Erik slept fitfully and woke up in a foul mood. He washed his face, shaved, and polished his boots before dressing in gray hose and a linen shirt. He went to the cabinet where his armor was stacked and removed the coat that he wore as a Captain of the Hunters on the occasions where armor was not generally acceptable. The coat was made of lightweight, rough-out leather with a hip-length maille vest sandwiched between the layers. It was worked up the sleeves and along the stiff collar with silver scrollwork.

Erik fixed the silver pin of the rampant wolf of his house to the right side of the collar, and the diving falcon that marked him as a Hunter to the left. He belted the garter about his right leg that now marked him the Lord-Captain of the Hunters and pulled the coat over his head. It was a bit more snug across the shoulders than he remembered. He belted his sword around his waist, slung his shield over his shoulder, and grabbed his hood and cloak.

Alwin stopped Erik as he was leaving. “Her majesty had a courier deliver something for you last night, my lord,” the old steward told him.

“That being?”

Alwin handed Erik a cap. It was a round, flat-topped cap with a layer of crenellations surrounding it. A badge bearing the Vespin coat of arms fixed a feather vertically to the front. Erik sighed and put it on. Alwin smiled. “Perfect, my lord,” Alwin said and held up a small hand mirror for Erik.

Erik grunted. “I look like one of the dandies that infect the palace,” he grumbled.

“You look like a high lord,” Alwin corrected.

Erik sighed and took off the cap. He removed the badge, repositioned the feather so it was laying along the left side of the cap, and reattached the pin. He put it back on and looked in the mirror again. Alwin gave him a disapproving look but said nothing. He just shook his head as Erik stepped out and closed the door.

Manfred joined in Alwin’s disapproving glance at Erik. The big knight stood with Rolph and Bernhard by the four men’s horses. Rolph shifted uneasily. “Are we overdressed,” Rolph asked.

“No, we’re not,” Bernhard assured the young knight.

Manfred shook his head. “You’re wearing it wrong, my lord,” he told Erik. “The feather’s supposed to be up front, pointed upwards.”

Rolph laughed. “No, this is better,” he told Manfred. “He’d look silly if a doorframe knocked his hat off.”

Erik swung into his saddle. “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

The men mounted their horses as a woman entered the gate astride a lean, gray courser. She rode to Erik and bowed in the saddle. “Now there’s a change,” she remarked in a lilting accent.

“You have news for me, Marie,” Erik asked the woman.

Marie pushed back her hood. She was a slim elven woman with blue eyes and black hair in a loose bun. “I do, my lord, but it’s hard to deliver if the door stays locked,” she replied as she dismounted. “Would you mind having Alwin talk to the new night porter about me?”

“I’ll deal with it,” Erik replied flatly.

“Someone’s in a cheery mood,” Marie remarked sarcastically. “You should know that someone is hiring mercenaries in the city, but I can’t seem to find out where they’re going.”

Erik shook his head. “There’s trouble in Landshut and Ravensburg,” he informed Marie. “I’d start there.”

Marie grimaced. “No, I don’t think so,” she sighed. “They usually make a big deal about bandit hunts like that, but nobody’s making much of it this time. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Erik nodded. “Thank you, Marie,” he told her. “Get some food, and then see what you can find out.”

Marie frowned at Erik and shook her head, resting her hands on her hips. “Are you going to tell me how to string my lute while you’re at it,” she asked.

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. “Not right now, Marie,” he told her, then gathered his reins and nudged Anfa forward.

“He found out Ileana’s back in the city, didn’t he,” Marie asked the other three men.

“Yes,” Manfred replied. “Yes, he did.”

The four men rode away from the manor and through the city. They crossed the ancient Rose Bridge over the Erlenz River and made better time than they expected. They stopped at the entrance to the square across from a squat building, surrounded by a low wall, and decorated with large, stained-glass windows. A number of banners streamed out on stout poles built into the roof of the building. One banner was missing.

