Miladys Wiles

"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 naiveté 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 from you so that Kragdle could assume you would not betray him."

"And so I ended up killing him," Lyonidas snorted, unconvinced.

"No, actually I ended up killing him," Giselle replied, "and in fact that was my plan. I would have had you believe you were his son, you and all of High Canyon, and did not want his death to be on your conscience."

"Now that at least some part of the truth has come out, you need to know the rest of it. You need to know who your real father was."

"Was?" he interrupted.

"Yes, your father is dead. Before I tell you his name I need to explain something of the circumstances of your parentage. Kragdle was unable to father children due to a disease contracted as a youth. His marriage to me was an alliance of convenience, nothing more. A part of that alliance was an understanding that I would bear him an heir from a sire that would provide a strong, tall son."

Now her eyes turned to Queen Selay as she continued, though her words were still for Lyonidas, "I met your father at a trade conference attended by Kragdle before he started on his path of conquest. He was a tall man, strong and wide-shouldered. But more, he was a kind man, honorable and modest with women. I wanted these characteristics for you as much as Kragdle wanted size."

Then her words became focused on Mother in some way that was not a matter of posture or tone, yet was unmistakable. "I used every bit of power at my disposal to convince him to share my bed. Every bit. There was a willingness there of course. I needed something to build upon in his desire. But that willingness would never have been his master if I had not enhanced it."

"What do you mean, 'enhanced it'?" Lyonidas demanded. For some reason he had not picked up on the change in Giselle's focus though it seemed obvious to me.

She looked back quickly at her son and answered, "Women have ways to stir men's hearts that are not easy to explain."

Now Lyonidas looked at me and his acceptance of the truth of this non-answer from Giselle was written on his face. His acceptance of the truth of Giselle's statement was based on his experience with me, which was wrong both in content, since I had not used the white-cold mind on him, and in a more basic way that still needed to be resolved. Clearly, Giselle was explaining that she had used the white-cold mind to seduce Lyonidas' father, though only Mother and I recognized her reference.

Queen Giselle looked back to Mother, which drew my eyes as well. I was surprised to see Mother sagging a bit in her seat as though a burden had been placed on her. Why was she so distressed?

And then it came to me so powerfully that I was lifted from my seat by the impact of the truth.

"Andros was your father," I blurted out.

"King Andros was my father?" Lyonidas repeated in confusion, to receive a nod of confirmation from Giselle.

Then another implication struck me and I quietly added, "As he was MY father."

At this, Lyonidas' face tried to display so many emotions that it failed at any. Yet I didn't need clear portrayals to understand the message, since I knew many of the same were marching across my own face. Surprise, of course, but also embarrassment, and shame, and a fair amount of guilt.

In my own case the guilt was many degrees higher than he need feel, but my shame increased even further when I recognized within myself relief as well.

Giselle provided a last bit of explanation in order to fill the void hanging in the conversation as we tried to absorb this information. "When I saw you kiss after the duel I knew that I needed to reveal your true father. You and Cherysse are siblings and your love for each other must be transformed from the path you have been following."

Now there was an understatement, though the prohibition on siblings becoming intimate was no less stringent than the one of those whose gender matched. Of the second consideration, Lyonidas remained ignorant. The first alone though, was enough to require a major revision to any plans he might have had for his reign.

He slumped in his seat with shock, a condition I felt only too com- pelled to match as I sat once again on my own stool. Our mothers let us consider the situation in silence for a few moments before bringing us back into the world outside our own minds.

It was Queen Selay who finally spoke, "Lyonidas, what do you think would happen if Achaiea and High Canyon were truly to merge?"

"What? What do you mean?" he stammered in reply.

"Consider your clothes, consider the way the men from High Canyon who have been here for a while acted today. What would become of High Canyon if our cultures were fully intermingled?"

He thought for another few moments within his own mind but the implications were obvious to me as soon as Mother pointed them out.

"In a few years, perhaps a generation, High Canyon would no longer exist," he finally stated, slowly as the truth became undeniable.

"Is this what you want?" now Queen Giselle asked.

