how fiercely her

face revealed it. "That man killed my husband, or at least he was re-

sponsible for it. If it were up to me, I'd do a lot more than lie to get

back at him. I hope he freezes alone and forgotten in some nameless

mountain pass."

"And the even greater help?" I prompted Mother to return to the

topics of our business.

"Lyonidas has a friend of his youth, a man named Elgion, who will

be sent by Kragdle at Giselle's urging to assist Lyonidas now that Strane

and Olrin are dead. They don't know of Reynal's disgrace in High Canyon

yet, of course. Giselle's last message says that Elgion will be sent as

soon as travel is reasonable early in the spring. Giselle will also

insist on accompanying Kragdle when he visits, as he is sure to do once

the story of Reynal reaches him. This will delay Kragdle's party until

late in the spring or early in the summer. This will give us time to

move Elgion to our side."

"As Lyonidas is already on our side," I mused.

"Not entirely, dear, which is why you had your own part to play to-

night. You kept him distracted while our plot against Reynal proceeded."

"Distracted? Is that what you call it?" Julia laughed.

I blushed both ways from my neck, though only the part above my

bosom showed to them. Still, I knew my own mind had certainly not been

considering things beyond the balcony earlier that evening. In the light

of what happened even my inebriated indiscretion that had revealed to

Lyonidas my maiden's lover fit nicely into Mother's plans. Imagine that!

Instead of responding to Julia's good-natured jibe I looked at

Mother. I reached one hand above my head as though grasping at strings,

then moved my other hand up and down while lifting on my imaginary

strings. For just an instant pain showed in her eyes, but they cleared

when I held my own smile.

Chapter 17 - 'Tis Better To Give Than To Receive

It was so late it was early when we finally retired to bed. After

the trial and the discussions afterward that had no doubt included more

groupings than our own, no one rose until mid-morning at least. Part

of the reason, or excuse, for that was the lack of sunshine. Our good

weather had broken and while there was no new snow, dark, heavy clouds

hung low over Stalwart Guard and its surrounding fields.

Even at noon it was still unbearably gloomy. Or perhaps that was

just the mood in the castle. I knew I needed to escape it in any event.

Taking my hooded cloak and gloves, I went to my high balcony to find it

isolated from the world by an icy cloud. And to find it already

occupied.

"My Princess," came a quiet voice from the shifting fog.

Even the cloud could not disguise the voice, however much it hid

the man that produced it.

"Milord Regent," I said, trying to keep any guilt from my voice.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what, Milord?" my voice still stiffly controlled.

"For the shame of my countryman."

It was a good thing that he was still standing too far away to see

my face, for the shame I felt must have been all too apparent. I

couldn't speak. I just leaned against the frigid stones of the ledge and

tried to get myself under control.

He must have taken my silence, my stiffness, for anger. I sensed

as much as heard a sigh, and a settling back against the ledge at his

own position.

Even in the gloom his proximity was enough to set my heart racing,

to set my mind careening down memories of the feel of his arms around

me, of his . . .

It was too much. I turned to escape back down the stairs. A part

of me wanted desperately for him to call me back, for him to make things

right between us. But they could never be right between us. We were

enemies in a war he thought was over. We were incompatible in even more

inescapable ways. We were . . .

He said nothing, though. I fled back to my rooms and spent the

evening working on my paintings. I even sent for a light supper rather

than go to the dining hall.

As a result, I missed out on the excitement until finally Minah

found me and told me the news. Reynal had indeed escaped. In a sur-

prising display of incompetence, his guards (coincidentally Achaieans)

had allowed him to slip out of their grasp while moving him to a cell

with better light at the request of Lyonidas. Before they could

recapture him, he had locked a door behind himself . . . with them

on the wrong side. The near-anonymity of High Canyon warriors had

provided disguise enough with his features concealed behind the usual

hood. The only giveaway had been his selection of his own horse from

the stables. The guard at the drawbridge had been reluctant to fire his

crossbow on so little justification and in minutes Reynal was out of

sight. The alarm was raised of course, but the Captain of the guards

was in his turn reluctant to set out without proper provisions for his

men, with a storm so obviously threatening.

The threat was realized during the night. When we arose the next

morning we were greeted with snow falling more thickly than the previous

day's fog. By evening, the new blanket was near to the belly of a horse

and clearly impassable.

Mother was proven right once again, for with Reynal's escape the

sense of gloom was raised from the castle. Without his constant

presence, known even if unseen, the tension between High Canyonite

and Achaiean had no focus and soon dissipated.

Except between Lyonidas and myself. I wished a thousand times I

had not chanced upon him during the period before Reynal's escape. Per-

haps without that particular focus our own tension could have dissipated.

But it did exist. He thought I held him responsible for Reynal's shame-

ful act, yet I knew that it was my own people who were truly to blame for

the false accusation. I kept much to myself, or would have.

Mother would not allow it. Our Winterfair feast had actually been

a few days before Christmas and when the day we celebrated the birth of

our Savior arrived, Mother demanded that I take on at least the outward

signs of joy in respect for the occasion. She had me dress in a gown

much too lively for gloom, gaily festooned with lace and ribbons and

bright colors.

As so often happens, pretending to be happy brought the reality on

its heels. Julia was bubbling with her usual energy. Amity was so much

improved in temper that I thought she might give our whole conspiracy

away but Mother's serene confidence dispelled even that fear. By now I

had come to love wearing pretty clothes as much as anyone, and my new

dress was so beautifully feminine that I couldn't be unhappy when I wore

it.

The only note of gloom was the absence of Lyonidas. With the depar-

ture of Reynal he had become almost isolated. No High Canyon nobles

remained. In addition, this was not an occasion his people celebrated so

he did not appear as we laughed and nibbled on traditional pastries.

Each of us had small gifts for each other, actually several for it was

our custom to exchange things throughout the day at unexpected times. As

the afternoon wore on though, I stood to leave the table in the dining

hall where we had been holding our festivities.

"Where are you going, dear?" Mother asked.

"I have a, um, gift to give someone," I tried to smile back, but I'm

sure my worry showed. That was clue enough for whom the gift was in-

tended.

"It will be fine, Cherysse. Trust yourself," she advised.

I merely nodded, but my heart was in my throat as I went to my room

to get the gift I had prepared in the long sessions in my chamber. At

least, one of them. A few steps that had never seemed so long and I was

down the hallway to another room. The room that seemed to hold only

quiet.

My knock, though, was responded to immediately.

"Who is it?"

I swallowed to get my voice to work, then tried as hard as I could

to sound casual when I answered, "Your Princess."

Then my voice went away again as I squeaked when the door was flung

open. I hadn't heard a sound of movement to give me warning, but with a

magic of his own Lyonidas was standing there before me. I almost dropped

the package I carried in favor of using my arms to clutch at him, but I

managed to hold it up instead.

"Merry Christmas, My Prince."

Then the package slipped to the floor unheeded as he swept me up

into his arms and crushed my lips with a kiss so passionate it was almost

painful. But dear God, what sweet, sweet pain!

Whatever had passed before had no more meaning than time itself

while I was suspended in his arms. I don't know whether it was moments

or days before he slowly let my feet return to the floor. Surely my

racing heartbeat was no accurate measure of time. But eventually my

toes touched the package I had brought, making the wrapping rustle

softly.

Moving my feet to avoid the package must have seemed to Lyonidas

like a wiggle of complaint at my so tight bondage within his embrace. He

quickly lowered me the rest of the way to the floor and stepped back.

"I'm sorry, m.. uh, Princess," he said.

The good humor that had returned to me with our party carried me

past the guilt that had earlier seemed so oppressive, so I teased him

rather than retreat into equivalent formality.

With a heavy, artificial sigh and a pout that was a deliberate re-

minder, I said, "So quickly you tire of me, that after only a few times

you come to regret kissing me."

The twinkle in my eyes must have given me away because he didn't

rise to the bait with any defense.

Or perhaps he did, because in the next heartbeat his lips were again

pressed to mine, and then again, and then again, and then again.

His hand was in my hair once more and I surrendered to the sensuous

touch while his breath whispered in my ear, "My Cherysse, I only thought

you were angry with me."

My answer was smothered, but none the less clear for all that.

As though it were the chaperone my steel prison made unnecessary,

the package once again rustled as someone's foot touched it.

This time I did wiggle to be let out of his embrace and bent to

retrieve the nagging distraction. Lyonidas reached for it before I could

get my stiffly-corseted body into position, and held it out to me.

"No, My Prince, that is for you."

"What is it?"

"Now I suspect you're smart enough to figure out how to determine

that," I laughed.

He gave me an artificial little frown before grinning himself. "You

know that we of High Canyon do not celebrate your Christmas. This is not

necessary."

"It is never necessary, My Prince. It is a joy to honor our God

with a small reflection of his gift to us of a Savior. Accept the gift

for the pleasure it gives me, if there is none for yourself."

Opening the package he found first a set of leggings like those I had

worn as Deacon so long ago. Well, not exactly like, these were quite a

bit bigger. In addition there was a shirt, and a tunic, and a wide belt.

What made them special though, was their color. The leggings were black,

of course. That was traditional. And the shirt was tan in honor of his

homeland. But the tunic was richly red, embroidered with black and white

and silver and blue as befitted a festive occasion. It was an outfit

such as a man of Achaiea would wear for a Christmas feast, not the loose

tan shirt and trousers of High Canyon.

"Would you honor me by wearing these, My Prince?"

He nodded, then stepped to the chest at the foot of his bed.

"Would you honor me by wearing these, My Princess?" he said as he

handed me a small package, not as big as my fist.

In it was a pair of gleaming gold earrings such as a noblewoman of

High Canyon might wear. Simple loops, since their styles did not include

much ornamentation, yet the rings were smooth and shining with rich

depth. I knew of the styles of High Canyon of course, just as I knew of

the styles of Verdantland, and of the ancient Empire, but I never

expected to have the occasion to wear such beautiful treasures.

Then the problem of how to wear them came to me. "My, um, Lyonidas,

I can't wear these."

His face fell as though I had slapped him in the face.

"No, My Prince, it's not that I don't want to. I can't. These

require that I have holes in my ears as High Canyon women do," I ex-

plained as I removed the spring clip that was part of my jewelry for

the day.

"Oh," his face was not much less despairing, "I don't suppose you'd

be willing to do that."

"Well, um, maybe," and it was as though I had a string of my own

attached to the corners of his lips, pulling it upward, "but I have heard

very, um, unsettling rumors of disease that results from the, uh,

punctures?"

"Not if you do the anointing," he declared.

"Anointing?"

"Yes. When a noblewoman of High Canyon adopts the rings, her ears

are anointed twice a day for two weeks with fine wine. It wards off

sickness."

"Pouring wine on my ears will ward off sickness?" I snorted.

"Well, you don't really pour it on, you just sort of dampen your ear

with a wine-soaked cloth. But it works. My mother wears the rings, and

she had no trouble, nor any other noblewoman that I know."

Well. When I brought Lyonidas his Achaiean outfit, I never expected

to be asked to become a High Canyon woman. Part of me wanted to flee

from this strange . . . perversion. But I could seldom tell Lyonidas no

when he was so close to me, with such longing in his deep dark eyes, and

on his so warm lips and . . . I found myself nodding my head.

One of the pins I had worked into my hair provided the puncturing

tool. Lyonidas insisted on purifying it in a candle flame, at least the

part that would touch my ears, as part of the ritual. It didn't hurt . .

. much . . . though the immediate application of a few drops of wine

stung a bit. The earrings were themselves anointed before he placed them

in my ears. They felt quite strange. I couldn't tell if it was because

of the weight, they were quite heavy, or because of some magical aspect

of the ritual. I found myself tilting my head from side to side to feel

the tug on my ears. The motion caught a reflection from one of the

candles that flashed at me from the small looking glass near Lyonidas'

bed.

"They are beautiful!" I cried happily.

"They are nothing beside your own beauty," my prince answered.

That earned him a chance to examine them from closer range. Very

close range. I flung my arms around his neck and started kissing him

like a barroom strumpet, but I had never received such a personal gift in

my life. No one could take these away from me. They were now part of my

very body.

"Now, My Prince, you need to wear your new gifts," I demanded. Some

time later.

"Very well, my Cherysse. Will you wait for me in your chambers?"

"Maybe I should just wait here," I suggested with that smile I had

learned from Mother. The one that could heat the castle.

I swear, he hunched over just a little. I had a feeling I had all

too good an idea of what pain had caused his grimace. It embarrassed me

with the recognition that I had once again lost track of who I really

was. I was going to have to talk to Mother about reducing the compulsion

of her persona.

Someday.

But for that day I just grinned at him and turned away in a swirl of

delicate lace.

When I returned to the dining hall, Lyonidas accompanied me. At our

entrance a wave of silence flowed out over the room as people recognized

Lyonidas in his new attire. Then murmuring flowed in behind it like a

reflected wave. I never knew who it was that started the applause,

though I suspected that Hugh of Sandars had something to do with it.

Still, once started it grew until there were cheering children and

beaming adults in all corners of the large hall. I saw a flush flow up

from Lyonidas' neck but he nodded with good grace and escorted me to my

seat.

"That looks very good on you, Milord Regent," Mother said.

"Thank you, Majesty. It is surprisingly comfortable. I can see

why men of Achaiea like the style."

"They like the style because the women of Achaiea like the style,"

Julia laughed. "You have good looking legs, Milord Regent."

That brought a new flush to his neck, along with a rueful grin, but

the agreement that followed on the heels of Julia's pronouncement covered

any protest he might make. I was laughing along with the others when

Julia noticed my own new gifts.

"Cherysse! What have you done?"

Now it was my turn to blush, a good thing because I was doing about

as good a job of it as I could, my turn or not. In our tradition Lyoni-

das may have claimed me by kissing me in public, but marking me as his

with rings inserted into my ears was hardly a matter of tradition. It

was a clear statement.

