“How can I rest until your queen has accepted my apology?”
Brianna, who had retreated to the battlements that ringed the roof, turned to face Arlien. “But I have forgiven you, dear prince.” Her voice was as cool as the dusk breeze. “Did I not say so this afternoon?”
“Please don’t take me for a fool, Milady,” the prince replied. “I know the difference between true absolution and a diplomatic courtesy.”
Arlien allowed Tavis to clasp his wrist. The prince pushed off the ladder and together the pair hoisted his metal-cased bulk onto the roof. It was hardly customary for a warrior to wear a full suit of steel plate about the castle, but Arlien had explained that his armor would work its healing magic only while he was in it.
Once the prince had gained his feet, he looked directly at Queen Brianna. “I thought perhaps we could talk alone.”
“We’re as alone as we’re likely to be,” Brianna replied. “Feel free to say whatever you want in front of my bodyguard.”
Arlien glanced at the firbolg and shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. “I certainly have nothing to hide from Tavis.”
The prince took a large, flattish box of polished silver from inside his robe, then walked over to stand across from Brianna. Tavis followed close behind, positioning himself where he would see inside the silver case when it was opened. The scout doubted that Arlien intended any harm to the queen, but it was his duty to be cautious.
“As you can imagine, the journey from Gilthwit is a long and difficult one,” Arlien began. He looked through the embrasure, to where the purple light of dusk was creeping across the craggy hills north of Cuthbert Castle. “I had to cross endless miles of frozen wastes, as forlorn and dangerous as the highest peaks among the Ice Spire Mountains. The plains were bitter cold, and full of dragons and giants-and many beasts even more ferocious and terrible.”
“I know what the Icy Plains are like,” Brianna interrupted.
“And so does my father,” Arlien continued. “Yet, when news reached us that you had ascended Hartsvale’s throne, he still asked me to make the perilous journey to your kingdom.”
“Why?” Brianna demanded.
“For a thousand years, the giant tribes have let Hartsvale live in peace, but that has changed with your father’s abdication-as you can see by the great number of marauders converging on this fief alone,” the prince said. “Gilthwit, on the other hand, has always endured the enmity of the giants.”
“And you have come to share your wisdom with Hartsvale.”
“Both our kingdoms would benefit by an alliance,” Arlien replied. “Gilthwit is a rich land that has endured in isolation too long. A trade route between our two countries, patrolled jointly by our armies, would greatly strengthen both kingdoms. Gilthwit would have a market for its jewels and rare metals, while the trade tariffs would swell Hartsvale’s treasury. You would have the gold necessary to bolster your defenses against the giants, and a ready ally to fight at your side.”
“What you propose has merit.” Brianna’s voice softened, and she laid a hand on the sill of the embrasure. “But if Gilthwit really exists, how come you’re the first person I’ve met from there?”
“Because my people rarely leave Gilthwit,” Arlien explained. “The kingdom is surrounded on all sides by frozen wastes as vast as they are deadly. I required a caravan of three hundred men and twice that many yaks to make the journey, and we lost two-thirds of our number even before the frost giants attacked us. Such treks are not undertaken lightly.”
“And you want to open a trade route across such dangerous terrain?” Tavis scoffed.
“The route will never be a safe one,” the prince admitted, continuing to look at Brianna. “But together, our two kingdoms can make it passable-and the rewards will repay our efforts tenfold.”
“If the rewards are so great, why haven’t you sent an envoy sooner?” Brianna asked.
The prince gave her a condescending smile. “At least we sent one, dear queen,” he said. “I don’t recall receiving any of Hartsvale’s princes in my father’s palace.”
“Perhaps you will forgive us if you remember that we’ve always regarded Gilthwit as a legend,” Brianna said.
“I must admit that Hartsvale seemed quite mythical to me, at least until I arrived in High Meadow,” Arlien allowed. “Yet here we stand, two legends speaking to one another.”
A neutral smile crossed Brianna’s lips. “So we are,” she said. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”
The prince inclined his head. “So I haven’t,” he said. “As I said earlier, Gilthwit has always been an enemy to giants. I doubt very much that King Camden, or any of your ancestors, would have traded peace with the giants for an alliance with us.”
“And what makes you think I will?” Brianna demanded.
“Because you are not at peace with the giants.”
“Hartsvale has always had marauders,” the queen said. “The troubles in this fief don’t mean we’re at war.”
“Come now, you don’t believe that, and neither do I,” the prince said. “You see, I know all about the circumstances surrounding your rise to power.”
Brianna looked away, assuming a deliberately disinterested expression. “What circumstances would those be, Prince?”
Arlien smirked. “For one thing, your father agreed to sacrifice you to the giants’ guardian idol-I believe they call him the Twilight Spirit-in exchange for supporting his throne. You forced him to abdicate by exposing the plot to his earls.”
Tavis had to bite back an exclamation of surprise. Only a couple dozen earls should have known what the prince just stated. To ensure an orderly transition of power, Brianna had asked everyone present at her father’s abdication to remain silent about the fact that it had been forced.
Showing no sign of surprise, Brianna calmly returned her gaze to the prince. “I’ve heard that rumor as well,” she said. “But it hardly seems prudent to propose an alliance on the basis of gossip.”
Arlien sighed, then pointed to the golden arrow Tavis always carried in a special pocket of his quiver. “If what I say is wrong, why does your bodyguard carry that arrow?”
“As a symbol of office, of course,” Brianna responded.
“Really?” Arlien said. “I thought it was for you.”
“That’s a reasonable assumption,” the queen allowed.
“If it’s only an assumption, why is the shaft inscribed with magic to make your death painless and quick?” Arlien demanded.
The runes in question were hidden deep inside the scout’s quiver, near the tip of the golden arrow, and only a handful of Brianna’s advisors knew about them. Fearing her subjects would regard the magic as rather cowardly, the queen had agreed to have the sigils inscribed only because Tavis swore his aim would not be true unless he knew her death would be painless.
Tavis scowled and stepped even closer to the prince. “How do you know about the runes?” The scout’s hand dropped to his sword as he made the demand. “You must have a spy in Castle Hartwick!”
When Arlien showed no interest in replying to the scout’s accusation, Brianna came to Tavis’s side and gently pulled the firbolg’s hand away from his sword.
“Of course Gilthwit has a spy in my court,” she said. All traces of her earlier suspicion had vanished from the queen’s voice. “We shouldn’t expect the king to send us one of his sons without knowing the situation in Hartsvale, should we?”
“It seemed only prudent,” Arlien acknowledged. “Of course, such measures will no longer be necessary when we are allies.”
In a carefully neutral voice, Brianna asked, “And this alliance is to be sealed by our marriage?”
The prince nodded.
“That seems drastic,” Tavis commented. Brianna shot him a reproving look, but the scout could not restrain himself. “Why not a treaty?”
“Because blood is more binding than ink,” Arlien replied. “Once we open the trade route, our kingdoms will be under many great pressures. To stand together, we must be a family.”
