The sound of voices rose to meet them from outside, mixing with the sounds of the heralds. It was the servants, in a tizzy about something, but too far away for Idelle to hear what they were saying. She only heard the commotion of voices and feet, and then the heralding trumpets once again, so close that they had to be right below the stairs.

She retreated to Torran's side, her hand falling to her sword. Something felt wrong. The air suddenly felt hot and close, crackling with energy. The sound of multiple feet, probably a small crowd, shuffled on the steps below. Idelle's hair stood up on the back of her neck as she waited for the figures to come into view out of the gloom at the bottom of the stairwell. When they did, her mouth went dry.

A group of men appeared first, dressed in long black robes, the hoods up and covering their faces. Their hands were bound in front of them with black silk ribbons, wrapping them together almost like a woman's winter muff. They did not look like prisoners, though. More like lions being held back by chains that could easily be released.

Fire mages.

The sight of them sent Idelle's legs shivering, and she had to lock her knees to stay upright. Fire mages could not be in Holmley. It was too far north. They'd never have made it this far without being destroyed by Wynherst troops. And yet, here they were, climbing the steps just a few yards below her.

She drew her sword, the metal gleaming in torchlight, and heard Torran draw his. She crouched, ready to launch herself forward. She had a thought about dousing the torches, to limit the fuel they could use, but before she could act, the trumpets sounded once more.

This drew her attention over the heads of the fire mages, to the group of people behind them. First was a small group of men in armor, similar to the commanders of Wynherst, but with tunics over their chestplates that depicted the three colors of the Glastonbex magics. Green, with the image of a brown mountain, for the earth druids. Black, with a red fire, for the fire mages. Blue, with three white waves, for the water monks. They must have been the generals, and though they wore full armor, Idelle couldn't help but notice that their sheaths were empty and their hands were at their sides.

Confusion flickered on Idelle's face for a moment, but the robed fire mages were growing too close for her comfort. She took a step back but found herself against the wall of the landing. The door to the banquet hall was to her right and through it she could see the soldiers and commanders rushing to see what the commotion was. The others strained their necks, the music stopped, and everyone focused on the door. They would be trapped if the fire mages got in. Idelle couldn't let that happen.

She turned back, spinning her sword in her hand, her knees bent, ready to launch forward to keep them on the stairs, when she saw at the very end of the procession a woman who did not look at all like the others.

At her side, the trumpeteers let loose their last herald, before tucking their instruments under their arms. She looked up at Torran and Idelle, a pale eyebrow quirked. That was the only sign of emotion on her face at all. If ice could have been made into a person, it would be this woman. Her skin was paler than the moon, her lips red slashes. She was perhaps one of the most gorgeous people Idelle had ever seen, but her beauty held no warmth or charm. She was a bottle of swirling poison, a razor-sharp sword, a long drop from a cliff. Her blonde hair, the color of cream, hung down past her waist, unbound and wild with curls. Her gown, pale blue, tight in the bodice but flaring at the skirt, was nothing like the fashions of Wynherst. This was a Glastonbex gown, and a Glastonbex woman, and a Glastonbex smirk on her face as the rest of the Wynherst commanders appeared at the top of the stairs and drew their weapons with horror on their faces.

As General Ainslow bellowed for the guards and soldiers to draw their weapons and protect Queen Aelga, the other queen waved her slender fingers in the air, as if she was sweeping away a fly from around her face. The armored men and the robed fire mages stepped to the sides, letting her walk up the stairs first. Idelle took a step forward, ready to strike, but before she could do much else but blink, Queen Yseult held her hand behind her to a young man with black hair. He dropped something in her palm, and when she brought it back around, she had unfurled a small banner and held it out in front of her like a dead animal danging from her pinched fingers. She shook it, a mocking glint in her eyes, and the Wynhert soldiers all looked at the piece of white fabric now fluttering in the draft.

The Dove of Peace.

Bile rose in Idelle's throat but she had to bite it back. The Dove of Peace? In the possession of the woman who wanted to murder them all? What sick joke was she playing? The slender wings of the painted dove stretched from one corner of the banner to the other, and it rested on a branch of laurel leaves. It was meant to signify a truce, under which no harm would befall either party. Children used their own copies in their silly games when it was time to go in for a meal. They'd raise the paper banners, waving it around, and both sides would lay down their stick swords and handfuls of mud, until the banner was taken down and the play war continued.

But this was no play war, and no regular opponent.

"How do we know you will abide by the rules of the Dove?" General Ainslow shouted down to her, his hands tightening so much around his sword hilt that Idelle heard his joints pop.

Yseult laughed, a tinkling thing. "You'd annihilate me if I didn't," she responded. Her hand spread through the air, taking in her small coterie. "We may have magic, but you have the numbers. We'd be dead before we did much damage."

General Ainslow took in the bound fire mages and the armored warriors who stood with no weapons behind her. Anger and confusion spread across his face, but he could say nothing. He slightly lowered his sword, letting its tip hit the ground, and nodded toward her soldiers. "Send them out of the castle and we'll be willing to listen to what you want."

Yseult smirked, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't deal with underlings. I want to speak to the woman in power. Where is Queen Aelga? I believe we've arrived just in time for her crowning."

Torran's jaw jumped and he almost launched at her right there. Idelle had to step in front of him, blocking his path. General Ainslow looked barely better contained as he straightened his shoulders and lifted his sword again. She knew it was a queen in power, not a king. Which meant she knew King Aengus was dead, even though the news could not have reached her country in such a short amount of time. 

General Ainslow glowered. "We won't let you make a spectacle of her coronation. You'll wait to see her just like anyone else who wants an audience," he snapped.

Yseult looked up and shrugged, looking as if he had merely told her that the store had run out of silk ribbons. She draped the Dove of Peace over her arm and examined its edges, as if she was waiting...

"Who is it?" Aelga's voice.

Torran and Idelle whipped their heads around at the same time to see Aelga standing just on the other side of the door, trying to peek over the heads of the soldiers and into the staircase.

"No one, Your Majesty," Torran said, glaring at Yseult. "Go with your Guards and we'll come and find you once it's all settled down." He looked at Idelle and nodded, and she turned to push her way back into the banquet hall. Her first duty as Captain of the Queen's Guard. She grabbed Aelga's wrist and tried to pull her away from the danger, but the younger girl wouldn't budge.

"I want to know what's happening. Let me through," she said, sure and steady. It wasn't an expression of desire, it was a command. An order. Idelle dropped her wrist and looked over the soldier's heads at Torran. He looked as helpless as she felt.

The soldiers parted, but instead of letting Aelga through, General Ainslow stepped back into the banquet hall and signaled that the Glastonbexes should follow. Idelle knew that it was safer to see them in an open space where they could overwhelm the mages with sheer numbers, but she still felt a shiver of fear ripple down her neck when the enemy soldiers stepped into the hall and faced the fearful nobles and Aelga.