Mother looked at me as well but she said nothing. I could see con-

cern in her eyes, though not anger. Well, sometimes you just have to

make decisions by yourself, based on what seems right at the time. I

was prepared to defend myself to her if need be. Though perhaps I should

say I was prepared to answer to her if need be because I wasn't entirely

sure why I had allowed Lyonidas to put his rings in me, so how could I

defend myself?

Julia was not angry either. Once again I saw hurt and disap-

pointment and confusion in her eyes. I would have changed them all for

pure anger that might burn clean rather than see her pain. She left the

table to flee to her own rooms.

Mother moved to follow her, but this time I held her arm to make

her stay in her position. With a brief glance of reassurance to Lyoni-

das, I went after Julia myself.

Instead of going directly to her room though, I went by my own quar-

ters first. I had made a special present for her as well and hoped it

would act to bridge the gulf that had suddenly opened between us. But

when I knocked on her door I received no answer.

"Julia, please let me in," I called.

"Go away!"

For the first time in many months, I used a voice that was not full

of music and light energy. I spoke as Deacon.

"Julia, let me in."

I heard the bolt withdraw, though without voice to confirm the invi-

tation. Nonetheless, I opened the door and moved into the room. She was

standing on the far side of her room, looking out the window.

It was a struggle to maintain "my" voice, but I spoke again as Dea-

con, "Julia, will you give me a chance to explain?"

She just stood at her window, looking out in to the darkness.

Taking her continued silence for as much consent as I was going to get, I

let my voice relax into its now-normal tones.

"Julia. I'm sorry. When I am with Lyonidas, I can refuse him al-

most nothing. If I did not wear my maiden's lover, he would have found

out my secret, for on the night of Reynal's supposed attack I allowed him

to undress me. Yet, when he is not near me my thoughts are always and

only of you. I swear this to be true, but know I cannot prove it to you.

Will you take this gift from me, if not as proof then at least as evi-

dence of how I feel about you?"

"Why shouldn't he undress you? He owns you. You wear his mark in

your flesh." Well, at least she was speaking to me. Sort of.

"And I wear your mark in my heart, where no one can see it but me.

It is the one that never leaves me, though."

"Hah! It leaves you soon enough if Lyonidas is around."

"Then perhaps I should have said that I wear your mark in my soul.

For though Lyonidas can indeed excite my heart, only you have ever

touched my soul."

"Hmmph," she grunted, but I could see questions in her eyes though

they were still mostly turned away.

"It is true. In all the time since Tamor died and I saw you in a

different way, no other person has ever caused me the, um, discomfort

that you see evidence of every time we bathe." I began to move closer

to her as I spoke, "No other person has ever been in my dreams when I

wake up at night, and every morning. No other person has filled my mind

with visions of beauty beyond the fairest flower, beyond the brightest

sunrise, beyond the clearest sky."

"Let me show you how I see you," I pleaded softly, not as a beggar

but as a lover. There, I said it to myself. Would she believe me if I

said it to her?

The gift I had prepared for her was a painting, a portrait of her.

It was almost childishly emotional. Julia was my angel, floating near

the sun with widespread wings and a glowing smile that I had worked on

forever. Her smile was full of life, of real humor, yet full of warmth

and compassion. It was hers, but it was more than hers, it was mine as

well, mine to cherish until I captured it in pigments I had had to mix

myself. The painting was not sexual. After all, it was an angel.

Others might find it nearly blasphemous, but not sexual. Still, the

shape under the robes of the angel was hers and just clear enough to

reflect an image burned into my memory.

It got her attention. She turned fully away from the window and

moved over to where I held the painting near the light.

"How did you do this? I never posed for you."

"My, uh, Julia, I remember everything about you. Whenever I am not

under the influence of Lyonidas, I think only of you. I have memorized

every curve of your face, every color, every shadow."

"Not only the curves of my face, it would seem," she said, but I

could see pleasure in her face, hear it in her voice.

"Not only the curves of your face," I agreed. I set the painting up

on her dresser, and took her face gently between my hands.

Now or never, I decided. I took as deep a breath as my hidden tor-

mentor would allow and said, "Julia. I love you. I love you with all

my soul, and with all of my heart, my own heart, however buried that

sometimes seems. You know as well as I do what part I have to play.

Please believe me when I tell you it is only a part, not a true reflec-

tion of my feelings."

Her answer was a slow movement toward me. I moved just as slowly

toward her, wanting desperately for the kiss that seemed now possible yet

afraid to frighten away the fragile peace within us.

It did not escape. The fragility of the peace was transformed into

tenderness as her soft, full lips sought out my own. My hands slipped

from her cheeks to her flaming halo of hair even as I felt her own hands

come up to caress my golden tresses. I cannot conceive of a more sensual

moment than when we shared caresses while we shared kisses. I have never

enjoyed a more tender moment than that moment when I told her of my love.

"Oh, Deacon, what are we to do?" she sighed.

"For the first thing, you better not call me Deacon," I smiled

sadly. "But I can't tell you how much pleasure it gives me to hear you

say my name."

"Oh, my love, I know it is you under there. Like you reminded me, I

see the evidence each time we bathe. Yet, sometimes it seems so hard to

watch while you give yourself to Lyonidas."

She called me 'love'! She doesn't hate me. I was too happy to

share the worry she expressed.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I could not do it without the persona

impressed on me by Mother. But when it is in force, I cannot hold back,

either. It doesn't mean anything unless he's in the room."

"Did you really undress for him?" she giggled, suddenly remembering

my earlier claim.

"Well," I giggled to her, "he did most of the work. I was a bit,

um, incapacitated at the time."

"Then what happened?" she asked.

"I fell."

"You fell? Where?"

"In his room," I remembered with another sigh.

"No, dummy, I mean how did you fall? What happened?"

"I got tangled in all the material of my gown and just tripped. I

ended up on my nose with my chemise up around my armpits." Now I was

laughing. A lot of things are funny long after they're over.

"So he saw your maiden's lover?"

"Yes. He was horrified. He accused Achaieans of being more cruel

than High Canyon."

"He's probably right," she snickered. "I certainly would have

agreed at the end of our trip to North Vale."

"Don't remind me," I snorted in a most unladylike way.

"We better get back to the party," I cautioned.

"Not quite yet," Julia disagreed. "I have something for you as

well."

Her manner suddenly grew somber as she went to a chest and pulled

out a package. As she returned to me she said, "I had these made when

we returned from North Vale. Afterward, I wasn't sure if you would be

interested."

She opened up her package to reveal two identical hair adornments,

combs with delicate pearls arranged in a small circle. She handed me

one and took the other for herself.

"Julia, are you sure about this?" I asked, tears forming in my eyes.

"Yes, my love. Very sure. It was you that seemed distracted."

The combs were the symbol of betrothal for Achaiean maidens. It

was, of course, unique for me to have one. Typically only the girl wears

one in her hair as a sign of her commitment. But I wore the combs and

pins of an Achaiean Princess rather than the coat of arms of a prince so

this would be my appropriate sign of commitment as well.

Or maybe not. "I'm not sure I should wear this. If Lyonidas finds

out what it means, he'll be suspicious."

"Of what? He'll be flattered. Maybe that's what the rings in your

ears mean to him already."

"No! Really? Do you think so?"

"No, but we better look into it," Julia suggested.

"You're right. I'll have Minah find out. In the meantime, I'll

cherish this pin, but neither of us better wear one. Oh Julia, I'm so

happy! I love you. When this is all over, I'll find out a way to show

you. I promise!"

She smiled and held me. "The only promise I want is the promise

of our love."

"That you have, now and forever. Or at least, when Lyonidas is

not in the room," I grinned. That was probably dangerous, but I had

to make sure things were settled.

"You just remember who I am when he's not in the room," she laughed

as she poked me in my armored waist. "You never know, I might have to

play a part too, before this is done."

She laughed when she said it, but it was to prove all too prophetic.

Chapter 18 - Silver in the Springtime

Winter in Achaiea can be harsh. Even if you have laid in enough

supplies to last through the cold times, there is little to do. In the

year we were conquered by High Canyon it was too cold to leave the castle

from Christmas until spring. Of course it was possible to go outside for

short periods, sometimes even for a day or two at a time, but to what

purpose? At any time a new storm could descend, making travel impossible

and life itself a desperate struggle. So excursions from the castle

grounds were tentative and short-ranged.

The residents of Stalwart Guard turned their attention inward when

the world outside was so forbidding. The example set by Lyonidas was

sufficient justification for the other members of the High Canyon contin-

gent to adopt Achaiean styles. Soon, all the warriors from his nation

wore tight leggings, a soft tunic, and a tan shirt that was itself much

softer than their previous attire. They would often wear a heavy fur

cloak when on outside guard duty and it was soon difficult to tell a

guard born in High Canyon from one of Achaiea.

The changes were not all one sided, either. I noticed that the

swords worn by the Achaiean soldiers in the castle were becoming longer

as the winter wore on, and lighter. When the days were warm enough for

drill in the courtyard I saw our men learning the quick, light-footed

style of High Canyon though their officers still required more discipline

than was apparent in the amorphous flow typical of the High Canyon horde.

And on this the pendulum swung back the other way with the warriors

of High Canyon finding comfort in a more structured formation, confident

that the man on their right or left would stand his ground. They would

be guarded in battle even as they guarded their comrades, while still

maintaining an aggressive front.

The winter sun set early, so on most afternoons Lyonidas would find

me on our balcony before supper. We would watch the sun set, sometimes

not saying a word for long moments, content to be in each other's com-

pany. No matter how cold the world outside might be, when I was surroun-

ded by his strong arms, leaning my body up against his, I never felt

uncomfortable.

Those wonderful silences together did not replace his kisses. Now

that I was claimed by him publicly, in our style with his unashamed kiss

and in his style with the earrings I wore, he felt it was his right to

kiss me whenever we were alone together. And who was I to tell him no?

I went to his embrace joyously, eagerly, every time he gave me the

opportunity.

I suppose it could have been considered demeaning. I had found

out through Minah that wearing his earrings was a sign of his claim on

me but carried no corresponding claim on him. It was a signal to other

men to keep away from me, but no promise to me at all. Still, I wore

them gladly, unashamedly. When he molded his body to mine, when he

warmed my lips with his, when he caressed my unbound hair, I was trans-

ported to a corner of heaven that knew no shame, no pride, only glorious

surrender.

He would escort me to supper. There, we were models of decorum.

Still, my often-disarrayed hair, my cheeks glowing with more than the

coolness of the outside air made it clear what we had shared only moments

before. Sunset after sunset.

After supper I would retire to my rooms for quiet studies or pain-

ting. I seldom went alone. But it was not Lyonidas who came with me.

Julia and I would spend evenings together, me with my studies, her with

her embroidery. We would share the same sort of companionable silences

that spoke so much of the depth of comfort in each other's company. I

did several paintings of her that winter. In later years I would realize

they were shallow, actually, with simple love and overly-romantic images.

I never apologized for the message in my paintings though, for it was

true.

One evening I looked up from my studies and just watched her at her

fine work for a long time. She finally noticed my attention and looked

up herself.

"What are you staring at?" she asked archly.

"You," I answered with a grin.

"Why?"

"Because you are the most gloriously beautiful woman in all of

Christendom," I declared.

"That's not what Lyonidas would say," she giggled.

I giggled too, at her compliment and at the irony of it. Then I

sobered and asked her a real question, "Do you think what I'm doing is

right?"

"Of course, if that's what it takes to win back the kingdom," she

replied without concern.

"But what about us?" I asked.

"What about us?" she echoed, then answered. "We are honest with

each other and Lyonidas is an invader. I don't particularly like the

idea of you in his embrace, but I know your heart belongs to me."

"Do you really? I wish I could prove it to you," I sighed.

She laughed, "I think you make a pretty clear statement every time

we bathe together."

I blushed in embarrassed acknowledgment of the truth of her comment.

Then, another sign of commitment came to my mind and I went to my dresser

where I kept the betrothal hair adornment she had given me.

"Put this in my hair, will you?" I asked.

She took the small circle of pearls from my trembling hand and

placed it appropriately. I was ready to return to my desk when she

reached into her bag of sewing materials and drew forth the twin to

the decoration that was now in my golden tresses.

"I keep this one with me," she said softly. Then, she turned so

that I might put her own symbol of commitment in her fiery mane.

I could not imagine a more beautiful sight than all that glorious

hair highlighted by the softly-glowing pearls. From that day on we wore

out betrothal pearls every time we were alone together, and we were to-

gether most evenings.

Perhaps even more than with Lyonidas, these companionable silences

were merely counterpoint to greater passion. Our kisses were softer than

those that captured Lyonidas' power, but even sweeter. And even more

frequent. There were many nights when she completed little embroidery

and I completed little on my paintings, but neither of us complained.

As God is my judge, I felt guilty when I was alone though. Not

for what I did, but for the emotions that I felt. If I could have en-

sured that my dual life would continue forever, I would gladly have given

up my kingdom, left my family unavenged, made all of Mother's plans come

to naught. I know it was selfish, but for the first time in my life I

was liked, respected, even loved by someone of my own age; someone beside

Mother. The imposed ruler of our land showed me of his passionate affec-

tion nearly every afternoon. The most beautiful woman in the world

showed me of hers every evening. I never wanted that winter to end.

But God turns the seasons as He wills, and the time came when the

days grew longer and warmer. One day when Lyonidas and I were inspecting

the sunset the guard at the castle gate announced incoming riders.

We moved to the courtyard for a first-hand appraisal of the situa-

tion to see a contingent that looked strangely out of place, foreigners

where they didn't belong. Warriors of High Canyon. Perhaps eight or ten

all told, but even in riding they confused their formation too much for

an instant count.

I tensed at this intrusion but Lyonidas had no qualms. In fact, as

the riders clattered in through the gate he laughed hugely and roared out

his challenge.

"Who let you out of jail?!!"

