Exile's Valor

But the splashing as she emerged from the bath seemed to be some sort of signal that caused maids to swarm around her with towels and robes and scents and lotions. And for once, involved in her own thoughts, she let them fuss over her.

Once she was properly clothed in a lounging robe, they messed about with her hair while she continued her ruminations. North, other than Iftel, were the barbarians above the Forest of Sorrows. Surely not. Surely not. The idea of a greasy, violent, fur-clad brute was even more repulsive than some of the octogenarians the Council had suggested.

Were there little secretive kingdoms out in the West, in the Pelagiris Forest or past it? It was possible. There were certainly people out there, and not just the half-mythical Hawkbrothers. There were entire villages that looked to the Hawkbrothers for protection, so maybe there were Kingdoms in the West. But still—what possible advantage could they have in an alliance with Valdemar? Nothing that she could imagine.

Or were there men in other Kingdoms who were like the Great Dukes of Valdemar, who held enough power that they qualified as princes? There might well be; she hadn’t had time to study such things. In such a case, for a younger son, there would be a great deal of prestige and advantage in marrying a Queen, even if it left the young man as nothing more than a Consort without ruling powers. His children would rule, if they were Chosen, and that might be enough. Separate trade agreements could be made with the family, and that might be enough. There was a great deal of difference between royal marrying royal, and royal stooping to wed a rank below hers. In that case, the advantages to be gained were almost all on the side of the lower rank.

:Surely there’s something in the archives of letters from ambassadors and trade envoys,: Caryo said helpfully. :Or Seneschal’s Herald Kyril will know where to look. I should think that someone would know if we might expect a spate of foreign suitors.:

A foreign prince—or more than one—the idea gave her a kind of fluttery feeling of excitement inside. Oh, they might well all be as impossible or even repulsive as the candidates she’d been presented with so far, but—at least they would be someone different.

And surely one would be older than an adolescent and younger than a graybeard. Maybe even handsome— though she wouldn’t necessarily care, as long as he wasn’t a monster. Someone she didn’t know, that she couldn’t predict, someone with entirely new ways and manners—Even if she didn’t want to marry him, it would be interesting to have him in her Court.

It would be more than interesting—it would be fascinating! She licked her lips, and hardly noticed the maids tugging at her hair.

I mustn’t get my hopes up, she told herself. There might not be any such thing. If they exist, they might all be old. Or feeble-minded. Or already married. She shuddered involuntarily, as she realized that she’d had a narrow escape without realizing it. If King Alessandar hadn’t gotten wedded to his sweet young thing—if he’d still been alone—

Well, he would not have let the opportunity to propose slip past, no matter how many sweet young things were in his Court. And the Council would never have allowed her to reject his suit. Hardorn and Valdemar had been allies for so very long that there had even been cases of Heralds coming to the rescue of Hardornans in the past. Even Herald Vanyel had done so; that was how he earned his title of “Demonsbane.” There would have been no way to gracefully turn down such a proposal.

Bright Havens, what a narrow escape!

She suddenly needed to know, and know with certainty, if there really was a possibility for a foreign suitor.

I have to know. And I truly have to know if there are any unwedded Alessandars just waiting for my year of mourning to be over—

Well, there was one person to ask, and it wasn’t Herald Kyril, however knowledgeable Kyril might be. No, Orthallen would be the one to ask. After all, he was the one who had brought it all up in the first place. If there had been such a position in her Council as Foreign Minister, he surely would have been the one to fill it; his knowledge of the lands outside of Valdemar was as exacting as hers was vague.

A foreign prince. . . . An easy thought to kick off daydreams, and it was a good thing that she was safely away in her own suite where no one would notice if her attention wandered.

When the maids were finished with her, she chased them out, all but one, whom she sent off with a note to Orthallen. They would discuss this tonight, after her dinner with the Court, for certain.

***

Alberich had a meeting of his own after dinner, and he had, with some regret, decided against inviting Myste to share it. No, there could only be one invitee to this “gathering,” and it had to be the Queen’s Own.

Talamir was, for once, very much alert and in the here and now as he examined the documents that Myste had purloined. Alberich had been reluctant to let them out of the salle; he was even more reluctant to let them out of his sight. Fortunately for all concerned, Talamir had no trouble in getting about, though he was still—well—fragile.

It was hard on a man to have been through all that Talamir had—dying and being dragged back to life again must have been unthinkably grim. At Talamir’s age, it had been more that, and Alberich was still surprised that he