Erik glowered at the building. “Bernhard,” he called back. “I don’t see House Vespin’s banner represented. I suggest that we remedy that as soon as possible.”

Bernhard nodded. “Yes, my lord,” he replied and rode ahead.

Erik led the other two across the square toward the Edelhaus at a leisurely walk. Many of the lords were assembled outside, speaking in groups. Some of them went quiet while Erik and his men silently dismounted in the courtyard. Erik stood with his fists on his hips as he watched the Vespin banner finally rise over the Edelhaus. “That’s much better,” he murmured, then looked around the crowd for Wilhelm Keller and Elina vonEisenheim.

Erik saw Elina and Wilhelm watching him. Elina’s face was a serene mask, but Wilhelm was making some effort to conceal a wide grin. Wilhelm was a heavily muscled man of medium height. He kept his auburn hair close-cropped, and there was a dangerous twinkle in his gray eyes. “They’re up to something,” Manfred noted quietly as Erik and his retainers crossed the yard to them.

“I noticed,” Erik replied dryly.

“So good to see you here,” Wilhelm greeted Erik warmly, extending his hand.

Erik clasped the man’s hand. “It’s good to see you, too, old friend,” Erik replied.

“Don’t bow,” Elina warned quietly without seeming to move her lips as she extended her hand. Then she spoke more loudly. “How went the Hold?”

Erik inclined his head over Elina’s hand. “We held the pass,” Erik replied. “How are Ideslef and young Frederick?”

“They are well,” Elina replied.

Erik nodded and turned back to Wilhelm. “I trust Kaia is well,” he said.

Wilhelm sighed sadly. “She is,” he replied. “She’s holding things down while I’m here.”

Elina smiled at Erik, and he knew at least a few of the lords would be wondering if the expression would break her face. “Would you mind escorting me inside,” she asked Erik.

Erik extended his elbow out to Elina. She laid her hand over his forearm and allowed him to lead the way. Wilhelm followed slightly to Erik’s right with their retainers trailing along behind. “Are things going well in Ravensburg,” Erik asked Wilhelm.

“Calm before the storm,” Wilhelm grumbled in reply. “I’ve come to petition the crown for more men, but I intend to be on a boat back upriver in the morning.”

Erik grimaced at that. Wilhelm frequently had a sense for such things and was rarely wrong. “I’ll talk to the queen,” he promised.

Wilhelm breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you for that, Erik,” he replied. “I owe you one.”

Erik shook his head. “I have an interest in keeping the kingdom from flying apart at the moment,” he replied.

Elina grimaced. “I’m tired of this. Every time I’m packing my things to leave, some fool seems dead set on nailing my feet to the ground,” she remarked peevishly in a voice intended to carry and looked at one particular group of lesser lords and bannerets. “I’m seriously considering cutting them off.”

Erik grinned wolfishly. “I’d just like to know who wasn’t keen on inviting me to this little circus,” he remarked.

They stepped inside and one of Elina’s retainers shouldered the doors closed. Elina threw her head back and laughed. “Circus,” she asked as she let go of Erik’s arm.

Erik shrugged. “Even with my presence, this Court barely makes a quorum,” he replied then grimaced. “What was that display out there, by the way?”

“Making rumor into reality,” Elina told Erik. “It may trigger some defections to your side if merely to remain in my good graces.”

Erik shook his head. “They’re not going to like much of what I say,” he cautioned.

Elina nodded. “That is always the way of things,” she replied. “It was a mistake to include the bannerets and minor lords in this Court. I can think of few things more dangerous than idiots in numbers. I believe that the Barons of the Nordküst and the Dunnmark are already in the Hall. Baron Kurkat will be most concerned with the stability of trade with the Thurigan League. Baron Riemann will be concerned with the state of things with Muskovey.”

Erik nodded. “Thank you,” he told her.

