To enlighten her in that regard would have required hours. I merely asked, “Then you would marry our Prince off to a Chalcedean noblewoman, or a Bingtown Trader's daughter?”

“Perhaps it would be best for him to marry within the Six Duchies. There are some who mutter that the Queen is foreignborn, and that a second generation of a foreign queen might not be good.”

“And you agree?”

She gave me a look. “Do you forget I am the Queen's ROBIN HOB BHuntswoman? Better a foreigner like her than some of the Farrow noblewomen I've had to serve in the past.”

Our talk died there for a time. We led the horses away from the river. I removed bits and let the animals graze. I was hungry myself. As if she could read my thoughts, Laurel dug into her saddlebag and came up with apples for us both, “I always carry food with me,” she said as she offered one to me. “Some of the folk I've hunted for think no more of the comfort of their hunters than they do of their horses or dogs.”

I bit back a response that would have defended Lord Golden from such a charge. Best to let the Fool decide how he wished to present himself. I thanked her and bit into the apple. It was both tart and sweet. Myblack lifted her head suddenly.

Share? I offered her, She flicked her ears at me disdainfully and went back to grazing.

A few days without me and he's consorting with horses. I might have known. The wolf used the Wit without subtlety, startling me and spooking all three horses.

“Nighteyes!” I exclaimed in surprise. I looked around for him.

“Beg pardon?”

“My . . . dog. He's followed me from home.”

Laurel looked at me as if I were mad. “Your dog? Where?”

Luckily for me, the great wolf had just come into view, slipping out of the shelter of the trees. He was panting, and he headed straight for the river to drink. Laurel stared. “That's a wolf.”

“He does look a great deal like a wolf,” I conceded. I clapped my hands and whistled. “Here, Nighteyes. Here, boy.”

I'm drinking, you idiot. I'm thirsty. As you might be if you had trotted all the way here instead of riding a horse.

“No,” Laurel replied evenly. “That is not a dog that looks like a wolf. That is a wolf.”

“I adopted him when he was very small.” Nighteyes was still lapping. “He's been a very good companion to me.”

“Lady Bresinga may not welcome a wolf into her home.”

Nighteyes lifted his head suddenly, looked about, and then without a glance at me, slunk back into the woods. Tonight, he promised me in parting.

I'll be on the other side of the river by tonight.

So will I. Trust me. Tonight.

Myblack had caught Nighteyes' scent and was staring after him. She whickered uneasily. I looked back at Laurel and found her regarding me curiously.

“I must have been mistaken. That was, indeed, a wolf. Looked a great deal like my dog, though.”

You've made me look like an idiot.

That wasn't hard.

“It was a very peculiar way for a wolf to behave,” Laurel observed. She was still staring after him. “It's been years since I've seen a wolf in these parts.”

I offered Myblack the apple core. She accepted it, and left a coating of green slime on my palm in return. Silence seemed the wisest choice.

“Badgerlock! Huntswoman!” Lord Golden summoned us from the roadside. In great relief, I led the horses over to him.

Laurel trailed us. As we approached him across the meadow, she made a small sound of approval in her throat. I glanced back at her in consternation. Her eyes were fixed on Lord Golden, but at my questioning glance, she quirked a small smile at me. I looked back at him.

Aware of our scrutiny, he all but struck a pose. I knew the Fool too well to be fooled by Lord Golden's careless artifice. He knew how the wind off the river toyed with his golden locks. He had chosen his colors well, blues and white, and his elegant clothing was cut to complement his slender figure. He looked like a creature of sun and sky. Even carrying food bundled in a white linen napkin and a jug, he still managed to look elegantly aristocratic.

“I've brought you a meal and drink so you'll not be tempted to leave the horses untended,” he told me. He handed me the napkin and the moisturebeaded jug. Then he ran his eyes over Laurel and gave her an approving smile. “If the Huntswoman would enjoy it, I would be pleased to share a meal with her while we await those cursed wagons.”

The fleeting glance Laurel sent my way was laden with meaning. She begged my pardon for deserting me even as she was certain I could see this was too rare an opportunity for her to miss.