"No!" he answered instantly, then again after a moment, "No. Our heritage is honorable and if we lose the strength that we have in favor of the luxuries available from Achaiea, then that heritage will be lost. Probably to Katmanistan, possibly to Verdantland, certainly within that generation I allowed."

Queen Giselle nodded, "I think you are wise. It was the need to wait until you developed this wisdom that held my hand from Kragdle's throat all these years since I learned the true nature of his black heart."

"Then what is to become of our two nations?" he asked.

I answered, recognizing at the last instant that part of my answer lay in the way I could address him, "King Lyonidas, would you consider an alliance with Achaiea, rather than conquest?"

He started at my address, but squared his wide shoulders and sat a little straighter as he realized he was going to have to make decisions on his own, not ask for others to take the responsibility.

"Yes, an alliance would be a good idea," he smiled. "We could gain access to those aspects of Achaiean culture that truly benefited us while retaining our own identities."

His acceptance of his new role in High Canyon, a monarch with re- sponsibilities for his whole people, seemed to be an anchor that let him gather in the reins on his out-of-control emotions. And with that control he could release a bit of humor without surrendering to it.

"Perhaps, Sister, you might negotiate the alliance until the day comes when you find a King for Achaiea?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye I had not seen for a very long time.

I smiled in return, though it took all the wiles I had ever learned to maintain the secret that made his statement so incorrect.

"My prince, there will never be any man in my life but you. Still, if you are serious about an honorable alliance, that will become a prob- lem for Achaiea to solve."

He nodded, accepting the distance between us that was appropriate for the new world we found ourselves within. As though that were a sign, Queen Giselle made one more request of him.

"Lyonidas, my dear, would you allow me some time along with Queen Selay and the Princess?"

He nodded politely, and let himself out. As he left his glance caught my eye, promising further converse, but he left with only bows in my direction and that of Queen Selay.

When I turned back to look at Queen Giselle, her eyes were troubled but resolute. "Princess Cherysse, I have a great favor to ask of you, one that is unfair and not necessarily in your best interest, but which is vital to Lyonidas."

I looked attentively, but warily. Already the common cause we had shared against Kragdle was falling before interest focused on our sepa- rate nations.

"Now that it is known that Kragdle was not, in truth, Lyonidas' father, there will be those in High Canyon who would dispute the succes- sion. My own prestige will be degraded as well, of course. If it became known that Lyonidas had been attracted to a man, however attired, it might become impossible for him to rule. I must ask you to continue your masquerade for some time longer, at least until he consolidates his own power. I know this is not just, but for him it is simply necessary. Will you do this?"

"For how long?" I asked.

"I do not know, exactly, but I think it will be at least until the next winter makes travel difficult. Lyonidas will spend the time until then establishing himself with all of his vassals. I will try to get word to you before the winter snows, but I am really asking you to maintain your current appearance until I notify you that it is unne- cessary."

Why did my heart leap at this request? It was as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, not another added. It would mean I would continue to dress in encumbering gowns, no matter how beautiful, and continue to behave in a demure, quiet manner. It would mean that I would be expected to continue my studies and my art rather than learn to handle a sword. It would mean that any annoyance I displayed would be excused as being due to the cycle of women rather than caused by true shortcomings in others. Yet all of these problems seemed like the most wonderful prizes to me, once out of my grasp, then loaned to me for so short a time, and now offered for a time that might stretch out beyond my limits of worry.

I could feel a smile on my face even before I attempted to answer the High Canyon dowager Queen. I merely nodded and it was not until after I made this commitment that I remembered my betrothed.

"Julia!" I gasped.

Mother's face had betrayed pleasure of her own when I had accepted the request from Queen Giselle and it did not diminish when this problem was recognized.

"Oh, I think we can handle that problem," she assured me. "It will be some time before you are expected to produce an heir of your own. In the meantime I think you may have to remain chaste, but that is not an insurmountable obstacle."

"Not for you, maybe," I grumped, but I knew I could survive my steel captor, however much the device sometimes pained me.

Queen Giselle was not entirely sure what we were talking about but it was clear even to her that the problems I had alluded to were within our power to address. She stood and nodded to Mother.

"With your permission, Cousin, I think I will rest for a while before supper. It has been a trying day."