Elina smiled. “Think nothing of it,” she told him and started in, then stopped and snapped her fingers. “Before it slips my mind, her majesty seems to be taking her proclamation about you very seriously.”

“She sent a Hunter,” Wilhelm supplied. “Good move with the shield, by the way. Some men may need a few reminders.”

Erik shook his head and paced while he waited for Bernhard. The other lords from outside were beginning to enter the Edelhaus and make their way to the Hall. Erik turned as a Hunter approached and saluted. Erik recognized Knight-Lieutenant Hod. He was one of the older Hunters with silver-shot brown hair. “Lord-Captain,” Hod greeted Erik.

Erik returned the salute. “What is it, Knight-Lieutenant,” he asked.

Hod stepped close enough to talk quietly. “Her majesty wants you to keep her lead secret,” he told Erik.

Erik nodded. “Thank you,” he replied.

Hod inclined his head and left.

Bernhard met them by the door and bowed to Erik. “Your banner is up now, my lord,” he told Erik.

“I saw that,” Erik replied. “Thank you, Sir Bernhard.”

Bernhard inclined his head.

They were starting to go in when a familiar voice stopped Erik. “Lord Vespin,” Ileana called as she came jogging over. “I need to speak with you.”

Erik groaned inwardly. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he sighed. “Did something happen?”

“In private,” Ileana replied.

Erik looked at Ileana for a long moment, then nodded. He motioned for Bernhard, Rolph, and Manfred to give them some space and stood where he could watch what was happening around Ileana. “What’s the trouble,” he asked her in Elvish.

A look of relief passed briefly across Ileana’s face. “It’s two things, actually,” she confessed. “First, I would appreciate it if you kept last night’s conversation between the two of us for now. I don’t think the world needs to know what I’m here for yet.”

Erik looked at Ileana directly. “I’d planned to,” he replied.

Ileana shifted uneasily. “I,” she began and hesitated before she quickly said, “it’s nothing.”

Erik put his hand on Ileana’s shoulder as she started to turn away. “Are you, all right,” he asked her. “This isn’t like you.”

Ileana blushed. “I’m fine,” she insisted and walked away.

Erik tilted his head to the side as she walked away. She turned back once, before she quickened her pace. Erik shook his head as Rolph and Manfred joined him. “Make sure she gets back to the Moiran delegation,” he told Rolph. “We’ll wait here.”

Rolph nodded and turned to follow Ileana through the crowd.

A massively built lord with graying red hair and an imposing beard stumped over to Erik with the help of a cane. Erik recognized him as one of the Vespin household’s vassals, Sir Arnold Bock, Lord of Norburg. Erik grinned despite himself. Arnold had always reminded him of a great bear, and Erik had always gotten on well with the man’s family. “It’s good to have you joining us, my lord,” Arnold said as he extended his hand.

Erik clasped the big man’s hand and nodded. “It’s good to see someone has that opinion, at least,” he remarked. “By the way, your sons are doing well. They’re with the main body of the army and should be in Norburg by the end of the week.”

Arnold breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you for that, my lord,” he told Erik sincerely and leaned against the wall next to Erik. “Be careful in there, my lord. I think Baron Wilhelm Keller is on your side. Baroness Elina vonEisenheim is always on your side. Neither Baron Barthold Riemann nor Baron Ronald Kurkat are. They’re up to something.”

Erik grimaced. “Barthold hasn’t liked me since the Dunn Campaign,” he replied sorely.

Arnold shook his head and stood from the wall. “I know,” he sighed sadly and left.

Erik frowned down at his boots until Rolph made his way through the crowd. “Is Ileana back with Sir Yewn,” he asked the young knight.

“She is,” Rolph grumbled. “Though, she did have a word or two with me about it.”

Erik raised an eyebrow.

Rolph cleared his throat. “Tell that wolf that he can bloody well follow me himself the next time he wants to watch my backside,” he said, mimicking Ileana’s tone and lilting accent. “She was smiling when she said it, though.”

