After leaving Aelga to pray alone in the sanctuary, Idelle headed out into the courtyard and crossed over to the main building. Pulling open the door and stepping into the grand hall, she located a page boy in one of the corridors and asked him to take her to the Duke of Bradcombe. He'd looked skeptical at first, but when Idelle didn't back down, and he looked down at her sword and the masculine clothes she wore, he seemed to decide that she was worthy enough. Spinning on his heel, he dashed into the inner corridors and galleries of the main building, almost running. Idelle rolled her eyes, but picked up into a jog to keep pace with him, holding her sword still at her side.

They arrived, breathless, at a room near the back of the building, where two guards stood on duty. Their helmets glinted in the torchlight of the sconces on the wall, and they looked down at Idelle with narrowed eyes. The page boy, no help at all, merely gestured at them as if showing her how easy they were to locate, then disappeared back down the hall, his footsteps pattering away.

Idelle cleared her throat, trying to seem as sure of herself as they seemed of themselves. "The Duke of Bradcombe wished me to join him... here," she said.

The guards almost smirked. One rolled his neck and shoulders as he laughed softly. "I'm sure His Grace did, my lady. But we're not exactly allowed to just let any maid in."

Idelle turned so that her sword caught the torchlight, and folded her arms across her chest. "Just tell him I'm here. I have all the time in the world to wait."

The guard rolled his eyes, but turned and opened the door. The sound of many voices filled the hall for a brief moment, and Idelle caught a glimpse of men and women in sturdy clothes crowded around a table. The light of the fireplace bent the guard's shadow as he stepped in but then the door swung shut and blocked her view. She stood awkwardly in silence with the other guard, both of them not wanting to look at the other, until finally the door opened once again. The first guard reappeared and merely jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Idelle fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him as she breezed by his side and entered the room beyond.

It was hot, with the fireplace casting everything in a deep orange glow that felt like entering a furnace. The small group of men and women still clustered around a table laid with a large map. Markers cluttered the surface, showing the positions of troops in Wynherst, Essenkirk, and Glastonbex. Miniature wooden ships showed the navy on the Magna Aber to the west, like a row of ducks in a rather large pond. Despite the crowd's position, however, they did not seem to be paying much attention to the map anyone. Instead, their eyes were focused on a spot near the middle where Torran and an older man stood.

As she walked through the crowd, Torran looked up and beckoned her to his side. When she reached it, he pulled her right against his side, almost pressing against him. Suddenly not able to breathe properly, Idelle looked out across the map rather than concentrate on the way Torran's leg was so near hers and how his elbow brushed her side whenever he moved his arm. 

She picked out the details in the map, and her eyes skittered to the east, to her home, but she quickly moved them away. She refocused them up north, to Bradcombe, where Torran's horses would be nearly at the foaling season. With the warriors all pressed around her, she almost wished she could somehow magically end up in those fields, far away from this smoke and heat filled room.

The older man, who Idelle assumed to be the general, leaned back from the table, one arm crossed over his chest and the other stroking his neat beard.

"We need to have Princess Aelga... I'm sorry, Queen Aelga, instated as our official monarch as soon as possible," he said, continuing on with the conversation as if Idelle had been there all along. "She wanted to push back the coronation until you arrived, but we can't postpone it any longer."

Torran, a crease between his brows, looked to the general. "I love my cousin, but becoming queen this suddenly is going to be hard for her. She's very young, and King Aengus never set her up to take over any official duties. She was preparing to marry and settle with her own children in a foreign country, not fight a war and rule in her brother's stead. I'm not sure how she'll handle the pressure."

"She'll have no choice. Once Queen Yseult hears of King Aengus' death, she'll redouble her attempts to drive into Wynherst and occupy us. A nation without a king is only asking for another power to come in and replace him," the general said. "We have to move fast and set Queen Aegla up as a sturdy and sure ruler before word gets into Glastonbex to Queen Yseult."

Torran scoffed. "Something tells me that she doesn't need word to travel to her. She knows."

The general frowned, his hands uneasily tugging at the bottom of his black jerkin. "We cannot prove she had any connection to King Aengus' death. It is best not to spread rumors like that, when it can only cause anger or panic."

"I know. But I'm sure she had something to do with it." When the general gave him a stern look, Torran relented. "At any rate, I suppose you're right about Aelga. She needs to be crowned as soon as possible to stop the unrest and panic that will hit the country once word gets out to the far reaches of King Aengus' passing."

"We were thinking of having the coronation tomorrow," the general said. "Now that you are here, there is nothing stopping us. The bishop is nearby and can arrive by the morning."

Torran nodded, pushing away from the table. "The plan is set, then. Tomorrow."

The men and women in the room moved in restless waves, whispers rising from their mouths. What they thought of the plan, Idelle didn't know. They seemed content with what the general and Torran said, and only discussed among themselves in voices too low for her to hear.

"Your Grace, would you mind reporting to the princess? Let her know about the crowning tomorrow?" the general said, apparently not realizing that he had called Aelga 'princess' once again.

Torran had already turned, but he held up his hand in acknowledgement to the general. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

Idelle trailed behind him as he picked his way to the door and out into the hallway. When they were alone, and the door had shut again on the men and women in the war room, he let out a breath and looked at Idelle.

"Sorry. We're scrambling to find a way to make this all work," he said, gesturing with his chin down the hall to let her know he was going to start walking. She followed him, hand on her sheath.

"That's fine, sir. But about plans... I was wondering if I could start heading back to the southern front?"

Torran glanced back at her as they made their way out into the inner ward. "Uh... yes, I suppose we could talk about that in a little bit." He was already distracted. Up ahead, she could see Queen Aelga in the garden, her black dress and red hair standing out among the green bushes. Her attendant had appeared now, standing at her side, and the servants were clustered around, staring and dabbing at their eyes.

Torran rushed to her side, and Idelle saw Aelga's green eyes fill with relief at the sight of him. She reached out her hand and Torran took it. Idelle stepped up behind them, glaring at the servants who carried on with loud wailing and tears.

"Move along!" she called, jerking her hand at the work stations that had been left abandoned. "I'm sure the Queen would like for you all to be able to earn your livings."

The servants looked up at her sharply, confusion on their faces. They had no idea who she was, but Idelle had made sure to put enough conviction in her voice to make them wonder if she had authority over them. When neither the Queen nor the Duke seemed to want to correct her, they scuttled away, taking their sniffling and stares with them. Torran then guided Aelga over to a spot near a small tree growing by the columns of the open-air grand hall. It wasn't exactly private, but it did a good job of blocking eyes and ears if they kept their voices low.