The lead rider, still anonymous within his cowled cloak for all I

could tell, pulled up and exposed his face.

"Who are you to ask? You can't be Lyonidas. You're entirely too

pretty in those fancy clothes."

"Well, now Elgion, I've always been better looking than you so

that's no reason to forget your sword brother."

Actually, Elgion was not bad looking, though of course he was not

as handsome as my Lyonidas. He was shorter, though still much taller

than me. Where Lyonidas had richly-black hair and deep, dark eyes, this

man had a dark-blond shaggy mane that covered his collar. His eyes, when

I could see them, were sort of neutral, too. Hazel, but not really light

in color.

I stood forgotten on the steps to the courtyard as Lyonidas splashed

through the puddles and almost pulled Elgion off his horse. They clasped

arms like the brothers Lyonidas had claimed and then turned back to me.

When they got closer, Elgion reached out to take my hand.

"So this is her," he said, looking at me but speaking to Lyonidas.

"The girl whose hair is finer than the purest gold, whose eyes are bluer

than the highest sky, whose . . ."

"Yes," Lyonidas interrupted, "this is Her Royal Highness, the

Princess Cherysse."

"Nice earrings," he finally spoke to me. It provoked an instant's

embarrassment, but then I stood proudly and shook my golden hair back to

make them stand clear.

"Yes, they are beautiful," I declared.

Elgion was about to say something, but just then Queen Selay arrived

with Julia. He dropped my hand like an old rag and flowed to them with

the fluid ease that Lyonidas demonstrated, though at a much higher energy

level.

He went to one knee right there in the muddy courtyard, but before

Julia, not the Queen.

It was Julia's hand that he now reached for and it was at his lips

before the warmth of his touch had been forgotten by mine. His words

though, were once again for Lyonidas.

"Sword brother, I am going to have to teach you how to write more

clearly. You said her hair was red, but you did not tell me it glowed

like molten copper fresh poured from the furnace. You said her eyes were

green, but you did not tell me they were brighter than a meadow after a

cleansing rain. You said she was pretty, and perhaps here you can be

forgiven for surely the words do not exist to capture such beauty. If I

didn't know better, I would have accused you of downplaying your reports

on Achaiean women so that you could keep them all to yourself."

"And you, sword brother," returned Lyonidas, "are still possessed

of the most silvered tongue in all of High Canyon. In all of two king-

doms, now."

Lyonidas offered his arm to me as we trailed over behind the high

energy of our visitor. By the time we were close enough for polite con-

versation Elgion was rising from his muddy knee to stare unabashedly into

Julia's eyes.

"Your Majesty," Lyonidas began the formal introductions, "allow

me to introduce Elgion, my sword brother, and oh, I guess you'd say about

a Count in your titles. Elgion, this is Her Majesty, Queen Selay, and

the Lady Julia you have recognized."

"May God preserve me if I made a mistake," Elgion laughed, "for if

there are two such beauties as you in Achaiea, then I will make a traitor

of myself and stay here forever."

I wondered if anyone but me noticed the slight start Mother gave

at that declaration, and then the moment of cold calculation that fol-

lowed in her eyes.

The arrival of the first party from High Canyon after the long win-

ter gave more than enough excuse for a party. Though I remember being

tired near to death after our own muddy journey the previous autumn,

Elgion needed only a quick bath and a change of clothes to reappear fresh

as the spring flowers that decorated the tables.

The shapeless tan garb of our new visitors seemed oddly out of

place. Once it would have been impossible, then unavoidable, then merely

unnecessary. Now those anonymous outfits were back in our home, a nag-

ging irritation that we were subject peoples to a foreign invader.

Not that anyone mentioned any of that. Elgion seemed to say three

words for any one from someone else, yet the laughter his stories brought

forth made it seem like all were equal partners in the conversation.

Well, almost all.

Lyonidas was as often the butt of Elgion's stories as was Elgion

himself, and just as Elgion could laugh at himself with true humor, so

too did Lyonidas. They conversed over my head with reminiscences that

drew on their years together, more years than I had yet been alive.

And when Elgion was not talking to Lyonidas, he was focused on Julia

with an intensity that made me desperately afraid. His smooth talking

and ready compliments were a talent I had always envied yet never pos-

sessed. I was only too aware of how lonely Julia had been once Tamor had

died. How much of her present affection for me was simple loneliness?

Queen Selay signaled for the musicians and the party moved to an

even more active stage. At least in this I would not need to feel inade-

quate. Lyonidas and I had danced together many times since the time I

had run out on him. We had become so accustomed to each other that we

could devise wonderfully intricate responses to the music.

Yet even here I found myself lacking. Worse, Elgion's bright energy

made even Lyonidas seem, well, dull. We moved with precision and tempo,

he moved with true art.

And worst of all, his partner was Julia. She had found a kindred

soul in Elgion, all bright enthusiasm, unconcerned about intermittent

breaks in the flow as they found each other's rhythms. I was grateful

when the musicians turned to slower tunes. That is, until Elgion took

Julia into his embrace as shamelessly as Lyonidas had once done to me.

While Lyonidas and I danced quietly together, I asked him, "Did I

hear you ask how Elgion came to be out of jail?"

"Oh, that was a joke. I always told him if he didn't have me around

to keep his impulses under control, he'd end up in jail."

"Perhaps that would be the right place for him," I murmured under

my breath.

"What did you say, My Princess?" Lyonidas asked.

"Uh, oh, nothing," I lied, surprised myself at how much truth there

was in my feelings about this intruder.

Those feelings were not improved when I retired for the evening.

Elgion was still recounting tales, each more impossible than the last.

Lyonidas had long since quit defending himself against these obvious

lies, just laughing at the creativity in the storytelling.

Julia stayed to listen.

I reached my room alone for the first time in many evenings and

tried to lose myself in music of my own. Nothing moved me though, and my

studies were no more captivating. In the end, I called for Minah to help

me undress and went to bed early, clutching my unworn betrothal pearls in

my hand as I worried about so many things.

The next morning was a bathing day and I reached the chamber quite

early. Mother was there, already finished with her own morning duties,

and helped me from my imprisoning steel embrace. I said nothing, not

even in response to the most intimate relief. For once it was not

significant next to the ache in my heart.

Julia entered gaily a short while later. She bounced and chattered

and giggled and sighed and showed all signs of being infected with the

personality of our newest invader. For the first time in a long time, I

felt guilty watching as she slid into the warm water. Now it was as

though I were the intruder. Mother went to the dresser to pick out the

day's dresses for us, giving us a short while to soak in the renewing

heat.

"You should have stayed at dinner longer," Julia advised me.

"Elgion had so many wonderful stories about Lyonidas."

"Stories is right," I grumbled. She didn't even hear me, already

launched into a second hand rendition of one she found especially

amusing.

"Doesn't Elgion dance well?" she next asked. Like I cared.

"He certainly is uninhibited," I offered in faint agreement.

"You could do with a little less inhibition," she chuckled.

"Then why don't you just ask HIM for HIS earrings to wear," I cried,

turning away.

Julia sputtered to a stop, only now picking up on my despair.

"My love," she said softly, "you know there is only you in my life."

She slid around the tub to hold me in her arms but for the first

time, I shrugged her away.

"Oh, Julia, you deserve so much more than me. You deserve someone

with the bright happiness of Elgion, not some not-quite-man who will

always be a disappointment."

"Do you want Lyonidas more than me?" she asked.

"No!"

"Then why should you think that I want anyone else more than you?"

Had her brains gone astray during the party last night? "But you

are a beautiful woman! You deserve a strong, handsome man, not a soft

weakling."

"Do you like the kisses of your strong, handsome Lyonidas more than

mine?" she asked.

"No," again I answered.

"Then why do you think that I would?"

"Because you're a beautiful woman," I repeated, "and I'm a . . ."

"The Queen has said that when you are with Lyonidas, your responses

are those of a beautiful woman. Yet you still prefer the sweet tender-

ness we share. Please believe me when I say that I am the same."

She kissed me softly, tenderly, and reminded me, "I told you once

if I had to choose, I would choose gentle over fierce. I love you, my

darling, not Elgion."

The strange situation I had found myself in for most of a year had

resulted in many inexplicable responses. With the touch of her soft kiss

I began to cry, though the tears were not of pain or sadness. Sometimes

a woman may sob from relief and joy as soon as from sorrow.

I was unaware that Mother had returned sometime during our conver-

sation. When she spoke, her words created yet a further surprise.

"Julia, it is good that you do not intend to be forsworn, but it may

indeed be necessary for you to wear Elgion's earrings."

"Forsworn?" Julia asked tentatively.

"Oh, child, don't you think that I know you had betrothal pearls

made for you both? How often do you think that happens? Amy knew about

it before they were delivered. If, after all those evenings alone in her

room, you had not offered them to Cherysse and she accepted, then you

would not be so close right now."

"You knew?" now it was my turn to ask.

"Of course. And I approve. You will be good for each other, and

more importantly, good for the kingdom. I even think you can be happy

together, which is an additional positive factor."

Then she laughed and continued, "If you didn't both wear your

maiden's lovers, I would never have permitted you to spend so much

time together unchaperoned."

"Speaking of which, I expect it will be easier for Cherysse if you

give her a chance to recover from that embrace before she must once again

wear her armor."

I blushed, but my brave Julia just kissed me once again, and if

there were less tenderness than previously, it was replaced with fierce

pride I found even more satisfying.

Mother chuckled at our response, but then sobered, "Actually, Julia,

what I said was correct. We need to convince Elgion to support Lyonidas

in the coming confrontation, not Kragdle. You will need to be a major

part of our inducement."

"Me?" she replied.

"Yes, you," Mother confirmed. "He is obviously quite smitten with

you . ."

"I can understand that," I interrupted with a snicker.

"And you can show him the value of Achaiean ways just as Cherysse

has shown Lyonidas," she continued.

Now Julia snickered at me, "That's not all she's shown him."

I rewarded her jab with the expected blush, not that I had any

choice in the matter. But in the next instant I pulled one of her slen-

der ankles so that she slid under the water.

She came up spluttering, but laughing. Mother, though, was not so

amused.

"Girls! Pay attention. Julia, you need to arrange in a month or so

what has taken Cherysse more than half a year with Lyonidas. It will

not happen if you remain so focused on each other. Cherysse, just as

Julia must accept the attention that Lyonidas gives to you, now you will

have to accept the attention that Elgion will be paying to Julia. There

can be no more of that sour attitude you showed last night at supper.

Can you both play your parts?"

"Yes, Mother. Yes, Majesty," we answered guiltily, but under the

water Julia's fingers found their way to mine and twined within them.

We completed our bath and dressed for the day in bright colors. The

spring air was still cool but the bright sun made any exposed place too

warm for winter clothes, too cheerful for winter colors. It seemed

everyone in the castle found an excuse to spend the day outdoors and

the courtyard was still bubbling with activity when I stepped out onto

our balcony to wait for Lyonidas and watch the sunset.

The sunset arrived on time, but Lyonidas did not. When the sun

was fully down and it was clearly too late for any further hope, I de-

scended from the balcony to the dining hall. Was it my sinful pleasure

in the passion of Lyonidas' kisses, followed so closely by the sweetness

of those from Julia, that now denied me both?

Chapter 19 - Vinegar and Honey

My delay at the balcony had caused me to be the last to arrive in

the dining hall. Just before I entered, I heard Julia's crystal laughter

spill out. My heart lurched once again and it was with sick certainty

that I knew I would find her in Elgion's company.

And so it was. My place was vacant at the table but that didn't

seem to bother Julia, nor even Lyonidas for that matter. When the ser-

vant pulled my chair out (and how often had Lyonidas done that instead?)

I sat quietly. Some instinct made me look up to see Mother's frown, but

I just couldn't work up any cheer right then.

"I trust there were no serious problems that delayed you," Lyonidas

said.

"No," I sighed, "I only stayed overlong watching the sunset."

I was gratified to see a moment of guilt on his face. But before he

could reply, Elgion spoke up.

"Highness, if you are going to arrive late, you should use the occa-

sion for a grand entrance, not slip to your seat like a quiet mouse."

"I don't believe I have ever been likened to a mouse before," I

said stiffly, then found sadness rather than humor in my voice when I

tried to make a small joke. "Perhaps my cat will stop enjoying my

company."

The silent 'too' echoed at the end of that statement.

Lyonidas again looked guilty and I felt additional sinful pleasure

in his discomfort. However, any excuse he might have made was again

forestalled by Elgion's quick words.

"Ah, yes, the infamous cats of the women of your family. Has

Lyonidas told you of his mother's cat?"

He was not interested in any answer though, continuing immediately.

"Her cat is blacker than midnight and I swear they talk to each other,

though not with words."

Julia inserted herself into his stream of chatter, "Her cat is more

grey than black, but they do seem to have a closeness. Of course, she

spoils it rotten."

Elgion looked at Julia with a grin that I found infuriating, "And

what do you spoil, Milady?"

"A girl has to have some secrets," she grinned in return, "but you

need not worry. It is not possible for me to spoil you."

"And why not?" he replied, though in his tone he made it clear he

was knowingly giving her the opportunity her comment implied.

"Why, because it has already been done, of course," she giggled.

"I am not the one dressed like a dandy of this gentle country,"

Elgion snickered in response.

"No, you are the one dressed in shapeless, colorless rags," Julia

snorted.

He protested, "But these clothes are quite proper for High Canyon."

Julia looked around the dining hall, as though seeing it for the

first time, "Goodness, I didn't know we were in High Canyon."

"No, and it appears there is little of High Canyon left in those who

have been here for a while," he observed.

This brought a growl from Lyonidas, "Careful, sword brother, you go

too far."

I decided to try some sort of positive contribution for a change and

made a peacemaker's offer, "Perhaps, Elgion, if you tried an outfit more

like Milord Regent is wearing, you would find it comfortable, too."