Erik shook his head and strode into the Hall.

The Hall of the Edelhaus was larger than most throne rooms. An aisle ran down the center of the main hall, flanked by rows of desks for the lords and bannerets. Nine desks were arranged at the far end of the hall, facing the others. Each desk was draped with the heraldry of the household that held the desk. Most of the desks in the Hall were empty, but a few pockets of lesser lords and bannerets stood talking around them.

A mezzanine wrapped around three sides of the Hall, filled with chairs. Once, the chairs would have been filled with the lesser lords and bannerets who now held their own desks. Now, they were filled with a mix of churchmen, guildsmen, traders, and foreign dignitaries. Erik recognized the Cardinal of Tyrsiln as well as the Bishops of Raine and the Westmark. He saw the masters of the guilds of tailors, smiths, and masons. The emissaries of Sevey, the Holy Heranian Empire, and the Free Cities League were present. Even the Hall of the Tribunal had dispatched representatives who could be recognized by their short stature and bearded faces. It was the emissaries of the elves that caught Erik’s attention, though.

Ileana sat next to a tall, lean elf with fiery red hair, Sir Yewn Aldris. She also sat with a honey-haired woman that Erik recognized as Cara, Ileana’s longtime mentor. A blonde man who looked more like a soldier than a dignitary sat with them, along with an auburn-haired man dressed in the grays, greens, and browns of the Thunarrin. The most concerning thing to Erik was the robed and hooded woman who sat next to them, with a thick red braid falling from her hood. Erik grimaced slightly and looked to the other side of the mezzanine.

The High Lords, lords, and bannerets had their families with them, and their wives and children populated the southern and eastern sides of the mezzanine. Erik recognized Barthold’s eldest son, as well as a few other younger men he’d fought beside at one time or another. Some of those younger men grinned, a gesture which Erik returned with a slight inclination of his head.

For the most part, the lords and visitors alike watched with a mix of curiosity and ambivalence as Erik crossed the room, some with open hostility. Erik inclined his head to the Barons Barthold Riemann of the Dunnmark and Ronald Kurkat of the Nordküst. He knew neither of them well. The two men returned Erik’s gesture. “Looking to make a change in style, Lord Vespin,” Ronald asked dryly.

Barthold was giving Erik an assessing look.

Erik removed his hood and cloak, then unslung his shield. He had removed the eldest son’s tacked-on cadence, but he hadn’t had time to have it replaced after the siege of the Hold. The shield was still chipped and marred, and a spatter of blood stained the rampant white wolf on its otherwise black face. Erik set the rim of the shield on the table with a thud that echoed through the hall. The room went silent, and Erik made sure that the lesser lords and bannerets had time to see the shield clearly before he laid it down and took his seat.

Rolph sat to Erik’s right, letting his shield hang to his side. Manfred did the same, sitting to Erik’s left. Erik had brought Rolph along not only to acclimate him better to politics, but also because the young knight was lefthanded. Bernhard took his place behind Erik, letting the battlefield banner of House Vespin hang freely on its staff. Altogether, Erik and his men did not look like primly dressed lords. They looked like what they were: men who had the previous day returned from the battlefield.

The other high lords quietly took their seats as well, and the others in the room began following suit. Barthold stood. “This meeting of her majesty’s Baronial Court is called to order,” he thundered in a voice fit for a parade ground. “Before we begin, there is a matter of protocol to discuss. Her majesty has sent a courier to clear up the matter of House Vespin which has too long stood absent from this court.”

“A right not used is forfeit,” a voice near the back called out as a man stood. “The Wolf of Vespin has given up his right to stand before this Court.”

“So that’s why nobody saw fit to so much as raise my banner,” Erik growled.

“Almost ten years is too long to remain absent,” the lord on his feet replied.

