Delphine of Hirath swished into the room with Wyllan a few steps behind her. She wore her usual colours of deep green and gold, her red hair loose about her shoulders in great snake-like waves. She threw a brief glance at Fara as she came toward Valdr, curtseying low and graceful.

"Majesty," she purred at Valdr, before inclining her head vaguely in Fara's direction. "My lady." This was said in a different voice.

Wyllan dipped into a quick bow before rising to full height, glancing at her with a flicker of unease. She considered giving him a reassuring smile but was given Valdr's and Ravol's presence, it was not wise. So she centred herself, kept her face expressionless. It was Ravol who spoke first.

"My Lady Dacian, we apologise for interrupting your first dawn abed with your husband," Ravol began smoothly. "But there has been a development concerning the Queen consort and as you, it seems, were the last person to speak to her we wonder if you may have some idea about her state of mind."

She looked at Valdr, a small laugh of incredulity bubbling up from her throat. "Her state of mind? However, should I know her state of mind?"

Valdr leaned into the gilded seat which was not quite a throne but not quite a chair either, his head resting casually on his upturned hand, fingers playing over his lips. The solar was hot despite the chill she had tasted in the air this morning. The glass windows reflected the heat and light around the bright room in curtains of brilliant white gold.

"You spoke to the princess at the feast last night, yes?" Ravol pressed. "After which she was seen to flee the great hall."

Delphine stood taller, lifting her chin. "Flee? I did not see her flee the great hall, no. As for our discourse, I merely welcomed the princess to Prissia and offered her my friendship should she ever need a sympathetic ear."

"I had not been aware you had any capacity for sympathy, Lady Delphine." Fara was unable to stop herself from saying.

Delphine swung her gaze toward her, a smirk threatening to break free from her pink slash of a mouth.

"Oh, there is much you do not know about me, your grace," Delphine said. "I only hope now that I shall be spending much more time here at court on account of my husband, we shall be able to overcome the misunderstandings of the past and learn more about each other. Forge a friendship perhaps. We have much in common after all." Delphine looked at Valdr and then Wyllan, gracing him with a simpering look.

"If we might focus on the Queen consort," Ravol interjected. "You offered her welcome and counsel, and tell us, how did the queen seem?"

Delphine cocked her head to the side. "Perhaps if you tell me what has befallen our new queen, Lord Ravol, I may be better equipped to aid with your enquiry. As it is I am quite at a loss as to how my very brief converse with her majesty is of such great import. Or how it is connected to her state of mind." Delphine looked again at Valdr, who said nothing. When Ravol looked at him, a question on his face, Valdr made the faintest of gestures with a blink and a flick of his finger.

"The Queen consort was not found in her chamber this morning." Ravol told her. "In fact, she has not been seen by anyone since she fled the great hall. And it seems you were the last to speak with her."

This caused a visible note of unease to creep over her features.

"Now do you see why your conversation is important, my lady?" Ravel added

Delphine blinked rapidly a few times before turning to Valdr. "My king, you cannot think I have anything to do with the Zybarian's disappearance."

"Your queen's disappearance," Fara corrected.

"You both were in attendance at our wedding," Delphine carried on, as though Fara had not spoken. She directed this to Valdr first and then Ravol. "Then my husband and I were together, abed." She gestured for Wyllan to come forward. He did not move. Frozen to the the floor. He looked bewildered.

Beside her Valdr sat up, straightening in his chair. He let out a tired sigh. "We are not accusing you of making her disappear, Delphine. We are only curious to know if anything she may have said may point to her whereabouts now."

Fara saw a glimmer of something move over Delphine's eyes, sliding over her face. A mask. One Fara was familiar with. "We spoke little. She was haughty, arrogant, and unimpressed with the feast the king had thrown in her honour. She was bored with the festivities. I may have demonstrated some displeasure at the ingratitude."

Fara strode toward her and slapped her across the face. Wyllan startled toward them but stopped himself, fists clenched by his sides.

"You would dare stand here before your king and slander his queen? His missing queen." Fara seethed. "You know nothing of her character, for if you did, you would not dare suggest a single word of that to be true." Delphine held her cheek, her expression amused.

"Perhaps it is you who does not know her character as well as you think, your grace." Delphine said, calm. Then she leaned in close to Fara's ear, her voice too soft for any but her to hear.

"Would you like to know who is the better lover? Your brother or your betrothed?" She whispered. "Oh, wait. You already know, don't you?"

Fara moved to strike her again but this time her hand was captured in a firm unyielding grip. By Wyllan. From the side of her eye she saw Valdr rise from his seat, furious.

"You will unhand my sister this instant, Dacian," Valdr growled. Dacian let go of her wrist immediately. She felt a strange twist of betrayal in her gut she could not understand. Why did Wyllan's defence of Delphine cut her so? Why would he defend her? When Fara flicked her gaze to him she found his eyes heavy with apology.

