“I will do my best to watch over all your dear ones, Majesty,” her friend said. “And don’t forget, we will miss you too—and not just the ladies of the court, either. All of Erkynland will miss you until you come back to us, my queen. I’ll pray every day for your safe journey and speedy return.”

“Ah, you have reminded me of something else.” The queen looked over toward the children, and Lillia pretended to be studying the jackbones, which had been awaiting her next throw for some moments.

“Aren’t you going to go again?” Aedonita demanded, sounding almost as querulous as her little sister.

“Ssshhhh.” Lillia waggled her hand, wanting to hear what else the queen had remembered.

“I have heard a number of alarming things lately about Hernystir,” the queen told Auntie Rhoner. “Most of them we’ve talked about already, but the latest reports suggest that things have grown very strange indeed in Hernysadharc. Please, write to your friends who are still there, and without being too obvious, see what you can learn.”

“About Tylleth? The woman that King Hugh is marrying?”

“About anything. About Lady Tylleth, Hugh, anything you can discover. Do not ask too specifically or too openly, but I would like some impressions of what goes on around the Hernystir throne that does not come from our envoys or other official carriers.”

“Do you distrust your ambassadors?”

“I trust nobody completely, dear Rhona—except you and Simon, of course. But the news that comes to me from the Taig seems too strange not to be more generally known. Did you know that the Silver Stags have arrested and imprisoned several nobles who were friends of Queen Inahwen?”

Lillia could see that Countess Rhona looked surprised. “Truly? I have not heard it! Why?”

“I haven’t been told yet. But I fear Hugh, especially since that woman got her claws into him.”

“I will do my best to learn more.”

“But discreetly, dear, as I said, and not just to keep my interest secret. Your husband still has many ties to Hernysadharc. Do not risk your family’s safety.”

“Risk their safety? Now you truly are frightening me, Majesty.”

“Better that I frighten you into caution than lull you into carelessness.” She smiled and raised her voice. “Now, where is my granddaughter, the one I came to see? I could have sworn she was here somewhere!”

Lillia was pleased that her turn had finally come, although slightly miffed by how much time the queen and Auntie Rhoner had spent talking first. “I’m here, Grandmother! I mean, Your Majesty!”

“You may certainly call me Grandmother, and especially today, when I have to say farewell to you for a while.”

The queen beckoned to her, and Lillia got up and hurried over, then crawled into her lap. The queen always smelled of nice things. Today her dress smelled of oranges and cloves, and her hair smelled of violets. “Why do you have to go to Nabban?”

“Because there is an important wedding there, and I want to attend it.”

“Why isn’t King Grandfather going?”

The queen smiled. “Because he has to stay here and take care of the kingdom.”

“Will you be gone long?”

“Not too long. I’ll be back before St. Granis’ Day.”

Lillia thought. “Will you bring me back something?”

“Would you like a doll?”

“Yes. A Nabban doll. With a great long stola.”

“They don’t wear stolas in Nabban anymore, dear one,” said Rhona. “Not for years and years. Centuries!”

“I don’t care. I want one with a stola.”

Her grandmother stroked her hair. “Look how golden you’re becoming with all this sunshine. I’ll do my best, lamb. I’ll see what I can find.”

“You can get one for Aedonita too,” Lillia said generously. “But not Elyweld. She’s a terrible, terrible sniveler.”

But her grandmother was talking to Auntie Rhoner again, and Lillia could only hope the queen had heard the important part at the end about not wasting a doll on little girls who blew and cried and told tales. She snuggled deeper, smelling her grandmother’s smells, and wondered why people ever went anywhere far away.

“And the chapterhouse at St. Ormod’s is to be rededicated on the saint’s feast day—that’s coming soon. The archbishop will remind you, I’m sure, but I’m telling you so you won’t stay up late the night before. You know how easily you fall asleep at such events.”

“I’m not a child, Miri. And I’m not such an old man, either.”

“No, but you don’t do well at long ceremonies. Oh, and that reminds me, Earl Gared is bringing his son for a Naming at St. Sutrin’s. You don’t have to be there, but it would be good to invite him and Lady Devona to an audience afterward. Just say a few nice things about Nordhithe and admire the baby, then send them on their way. Oh, and a gift. Jeremias should be able to find them a nice silver cup or some plate. Remember, Nordhithe is on Hugh’s border and we need to keep Gared sweet. The Hernystiri are worrying me.”

“The Hernsytiri aren’t worrying me nearly as much as the Norns.”

“Of course, but we’ve already talked about that. Which reminds me, have you sent out the muster orders?”

“No. But before you start poking at me, woman, I do know what I’m doing. We already agreed it has to be done quietly. If we start crying ‘the White Foxes are coming’ up and down the countryside we’ll have a panic, not to mention another ten thousand people trying to get inside the walls of Erchester. God knows what it would mean farther north—farms abandoned, villages deserted, roads falling apart . . .”

“So what are we doing now? What if they come marching down out of the north when the new moon comes?”

“The Norns won’t come in the middle of summer. They like fighting in the cold and dark because they know we don’t. But even so, I’m sending out people I trust to talk to all the northern nobles—they’ll understand the danger right away. And we’d have to warn them, anyway, so all we’re really doing is keeping it among those who must know now.”

“I’m not sure . . .”

“Miri, we met a single band of White Foxes on the Frostmarch Road, and had a letter of warning from a man we’ve never heard of, and the only thing we know for certain about him is that he was traveling with the Norns. I don’t trust that horrid, silver-faced witch up north any more than you do, but there will still be a harvest to bring in this year.”

“And if we need soldiers instead, it will take a long time to get them.”

“And if we tell them we need them this moment and then we’re wrong, how long will it take to muster them next time? Or the time after that? It will be like the Tale of the Idle Shepherd.”

“I suppose.”

“You know, wife, this isn’t really what I thought we’d be doing on the night before you sail for Nabban.”

“I’m sure that’s true. Which reminds me, the Controller of the Salt Staple in Meremund has to be replaced—he’s a drunk and he has his hand in the money box. Same for the Controller of Wool.”

“We’re not going to have any luck with Tostig. He has most of the Wool Staples in his pocket because he’s smart enough to share his thefts. The Council of Erchester love him. Besides, you know he’s another of Osric’s cousins. Aedon bless us and protect us, that man has more cousins than a dog has fleas.”

“Yes, but he’s the heir’s other grandfather, Simon. He feels he has the right to dip his snout into the High Throne’s jar and eat as much as he pleases. And it keeps him sweet.”

“Don’t I know it. And without his three thousand Falshiremen and his Wentmouth levies, if it comes to a fight with the White Foxes we might as well rename ourselves Southern Nornland.”

“No jests, Simon. Please, not when I have to go away. Not when everything feels so fragile.”

•   •   •

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m in tears. I just woke up feeling dreadful.”