A banneret stood nearby. “So, I can take the northern half of your lands, then,” the new riser shouted at the other man. “You don’t seem keen on doing anything with it. If a right not used is forfeit for him, then it is forfeit for you as well. Sign over those four hundred acres and we’ll call it a deal.”

Manfred passed Erik a note as a laugh rippled through most of the other assembled lords. “From Baroness vonEisenheim,” the big knight whispered.

Erik read the note. It said simply: Lord Ludger Arlt of Marburg. The man has been a thorn in my side.

Erik wrote below her note, shall I remove it, my lady, and passed it back.

“Come on, Ludger,” the banneret said, idly buffing his nails on his tunic. “I could really use that extra few hundred acres. My people had a lot of babies this summer, and I’ve got a lot of mouths to feed.”

Ludger glared at the banneret. “I withdraw my objections,” he said and sat down.

The note came back to Erik. Elina had added: Not yet.

Erik added to the note again before passing it back: As long as he keeps his mouth shut.

“That’s better,” the banneret replied and sat down.

The Baron of the Dunnmark crossed an ankle over his knee and viewed the assembled lords and bannerets over steepled fingers. “There being no other idiotic outbursts in this Hall,” he drawled. “Her majesty has sent a courier with a proclamation to be read before this Court.”

A herald stepped a pace forward near the door to the hall and rapped his staff on the flagstone floor. “Sir Hod Eichel, Knight-Lieutenant of the Order of the Hunt,” he announced in a booming voice.

Hod stepped in, walked up the aisle, and bowed before the high lords. He held up a letter, broke the seal, and began reading before the assembled noblemen. “To our Baronial Court duly appointed by our predecessor, Ilsa the First, and continued by our hand,” he began.

A banneret not far from the podium snickered and Hod turned a glare to the man. The snickering banneret dropped silent, and Erik saw the man swallow. “Moving on,” Hod drawled and then continued reading. “It is time we laid to rest a matter that has been the cause of some division in our kingdom. We hereby recognize the baronetcy and lordship of Erik the son of Stefan of House Vespin. We hereby grant him the rights and privileges of his House, and the responsibility thereof. It is signed and sealed by her majesty’s hand.”

The room was quiet by the time Hod finished reading. He looked around the room. “I assume the Court will want the high lords to verify the writing of the queen,” the Hunter said into the quiet chamber and stepped up onto the raised dais to present the queen’s letter to Barthold.

Slowly at first, then more quickly, the quiet discussions resumed. One of the lesser lords shot to his feet. “I would have the floor,” he said.

Barthold heaved a sigh. “The Court will hear the objections of the Lord of Branheim,” he said.

The Lord of Branheim nodded. “The courier standing before us is a Hunter, and Sir Erik,” he began.

“Lord Erik,” Hod barked the correction.

The note came back again: Lord Folkher Bormann of Branheim. Another thorn in my side.

“Lord Erik,” Folkher corrected himself, and he said lord in a tone which made Erik’s jaw tighten. “Is the Knight, that is Lord-Captain of the Hunters. How do we know that this letter isn’t a clever forgery?”

As Folkher spoke, Erik scratched out: You have a lot of thorns in there. You should really consider letting me remove them.

Hod eyed Folkher dangerously. “Are you calling me a liar,” he asked in a deadly quiet voice.

Folkher ignored Hod. “Besides, Erik cannot speak on his own behalf on this matter,” he continued.

Erik eyed Folkher as he leaned back in his chair and rested his jaw against his fist. Manfred’s face was hard. Elina was pinching the bridge of her nose, and Wilhelm was half out of his seat while the other two barons eyed Folkher. Arnold Bock shook his head and stood. The big man rapped his cane on the floor, and the sound echoed through the chamber. “Oh, do sit down Branheim,” the big man snapped. “This Court has had just about enough of your sophistry. Perhaps you should consider just who it is you’re speaking about.”

Folkher rounded on Arnold. “I believe I know who I’m speaking about: a blood-drenched half-breed,” he snapped.

