'Fara of Calate.'

The girl spoke her name like a curse she was afraid to utter. She was dressed in a lush purple gown with red outer sleeves and bodice. Garish for this close to moonalven in Calate perhaps. More suited to Sunalven in Azura.

'Please do not be alarmed, I am not truly returned from the dead.' Fara chanced a gentle smile. The girl's eyes did not soften.

In fact they hardened, darkened. No warmth came from her at all. And as she bore no food or basin and she appeared frightened half out of her wits. Not a maid then.

'Did my brother send you?' Fara asked.

It was as though she had not spoken, or as though perhaps she did not speak Fara's tongue. Peeling herself from the door, the girl took a small step into the room towards her, almost entranced.

'You are as beautiful as they told me you were. It is not hard to see why he chose you,' the girl said, sadly. She studied her now, with all the boldness of a fabrician fitting her for a gown.

Fara frowned, confused. 'Who chose me?'

'Galyn.'

The name spoken in her small girlish voice awakened the realisation of who this girl was. Fara's mouth fell open slightly as she looked at her anew. 'You are Dura of Zybar.'

This, in turn, appeared to awaken the girl from her trance. She stopped staring and straightened. 'I was,' she said. 'Though mayhaps you have not heard? I am your brother's wife avowed and bedded. Calate is my home now.'

Fara wanted to tell her that this was not how such a thing worked. For her home would still live inside her. She still felt the blood of Calate run through her though she had been vowed and bedded by Galyn. Azura too: like the sun at her back, the memory of its lush vineyards and exotic scents warmed and comforted her like a homely hearth. And there in the quietest most hopeful parts of her, Leoth. Where her heart had found its home. Where it ran wild and powerful and free. Theodan; the forest-like scent of him, the hard power of his touch, the fervency of his promise wrapped around her.

'Then I hope you find happiness here,' Fara replied. 'I have no doubt that Calate will open its heart to you as my brother's wife.'

'As it's queen,' Dura corrected.

Fara only smiled, though this, it seemed angered Dura.

'I wished for your death many times,' she said then, her pale cheeks flushing hotly. 'But of course, the Gods did not hear me.'

Fara blinked slightly at the admission. Then she told her something she had never told another soul. 'I've wished for my own death many times. They did not hear me either.'

This time Dura of Zybar's eyes widened with surprise.

Fara took a moment then to study her. Valdr's new wife. She was no more than a girl, younger than Fara by a few years. Smooth skin like a child's yet untouched by the sun. Hair of whitened gold which hung thick and heavy as rope in a single thick braid. She looked little like her father. Torrik's cruel eyes and rough mouth were nowhere to be found on this daughter of his who was small and weak-looking. Like a tiny bird. Absently, she glanced down at the smooth unmarred skin of her wrists.

Gods, what would Valdr do to such a gentle thing such as her? What had he already done? Did she know him yet?

Fara took a small step toward her. 'I always hoped that we might meet. That we might one day have the chance to speak—that I might have the chance to say to you...' her words trailed off. What had she wanted to say to her? That she was sorry? Sorry that she had stolen Galyn from her? That she had saved herself. She was not sorry for that. She was only sorry that she had had to make such a choice. That there had been no other path open to her. One which would have avoided war and death.

Except, there was a choice. Your own death for the deaths of many. You should have taken it. You would have saved so many had you taken it.

She could not have saved Galyn. For Galyn's death had already been written. Would it have been better for this girl had her father killed her betrothed instead of Theodan? Would her heart have been better served by that outcome?

'I suppose there are no words that I can offer to undo the wrongs you believe I have done you. But know that if I could undo them... then I would. I would undo a great many things...'

Dura of Zybar's expression moved from curiosity to a frown. 'Why do you talk to me of wrongs? For I rather think now that I should thank you. What is the promise of a prince compared with the hand of a king? What are the imaginings of a child betrothed compared with the reality of a woman married?' She clasped her hands together and let out a soft sigh. 'I have known your lord brother for such a short time but already I know that he is a far greater king than Galyn could ever have been.