Queen nodded and stood herself. We escorted the High Canyon queen to the door but Mother held me back when I moved to follow her out.

"Are you truly satisfied with this arrangement?" she asked.

I looked into my own heart for a moment before replying, but the answer I found there confirmed what I had already truly known. I liked being Cherysse a great deal more than I had ever liked being Deacon. Perhaps someday I would once again choose to be Deacon, but it would be as the man I would become, not the boy that I knew was still inside me. The mental maturity that had come to me in this past year would allow me to function effectively as a princess, but the physical maturity that had been so lacking a year ago was still not to be found in sufficient measure to take on the role of crown prince, let alone King.

I nodded and received as a reward one of the few embraces that Mother had been able to truly share since her world had become so harsh in the year before. It was a wonderful feeling, alike yet different from those of Lyonidas, or even Julia. That very contrast made me treasure it all the more as I made my way to my balcony to watch the sunset.

And there I found Lyonidas. Neither of us spoke as I walked over to the guarding ledge. For a while we shared the companionable silence that I had come so much to enjoy, but as the mountains began to hide a sliver of the sun Lyonidas moved closer and caressed my hair once more.

I leaned into his touch, still feeling the stirrings that had been impressed upon me as a means of survival, but which had become an avenue for such pleasure instead. Yet even as I felt those stirrings I felt a new balance within myself. The knowledge that Lyonidas was my brother added to the part of me that had always been Deacon and kept me from being consumed by the sensuality of his touch.

He must have felt the same, for instead of insinuating his fingers deeper into my waves of gold, he pulled back and just put his arm around my shoulders.

"Well, Sister, we have had a day that I will not soon forget."

"Nor I."

"I think you should give up on your silly focus on me, you know. You need to find another man," His tone tried to be light, but failed.

"No, my prince," I whispered, "there will never be another man for me."

Yet, with those words I knew that I could use the strange power of my mind to help Lyonidas, treating him more gently than others might have been able to do. I looked into his eyes, gathered the strength of will that was my true birthright and brought him into my mind.

The impression I left was one of peace. I added an acceptance of what we had done, pulling away any guilt he might ever feel when the secret came out as it would inevitably do. He would remember the arti- fice that had sustained my masquerade and recognize that he had not been the only one fooled. Let him blame me, someday, for this greatest of lies but never himself.

In moments I was finished and I could see the effectiveness of my impression by the stiffness that came into his body. Now, though he did not know why he felt differently, he believed that I had never been as close to him, never as desirable as he might have previously thought. That was a necessary residue from the warning about myself that I had placed in his mind. Yet I was content. He would not be harmed by the revelation of my true nature, except perhaps in political ways that I knew were within his capacity to overcome, given a year to prepare.

We stood in silence a while longer until the last sliver of sun disappeared, then turned to descend the stairs together.

Supper that evening was . . . interesting. The recent war, both the visible portion fought by the men and the invisible portion fought by the women, had unbalanced the remaining numbers of men and women among the combined nobility of Achaiea and High Canyon. There were two queens, two princesses, a duchess, and betrothed crown princess (Julia, though only a few of us knew that her position had been renewed by the current true monarch) with only Lyonidas and Elgion to spread among us. Our Chamberlain did as well as he could, placing Lyonidas between Queen Selay and I, with Elgion between the other queen and the other princess.

The other princess was Dierdre. It was clear as soon as we took our places that she was not going to allow rivals for Elgion's attention. Dierdre clung to him with fierce possessiveness, combining a wary watch- fulness with arrogant disdain in expressions I wouldn't have tried to match.

Actually, I couldn't have matched them at that time even if my face had possessed the requisite mobility. It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud at her struggle. Neither Julia nor I were concerned with Elgion any longer, except as an ally to Lyonidas that we were all glad to have. Yet we needed to maintain the masquerade at least a while longer. Julia had been seated next to me so she alternated quiet, hidden giggles with artificial long distance glares at her nominal rival.