Erik stood smoothly, his face deceptively calm, and stepped around his desk. “Would the good Lord of Branheim care to enlighten us all why he believes I lack the right to speak on my own behalf,” he asked mildly as he stepped down from the platform and walked to the lord.

“It–it’s your,” Folkher stammered.

Erik eyed the Lord of Branheim.

Folkher cleared his throat as a nervous chuckle rippled through the room.

“I advise you to choose your next words carefully,” Erik warned the man in a deadly quiet voice.

Folkher glanced to a small knot of the other lords, and Erik saw one man nod slightly. Folkher stiffened and faced Erik. “I question your legitimacy to serve in the capacity of Lord of Drassen,” he replied flatly. “Your mother’s side makes you less than fit, half-breed.”

Erik regarded Folkher calmly and the room went silent. With that simple statement, Folkher had ground the Court’s proceedings to a halt. There would be no discussion of succession now, or any time in the near future. Folkher had granted the upper hand to the Royal Council, at best. At worst, he had laid the foundations for a succession war. The chuckles and running comments in the mezzanine cut off abruptly. A few of the onlookers leaned forward as though eager to see what Erik would do. “Would you care to rescind that remark, Branheim,” Erik asked in a tone like ice.

Folkher looked at Erik with a fierce grin. “No,” he said.

Erik casually backhanded the Lord of Branheim, sending the man reeling to his desk. The lord’s retainers stood, and Erik’s sword slid silently from its sheath. Erik was dimly aware of Ileana’s gasp from the mezzanine and the fact that several others had stood including his own retainers. Erik threw a pugnacious glare at Folkher’s two retainers. “Are either of you ready to die today,” he demanded.

One of Folkher’s retainers, a younger man who had clearly only recently won his spurs met Erik’s eyes for a brief moment. He swallowed hard before settling back into his seat. The other retainer followed suit.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Erik drawled and sheathed his sword before turning to face the Lord of Branheim.

“Damn you,” Folkher muttered as he wiped blood from his lip.

“My second will be waiting in the Rose Square at the Nones bells,” Erik grated. “I hope you will see the wisdom in a peaceful resolution to this little disagreement of ours.”

Folkher looked up defiantly. “My second will be there,” he spat.

Erik turned on his heel and walked back to his desk. The four other high lords looked on the scene in front of them calmly, though their retainers’ hands rested on the hilts of their swords. Erik sat down, and both Rolph and Manfred sat with him.

Elina stood, her hands folded in front of her. “I trust there are no other objections to our wolf’s legitimacy, then,” she said into the silent room.

Nobody answered.

“Then let us put all of this unfortunate business behind us and make arrangements for the funeral of Lord Folkher Bormann of Branheim,” she told the room calmly. “The duel will be Friday. So, I propose that we hold the funeral service Sunday before sending the body under escort to his next of kin in Branheim. Do I hear any objections?”

Folkher shot from his seat and stared open-mouthed at Elina. His mouth worked, but no sound escaped his lips.

“Then the motion carries. The members of this council who are here present shall remain in the city until either Folkher of Branheim apologizes, which he will do if he is wise, or until after his funeral on Sunday.”

“I’m not dead, Lady vonEisenheim,” Folkher snapped. “And I would appreciate it if you do not treat me as such.”

Elina glared at the Lord of Branheim. “My master at arms and I have seen you on the practice field and the tourney just as we have seen Lord Vespin,” she grated. “If you go through with this duel, you will not be alive come twilight on Friday. I suggest that you use my proper title when you address me. Lord Erik may be willing to forgive a variety of slights. I am not so kind.”

Folkher sat to mull that over.

Wilhelm cleared his throat. “Matters in Ravensburg require my attention, and I need to return there immediately,” he told the other high lords.

Barthold nodded. “Attend to matters at home, my lord,” he replied.

Wilhelm inclined his head. “Thank you, my lord,” he replied sincerely.