"Forgive me, your grace," Dacian said softly, head lowered. Turning to Valdr, he kept his head bowed. "My king, I meant no offence."

She could find no words for Dacian then. Instead, she turned Valdr.

"Of course, your mistress would be of no help to us," she snapped. "I will take a group of Nati and ride out to look for the queen myself." She was moving towards the door when they were thrust open, the commandant entering without introduction. He took in Dacian first, still stiff and straight-backed next to Delphine, then immediately bowed before Valdr and then Fara.

"Majesty, the queen is returned," Pagel announced.

Fara blinked in shock, turning to Valdr. She watched his reaction go from irritation at being interrupted to surprise.

"You found her?"

"No, sire," Pagel said. "She returned. She rode in through the main gates on the saddle of her Zybarian guard. It appears she went early this morn for some sightseeing."

Valdr's mouth twitched. "Sightseeing?"

Pagel nodded. To the God's Cloak."

"You are telling me that my wife went to visit a waterfall without alerting a single soul?"

Pagel's face gave nothing away. He nodded again. "She awaits you downstairs in the great parlour, your grace."

"We spoke of it," Fara said and all eyes slid to her. "A few moons past. I told her it was best enjoyed at sunrise." It was indeed the truth. They had spoken of it. Had Dura said it so that Fara would confirm it? Give credence to a lie. Had this truly been where Dura had gone? Why hadn't she run? After witnessing what Fara had shown her did she simply wake up with a desire to visit the Gods Cloak? It was absurd.

Valdr considered Fara's words a long moment while he watched her. Unease sliding down her spine as he did. She kept her own features calm and open, soft and relieved.

"Let us go and speak with our wife shall we," Valdr said, striding forward. He gave Fara a look that told her to follow him. "Dacian, report back to me at sunhigh. I want to know how preparations are going for your departure."

"Majesty," he said, bowing as Valdr swished passed him. When she passed she turned her gaze to him and saw regret in his eyes. She knew Dacian was not her enemy. The contrary in fact. He was her only ally here. She gave him a faint smile, one that Delphine snatched up and tucked away, and followed Valdr through the doors of the solar and out into the corridor.

The small group, Valdr at its head, made their way down the north staircase toward Prissia's lower level. The great parlour was situated adjacent the library to one side and the Great Hall on the other. They passed through the latter, servants still polishing gold and glass, the smell of lime soap thick in Fara's nostrils. The servants halted their work and bowed their heads, though Valdr paid them no attention, stride purposeful as he made for the parlour.

Two Nati stood outside the double doors, moving to thrust them open at Valdr's arrival. Five more Nati stood inside the parlour, surrounding the small figure of Dura as though she were a threat. They parted to reveal her tired, muddied form. She shot a quick glance at Fara — one Fara could not read — before bringing her eyes to Valdr and lowering her head in submission. To Fara's surprise, Dura spoke first. Stepping forward, small hands knotted together in agitation.

"My king, forgive me. It was not my intent to cause you concern or offence. To trouble your Nati or your soldiers. To trouble anyone. I offer my sincere apologies." Dura's voice was that same quiet sweet song Fara had grown to care for.

"My wife flees the palace with only her private Zybarian guard..." he glared at the large warrior who stood protectively close to his charge. "And you say you did not mean to cause concern and offence? What about reputation? What about propriety? Did you mean to tarnish these?" The silent sentinel by Dura's side glared at Valdr, unflinching. The large Zybar had always made Fara uneasy — all Zybarian did save Dura — and this one had violence and death etched into his skin in scars and ink. His dark hair long around his enormous shoulders. But she noticed something as she watched him then. She noticed the way his body turned as though it was attuned in some way to the small female's next to him. His head turning whenever Dura breathed or spoke. Noticed too the faintest glimmer of tenderness in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

He masked it well, but Fara had been well trained in watching the ever changing emotions of men. Had become a master in searching for the smallest shift in mood or temperament. Her welfare had depended on it her entire life, learning how to interpret the smallest fraction of a clenched jaw, a smirk, a hardening of the eyes, a seemingly gentle smile. She had never seen the large Zybarian so close to Dura and never in such a confrontation. She could not look away from them now.

"My Khohn is not allowed to leave my side, your majesty," Dura explained gently. "He is bound to his charge by blood."

"Yes, I am aware," Valdr snapped, still glaring at him. "Aware that only his death can remove him from his duty."

Dura shifted then, moving to put herself in front of the large soldier in a defensive stance. It was almost absurd given he towered over her at almost twice her own size. Yet she sought to protect him.

"My king, it is the blood oath of the Khohn which he follows. No responsibility should be placed at Daegar's feet. He followed my order as I commanded him. Just as your Nati would follow yours."

Valdr appeared to consider this. Then, "He took my queen from this palace in the dead of night without my leave, at the very least I should have him whipped for the insult."

"Then you should whip me also, my lord," Dura countered. "For to disobey me is against every vow he has ever sworn." She could see Valdr's indecision. Suspicion and insult clouding his judgement. Would he truly whip Dura? As he had whipped her. Fara would not allow it. She stepped forward.