The basic mood of the table was light-hearted, for all that there had been yet another death that day. If the poisoned soul of Kragdle watched over us, I hope it twisted in torment to see how little mourning there was for him. The primary topic at the table was the trip back to High Canyon. This would begin in the morning for Lyonidas and all our erstwhile invaders except those who had been assimilated into the Achaiean guard force. Still, we were not all business. The meal had hardly been concluded when the palace musicians changed once again to festive music.

With smiling dignity, Lyonidas and Elgion rose together and turned to the two queens. Their invitation to dance was politely declined, which offered Lyonidas an easy choice and Elgion a difficult one.

"My princess," Lyonidas smiled to me, "would you dance with me one last time?"

Even as I stood showing consent, my words held smiling denial, "No, my prince, I will not agree that this is the last time we shall dance, only that it is the last night we shall dance until your next visit."

As he escorted me to the floor we both looked at Elgion in his dilemma. It would be more proper for him, as a guest, to invite Julia but it was clear that propriety was not first on Dierdre's mind. I hoped he would invite the dusky foreigner. It would be most interesting to see what Julia would do. For that matter, it would be interesting to see Dierdre dance. She moved with such fluid grace that it would no doubt be memorable.

Dierdre solved Elgion's problem for him just as my tall escort and I reached the area cleared for dancing. Even over the music I heard her overloud refusal of an invitation that had not, in fact, been offered.

"Elgion, dear, why don't you ask that red-haired . . . person while I watch the dance for a while and learn the motions."

If there were some analog for the white-cold mind among those from Katmanistan, it would have been a look of death. The expression on Dierdre's face would have been sure death with any magic behind it. Luckily for us it was only a look and it bounced of Julia's bright energy with no effect at all. She accepted Elgion's delayed invitation as she had done so often before and they were soon demonstrating their own interpretation for the music alongside Lyonidas and I.

My snicker to Lyonidas was just loud enough for Elgion (and Julia) to hear, "I wondered how he would get out of that."

"Actually," Lyonidas replied, "you should see Dierdre dance. She is quite . . . expressive."

"Is that what you call it?" I laughed.

I could see Elgion's neck redden when Julia whispered something in his ear. I'd have to ask her afterwards what it was.

In a time that seemed entirely too brief we were being escorted back to our seats. I knew it was one of Mother's "coincidences" that the musicians had not played any of the slower, more intimate pieces while we had danced. I was just as glad, though. An intimate dance with one's brother is not all that interesting.

While we who had danced took refreshing sips of our wine, Dierdre rose from her seat uninvited and walked to the musicians. After a brief discussion, she moved to the middle of the dance area and the musicians began to play a different tune.

It was unfamiliar to me, not one of Achaiea, nor similar to those of High Canyon that I had learned over the long winter. Yet it was obvious- ly familiar to Dierdre. She began to move to the music in a nearly languorous way, eyes closed, motion subdued and slow. However, her motions didn't stay subdued for long. Even from the beginning it didn't look like she was limited by the bones I knew within myself, let alone a corset. In moments, it didn't look like she was constrained by the pull of the earth, either.

She flew. Her leaps and twirls and arching twists were perfectly timed to a tempo that I could not have matched even with the now absurdly-simple dance steps that had seemed so graceful only moments before. Yet it was not simple energy, nor even physical strength that she displayed. There was a message in her dance, one of unbridled lust; pure, raw, irresistible. For the first time someone other than Julia excited an intimate pain within my armored torment and I didn't even like this woman!

Elgion was transfixed. I'm not sure he breathed for the length of Dierdre's dance. Lyonidas was little better. I looked away only because my hidden pain became too distracting. Even Julia looked with envy and appreciation on her supposed rival.

Finally the dance came to a close. It was not a subtle closing. With the last notes, Dierdre approached the head table and leaped up onto it, then over it. The final flourish matched her twirling drop into Elgion's lap, one hand so perfectly placed it ended up holding the drink he would surely have dropped.

"So, my darling," Dierdre laughed as she wiggled her shapely bottom in Elgion's lap, "I can tell you liked the dance. Can the red-head match it?"

Julia just laughed, standing to applaud with the rest of us. It was a good excuse to retire in honorable defeat, but it was good that she had that excuse. If her goal had been the lusty Elgion, complete with his strength and silver-tongued flattery, she was lost. Yet, even as Dierdre received her well-deserved cheers, I felt Julia's hand slip into mine and squeeze it. Mine was just as quick to return the pressure. Dierdre was matchlessly sensual but I pitied Elgion trying to live with her for a lifetime.