Elina turned to face the Baron of the Dunnmark. “I believe that you were trying to call this meeting to order, my lord,” she remarked.

The old baron smiled tightly at Elina. “You don’t do half measures, do you,” he murmured to Erik angrily as he stood.

Erik made a point of ignoring him.

Barthold shook his head and spoke to address the assembled Lords. “Due to certain matters that have arisen between Lord Vespin and Lord Bormann, this council does not hold a quorum to continue these deliberations until the matter is resolved,” he announced ruefully. “This meeting is adjourned.”

Men began standing and making their way out of the Hall. Hod strode over to Erik’s desk as Erik and his retainers were standing. “I’m going to run ahead to the palace to let the queen know about the duel with Branheim,” he told Erik quietly.

“Tell her I’ll be along soon.”

Hod nodded and walked away.

Erik turned to Manfred. “I would like you to act as my second, Sir Manfred,” he told the big knight.

Manfred inclined his head. “I’d be happy to, my lord,” he said.

“Good,” Erik replied. “Try to get his seconds to see reason.”

Bernhard snorted. “I somehow doubt that,” he remarked.

Erik shrugged. “At least we’ll have tried,” Erik replied and turned back to Manfred. “I’ll take Rolph and Bernhard to meet with the queen at the palace. I suggest you return quickly and pick up Armin and Killian, just in case.”

Manfred bowed. “At once, my lord,” he said quickly and trotted from the hall.

Wilhelm stepped over to Erik. “You definitely know how to make a first impression, Lord Vespin,” he said. “I think that Folkher will spend the next three nights wetting himself.”

“Do try to get him to apologize, or at least yield,” Barthold told Erik.

“Since when has the Thressian Heresy been allowed to take root in Tyrsiln,” Erik asked.

“Branheim’s mother is from Adambry,” Wilhelm explained. “She brought her parish priest with her when she married Folkher’s father. The household seems to have taken to it.”

“We might have to do something about that,” Elina remarked.

“Thank you for nailing the Court’s feet to the floor, my lady,” Erik told Elina.

Elina smiled. “It was no trouble,” she replied. “That was the last straw. I loved your mother dearly. Even if he apologizes, I may have my champion do something about him. I am not as forgiving as you are. You’ll be going before the queen, then?”

Erik nodded. “I will,” he said.

Barthold nodded. “You’d best get going, then, lad,” he told Erik and extended his hand out. “I’ll see you Friday.”

Erik clasped the baron’s hand. He collected his shield, hood, and cloak, then strode from the hall.

Erik found Ileana speaking with Yewn Aldris and the others that had been with her. “…talk him out of this foolishness,” Ileana was saying. “He’s too important to throw away.”

“They have their customs which we do not interrupt,” Yewn explained patiently. “I will not interfere. If you want to put a stop to it, you will have to do it yourself.”

The Thunarrin grunted. “Sir Aldris is right, child,” he told her.

The robed woman had a sympathetic look on her face as she shook her head. “Peace, Seymore,” she admonished the Thunarrin, then turned to Ileana. “What they mean to tell you is that any interference on our part would only make matters worse. His legitimacy has been called into question before the Court. He shouldn’t take an insult like that lightly.”

Erik cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something,” he asked them in Elvish.

Ileana turned to Erik and her ear twitched slightly. “Yes,” she told him icily.

“We’re done here,” Seymore disagreed flatly, then turned to the robed woman. “Priestess, we should return to the embassy. We need to be on our way back early tomorrow.”

The priestess nodded and turned briefly to Erik. “Don’t let her do anything foolish,” the woman told him and then left with the Thunarrin.

Ileana shook her head. “What do you want,” she asked Erik.

Erik looked at her levelly. “The queen wants to discuss our arrangement,” he told her. “You’ll be travelling to the palace with Sir Yewn. We’ll decide where to go from there.”

Ileana turned her back as Erik turned on his heel and walked out of the Edelhaus.