"Good idea," Queen Selay seconded. "I'll have something made for

you right away."

Now Elgion was in the position of accepting or being rude, so he

merely nodded. Then his humor returned as he looked once again to Julia,

"I must admit, the brighter colors of Achaiea are most pleasant to the

eye."

"What colors most suit your fancy?" asked Julia, shamelessly fishing

for compliments.

Which she received as Elgion answered, "I have become partial to

bright copper, and crystalline emerald green."

At least that tart had the grace to blush at his comment. Queen

Selay stepped into the silence with a question.

"Count Elgion, what was the condition of the roads between here and

High Canyon?"

"For the most part, in good condition," he answered. "I must admit

you Achaieans do a good job of building roads. The high passes in the

mountains between here and High Canyon are still very difficult. But

once you are on the plains the only problems are with swollen rivers."

"Then perhaps, Milord Regent," she continued, now speaking to Lyoni-

das, "you would consider beginning the spring inspections. You might

remember the case of Samuel the farmer, who stole his neighbor's ram? He

has petitioned for release from his servitude on the basis of skills

learned over the winter. If he has indeed learned to be a more effective

farmer, the evidence will be found on his farm. We should also inspect

the irrigation project in that area."

With that trigger Lyonidas launched into an enthusiastic explanation

to Elgion of the benefits of restitution over punishment in justice.

Elgion relaxed into his seat with a smile but I saw a look of surprise

behind his always-laughing eyes.

"Goodness, Lyonidas, it seems more than clothes have changed about

you," Elgion said when Lyonidas finally ran down.

"Perhaps," Lyonidas answered with a grin of his own. He next

launched into stories about the many interesting challenges he had faced

during his tenure as regent. His reports were not as glibly entertaining

as Elgion's tales but it was clear that his enthusiasm was honest, not

only for the technology we possessed but also for the intelligence of the

people who had developed it.

I noticed though, that he made no mention of Reynal in all his com-

ments. The ex-general was too important a personage to be ignored so I

assumed he had covered that situation with Elgion in private during the

day.

As the meal was drawing to a close, Elgion slid his chair back and

stood up, "With your permission, Majesty, I think I will go enjoy the

evening air. I am somewhat unused to being indoors after my long jour-

ney. The stars are calling to me."

Queen Selay nodded but her eyes flickered toward Julia. She needed

no additional direction and was already signaling a servant to withdraw

her own chair.

"You could easily get lost in this old rockpile," she explained.

"Perhaps you could use some help finding a suitable vantage point."

It was a good thing I was leaning a bit forward in my seat, for with

the backwards motion of Elgion and Julia, all eyes but mine were looking

behind me. They did not then see the tears that filled my eyes as the

one who had promised me her heart, and accepted mine in return, threw

herself at the dashing intruder. I managed to cover up my distress by

fiddling with a bit of bread and by the time they had left the hall I was

merely quiet.

I felt more than saw Mother's look of concern but it was Lyonidas

who next required my attention.

"My Princess, perhaps some of this fresh spring air would be of

value to us as well."

I nodded without words and let him pull my chair back. My soft hand

slipped into his large one as naturally as it had done a dozen times

before. Yet I still said nothing. He respected my silence as he escor-

ted me to the balcony I had once considered ours. When I leaned against

the surrounding ledge, he moved to stand behind me.

"You are very quiet this evening," he declared the obvious.

I merely nodded, still looking outward.

"Will you tell me what is bothering you?" asked my tall companion.

No, I thought to myself, for that would undo everything. What lie

could I use in its place? The thought that leaped into my mind full-

fleshed carried with it the realization that it was not truly a lie, for

it had much too much basis in truth.

My voice was barely more than a whisper. "I missed you at sunset."

"Oh," he dismissed the problem, or so he thought, "Elgion and I were

just catching up on things."

"That is what I expected," I said, still barely louder than the sigh

of wind through the eaves.

"Then what is the problem?" he asked, confusion in his voice.

"That is the problem," I answered, though I knew it would not reduce

his confusion.

Actually, I was wrong. He said nothing for a moment, but when he

spoke again it was clear he had worked out at least part of what was

troubling me.

Wrapping his arms around my armored waist, he said with softness of

his own, "My Princess, do not worry. Though I owe my sword brother my

life many times over, time spent with him will not make me lose my

enjoyment of sunsets on our balcony."

Sometimes, the easiest way to mislead is to accept a statement that

is the truth without being the whole truth. I said nothing as I leaned

back into his embrace. We watched the stars in companionable silence for

a while, still comfortable in each other's company.

I should have turned to look at him. If I had done so, I would not

have seen the flicker of motion at another balcony, one that had on ano-

ther occasion held a High Canyon noble and an unfaithful Achaiean maiden.

One that had witnessed the murder of Olrin at Drayson's hands. One that

this time held Elgion and Julia.

They were too far away for us to hear their words but the pure tones

of Julia's laughter carried all too clearly. Each note seemed like a

dagger in my heart but the silence that followed was much, much worse.

I could see that they were facing each other.

I could see his hand reach out and insinuate itself within her soft

waves of dark copper. That was too much and I gasped at the sight.

"What is wrong?" Lyonidas asked.

His attention, returned from the stars to look at me, followed my

gaze to the other balcony. He laughed as he saw Elgion take shameless

liberties with Julia's hair.

"What is wrong?" he asked again, though this time there was laughter

in his question. He turned me to face him without releasing me from the

surrounding prison of his arms.

"He has his hands in her unbound hair!" I hissed in shock.

"You mean like this?" Lyonidas asked as his own hand worked its way

into my golden cape.

"It is wrong," I gasped, weakly.

His response was so soft that I had to lift my face to his in order

to hear, "For them, or for us?"

The gentle embrace of his arms tightened enough to lift me to my

toes even as his own head bowed lower. The sensual magic his fingers

worked whenever they caressed my hair pulled my eyes closed and pulled

my perceptions inward to a world that had no space for cares beyond our

own balcony. The soft touch of his lips provided a path for all the

intense emotions that had been tearing at me since Elgion had arrived and

I poured my heart into our kiss, grasping desperately at the linkage to

another in a world that had become incredibly lonely within the space of

barely more than a day.

It was impossible to feel lonely when his lips were crushing mine.

I put my arms around his neck so that I could pull myself even

closer to him, molding my curves to his strength. My own fingers danced

within the hair that guarded his collar and I forgot myself for a moment.

For the first time I let my tongue sneak out in an invitation to a more

intimate dance that I had previously only shared with Julia. At first I

felt him stiffen, then I felt his lips open to my invitation.

It seemed he knew this dance. If not the same dance as Julia had

taught me, then a cousin close enough to find a compatible theme. I

had once thought there could be no touch more sensual than the feel of

his hands in my hair, then learned to my joy that his lips were even

more captivating. Now, we shared a touch that made all previous to-

getherness seem as distant as hails across a wide chasm.

The whipsaw of emotions that had weighed on my heart had made me

more vulnerable than I knew, for the release that poured out through our

kiss swept me along into passion that I was not able to control, stealing

my breath away as thoroughly as my once-tight corset had done. My last

thought as I felt darkness closing in on me was a more fervent wish than

ever that I could be released from my steel guardian, so that I could

press my unbound softness into the more natural hardness that had arisen

between us.

My next sensations were strangely familiar. I felt strong arms sup-

porting me with a rhythmic pulse as I bounced slightly with each step

Lyonidas took down the staircase. Since I found my arms still draped

around his neck, I added my own hold to the bond between us and whispered

in his ear, "Do you want to go back?"

He was so surprised at my brazen invitation that he almost dropped

me and I clutched at his neck in real need. Then he laughed and let my

feet swing to the steps.

"You haven't had that particular problem for a while," he snickered.

"Maybe we just needed the starlight," I giggled.

"No, I don't think you need anything more than the passion that

lives within your soft . . ." and he ran down in embarrassment.

Instead of saying any more, he turned to continue down the stairs.

I could see the flush gradually recede from his neck. After a moment or

two he asked a question that lit a flame in my cheeks so bright made the

very torches of the stairway seem dull.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

"Like what?" I stammered in a wasted stall.

"You know what I mean," he gave me no relief.

What could I say? I had no reasonable answer. My fiery blush was

answer enough that I knew what he was talking about, but revealing my

relationship with Julia was just not possible. My panicked mind searched

fruitlessly for an answer that would be at once believable and safe, when

Lyonidas provided one that met those needs, though it did nothing for my

embarrassment.

"Did Julia show you how to do that?"

I had merely thought my cheeks were aflame before. The unerring

accuracy of his guess brought so much heat to my face that I feared my

hair would catch fire. It was an answer that allowed no denial, and

again I was at a loss for words.

"I just wondered," he mused gently. "In High Canyon, it is rumored

that younger maidens often ask those with a little more, um, experience

for, uh, instruction in how to be pleasing to men. It seemed reasonable

that Julia might have instructed you."

"You're not disappointed in me?" I asked in surprise.

"Goodness, no!" he laughed. "I'm flattered, actually, that you

would want to learn more, um, effective techniques for me."

"You did learn them for me, didn't you?" he asked gently.

"Oh, Lyonidas, there are no other men in my life, nor will there

ever be," at least this was the truth. For once.

The next morning I arrived early at the stables. Julia came down

shortly after I did. We looked at each other, but didn't say anything.

Who was most embarrassed? Who had most reason to be embarrassed? She

had only done what her duty required of her while I knew that I had lost

control completely. I had forgotten her! I had initiated a further

intimacy with Lyonidas myself, far beyond any excuse from duty. For long

moments I had no world beyond the arms, and the lips, and even the tongue

of Lyonidas. Surely nothing she did could be worse than that. Since I

had betrayed her so badly, I knew that it was up to me to offer an

apology, but it was hard to find anything to say that would not make my

actions sound shameless and cheap. Yet, for the love and honor she had

showed me, I owed her no less.

"Julia, I . ." "Cherysse, I'm . . ." we interrupted each other.

I was about to speak again, but she put a slender finger to my lips

and made me wait.

"My darling, I'm sorry for what happened last night. I did more

than duty required of me. I found that the arms of a strong man have an

attraction I had forgotten. It was a passing fancy, but I surrendered to

it. I kissed him, eagerly, when the opportunity arose. This was not the

same as Strane. That made me feel cheap. This made me feel, well, won-

derful. It is only today that I feel cheap. Please forgive me."

"My love," I whispered, "there is nothing to forgive. I have sur-

rendered many times to those urges, more so than you. Instead, I must

beg your forgiveness. Last night when I saw Elgion holding you I, um,

gave myself more fully to Lyonidas than before. I, uh, well, I kissed

him like you have kissed me."

"How?"

"I, oh Julia I'm so sorry! I let my tongue become part of my kiss."

The blush that lit her face seemed most strange to me, for a moment,

then an insight that had the ring of truth raised itself in my mind.

"You did the same!" but I said it with a grin, such a weight off my

shoulders from my own guilt that no jealousy could pull me down.

She nodded, her cheeks as bright as her hair. I embraced her and

giggled into her ear with a further whispered revelation.

"He asked me where I learned to kiss like that. Then he guessed

that you had taught me!"

"No!" she giggled in her turn.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Apparently the girls of High Canyon give each

other lessons in love. He was flattered that I cared enough to learn!"

"Just like a man, to assume that all we do is focused on pleasing

them!" she snickered.

Then she whispered in my ear as we still held each other, "So, did

you learn anything from Lyonidas?"

My answer was a demonstration. I might not have learned anything

new, but even the "old" knowledge I had gained from Julia was magical,

and wonderful, and . . .

"Ahem," we heard a soft voice. A masculine voice. It caused us to

jump from each other's arms.

Hugh of Sandars stood there. His face screwed up into the most

interesting combination of amusement and pleasure and concern and embar-

rassment I had ever seen. Of course, the individual emotions he dis-

played were not particularly dramatic. I knew the embarrassment on my

face, for example, made that on his seem subtle. Still the array as a

whole as quite surprising in our staid Chamberlain.

"Highness, Milady, it would be a good idea to be more, um, discreet

until Lyonidas is gone and your betrothal is announced."

"You know about that, too?" Julia gasped.

"Who do you think told Amy?" he replied archly, then continued.

"The men of High Canyon will be here shortly. Perhaps you should use the

time to remember your risks rather than celebrate your hopes."

We both nodded demurely, suitably chastened. It was well that he

had interrupted us, for no sooner had we accepted our just scolding than

Lyonidas and Elgion appeared. I was pleased to see that Elgion wore an

outfit in the Achaiean style, though not as richly embroidered as the

one Lyonidas wore. In a few moments we were mounted and clattering

through the entryway to Stalwart Guard.

Since there was still a chance for bad weather, the outing was only

expected to take a few hours with a break for lunch. Our first stop was

the farm where Samuel lived. We found it in surprisingly good shape,

considering how close on the heels of winter our inspection was con-

ducted.

Samuel now had his own small pond, dammed with an ingenious little

floating roller that kept the level quite controlled. At this time in

the spring there was a goodly amount of water spilling down the water-

course, but it was clear that as the spring runoff slackened his floating

roller would lower itself to retain a higher portion of the water in his

pond.

"Your Highness, Lord Regent," Samuel said with a polite nod of his

head as he removed his cap.

"Good day, Samuel," I smiled in return. He blushed like I had just

offered a great compliment, but I saw pride in his face as well.

"I see you have your own small lake now," I offered him an opportu-

nity to explain.

"Yes, Highness, Harris helped me to build it."

"But I thought you were to help Harris," Lyonidas challenged the

man.

"Oh, I did, Milord. We built a roller dam for his pond first. But

it was my design, so he helped me build one here, too."

"Your design?" now Elgion interjected a question.

"Yes, um, Milord?" Samuel replied, uncertain as to Elgion's rank in

his compromise clothing. An Achaiean would have displayed formal coat of

arms information on his tunic, yet Elgion's was almost bare.