For his word and vow was not moved by the turn of a beautiful woman's head. Therefore I know that the union of Calate and Zybar shall be far greater and far stronger than was ever offered us in weak words by Azura.'

The conviction in her large eyes was so impressive that Fara could find no response to it.

'I suppose Zybar know well the nature of weak words...' Fara said at last. 'Having betrayed Leoth with no more than a turning of the wind.'

Dura blinked. 'You would compare us with that horde?'

'Oh, there is very little comparison that I have seen... Leoth, at least, have honour.'

'The Leothine are monsters!'

'I saw what your armies did to the women and children of Azura!' Fara snapped. 'To the queen of Azura! What your father desired for me!'

This quieted Dura's fire. She lowered her eyes, knotting her fingers in her gown. Fara took a few deep breaths and tried to quiet her own rage. This girl had suffered too. Would suffer more still...

'Leoth are not what we have been led to believe,' she tried, calmer. 'They have empathy and kindness and humanity in them. More than I have found in most of my own kind. They also have trade and medicine that could benefit all of Ethis. It is my aim to broker peace, to convince my brother of Leoth's worth to us. To all of Ethis.'

Gods, perhaps she had revealed too much to this girl. This girl who still looked at her as though she was the cause of all her trouble. But if she was to have any chance of success then surely she had to convince as many as she could?

Dura said nothing for many moments, watching her cautiously. There was intelligence behind her wide tawny eyes, that much was certain, though whether it was malice too, Fara did not know.

'Armies gather on the water and in the fields,' said Dura finally. 'They ready themselves even now. War against Leoth cannot be stopped.'

'Yes, it can. Your father wanted the hand of a king for his daughter— now he has it. He does not need to fight another war — a war that he cannot win. Help me to convince him of that.'

This, seemed to frighten Dura. She took a step backwards and shook her head. 'My father would not hear it, not from me. What you suggest is absurd—All of Ethis would rejoice to see the Dark One's realm destroyed once and for all.'

Scared to lose her, Fara reached out to take hold of her hand. She felt resistance but the girl did not pull away. 'Does not Calate's new queen want peace and stability for her realm?'

She felt a prick of guilt then. For only last night she had begged Valdr to cast Dura aside, to annul this marriage at once and break his pact with Torrik. Now she stood pleading with the girl to work with her against her own interest.

'Surely this new home of yours is better served by a queen who does not wish to send her men to war and make widows of its women?'

It seemed an eternity before Dura spoke. Fara held her breath. Somewhere a clock ticked incessantly. Somewhere footsteps grew louder.

'It seems to me that war is not a subject for females,' she said finally. 'Queens or otherwise. I trust that my lord husband shall do what is right for the prosperity of our beloved realm. The monstrosity of Leoth has been a curse on Ethis for too long.'

Before Fara had the chance to counter, there was a knock on the chamber door. A moment later it was thrust open; Dura almost jumped in fright.

Lord Ravol, the head of Valdr's Nati, strode through it his eyes trained on Fara. He glanced only briefly at the Princess of Zybar. As he stopped before her he pressed his hand over his heart and bowed deeply.

'Princess. When his majesty told me of your return it was as though a shadow had lifted from the soul of the realm.' Faux sincerity dripped from him. His small eyes narrowed to slits as he slid them to Dura. 'My lady, I had not expected to find you and the princess colluding so soon.' It was said as a jest but the intent was clear.

Dura blinked nervously.

'We both sought the king,' Fara said. 'T'was I who suggested we have a quiet moment alone to acquaint ourselves as sisters.' From the side of her eye, she saw Dura flash her a look.

'Ah! Then his grace will be most glad to know of it. He awaits you now.' He told Fara.

'My guest in the bridgetower,' she replied. 'I wish to visit with him first.'

Ravol smiled a thin empty smile. 'You need not be concerned, princess, your Leoth is well. For now I must insist you join me in the king's solar at once lest he grow impatient with us both.'