"The Khohn has returned the queen to us safe and unharmed, Valdr. For this we should be thankful," Fara reasoned. "I myself can attest to how dangerous the lands surrounding Prissia are now that war is close to our door. The threat of it has made animals of many men." She looked at Dura. "And though she left the grounds without your leave, the queen is home, surely that is all that matters."

Dura's eyes said a thousand unspoken words as she gazed back at her, some Fara could name and some she could not. Dura turned her attention back to Valdr, then took a small step forward and lowered herself to her knees before him. Her voice was a fragile quivering thing when she spoke.

"Majesty, I longed only to see the Gods Cloak at sunrise — for the lady Fara swore it was unmatched in its splendour. But I should indeed have begged your leave. It was insolent of me. But you were so busy with your council that I thought it would not matter should I leave the castle for a short time. I truly did not think anyone would miss my presence for a half moon. I planned to be back in my chamber before anyone noticed my absence." She lifted her head doe-eyes wide and startlingly innocent. "Forgive my actions, and that of my Khohn. We meant no dishonour to your glorious name, my lord, on the grace of Zybar I swear it."

Fara held her breath as Valdr considered his wife. She glanced at Ravol, certain he would say something that would damn the girl, but for once he held his tongue. It was entirely out of character, and there would be a reason for it, for Ravol rarely showed mercy unless he stood to benefit.

She saw the moment Valdr's decision was made. His breathing slowing as his fury shrank. She could only stare at Dura in astonishment. He reached out his ringed hand to her and she took it, bringing it to her lips to kiss his fingers softly. He reached out and smoothed a hand almost tenderly over her cheek before guiding her up from the stone floor.

"Next time you desire to see Prissia's splendour, it shall be with your husband and king by your side, wife," Valdr said. The thread of warning clear.

To Fara's surprise, Dura smiled at him, eyes which looked for all of Ethis appeared to be filled with love. "Nothing would please me more, majesty."

Valdr nodded. "Now, bathe and rest, for this suntide you will sit by my side at the war council."

Dura blinked. "Of course, my lord." She hesitated a moment, then gave him that same pleading look of before. "My Khohn... you shall not see him punished him for my misdeeds?"

Valdr smiled. Sharp and ice cold. "On the contrary, I think I shall reward him for keeping you safe. He shall have four of my most trusted Nati at his command from now on. They shall be bound to his side as he is bound to yours. They shall be known as the Dhini. The queens guard."

Dura's face shone with the faintest flicker of unease, for she knew, as they all knew, what it symbolised. She would never know freedom or privacy inside the walls of Prissia again. But then it was gone and she smiled up at Valdr as though he had just bestowed upon her the most precious of gifts.

"Thank you, my lord." She said, before stepping back from Valdr, her head still lowered. She turned her body to Fara and offered a small bow. Then she moved past them and out of the parlour. Her Khohn following after her on heavy feet. When Dura was gone Valdr turned to Pagel.

"Have the search for my wife ceased and the Nati returned to the palace at once. Until I deem it no longer necessary you will station two guards at each of our five gates, including the servants exits. You will also station a guard on each stairwell inside the palace." Pagel nodded and moved off to carry out his command. The three guards falling after him. "Ravol, select four Nati of the most loyal standard to join the queen's guard. I will inspect your choices after the war council and appoint them personally."

"Sire," Ravol affirmed before exiting the parlour. He closed the door behind him, leaving them alone.

Valdr looked at her, cold gaze searching, before his eyes moved over her shoulder in the direction of the door. "Do you think she's fucking the Zybarian, then?" He mused, thoughtfully.

Fara scoffed. "Of course not." It was the truth, she did not think Dura had lain with the warrior. But neither did she think her feelings for the large male were strictly formality. And certainly the Zybarian's toward his charge ran far deeper. "Zybar does not have a single solitary lake, she has never seen anything like a waterfall carved by a God. She is not lying with him."

"Hmmm, she certainly did not appear to enjoy having a cock between her legs, so I think you are right," Valdr said before smiling at her. "Unlike you sister, who have always enjoyed it so vocally."

"That you think so speaks more to your delusion than anything else, brother." She turned from him and headed for the parlour door, desperate to be away from him.

She heard him laugh darkly as she went. "You will be at the war council, my love. Where you will tell every one of my lords exactly what you told. Everything you know about that beast commander and his mountain helots."

She said nothing. When her hand was on the handle, he spoke.

"Oh, and these walks of yours with my wife. I think we shall put an end to them. It seems you are doing naught but filling her head with silly fancies that seek to endanger her person and her reputation."

She looked at him over her shoulder.

"And I know you do not want any harm to come to our little pup," he added.

Without a word she pulled open the door and slammed it closed behind her, shutting him inside.

Outside, with her back pressed against the great parlour door, she could not help but feel that despite it all she had survived a small but crucial battle.