"This is Count Elgion," I answered quickly, then urged him to con-

tinue, "but his question is a good one. Did you design this?"

"Yes, Highness, over the long winter, I just got to thinking about

the shape of the pond that I wanted, and worried that it would vary too

much with different rainfall."

"Why didn't you just use a spillway?" I asked.

"A spillway?" Lyonidas interrupted the answer.

"Yes, a low spot in the dam that would allow water to flow away if

it got too high," I replied, beginning to get irritated at the constant

interruptions.

"Well, Highness, this little stream has a good flow most of the time

and building the dam wall while the water was flowing would be hard.

The stream would always be flowing over the spillway, too, which would

lead to erosion at the key point. This way I could build the dam while

the water still flowed, and then lower the roller into position. If the

ground underneath erodes some, the roller will adjust."

"And you worked all that out yourself?" Lyonidas demanded with a

tone that implied disbelief.

"Oh, no, Milord. Harris explained about the flow of the stream and

all. But in the long winter, when the ground was too frozen to dig any-

way, I thought up how to use the floating roller. We tried it on his

pond first, like I said."

Samuel stammered a little now, somewhat guiltily, "Actually, Milord,

I am not as good as Harris at actual building yet, but I have been able

to come up with some ideas on what to build that seem to work well.

Harris helps me with the actual construction. Or, maybe I should say

that I help Harris with the actual construction."

"In either event, I think it is a good thing our Lord Regent decided

not to have you executed after all," I smiled.

"You see, Elgion?" Lyonidas chortled in self-congratulation, "I told

you that restitution is better than punishment."

"Indeed. If the common men of Achaiea are able to do such diverse

things, it is a wonder that we ever conquered them."

Julia bristled at that statement, and almost snarled at Elgion, "The

people of Achaiea have not been conquered, only our army is defeated."

I was worried for a moment that she would go further into our most

basic secret, that while our army was defeated, we were nonetheless even

then in the middle of a plot to recover our kingdom. But before she said

any more, Elgion laughed.

"Your pardon, Milady, it is clear that the fire in the hearts of

Achaieans has not been extinguished."

Then he leaned over and whispered loudly enough that it was clear

he intended us all to hear, "And the fire in your eyes when you are angry

is a breathtakingly beautiful window to your heart."

"See that you don't burn yourself on the flames," she answered, but

the smile that had replaced the anger in her eyes made her rejection into

an invitation instead.

My tension at their blatant flirtation transmitted itself to my

horse and it shifted around nervously for a moment. Julia flashed me a

look as angry as she had earlier fired at Elgion, thinking that I had

made my mount move deliberately. I tried to let her know with a look

that it had been an accident but Lyonidas interrupted yet again with a

laugh at my unease and a turn of his own horse back to the roadway.

As we rode off, he called over his shoulder, "Samuel, if Harris will

agree that you have met the demands of the judgment, you may consider it

fulfilled."

Samuel nodded, and sort of bowed, and clutched his cap, and looked

at the dam, and was probably going through yet more signs of pleased ner-

vousness when we lost sight of him around his cottage.

"How did you know about a spillway?" Elgion asked me as we rode

along.

"She knows about all sorts of things like that," Lyonidas answered

for me, and I felt a pride in his pride that carried a complex undercur-

rent of shame. I should want Julia's pride in me, not his, but as God

is my witness, I wanted his approval. I then had to listen while Lyoni-

das recounted all the stories of the simple things I had recognized in

our previous inspection tours.

It was soon time for lunch in our little outing and once again some

of the peasant families had offered fresh, hot bread. We added a few

things from the provisions we had brought and made a meal beside a gently

babbling stream. Blankets had been spread for us to sit on, though to my

dismay Julia's had been spread some distance from mine.

My dismay was well-founded, for I could not refuse as Lyonidas

joined me which left Elgion to escort Julia. They sat together much too

closely for propriety, leaving me only a most disquieting combination of

silence while they whispered together, punctuated by carols of bright

laughter as they shared some joyful notion.

"It would almost appear you are jealous of Julia," Lyonidas chided

me, but I could hear a note of concern in his voice.

"Hmm? No, not at all!" I denied, and once again a kernel of truth

gave force to my claim. It was not Julia who excited pains of jealousy

within me, but Elgion.

Lyonidas nodded in acceptance of my declaration. It didn't matter,

though, because it was soon clear he intended to return my focus to him,

regardless of what distraction had drawn it away.

His large, strong hand reached out to an errant lock of captured

sunshine from my golden tresses and brushed it clear of my face. His

fingers didn't stop there, though. They continued their polite motion

into much more dangerous territory, a simple assistance transforming into

a twining caress that lifted my heart into my throat and caused my breath

to hold itself for a long, delicious moment.

"My Cherysse, you need not be jealous of anyone," he claimed, even

as the irresistibly gentle pull of his hand in my hair worked once again

to draw my eyes closed.

I felt my cheek drift over to compress his thick wrist against my

shoulder, trapping his hand in a thrall no more compelling than his hand

captured my senses.

We were interrupted by the sound of a slap and a quick rustle of

skirts. Julia had stood up and was walking toward her horse.

"What did I do wrong?" Elgion asked plaintively.

"Just because we have begun to get to know each other in private,

does not give you license to claim me publicly, yet," she yelled back

over her shoulder.

"Yet?" he seized on the word with a laugh.

It caused her to break her stride, but the look she threw back over

her shoulder failed miserably if her intent was to discourage him.

Chapter 20 - Who's Whose?

Our expedition arrived back at the castle without further incident.

We had known from the Chamberlain's reports that the new irrigation pro-

ject was proceeding well, but it was appropriate to show those involved

that they had our interest as well as our funding. After a brief visit

with much head nodding and 'hmmming' we escaped back to our familiar

abode.

Lyonidas helped me from my horse and we were walking together toward

our wing of the castle when I realized I had forgotten a scarf in a bag

on my saddle. Elgion had made some excuse about looking after his own

tack and Julia had offered to make sure the stablemen took care of our

other belongings.

"I must go back," I said with a hardly ladylike grump.

The question in his eyes was both invitation and request to explain,

so I said briefly, "I left something with my horse. I'll see you in-

side."

"What is it? I'll go get it," he offered gallantly.

"No, that's all right. I left a scarf and I know where it is on my

saddle. Truly, it will take me less time to fetch it than to explain

where I put it."

He nodded acquiescence and gave me a quick kiss to send me on my

way, a kiss that threatened not to be quick just as soon as his lips

began to warm mine. Or perhaps, as soon as they began to caress mine,

for he found my own lips to be hot and eager for his touch. I was about

to remind him of our deeper intimacy from the night before when a servant

stumbled upon us. Her giggle as she backed around the corner she had

rounded to find us was sufficient distraction to bring Lyonidas, at

least, back into the mundane world. He lifted his head which put it out

of my reach. My whimper of need was not enough to recapture the mood,

and in another instant our embrace was ended as well.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" he chuckled.

"Hmmm?" I responded dreamily, still not really back in the world of

servants and obligations.

Then I did rouse and shook myself to recover my senses. I smiled

to make sure he knew I was joking, and answered, "Milord Regent, you can

go anywhere you wish in Achaiea, but if you accompany me on this errand,

neither of us may make it to our balcony to see the sunset."

"Would that be so bad?" he grinned.

"Perhaps," I smiled back, enough heat in my gaze to bring a most

gratifying flush to his own neck, "but sometimes being bad can be very,

very good."

"Ah, hmm," now it was his turn to be incoherent. I used the excuse

of his discomfiture to cover my exit, only a light-hearted giggle lin-

gering behind as I moved back toward the stables.

I was almost whistling as I made my way back to my horse alone. My

saddle was already hung on its rack and I quickly retrieved the abandoned

scarf. I was about to turn back toward the main keep when I heard

Julia's silvery giggle carol forth from a nearby stall.

The partitions between the stalls were more-or-less solidly closed

but the wood had warped and shrunk enough that there were places to see

through while still providing the illusion of privacy. I put my eye to

one of the gaps to see Elgion leaning near, almost looming over Julia who

had her back to the far wall of the stall they were in. Elgion's back

was toward me but I could see from the expression on Julia's face that

she didn't feel threatened.

Quite the opposite.

"So, Milord Count, did you enjoy your filly today?"

He had propped himself with one hand in his lean against the parti-

tion, but he used the free one to lightly rub his cheek where Julia had

earlier slapped him.

"For the most part," he answered, and though I could not see his

face, the grin was apparent in his tone.

"She is rather slender, but shapely nonetheless," he continued.

"Do you prefer a larger filly?" asked Julia, crossing her arms under

her bosom in a way that drew attention to her feminine bounty.

"No, for a filly, the size is perfect," that damn grin was still in

his voice.

"What size do you think is right for a horse, then?"

"Milady Fair, my horse is of a size that would spread you quite wide

if you were to try and ride it."

I nearly fell where I stood at his crude comment, but Julia did not

even have the grace to blush! She laughed instead, with a sort of

throatiness to her giggle that made it clear she had picked up on the

crudity.

"Sir, I am a lady. I ride . . . sidesaddle."

"Lady, I am open minded. I am willing to . . . experiment."

This was just too much! Julia was to flirt with the man, not wallow

in filth like a rutting hog. I was just about to move around the edge of

the partition and confront them, when Julia danced lightly out from under

his arm and ran her own fingers through her hair, as though brushing non-

existent straw from the copper mass. It certainly called attention to

her fiery glory.

"Milord Count, I think you are too forward." Now she played the

coquette.

"Milady, I think you raise a fire in the blood to match your hair,"

he replied, moving once again to stand close to her.

He ran his hand through her hair and I saw as I had so often seen

from much closer range that it had the same effect on Julia that it had

on me; to draw her eyes closed as though there were some linkage hidden

behind the flowing tresses. In another heartbeat his lips were caressing

those soft full lips that I had once known so well myself. And in barely

another instant I could tell that they were sharing a more intimate

caress as well as their mouths opened to allow the dance of tongues.

God forgive me for my feelings. I had just moments before been

ready to enjoy the same intimacy with Lyonidas, yet when I saw Julia

share that closeness with Elgion I was insane with jealousy! And even

more damning, I was hot with arousal! If jealousy alone had motivated

me, I would have stormed in on them though it cost me my kingdom. But I

knew my excitement was more vulgar than even that deadly sin of jealousy

and I could not go forward when I was myself so improper in my emotions.

The raging conflicts within me took my breath away and I was panting

with a need for air that made my constricted waist once again more than a

mere nuisance. As I struggled to get myself under control, my darling

betrothed and the crude man that held her broke their kiss to try and

catch their own breath.

"Milady Julia, when will you allow me to claim you publicly? If

you can kiss me like that, I know that you find me not too objec-

tionable."

"Not too objectionable," she murmured, "but too new. I have barely

met you."

"You know that our custom of bestowing earrings is not the same as

your betrothal. Wear my earrings as a sign that you are willing to get

to know me better," he urged her.

"And what do the earrings signify about your willingness?" she

asked.

"Why, the same thing. They signify that I am willing to get to know

you better," claimed the intruder.

"I have heard they are not the same, that the earrings declare that

I will not consider others beside you while no such restriction applies

to you."

He had at least the refinement to admit this. "True, but I promise

not to bestow them on any other Achaiean maidens. Besides, Cherysse

wears the rings of Lyonidas."

"You are not Lyonidas," snorted Julia.

"And you are not Cherysse," Elgion replied just as dismissively.

This brought a fire to Julia's eyes where Elgion's crudity had

sparked only amusement.

"So I suppose you would prefer the princess to me?"

"Well," he mused, "she is the princess."

That earned him another slap, resounding in the echoing compartment.

He caught her hand on the rebound. Though his strength imprisoned her

as fully as manacles from the dungeon, his voice rang out with laughter.

"Oh, Milady Fire, do you think I would prefer that pale and bland

weakness to your lively strength? I would not have her even if my sword-

brother made no claim of his own."

This was worse than his crudity! I'd show him pale and weak. I

had assassinated Strane without hesitation. Well, without hesitation

at the critical moment. I could do the same to this arrogant interloper!

Then my anger turned to despair as he pulled Julia by her captured

wrists into yet another kiss, one impossibly more passionate than before.

By her response I could see that Julia had no anger of her own at his

slur toward me. Or, at least, if there were anger in there it was buried

so deeply that it had no meaning except as one more source of energy to

flow between them. He moved his hands around her waist, taking her cap-

tured hands with his own so that her arms were pulled back as though she

were bound in truth and not just in passion. He bent her back, pulling

her arms to force her soft curves to mold themselves to his hard body,

but she was far from protesting at this force. Her lips sought his as

eagerly as they had ever sought mine and I remembered that she had said

she enjoyed surrendering to a powerful man almost as much as she enjoyed

gentleness.

It was too much. It would have done me no good to spy on them

longer, for my eyes filled with tears. My heart pounded in my breast

with panic beyond words, beyond thought except to flee. I ran from the

stables, sobbing, saved only by the grace of God from making enough noise

to awaken an army, though even that might not have been enough to intrude

into their transported world.

It is said that God will not provide trials that are more than one

can bear and it must be so, for if I had been forced to explain my panic

I would have been unable. Instead, I reached my rooms without other

witness, taking refuge finally in the comfort of Wraith, who waited for

me with her usual patience. I swept her up into my arms, my small

strength only powerful to one so tiny and wept until her fur was soaked

with my tears.

That evening I was the one who missed the sunset observation, and

dinner as well. So it was not until the next morning when I reached the

bathing chamber that I learned the news that confirmed my fears.

"My dear Cherysse, you are going to have to learn to accept this,

at least for the time being," Mother said as she worked to release me

from my steel lover.

"Oh, it's not so bad any more, but I do enjoy being let free for at

least a little while," I answered.

Mother stopped her unlacing, "I was not speaking of the maiden's

lover. I was speaking of Julia."

"Julia?" I asked, but it was not Mother that answered.