Her jaw clenched firmly, she turned to Dura. 'I am glad we had a moment to speak, sister. I hope that we can find an accord between us.' She stepped forward to pull her into a hug. 'Please consider all that I have said,' she whispered.

Dura was stiff in Fara's embrace. When she pulled back from her she found her brother's wife's expression implacable.

oOo

She and Ravol walked quietly for a time but with every step she felt the silence between them swell and fatten. Thick with curiosity, animosity. The worst of Valdr's impulses were nurtured and encouraged by this serpent, this nefarious worm. He'd served her father too; with less power, and he knew no life other than that at the side of a king. He slithered about Valdr's feet like the snake that he was surviving on whatever scraps were thrown to him. The bodies of the fallen, the half-dead; the rotten and the weak.

'His grief was far greater than his fury,' Ravol said finally. 'Not even I could assuage it.'

'And how did that feel, Lord Ravol? To be useless to him? To be without purpose, finally. Were you frightened?'

She saw his nostrils flare. 'His majesty knows that I shall never leave his side. When his father went to the Gods it was I who convinced him that he could be the greatest king this realm had ever had, when his sister disobeyed him, abandoned him for a foolish boy prince, it was I who sought allies that might see her returned, and when his brother defied him, it was I who remained by his side his most loyal of servants.' He stopped and turned to her. 'I am as indispensable to him as I have ever been. In fact, I worry it is you who will now find yourself without purpose here, your grace.' Panos defied Valdr?

Conviction glowed in his spider black eyes. Conviction at his own cleverness, his own importance.

'My only purpose here, Lord Ravol, is to stop my brother leading this kingdom to its end.'

'You left this kingdom behind the first chance you could. Now you want us to believe you have its best interests in your heart? How do we know that you are not here as Leoth's assassin? Here to strike us in our hearts?'

At this, she laughed. 'It matters little what you believe Lord Ravol, it only matters what Valdr believes.'

'And he believes that you abandoned him. You who have returned to him an Azurian whore with a Leoth protector.'

She raised her hand and slapped him so hard across the face her palm stung from it.

'I am no one's whore,' she spat.

She could feel his fury where she stood and with her eyes she dared him to strike her back.

His hands stayed firm by his sides.

'Your hold over him is not what it once was princess, you can be assured you that.'

'My hold over him?'

'The same hold you held over the princeling of Azura—though we know you had some assistance with that.' A chill leeched down her spine. The crone. He knew about Galyn's curse? Did Valdr know? 'Tell me... is the Leoth too susceptible to your sorcery?'

'The only sorcery alive within these walls, Ravol, is from the Irhith you put in my brother's bed!'

He clicked his tongue as though she were a child and turned to stride straight ahead. 'Any king with a mind for war knows that a campaign against Leoth requires we utilise every tool at our disposal. The dark magic of Nerven might just be the greatest weapon in the fight against the beasts of Ethis.'

Ravol stopped outside a set of wide double doors before moving to open one side. Once inside he gestured for her to follow him.

The room was large and bright and made almost entirely of glass. Somehow they had arrived upon ground level, though she had not realised it as they'd walked.

At the far end of the room was a roofed garden ripe and colourful with blossom and spray. Because of it, the air was intense; a heady mixture of sweet and spice, floral and earth. Valdr sat at the head of a large dressed table which sat in the centre of the great room.

As she entered he stood and smiled and in his eyes she saw relief, as though he feared he'd only dreamt her return.

Ravol went to him, leaning to whisper something she had no hope to hear. She moved closer to the table, opposite where Valdr and Ravol stood, and took a seat. She still could not hear though Valdr listened intently, gaze fixed on her, before Ravol took a step back, bowed, then turned and strode from the room.

She surveyed the morning meal; hot bread piled atop with creamed cheese and eggs, sweetened bread drizzled with honey and dried fruit. Hot spiced tea steamed in the teapot, cream in a jug by her plate. Her favourites. The cutlery gleamed to a polish, the teacups and goblets shining like ornaments. Behind, the chatter of birds echoed musically around the glass garden.