Of course, there would be times to come in our life together that Julia would do full justice to her red hair and fiery reputation.

It would have been almost sacrilegious to dance after Dierdre's performance. She and her target disappeared shortly after that anyway. Our High Canyon guests, truly guests now, wanted to get a start no later than dawn in the morning and we said our good-byes that evening.

Queen Giselle came up to Julia and handed her Tamor's dagger, "Thank you for the loan of your memorial gift. I think Tamor would have approved."

"I'm sure of it, Majesty," Julia replied.

Julia turned to Lyonidas for a quick embrace even as Giselle's arms went around Mother.

Then Giselle turned to me, and while she held me she whispered, "Thank you for what you've done with Lyonidas, and what you continue to do. It is foolish to make vain promises of aid to one who has demonstra- ted great competence already, but you know you have my favor if ever there is need."

"Take care of Lyonidas," I whispered back. "He's still my brother and I do love him."

Then there were only Lyonidas and I standing there.

He was such a tall man. And his eyes were so deep and rich a color. The part of me that was still Mother would have liked nothing better than getting lost in those eyes for all that he was, indeed, my brother.

His wide spread of arms invited me for an embrace of my own and I went to them gladly. The passion we had once shared was gone, submerged behind cultural prohibitions layered doubly deep for me and reinforced by the white-cold power for him. Yet none of those prohibitions limited the enjoyment of being held by a strong, loving man.

"Do you have a maiden in High Canyon who wears your rings, as Elgion did?" I teased softly while I leaned my head on his chest.

"No. There are no women in the world for me, but you," he claimed.

"Go hunting in Katmanistan," I suggested with a snicker.

He pulled me back and pretended to slap me, but his hand ended up once more in my unbound hair.

"Will you tie this up again, now that I no longer have the power to prohibit you?"

"No, my prince, it is the way you prefer me and so the way I shall remain."

"What of your rings?"

"They are a part of me now, and will remain as well."

His next phrase almost made my knees collapse. For just an instant I thought he had learned of my secret as he used the exact words that had formed my decision to become Cherysse.

"Duty can be a hard taskmistress," he said quietly.

When it became clear that he was talking of his own duty, to return to his own kingdom, my heart started up again.

"Yes, my brother, but we were never meant to be."

He just nodded. Then he dropped his hands but offered me an arm to escort me to my rooms.

Along the way, he made me promise not to come down to the caravan in the morning. They intended to leave as soon as the first rays of the sun reached the valley floor and he didn't want me to lose sleep to no pur- pose. I agreed of course, but I had no intention of sleeping through the dawn.

That dawn found Mother and me once again watching from a balcony as the first sliver of sun appeared in the east. This time, Julia accom- panied us and there was no fog of tan men to disrupt the beauty of the scene. Her copper tresses seemed to make her a match for Mother's and my own as the low, red sun tinted our own golden hair into a darker hue. In Julia's hair, proudly displayed, was a small circle of betrothal pearls, twin to the one in my own blonde mane.

Then as the sun rose further and changed from red toward brighter colors, the difference between us became apparent when her own hair held the memory of morning fire while ours matched the lighter tones achieved by the rising sun.

"I never would have believed that High Canyon would someday leave our land, and without a fight," Julia said quietly.

"Oh, there was a fight," Queen Selay claimed, and I knew that she was right. We had fought with every bit of ability God had granted to us, but our weapons were not those of men.

Yet the wiles of the women of Achaiea were no less effective than the weapons of men. In this case, they had even been more effective. Still, I resolved within myself to pray that we would never again have to use such beautiful weapons as women possessed in such a terrible way.

As the sunlight reached the floor of the valley before us a tall, dark-haired man stepped to our side of the waiting caravan. He lifted his arm in a wave of greeting, and of parting. The noblewomen of Achaiea, of whom I was still a part, returned that greeting with waves of our own. Then, our one-time ruler joined his own people to leave us once again free.

Finis