"Yes, Cherysse?" Julia herself answered as she entered the chamber.

And with her entry I saw what others must have thought was the cause of

my dismay. Julia now wore earrings of her own, or of Elgion's.

I closed my eyes for a long moment, not so much in denial as in a

need to turn inward for strength in the face of this disaster. When I

opened them again, Julia's eyes showed pain that was almost more dis-

tressing to me than my own despair.

"I'm sorry, Julia," I whispered. "I don't want to stand between

you and your happiness. Please forgive me if I can't find the pleasure

in your gift that I owe you for the love that we had."

"Had?" she asked, now more pained than ever.

"You have accepted Elgion's rings," I stated the obvious, wondering

why she was surprised at my releasing her from any claims I might have

once imagined.

"And you wear those of Lyonidas. These mean no more to me than

yours mean to you," she claimed.

And what did my earrings from Lyonidas mean to me? Did they require

that I not love Julia, that I not dream of a day when the claim they

represented would be nullified by the overthrow of our invaders? And if

not for me then why should Julia be less focused on the goal than I was?

"What do they mean to you?" I asked, a tiny bit of hope growing

through a crack in the wall of my despair.

Julia must have seen the hope in my eyes for she laughed and wrapped

her arms around me. "Why, they are pretty baubles meant to adorn a

maiden like any other jewelry. I think we'll start a style with these."

Before I had a chance to reply, Mother interjected her own comment

and though there was a tone more ominous than frivolous in her voice, it

did not really dampen the mood.

"Yes, Julia, we may do just that. Those women of Achaiea who had a

part to play in freeing our land deserve some recognition. I think ear-

rings such as you wear will honor both of you for the part you played and

make a further statement that we are already claimed by our land; no

interlopers' baubles can take that away."

"Yes," Julia and I answered together, catching the fierceness in

Queen Selay's tone and making it our own.

I know that I should have tried to sustain that fierceness, that

sense of purpose in every waking moment, but Julia's bright energy and my

overwhelming relief turned my mind to joy often in the next few weeks.

She spent most of her time with Elgion, but we managed a few evenings

together when one or the other would ask for help in some dainty project

of no interest to the men. We didn't get much done on our projects those

evenings, but neither of us were worried about that.

What we were worried about, more so as the spring progressed, was

the coming visit from Kragdle. The critical passes were closer to High

Canyon than to Stalwart Guard so he would be on his way before we knew

it was possible. Yet, not too much sooner, for messengers made the trip

perhaps once a week.

We had some warning then, enough to be ready when Kragdle's entou-

rage reached our gates. He announced himself to our guards, as was their

custom, and was admitted immediately. However, it was late in the night

and only our Chamberlain represented us, along with Lyonidas and Elgion.

All other members of the Achaiean nobility made use of the excuse of

sleep though Mother and I actually watched from a darkened room as Krag-

dle accepted the greetings of his regent.

"Hello, Father. I am glad you were able to make it without another

night on the journey."

We had to strain our ears to hear the breathless voice of Kragdle,

but as before it carried strangely well.

"Indeed? Your clothes would seem to indicate you were surprised

by our arrival. Why are you not wearing proper attire?"

"Why Father, these clothes are quite practical and more comfortable

than those we wear in High Canyon. I think you will like them when you

try them. Perhaps more than Achaiean metal working, these will someday

benefit High Canyon."

"Someday," Kragdle sneered. "There has been precious little benefit

so far."

But he dismounted with his words and allowed himself to be led into

the keep. His last words were to the Chamberlain. "I intend to hold a

court in the morning. Inform the Achaiean nobility that all those who

reside in the castle are expected to attend."

I thought with those parting words that Mother would allow us to

get what sleep we could in the remainder of the night but she had me

follow her back to her rooms where Julia and Duchess Amity already

waited. No explanations were offered. Queen Selay just motioned me to

my accustomed stool and gathered Greyshadow in her arms to await whatever

was expected.

Our wait was not long. In moments there was a knock at our door and

Hugh ushered in Queen Giselle of High Canyon. My first impression was

that her clothes were a feminine version of the shapeless tan garb of

High Canyon men, though in a deep, rich brown almost in another spectrum

from the drab tan we had seen before. Then as she moved toward us I

realized I could tell that she was slender despite her attire, more robe

than dress, that seemed to be so concealing. This contradiction was due

to the wonderful softness of the knitted robe she wore, all flowing

fullness of sleeve and long skirt. Yet when she moved the wonderfully

soft fabric molded for an instant at a time to her still-shapely form,

promising more than revealing for a most interesting effect.

She was a tall woman, taller than Queen Selay. Yet one could see

the resemblance in their features, dominated by the clear blue eyes that

I knew were also part of me. Unlike Mother and I, Queen Giselle had

richly black hair, shining in the candlelight so brightly it looked

streaked with white inappropriate for her apparent age. That impression

of discordant color was false though, for the highlights danced with her

motion from place to place in her captive cape of midnight.

We all stood and were introduced. She merely nodded until she came

to me, "So you are the Princess Cherysse. From the dispatches written by

Lyonidas, I would have expected one who was surrounded by a chorus of

angels."

I blushed at her remark and bowed my head. She lifted it with a

gesture reminiscent of Lyonidas and smiled at me.

"Don't worry girl. I know your true nature and I approve of your

masquerade. I am not unaware of the sacrifice you have made to recover

your kingdom. The pain that Lyonidas will feel when your union is shown

to be impossible is merely his sacrifice to achieve a better goal than he

might otherwise recognize."

"Thank you, Majesty," I answered quietly. She nodded once again,

abruptly, then turned to Queen Selay.

"Cousin, has the time come, do you think, to reveal my own share of

our secret?"

Mother nodded, waving her arm in invitation to another seat provided

specifically for our visitor. Queen Giselle looked at Hugh, then back to

Mother with a question in her eyes, but nodded acceptance and sat down

when Mother made no motion to exclude him.

"I suppose you are wondering why I am willing to help you against

my husband. It is because he is my husband in name only. We are joined

as a symbol of the alliance with Vidalia, my homeland and that of your

own Queen. Kragdle has never shared my bed."

"Then who is Lyonidas' father?" I blurted, then dropped my head in

shame at my tactless outburst.

"That is a secret I will retain a while longer. It is enough that

Kragdle has acknowledged Lyonidas as his heir. Most people think that

Kragdle's emaciation is due to the privations of his youth. In fact, it

is the result of a disease that he contracted in some brothel or another.

The disease has left him unable to father a child. He knew this when we

were wed and a part of my duties was to provide him with an heir. In a

surprising bit of tact, or perhaps of willful blindness, Kragdle has

never required that I reveal the father. I expect it was self-serving as

are all of Kragdle's actions. If Lyonidas knew his true father, he might

be moved to ally with that man against Kragdle."

"Suffice it for now to say that I have been waiting since before you

were born for the day when Lyonidas, my true son, would be ready to rule.

On that day, I will support him over Kragdle without hesitation."

"I believe that day is nigh," she concluded.

Queen Selay asked, "What do you know of Kragdle's plans?"

"Not much," replied Giselle. "I do know that he intends some sort

of confrontation tomorrow at the gathering he has called."

"Confrontation with whom?"

"That I do not know. With you, certainly, since you are the symbol

of Achaiea, but it may be that he intends more. What do you think Lyoni-

das will do?"

Giselle had asked Mother, but Mother turned to me for the answer.

"I don't know," I admitted. "He has changed in many ways since he

came to Achaiea and I would like to think he has found something of value

here. But whether that value is enough for him to stand against Kragdle

depends on the focus of the confrontation."

"Indeed," Giselle nodded, accepting my judgment. "However, we must

do something soon, whether the result of Kragdle's plans or our own. He

will not allow me to continue to influence Lyonidas and if he finds too

much of your influence in him, my son will be recalled to High Canyon. I

cannot allow that, regardless of the cost."

"What will you do?" I asked quietly.

"Whatever is necessary to stop Kragdle," she vowed. "Even if it

means that I must kill him with my bare hands!"

Duchess Amity offered a caution from her own experience, "That would

not be easy. Even when we drugged Reynal I could not have overpowered

him alone, not enough to kill him. It was all I could do to hold him

until Amy arrived."

Giselle said nothing. Her determination was clear on her face, but

determination in the face of superior force might not be enough.

"Have you no weapons?" I asked.

She snorted, "Kragdle would never trust me with weapons. His guards

are under orders not to allow me access to any. They know where you keep

your own, or at least where your men keep theirs since women of Achaiea

do not usually arm themselves."

"Not usually," I mused. Then I remembered at least one weapon that

was no longer considered within the Achaiean inventory.

Julia must have thought of it at the same time for her head came up

and her eyes met mine. She stood and with a nod to Queen Selay went to

the array of memorials from royal funerals. There she found the dagger

she had once taken from Tamor's body to use in her thwarted attempt to

join him in death.

Julia walked back to Queen Giselle and handed her the dagger, "This

was once Tamor's. It is considered buried with him and no matter how

good Kragdle's spies are they will not know about this."

Giselle accepted the dagger, leaving the sheath with Julia. After a

moment to check the balance, showing that she knew enough about weapons

to make effective use of this one, she made it disappear somewhere inside

her billowing sleeves.

"If Kragdle survives this confrontation of his and remains in power,

I will use this on him tomorrow night," she promised.

"Is there anything more we can do to prepare?" asked Queen Selay,

bringing our late night conspiracy to a close.

No one had any further ideas so we dispersed to get what rest we

could in the small portion of night remaining. The next day would be as

important to the future of Achaiea as had been the day I became Cherysse,

and it was a measure of our success that we had been able to bring about

such significance within a year of the defeat of our army. Still, our

weapons were subtle while Kragdle owned those of brutality and force.

Would our guile and influence be enough to counter his arms?

Chapter 21 - Man Bites Snake

The day of which Queen Giselle had spoken was well nigh indeed. It

seemed I had barely removed my dress from the night of their arrival

when I was once again dressing for the assembly called by Kragdle. I'm

not sure exactly why it seemed appropriate, but I felt compelled to wear

once again the rich, blue gown that had defined my first appearance as

Cherysse.

Mother smiled in approval as we made our way to the throne room.

The summons from Kragdle was for mid-morning, but it suited her purposes

for us to be there first and remind him that at least in name we were the

hostesses and he was a guest. Queen Selay took her high seat and I took

my normal position at her side.

We were somewhat surprised to see the women of Kragdle's entourage

already in place. He had paid them no attention at all on his arrival,

neither seeing to their well-being nor giving instructions for them.

Yet Queen Giselle and several unfamiliar women were arrayed along one

side of the throne room, attended by servants but no armed men.

The next to arrive were Lyonidas and Elgion. I could see the ten-

sion in Lyonidas' face and the set of his shoulders. Elgion was trying

to lighten the mood with some typical witticism, but for once he was not

succeeding very well. His comments were interrupted in mid-jest by a

squeal from among the High Canyon women.

"Elgion! My love, why didn't you write?"

The speaker, or screamer, was a dusky, slender woman with curly

ringlets cascading around her face. I had thought Queen Giselle's hair

was black, but the sheen in the curls of this woman made the Queen's hair

seem dull. Perhaps, though, that impression was enhanced by the shining

earrings flashing among the dark curls.

When she moved out of the crowd toward Elgion it was clear that she

was a dancer or other artist for surely the human body, even a woman's

body, could not flow so sinuously without long training. And it was easy

to see her body. The clothes she wore were obviously intended to

highlight, not conceal her form. In most places the material was so

sheer that it made no pretense of modesty, and the few places where

vision could not penetrate were called into even sharper focus by that

very obscurity.

My attention had been so captured by the voice and motion of this

dusky woman that I had missed the tension that had appeared in Julia.

"Love?" she asked, almost to herself but loud enough to carry at

least to Elgion.

He stepped forward to intercept the foreign woman saying, "Dierdre,

I didn't know you'd be with the Queen's party."

She flashed brilliant teeth in a wide smile and said, "I thought I'd

surprise you, dear one. You know I like surprises."

"Dear one?" now Julia's voice rose into a volume that carried more

clearly.

The smiling girl caught her words and the sharpness of her tone.

Her eyes widened, then tightened as she noticed that Julia wore earrings

of her own. Dierdre snuggled her arm under Elgion's and asked, "Who is

this henna-haired parrot?"

"Henna-haired?!!" Residents of the castle started looking for cover

from the storm behind Julia's words.

"And a parrot," the woman snickered.

Before Julia could respond, Elgion tried to turn the conversation

toward formality by introductions. He turned to Mother and said, "Queen

Selay, allow me to present Dierdre, who has come to King Kragdle's court

from far off Katmanistan."

Then he turned to me, still taking refuge in formality, "Your

Highness, Dierdre of Katmanistan."

The storm brewing in Julia's eyes was not diminishing with the

delay. If it had been me, I would have been looking for the nearest

exit but Elgion moved on with apparent nonchalance, "And this is the

Lady Julia. Julia, Dierdre."

The dark-haired Dierdre swayed up the steps to the dais with a

grace as fluid as any Lyonidas ever demonstrated, yet without that

economy of motion. Instead of a deceptively-smooth flow, the various

parts of Dierdre's body all moved at once, and all in mutually harmonious

ways that seemed unencumbered by skeletal limitations. She managed to

turn her back to Julia even as she dipped into a deep, graceful curtsy to

the Queen.

Only then she turned insolently to Julia and me, no offer of honor

in her haughty grin.

Julia met her gaze with equal strength, but her words were to

Elgion, "Milord Count, would you care to explain this?"

"Explain what?" he replied. Give him credit for courage, I wouldn't

have pretended innocence with Julia when she was in that mood.

Julia didn't answer his question, though the arch of her brow fore-

told many responses yet to come. She spoke to Dierdre instead, "I see

you wear earrings of promise."

"Yes," Dierdre replied. "I received them from Elgion."

