slim and lithe. But then she saw the little lines on her forehead, the veins blue on her hands, and the eyes-not quite cynical, because they still looked ready to be amused, but as though they had already seen everything someone could expect to see and then much more.
“You can leave us, Hadros,” said Queen Arane and motioned Karin to a cushioned seat. Her straight eyebrows gave her a look of determination and firmness that everything else about her seemed intended to belie. She said, “I am very sorry your brother was drowned. He would have made a good king.”
“You may have known him better than I,” said Karin, “for I knew him only as a boy.”
Arane’s eyes glittered as she turned. “I did indeed know him well. He was excellent friends with my nephew, my most probable heir-who was also on the ship when it went down.”
Karin murmured, “I too am sorry then,” and sat in silence for a moment. She had no sense, she realized, of how old her own father was, how soon she might have to become sovereign queen herself, but she would have to learn the affairs of the Fifty Kingdoms-or sixty-three, or however many there were.
“It is not all bad,” said the queen with a wave of her hand. Rings were thick on the fingers. “It will keep my cousins busy for at least several years again plotting against each other.” She took a handful of the rich cloth of Karin’s sleeve. “Fine clothing for a princess living in one of the northern kingdoms,” she said approvingly. “Growing up in King Hadros’s court has not made you want to be a warrior, I hope?”
“Hadros has taught me to use a knife to defend myself,” said Karin uneasily. “I had not expected to be a sovereign queen, so I never thought about leading an army…”
“And do not begin to think of it now,” said Arane, tapping her on the knee. “Women can use their wits, their smiles, their tongues to maneuver most men, most of the time-have you not already noted this yourself?”
“At least if they have not sat overlong drinking,” said Karin with an answering smile.
“But the lords of voima did not give us the strength of arm they gave to men-the strength which men foolishly but predictably think gives them power over women. That belief itself, of course, can be very useful… But I warn you, Karin, not to challenge men on what they consider their own ground, as a warrior. There was one young queen who had won a kingdom for herself, up north of Hadros’s lands, but she was not content to plan the strategy and map the battles. She had to ride out with a sword in her hand herself, and when she disagreed furiously with one of her lieutenants, he challenged her to single combat. It was regrettable-she had ten times the wit and the spirit he did, yet she answered his challenge, with the result you could predict.” Arane shook her head. “I do not believe he lasted long as king either; that land has sent no representative to the All-Gemot for three years now.”
Karin saw a hundred issues and problems and possibilities opening up all around her, when she had thought her only concern was to face the man who had sent her off as a hostage but was still her father. She was not sure she agreed with the wise eyes facing her, but she was unable to shape a response while she still felt as though she had been dropped into deep waters without knowing how to do more than splash.
“And you have not yet made any plans to marry, I trust?” Arane asked suddenly.
“I do not believe I shall marry soon,” Karin answered quietly.
The queen nodded briskly. “Good. I knew you had wit in you when I saw you-even aside from being your brother’s own sister. It is your greatest weapon, the threat that you may at any time marry. I am sure that you have already considered the possibilities, the ease with which you can rid yourself of an enemy by letting a quiet word slip to his rivals that he may soon become the man of your heart.”
Karin wiped her forehead. It was suddenly very hot in the silk tent. Was that what she had done to Roric by agreeing that he, rather than she, should talk to King Hadros-treated him as an enemy she would dispose of through his rival? But Hadros was not, she hoped, a rival for her hand.
But what did that make Valmar? She still called him her little brother, and had often felt him the only person in the castle she could count on unreservedly, without having to plan or maneuver, but what would he do when he realized he and Roric were in competition?
“There is a young warrior who lives in Hadros’s castle, I believe,” the queen said casually, “Roric No-man’s son. I used to know him. How is he?”
Karin gulped, wondering wildly if the queen could read her thoughts. She forced herself to answer calmly. “He’s fine. He left recently on a trip.” She smiled as well as she could. “I am very glad to have met you, Arane, and I shall ponder all the things you have told me. Now I think I should return to Hadros’s tent, to make sure the evening meal is prepared properly. Since I am not yet a queen, I must use the means I have to keep the men happy.”
Leaving Valmar and Gizor behind, Hadros and Karin went at twilight up to the castle.
It took King Kardan a minute to recognize his daughter. They were announced by a page, and for a moment he did not look directly at her but instead behind her, as though in search of the little girl he had sent away.
But then he focused on her, tall and russet-haired, looking at him from sober eyes rimmed dark with weariness.
She had imagined coming home many times in ten years. At first she had pictured her father picking her up and tossing her over his head in joy, laughing and teasing and telling her it was all a horrible mistake and he was so glad to see her safe. Later, she had imagined herself telling him scornfully what she thought of a man who would let his own daughter go to the court of the enemy, perhaps to be cherished but more likely to be made into the lowest kitchen slut. But she had not expected the hall to be more familiar to her than her father.
The very stones of the wall seemed to rush at her like the faeys, laughing with delight to see her again. When she turned to the man who was too short and too old truly to be her father, she had to force herself from beginning her greeting by saying, “You’ve moved the high throne to the other side of the hall.”
Instead she bowed formally to him and offered him her hand. He was wearing black, mourning that contrasted with her own jewelry and brightly embroidered garments.
“I am- I am glad to see you again, Karin,” he said. His voice came out half-choked. “By the Wanderers, you look like your mother.” He paused for a moment, then found his voice again. “We have put your brother-your brothers-into the same burial mound as your mother. Before you leave again, we can go there together if you wish to burn an offering.”
“I have brought her home, Kardan,” King Hadros said behind her. “You will find her as pure a maiden as when you first sent her to me.” She stiffened for a second, consciously trying to keep any expression from her face. “After more than ten years of peace between our kingdoms, our warriors have forgotten how to make war.” He held up a piece of parchment, dangling with seals, then crushed it and threw it into the hearth. “I remit you the tribute from this year forth, and I send you back your hostage.”
And suddenly it was as she had imagined ten years ago it would be, crushed in her father’s arms while he laughed with joy and kissed her. She kissed him back enthusiastically, feeling tears at the corners of her eyes. All at once, beyond expectation, she was home and safe.
But if she was not going back to Hadros’s castle, who would direct his household, whom would the faeys try to tame in her place, and what would Roric think when he came back again?
“So- You mean I am to stay here?” she asked King Hadros, turning in her father’s embrace. As she turned she realized that he had not said one word of regret or apology for sending her away.
“That is what I said, little princess,” Hadros said with a smile. “Acquaint yourself with your kingdom before you come to rule it. And that other matter-the matter of which we spoke-there is no haste for you to decide. Your dower chest will be safe for now in my castle. But accompany your father to the All-Gemot next year, and I shall bring Valmar with me again, and perhaps then we can reach an agreement.”
King Kardan lifted one eyebrow at her, but she shook her head. Valmar, she was quite sure, had no idea of any of this. For a second she wondered wildly if the rider with no back had been summoned by Hadros himself, to take Roric away permanently, and if he hoped that here, away from his castle with all its associations, she would quickly forget him.
Well, he might hope she would forget Roric, but she did not think any mortal king could make the Wanderers do his will. She gave Hadros a long look, not wanting to insult him and certainly not wanting to agree. “I shall consider,” she said gravely, “but I fear my answer will remain the same.”
They had not realized here any more than she had that Hadros intended to bring her home for good. The maids ran about madly preparing a suitable place, finally putting a bed for her in her mother’s old private parlor, off the royal bedchamber.
Karin lay between linen sheets, under a green brocade coverlet, her eyes open in the dark. She thought that they all acted as though treating her with the respect due the heiress to the kingdom would make up for the last ten years.
