“Queen Bryn!” she said, rushing over to clasp Bryn’s hand. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.” She glanced among the older men and said more quietly, “Another young woman is a welcome sight.”
Bryn’s heart went out to the young queen. Bryn had escaped the fate of marrying a much older man, but Hanna hadn’t been as fortunate. She warmly squeezed the girl’s hands while she wondered if they could use Queen Hanna’s naiveté to their advantage. If Hanna held sway over her husband, perhaps she could whisper in his ear about magic . . .
“Indeed,” Bryn said with sincere kindness. “I hope the two of us have a chance to get well acquainted while here. I want to know all about Dresel. You know, my sister now lives there, married to Duke Dryden.”
“Yes, of course! Elysander and Duke Dryden rarely come to court, but it’s always such a pleasure when they do. And I’m dying to hear about your adventures! It’s been the talk of high society ever since the siege on Castle Mir!”
Bryn chatted more with Hanna while quietly trying to feel out the girl’s personal sentiments regarding magic, while Rangar and Declan went to the whiskey cart and started pouring themselves drams. The delegation from Zaradona remained by the fireplace, looking stiff and uncomfortable.
“Announcing King Mars and Queen Illiana of the Mirien!” a servant announced from the library doorway.
Bryn practically squeaked as she pivoted to find her brother and Illiana stepping into the library, looking dazzling in a golden suit and gown, with their glistening jeweled crowns freshly polished. They, too, had clearly wanted to make a powerful first impression.
“Mars!” Bryn threw her arms around her brother, who grinned beneath his golden blindfold and hugged her close.
“Mouse.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Bryn greeted Illiana next while Rangar came over to speak to Mars. Out of the corner of her eye, Bryn noticed the cold looks King Salvator and High Priest Red exchanged with Baron Marmose.
Under the scrutiny of so many eyes, Bryn could hardly speak openly with Mars and Illiana about Marmose’s influence hexmark that she’d discovered. Limiting her conversation to the weather and bland exclamations of distress over the berserkir wolf attacks was painful.
Later that afternoon, the two forest kingdom delegations arrived in unison. King Hans Viklund and Queen Karin Viklund from Vil-Rossengard entered in forest green wool clothing with their long dark hair in matching braids, and just behind them, Prince Anter Jarkkinen with his father, King Otto.
Bryn was relieved to have their allies finally present. Prince Anter caught her eye and strode over, giving her a deep bow. “Queen Bryn. It does one good after a long journey to be in the company of friends.”
“I feel the same, Prince Anter.” Her gaze shifted briefly to Baron Marmose and the delegates from Dresel and Zaradona. Lowering her voice, she said, “Tonight, after the welcome banquet, meet us on the beach, just south of the palace wall.”
“The beach?”
“Easier to ensure we aren’t being overheard in a wide-open space.”
The delegates engaged in polite yet tense chatter as the sun began to drop, when their hosts finally joined them. Queen Amelia and King Marthin, arm in arm, entered the library.
“Friends from across the Eyrie,” Marthin announced. “We are honored by your presence. We’ve received word that the final delegation from Ruma has been delayed. They will join us tomorrow morning just before the grand parlay begins. In the meantime, our chefs have prepared a welcome feast to showcase the Wollin’s oceanic bounty. Please, join us in the banquet hall.”
The formal speech seemed to have strained King Marthin’s diplomatic abilities because a servant had to come and lead him off toward the banquet. Bryn kept her attention on Queen Amelia, however. The elderly woman had a dazed, distant look, and when Prince Anter approached her to thank her for housing them, she seemed not to know who he was.
The banquet was just as strained as the conversations in the library had been. While servants brought them course after course of grilled fish, fresh oysters, and seafood stew—with ample wine between each course—everyone seemed reluctant to speak, saving their words for the grand parlay the following day.
As soon as the final course was set out, Queen Amelia started mumbling something under her breath. Bryn, seated three chairs away, leaned in. She thought she’d heard the word “hex.”
“What was that, my queen?” she asked.
Baron Marmose, at the far end of the table, snapped sharply, “Queen Amelia looks taxed. We’ve worn her out with our arrivals.”
King Marthin, who’d been entirely focused on his stew for the last half hour, blinked in surprise. “Oh, yes. You there, the butler. Help her.”
Two staff hurried over to help the queen to her feet.
“Wait,” Bryn started, but Rangar rested a hand over hers. He silently shook his head. She closed her mouth and threw a scowl in Baron Marmose’s direction.
“If you’ll excuse us,” King Marthin said, dabbing his mouth. “We wish to be rested before the grand parlay tomorrow. It will begin at noon in the library. No blades, no weapons. The same rules as any parlay.”
King Salvator of Zaradona cleared his throat. “Andnomagic, I believe the rules stipulate, isn’t that so, King Marthin?”
“Ah, yes, of course. That as well.”
Once their hosts had departed, the delegations took their leave one at a time, all claiming the same desire to rest after the long journeys, though Bryn knew that the night would be filled with long, secretive meetings, scheming sessions, and perhaps even the threat of violence.