"As did I," Julia said quietly, the calm before the lightning

struck.

Then Julia looked again at Elgion, "Milord Count, I had your

promise that no other woman would wear your rings."

"Well, actually," he stammered, "I only said no other Achaiean

maiden would . . ."

Dierdre now interrupted him, a bit of anger building in her tone as

well, "So, if I am not around, you lay claim to any woman who happens to

be convenient?"

The storm started to break as Julia's voice rose, "I am hardly a

convenience!"

"Stiff as you are," Dierdre sneered, "I can understand why a man

would not find you convenient."

Julia's response was back to Elgion, "Tell me, Milord Count, does

this harlot spread for your horse?"

Dierdre's voice prevented Elgion from replying as it rose even fur-

ther, "I am a Princess in the House of the Great Khan, not a harlot!"

"We are not in the house of the Great Khan, harlot!" Julia shouted.

Elgion tried to intercede, "Ladies, please!"

They both slapped him in such perfect unison that there would only

have been one sound, if the sound could have been heard. However, it was

drowned out by the thunderclap of the main doors to the throne room

hitting their stops as Kragdle made his entrance. His face showed

nothing as he moved forward but the strange emotions flowing through

the room were not quite what he might have expected from his arrogant

arrival, so obviously intended to remind us of his first visit to the

throne room. It was clear to him that there had been some sort of ten-

sion in the room rather than meek acceptance of his demand to attend.

A dozen warriors flowed behind him in the amorphous style of the

High Canyon horde, so familiar in memory yet still incongruous in our

hall. He marched directly to the King's throne and sat casually upon it

with barely a glance toward Queen Selay. When he spoke, his first words

were to Lyonidas

"It is good to see that peace and harmony have resulted from your

tenure as regent," that whispering dry voice sneered.

Lyonidas was embarrassed and was readying himself to explain, when

Kragdle forestalled him by continuing, "In truth, peace seems sadly

lacking, considering the price that was paid and the promises that were

made."

His eyes had moved from Lyonidas to Queen Selay as he spoke and it

was clear his comment was really to her. When he spoke again, he spoke

directly to the Queen.

"Madame," and his omission of her title was clearly meant as an

insult, "do you remember the terms of treaty that spared you?"

She ignored his question, her silence as strong as on the first time

they had met. Kragdle had not intended for her to answer anyway, as he

rolled on in his flat, toneless voice, "It says that you will not take up

arms against High Canyon, nor any of our people in Achaiea. Do you

remember that?"

It might be imagined that she nodded stiffly, but imagination

would have to be a part of the impression for the movement was too

small for certainty.

Kragdle waited long enough for some tension to build, then said,

"Yet Olrin lies dead. Strane lies dead. How do you justify this?"

"I do not need to justify it," she replied.

It was not apparent that she intended further comment, but it was

not necessary since Lyonidas spoke up, "Father, I judged those cases

myself."

Now Kragdle's glittering black eyes shifted back to Lyonidas,

"Indeed, as you judged other cases."

"Yes."

"As you judged the case of General Reynal."

"Yes," Lyonidas replied, head high and no apology in his bearing.

"Which led to the loss of another High Canyon nobleman," Kragdle

accused.

"Reynal escaped his just sentence," Lyonidas declared. "His loss

was his own fault."

"Not if he were innocent," Kragdle countered.

"He was not," affirmed Lyonidas.

Now that thin, humorless smile appeared on Kragdle's face as he

replied, "Perhaps not. Reynal was many things, but innocent was probably

not one of them."

Then he raised his voice and waved his hand as he said, "Even now!"

From a side door, Reynal emerged, limping toward the dais. A hard,

thumping sound could be heard with each step of his right leg. He

walked, slowly but deliberately, directly to Lyonidas and said, "Sur-

prised to see me?"

Lyonidas nodded calmly, "Yes, we thought you had perished in the

winter storms."

Reynal snarled, his voice as twisted by hate as his curling lips,

"It would have been better for you if I had. By the time I reached High

Canyon, my foot was consumed with the Black Stench. I walk on wood now,

thanks to you."

Lyonidas showed no remorse as his own voice hardened, "Thanks to

your own foolishness. Your sentence was banishment to the very place

toward which you ran. You are stupid as well as perverse."

Kragdle interrupted them with a harsh command, "Enough! I don't

care who was to blame for what. That is important to justice only. And

while justice is sometimes convenient, I insist on order."

"Order?" Lyonidas asked with surprise. "With the exception of

some transgressions by High Canyon noblemen, we have had order and

peace."

"High Canyon noblemen define order and we can do without peace if

necessary," Kragdle declared. "Again I say, I don't care about your

notions of justice. Two noblemen of High Canyon have died and another is

crippled. I will have compensation for that loss."

The sneering threat in his voice seemed to draw all the air from the

room. All breathing stopped for a long moment as we absorbed the sense

of his comment. It was Lyonidas who asked the question that affected us

all.

"What compensation?"

Now the grin on Kragdle's face took on a truly evil cast. I rea-

lized it was because for the first time, emotion showed in his eyes and

not just on his mouth. His gaze swept the room, enjoying his power, en-

joying our fear. When he spoke his tones almost showed emotion, noticea-

ble more by contrast from before than from real content, but still

apparent.

"Why, I think it would be appropriate for some Achaiean noble to

match their sacrifice."

Hugh of Sandars stepped forward immediately. He had probably been

expecting this demand, though I admit I had not. His motion stirred the

remaining men of Achaiea to step forward as well. I might have thought

it was an attack, their motion was so cohesive, but there was no aggres-

sion in it, only submission. Kragdle drank in this submission like a

heady drug. For him with his ambition it might have served that purpose,

but his plans had been made long before he entered the throne room.

"Hardly suitable. A clerk and a few has-been dirt-grubbers? I

think not. No, I think someone in the flower of youth, say . . . ," and

here he paused, letting his gaze sweep once again through the room,

before coming to rest on me. "The Princess would be fair compensation."

The air in the throne room again thinned as each person gasped. Or

perhaps it was only my own breath that seemed inadequate. No one spoke

for a long moment. Even after that moment, the break in the stillness was

motion, not words. Lyonidas moved to stand directly between Kragdle

and me.

Then he spoke, quietly but firmly, "No."

Kragdle barely spared him a glance, "My decision is made."

"As is mine," Lyonidas replied with equal resolve.

Kragdle now looked sharply at him. They stared at each other in a

battle of wills that seemed one-sided, yet unproductive. Kragdle's black

chips tried to force Lyonidas to acquiesce, yet there was no counter-

vailing pressure from Lyonidas. Instead, it was as though the energy

from Kragdle's gaze slid past Lyonidas, leaving him untouched without

effect, but without resistance.

I don't know how long that confrontation might have lasted for it

was interrupted by a motion from Reynal.

At his gesture the High Canyon warriors accompanying Kragdle began

to swirl toward the dais. Without specific command, the castle guards

moved forward to meet them. I was gratified to see those guards who had

originally come from High Canyon standing shoulder to shoulder with those

born in Achaiea rather than joining their tan-garbed fellows. The sum of

castle guards was more than enough to counter the tan swirl and it halted

at the steps toward the thrones.

In later years I would come to understand what it meant to be a

High Canyon sword-brother. If we had known at the time, we could have

spared Julia the onerous duty (dear God I hoped she didn't enjoy it!) of

suffering the attentions of Elgion. For our efforts to sway him to our

cause were wasted, his loyalty was never in question. It was dedicated

to Lyonidas from long before he arrived in Achaiea. He too, took his

place in the line backing Lyonidas and protecting me.

When the movement of armed men had come to a tense, momentary

equilibrium, Lyonidas let a tight grin form on his face, "Father, it

appears you should have brought more men."

"So," Kragdle growled, "you would hide behind your guards?"

Lyonidas sighed, sagging for just a moment before lifting his chin

with firm resolve, "No, Father, I know the codes. Will you not recon-

cile?"

His words had a formality that said we were witnessing a ritual far

more significant than my own life or death. Well, perhaps not more sig-

nificant for me, but certainly for High Canyon and therefore Achaiea.

Kragdle answered in a way that deviated from the formality though it

answered the question clearly enough, "Get a weapon, Bastard."

Lyonidas started at this label and quickly looked at his mother.

Her own countenance was stricken with a guilty flavor that confirmed

Kragdle's epithet. Then, for some reason Lyonidas looked at me. With

time I might have fabricated a surprised expression of my own, but the

horror of my threatened doom kept me from thinking beyond myself. When I

realized that Lyonidas was looking at me, it was too late and he saw

confirmed in my lack of surprise the knowledge that I had known already

of his parentage, or at least Kragdle's irrelevance to it.

"So, it seems that you have revealed an open secret," Lyonidas

mused, as though it had no importance. Then his voice hardened, "Fath .

. . Lord Kragdle, you should not have revealed that to me, though. Not

at this time, not under these circumstances. That was a mistake you will

not live long to regret."

Kragdle did not respond to this warning, merely walking down from

the dais and removing his overcloak. Under it he wore the tan shirt and

loose trousers I had once considered so inadequate as armor until

Lyonidas had shown the greater protection available from speed and

dexterity.

In his arrogance, Kragdle wore no weapon under his cloak and accep-

ted Reynal's when it was offered to him. Lyonidas had come to the throne

room unarmed as well, but Elgion was quick to offer his own sword to his

tall friend. Or actually, give it back as his words revealed.

"I trust this old sword will still be familiar to you."

"It is for this reason that we exchanged them, sword-brother,"

Lyonidas replied.

Then Lyonidas did something that surprised me, though its import

was quickly clear. He took his sword and stabbed himself in his own

left hand, not deeply, but enough to puncture the skin. Next he slid

the invisible sharpness of the edge along his left forearm, again, not

deeply, but enough to leave a trail of blood. His eyebrow lifted at his

opponent in silent question when he finished. Kragdle snorted, then

did the same to himself.

Perhaps the import was not that clear after all, as Julia whispered

frantically in my ear, "Why did they do that?"

"To prove the blades were not poisoned, of course, now be quiet,"

I hissed back at her, quite rudely I'm afraid. She didn't seem to

notice, though.

Lyonidas saluted Kragdle with the formal little flourish he had

used with Drayson, then flowed down the steps with that weightless glide

I still didn't quite understand. Once again he hardly seemed to move,

yet he was quickly standing before Kragdle.

"You don't need to do this," Lyonidas once again offered peace.

Kragdle's response was to begin a shifting, swaying drift that

seemed rather pointless until I realized I had been watching his off

hand, looking at the still-dripping blood rather than his sword. His

motions had drawn my eye away from the true threat with a strange compul-

sion that resonated within me with a distant echo of the white-cold mind.

As a result of this distraction I didn't even see his first strike.

The tip of his sword licked out with a flicker that seemed more an illu-

sion of light than something possible for real steel. Yet in the after-

image that lingered behind my eyes, I realized he had thrust forward

directly for the heart of my Lyonidas.

Yet, just as with that coiled-spring attack that Drayson had once

used to such terrible effect, the targeted part of Lyonidas was not there

when the strike arrived. His riposte was faster than thought but his

only reward was a ringing clang as his blade caught the guard covering

Kragdle's hand.

"I see you have kept up on your practice," Kragdle commented,

twirling his off-hand fingers in another attempt to distract Lyonidas.

My prince was silent, but a small smile began to appear on his lips.

A hard smile to be sure, one without real humor, but still a smile that

showed neither fear nor even worry. Kragdle noted it and for the second

time I saw real emotion play across his tight features. Now though, the

emotion was anger. He abandoned his swirling sway for a series of

direct, brutal attacks, still lightning swift, still ineffective. Lyoni-

das was somehow never in the same place as Kragdle's blade, though I had

no clue how he managed to avoid it.

Then my heart clutched so hard I thought I would die and make the

fight moot. For I saw another small spot of blood begin to spread from

Lyonidas' side. At least one of Kragdle's furious attacks had struck

home.

You couldn't tell it from his face, though, nor Kragdle's for that

matter. The fleshless face of our conqueror tightened again into impas-

sivity, his anger assuaged with blood, at least for the moment. Once

again his body and his free arm began a swirling sway reminiscent of the

snake that he had always seemed to be.

Lyonidas was unmoved by this distraction. Literally unmoved for the

most part, waiting with infinite patience for yet another attack. As

Kragdle drifted from side to side, Lyonidas flowed to face him, never

seeming to have his weight entirely on either foot, moving silently like

the drifting fog his countryman so resembled in war.

Kragdle tried another taunt, "Do you defend that blonde witch be-

cause she has cast a spell over your feeble mind?"

That taunt was entirely too close to the truth. There had been

several times when I had seen seams in the tapestry of Lyonidas' mind and

could have insinuated compulsions that would still have effect. Yet I

had never done so. I knew that Queen Selay had added a white-cold

reinforcement to Lyonidas' decision not to attend court sessions, but I

had never tried to reach his mind myself.

However, the only response Kragdle received from Lyonidas was yet

another small smile. If I had seen only that smile, I would have been

much happier for it looked supremely confident. Yet I could still see

the spreading blot of red on his shirt, now almost the size of my palm.

Kragdle struck like a snake once more but this time it was the snake

that was bitten as a faster-than-vision riposte from Lyonidas drew a

line along Kragdle's sword arm to match the self-inflicted one on the

other side. That seemed to be a trigger for Lyonidas to go on the offen-

sive. He thrust again and again, always with that deceptive speed that

seemed unhurried yet completed his stroke before I even knew he was

moving. Not every attack reached its target, but small spots of red

began to appear on the tan Kragdle wore as some portion of the flurry

of motion was successful.

It appeared that Kragdle was better on the attack than the defense,

for he never managed a riposte that was even close to successful. He

soon realized this and the flow of the duel shifted once again to strikes

by Kragdle and counters by Lyonidas. Yet, even this was of no avail for

for the conqueror. Lyonidas now had the rhythm of the older man's at-

tacks and managed to draw new lines of red on Kragdle's arm with nearly

every engagement.