'Lord Ravol is not gladdened by my return,' She told Valdr as he sat.

'Whatever gladdens me gladdens Ravol,' he replied, lifting his teacup to sip.

'And are you glad, Valdr?'

He lowered his cup and frowned at her. The black velvet cuff of his doublet like spilled ink on the white tablecloth. 'You think I would rather you dead at the hands of a Leothine beast?'

'I think mayhaps my return has given you a problem you know not how to solve.'

'There are no problems that I do not know how to solve, Fara, I thought that would have been clear to you by now.' His gaze lingered on her as he took another sip of tea.

She stared back at him, at the shapely pink of his mouth, the sharp elegant cut of his jaw. The smooth skin of his throat. Then she imagined what it might look like torn open.

'Ravol tells me you have met my wife.'

'Did he also tell you he called me an Azurian whore?' She deflected, purposely. Ah, majesty, you should know your wife and sister were close as cloveleaves not a moment before I interrupted them.

Valdr's nostrils flared, the fingers of his free hand curling into his napkin. 'It shall not happen again. Though I suppose he is still angry with you... for what you did to me.'

She ignored that. 'He said that Panos defied you, what did he mean?'

He shifted on his chair. 'I forbade Panos to go to Azura —our army was not ready for such an advance. He attacked against my will.'

She felt the floor disappear, the chair with it. 'Then... then you did not send him to Leoth with terms?'

Valdr scowled. 'You think I would send terms to those brutes? After what that Leothine did to you?'

Panos had lied? To Theodan? To the council? Gods, Panos... what have you done...?

What did this mean now? She looked at him, her mind scattered and confused, frightened again. 'That Leothine saved me. Protected me... from Torrik. From the man you now call your ally. Or is it father?'

Another sigh, this time as though she were a small child. 'Torrik really is of little importance in all of this, Fara, you will soon come to see that. Tell me, what did you think of his daughter? She is a fragile little thing is she not? My wife?'

The word wife sounded strange on his tongue. Foreign. Wrong.

'I suspect as all fragile things she is likely far stronger than we assume.'

'Like you, sister?'

Habit caused her to grip the cuffs of her gown and pull them past her wrists. Then she moved her hands to her lap.

'How else would you have survived the raid on Azura's palace?' He asked. 'The attack of a Leoth Army? The Dark One's realm? While I moved armies and ships and bent kings and magic to my will, you were doing all that you could to return to me. Now tell me again that your place is not by my side.' His eyes were bright with pride, his smile hungry.

Your hold over him is not what it once was princess, you can be assured of that.

She kept the tremor from her voice when she spoke. 'It seems to me, Valdr, that you have surrounded yourself in my absence. So much so that I no longer see where by your side I am to fit. A castle of lords preparing for war, a brute of a king, a wife, a witch, and an advisor who is so close to your heel that it is a wonder you have space to move at all. Who else must I fight my way past to return to you?'

He stared at her for an eternity, careful and cunning as a cat.

'Have you returned to me, Fara?' He asked, soft.

Careful, Fara. Tread as though you walk on a floor made of fine glass. One heavy footstep and you will crash, perilous, to your death.

Her body felt rigid, her mouth dry. At first, she did not see his hand move, was too frightened to lower her eyes from the snare of his. But then he shifted his napkin and the sunlight bounced upwards and across the room.

The hilt, carved from the most precious ornate gold, the blade forged from the purest silver-white.

She cared for nothing then but herself. For no one then but herself. For the promise he had made her.

If war comes to Calate then I shall find you in it. I will come for you.

War would bring him to her. War meant Theodan. War meant life.

Peace meant this. Meant death.

'Has my sister returned to me, truly? I shall need you to show me that you have. For all around me are those who would seek to fool me again... to trick me again.' His fingers curled around the dagger, the jewelled ring on his forefinger shining obsidian in the sunlight. 'Have you truly returned to me?'