The older man began to show fear at the calm confidence he saw in

his opponent. His swaying swirl began to describe larger circles as

though trying to escape the arena that contained their fight. At times

he would withdraw just too far for an immediate attack and glance around

at the people in the chamber, though what he was looking for I could not

say.

Until he caught Reynal's eyes. I saw the direction of Kragdle's

gaze and then a quick flicker of those black eyes. Lyonidas was turned

away from Reynal and my first concern was that Reynal would strike from

behind, but though Reynal drew a blade, his motion was away from Lyonidas.

His motion was toward me. As though we were all trapped in some

thick, clear fluid, time seemed to slow while Reynal turned toward me.

His arm moved with speed I knew was blindingly fast, yet seemed languid.

From the tips of his fingers a dagger flew directly toward my heart. A

part of my mind was screaming at me to move out of the way of the so-

leisurely attack, yet this strange sense of time's flow seemed to hold my

own body in its grip even more than Reynal's arm. That instant's impulse

to move died before it was born. With my wide skirts and my waist stif-

fened as always by the corset I wore, I knew I could never avoid the

stroke. It seemed . . . inelegant somehow to run from this cowardly

attack and before I had more than started to move I had converted my

motion to a proud lifting of my bosom toward my attacker, offering him a

clear shot at the target he so desperately desired. The flashing knife

struck just below my falsely feminine bounty.

And bounced.

From the woven steel of my hidden tormentor, now my savior.

Reynal grabbed a sword from one of the High Canyon escorts and

lunged at me, sword extending in a line pointed at my head. He might

have succeeded before the last winter, but his wooden leg would not

provide the power his attack required and two of my guardsmen, both of

High Canyon in an ironic coincidence, intercepted his approach with their

own blades. He managed to turn his thrust into a parry of one counter

but the other lunged home to bring one more death in a battle that had

not ended on the day that King Andros died.

Nonetheless, the distraction worked to Kragdle's favor. Lyonidas

could sense that Reynal was moving toward me and had withdrawn to the

side to see what he could do without dropping his guard against Kragdle.

Perhaps Kragdle had hoped the diversion would so unnerve Lyonidas that he

might succeed where true skill had failed, but Lyonidas was too wary of

the tan snake for that. However, the withdrawal my prince had made

provided another opportunity for Kragdle.

He quickly turned and ran toward Queen Giselle. She had been stan-

ding quietly by the side, watching the duel between her husband and her

son as though she were unaffected. That disinterest was rudely inter-

rupted when Kragdle grabbed her from her companions and used her as a

shield between himself and Lyonidas, his sword poised to draw a new mouth

below her chin.

"Drop your weapon, or your mother dies," Kragdle growled.

"Father," Lyonidas drawled, his tone dripping scorn at the once-

proud claim, "I may not be your son in blood, but I am the one you

trained from birth to rule in High Canyon. What was your own first

rule, always, when one you love is held hostage?"

Kragdle didn't answer but I saw in his eyes the knowledge that it

had certainly not been to give in to the demands of the abductor.

Lyonidas drifted closer in that velvet fog manner of his and an-

swered his own question, "You told me that the only acceptable answer is

to kill the hostage yourself. 'To save others from the same fate,' you

said. Do you remember?"

By now Lyonidas was close enough that he could thrust into Giselle's

heart at any time he chose. Here he paused, as though something new had

occurred to him. "But I'm not really your son, am I? I don't have to

accept your ways as mine. So I don't think I'll kill my own mother.

Instead, I think I'll kill you!"

With that he lunged, but his stroke was well wide of the mark,

clearly it had never been intended to strike home. Yet though Lyonidas

had obviously missed, Kragdle staggered, then began to slump against the

back of his unloved and unloving wife.

She stepped out of his suddenly-strengthless grasp to move behind

Lyonidas. It was then I saw the blood on her hand, blood from an obvious

source, the pulsing wound in Kragdle's chest where Tamor's dagger sprou-

ted like a shiny weed.

The thin, fleshless face of our erstwhile conqueror looked up at his

wife in surprise, then horror at the image of triumph to be found on her

grim visage. He tried to turn around to find succor in another face, but

all those around drew back from his as though afraid the evil that had

inhabited him might escape to find another home.

It was not to be. He hunched forward around the dagger in his heart

and collapsed to the floor, ending his brief empire bereft of power,

prestige, or posterity.

Chapter 22 - A New Sun Rises

I never knew if Kragdle's collapse made any sound, nor whether it

triggered sound within the chamber. My own heart was pounding so fran-

tically that the pressure echoed in my ears like constant thunder,

drowning out all competition.

Yet I needed no sounds to see the blood dripping from my prince.

The spot on his side had grown to where my spread fingers would not span

it and his other wounds trailed fingers of bright red down his wrists to

his hands. Even as Kragdle's shapeless clothes settled around his

lifeless body, I was flying down the steps to my Lyonidas.

I had a scarf that went immediately to his side, wadded to absorb

that wide-spreading stain. My accursed corset prevented me from reaching

the hem of my gown, let alone the petticoats beneath so my next motion

was to rip a sleeve from my dress. I tried to bind this around one of

his arms, but with little success. My hands were shaking, and my fingers

were clumsy, and my eyes were filling, and my breath would not meet my

needs though I was gasping in desperate sobs, and . . .

A large hand caught my fumbling fingers and my prince's soft voice

said, "Cherysse, be at peace. It is all right."

"But you're bleeding!" I cried.

"It's all right," he repeated.

"But . . ."

This time he silenced me with proof of his health far beyond any

words of reassurance. His arm surrounded my narrow waist with strength

I remembered from so many gentler occasions and he lifted me to my toes

to meet his descending lips. My own were his for the taking, any time,

any place, and I clung to him hungrily. I felt a hardness between us

that spoke of his power and his confidence even more convincingly than

his kiss, but that sensation faded away in an enveloping darkness that

left me only the lifeline of his lips. My panic had once again left me

unable to sustain the breath needed when I was swept away by Lyonidas'

embrace, but once again I surrendered gladly to the loss.

Or I would have, except a tight voice interrupted, Queen Giselle's

voice. "Ahem . . Lyonidas, Princess Cherysse, we need to talk."

That voice pulled me back from the so-sweet precipice of oblivion

even as Lyonidas lifted his head from mine. With that distraction,

Lyonidas displayed a thoughtful look for a moment then let me go from

his embrace, though not without a final, possessive squeeze.

He bent to the body of Kragdle and withdrew Tamor's dagger. With

that same strange solemnity he had displayed at Drayson's death, he wiped

the dagger on Kragdle's clothes and then presented it to Queen Giselle.

"I can't tell you how much it eased my mind when I saw that you had

this with you and were ready to use it if I distracted him," Lyonidas

said.

"Would you really have killed me to get at him?" asked Giselle,

quietly, with more calm than I could have shown.

"No, but I would not have let him escape, either. I might not have

been able to stop him from killing you himself," Lyonidas admitted.

Giselle's face showed fierce pride as she said, "Good! You need

that strength to rule. Remember the duty shown by the men of Achaiea

after they lost the battle, and remember also that High Canyon demands

no less of her people."

Lyonidas just nodded, but I could see . . . not a settling in his

shoulders, more a stiffening as though he had taken a weight upon himself

but not let it diminish him. It reminded me of the feel of the crown of

Achaiea when I had worn it so long ago. The weight was impossibly heavy,

yet strengthening at the same time. No one who has not held that respon-

sibility can ever truly explain it, but I knew in ways deeper than words

what Lyonidas was feeling.

Next, he wiped his own sword in a similar manner. In later years I

would come to understand that this was a sign of an honorable duel, where

the blood is left with the loser and the winner's blade is housed clean

and unblemished. It was a sign of honor to Queen Giselle to have her

dagger ceremoniously cleaned, though she had indeed stabbed from secrecy.

Yet Kragdle's treachery had been even greater. Lyonidas judged and

acquitted her of any wrongdoing with his gesture. His own honor was

never in question and his own blade deserved similar cleansing.

This took only moments. When Lyonidas turned from his duty his

attention was next focused on the High Canyon men who still wore tan

cloaks, "Are there any others who would challenge me?"

His tone was quiet but firm with a more regal attitude than he had

displayed on the first time we had met. He had matured in his year in

Achaiea. Now he was confident in his own prowess, both as fighter and

as leader, yet he showed none of the sense of arrogance that had so

characterized Kragdle. The men, his men now, bowed their heads in incon-

gruous unison as they submitted to his authority. The men from High

Canyon who wore Achaiean styles had already declared their loyalty but

Lyonidas next turned to them and rendered them a flashy salute with his

sword. He had no sheath, though so at the end he held his sword out to

Elgion and looked once more to his mother.

Queen Giselle looked at my mother and requested, "Queen Selay, would

you grant me the favor of an audience with you, Lyonidas, and, um,

Princess Cherysse?"

Queen Selay nodded, then offered, "Perhaps the palace healers should

attend to Prince Lyonidas. And Cherysse will need another dress. That

one seems to have been as involved in the fight as the clothes you wear

yourself. Shall we say, one hour? In my rooms?"

The principals nodded and I found myself escorted by Julia toward

my own rooms. It was only as we walked quietly along that my saturated

mind absorbed the destruction of my own gown. Where I had not torn it,

blood had ruined the beautiful fabric just as thoroughly. It made me sad

in a sort of helpless way, as though my life were being overturned once

again, perhaps back to its original form. The new prospect did not fill

me with the longing it had once commanded. The gown had signified the

beginning of my masquerade. What did the destruction of the gown sig-

nify?

I knew that particular gown would always command a special place in

my heart, but we soon found another that suited my coloring. The dresses

had all once been Mother's of course, and we were much the same in

appearance. Still, it took some little time to complete the change,

giving Julia and me time for a discussion on our relationship, one that

was as hostage to the new situation as any other.

"What will you do now?" she began.

"I don't know. Lyonidas might still feel he has a claim on

Achaiea," I replied.

Her eyes widened with this consideration that she had overlooked.

"What will you do if he refuses to leave?" she gasped.

"I don't know that either. Achaiea must be free. Else, all this

will have been for naught. Oh, Julia, I have murdered a man, and ar-

ranged the death of two more. How can I let it all be wasted?"

"Would you bring Lynoidas down as well?"

I could not answer for a long moment. Which was answer enough, in

some respects. Finally I looked into her shining green eyes and said,

"My love, when I am not near Lyonidas, my path seems clear. Certainly

my love for you is paramount. Yet when he is near, I know I would sur-

render everything we have worked for with no more reward than the favor

of his smile. I do not know what I will do if he will not free Achaiea."

Those emerald gems, the most beautiful eyes in all the world, held

only sympathy as she wrapped her slender arms around my narrow waist.

This was not an embrace of passion, though we had shared so many of those

the memory came sweetly to my mind. It was love, and support, and accep-

tance, and a host of messages made more pure and certain by the very lack

of words used to convey them.

My faithful Minah, who had entered the room silently sometime while

we were talking, finally interrupted us with a gentle sound.

"Highness, we need to finish your dressing if you are to be on

time."

With her help and Julia's I was soon back to my once-unimaginable

feminine beauty. They escorted me to Queen Selay's chambers but turned

away at the door from the meeting with so limited an invitation.

I knocked and was admitted by Mother herself, even her ubiquitous

Amy for once excused.

"Oh, good, Cherysse, I'm glad you're here first. We need to decide

what we will do if Lyonidas refuses to abdicate his regency."

I only nodded, since I had no better idea of what to do than when

Julia and I had considered the problem. Queen Selay though, had an

answer.

"If he does not abdicate willingly, then you must use the white-cold

mind on him."

"Me?" I gasped in dismay.

"Yes, you," she adamantly replied. "Lyonidas cares for you and that

will give you the access to his mind it will take to sway it to our

ends."

"I cannot," I whispered, lowering my head.

"You have no choice," Queen Selay replied. "If he determines to

maintain power in Achaiea, perhaps even taking you for his queen, then

we will all be undone. He could not accept the public acknowledgment

of his attraction to a man. Yet the secret can not be maintained for-

ever, not from him, not from your 'husband'."

Dear God, what a quandary. I knew I had the power to do it. I

could turn his mind to my ends so thoroughly that we need never doubt

his intentions. Yet the very link that would grant me that power would

reflect back into my soul with unending shame at such a betrayal. Once

upon a time I had considered it shameful to dress as a woman, to hide

behind a woman's skirts from my destruction. The salve of duty had made

it barely palatable at the time. Yet now I found the mannerisms of a

woman merely ordinary, while the thought of betraying Lyonidas made any

previous shame seem like the false intensity of a child's emotions over

trivialities.

Before I could find a way to respond to Mother's declaration, her

door once again resounded with a request for entrance. I was still too

shocked to move so Mother opened it herself to admit Lyonidas and Queen

Giselle.

I knew with a part of my awareness that Lyonidas was attempting to

meet my eyes to convey some message, but I could not look at him. In-

stead, I took my seat with lowered head, ashamed of even considering a

course of action that seemed so unworthy. My form seemed to drift toward

my seat with an unconscious grace as the others took their own, my mind

too far away even to direct the borrowed motions of my body.

Mother nodded to Queen Giselle without words and the High Canyon

monarch began to explain the reason she had asked for the audience. Her

words though, were for Lyonidas rather than for Queen Selay or myself.

"My son, I had not expected Kragdle to reveal your parentage today,

or at least his lack of a place within it. I am sorry for not trusting

you with the knowledge, but I suppose I had become so accustomed to the

deceit that I was blind to the opportunity that finally came to correct

it."

There was unusual bitterness in his tones when he replied, "It would

appear though, that you were not so reluctant to tell others."

She nodded with acceptance of this additional iniquity but continued

before that could become the focus of discussion, "It seemed necessary,

just as when you were growing up it was necessary to conceal the truth