I returned to Galekeep hot and dusty and parched. It still seemed odd to surrender my horse to a stableman. I found Lord Golden napping in his chambers. The curtains were drawn against the heat and light, putting the room in twilight. I went quietly past him to my own room to wash most of the dust and sweat away. I hung my shirt on the bedpost to dry and air and slung my fresh one over my shoulder.

Servants had replenished the bowl of fruit in Lord Golden's chamber. I helped myself to a plum and ate it by the window, peering around the curtain at the garden outside. I felt both tired and restless. I could think of nothing constructive to do, and no way to pass the time. Frustration and worry chafed me.

“Did you find my chain, Badgerlock?” It was Lord Golden's aristocratic tone that interrupted my thought.

“Yes, my lord. Just where you thought you'd lost it.”

I drew the delicate jewelry from my pocket and carried it over to where he lounged on his bed. He accepted it as gratefully as if he were truly a nobleman and it had truly -av, been lost. I lowered my voice. “Nighteyes follows the trail for us. When we can leave, we can go straight to the wolf.”

“How is he?”

“Stiff. Sore. But I think he will recover.”

“Excellent.” He sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I've selected evening clothing for us, and laid it out in your room. Really, Badgerlock, you must learn to handle my garments more carefully.”

“I'll try, my lord,” I muttered, but I could not get my heart back into the game. I was suddenly tired of the whole charade. “Have you thought of a discreet way for us to leave?”

“No.” He strolled to the table. Wine had been left there for him. He poured a glass and drank it, then poured another. “But I've thought of an indiscreet one, and already laid the groundwork for it this afternoon. Not without regrets ÊI'll be compromising Lord Golden's reputation somewhat, but what is a nobleman without a bit of scandal to his name? It will probably just increase my popularity at court. Everyone will want to know my side of it, and will speculate on what truly happened.” He sipped from his glass. “I think that if I succeed at this, it will convince Lady Bresinga that her fears that we are seeking the Prince are groundless. No proper emissary of the Queen would behave as I intend.” He gave me a sickly smile.

“What have you done?”

“Nothing, just yet. But I fancy that by morning, our leaving will be facilitated as swiftly as we could wish.” He drank again. “Sometimes I don't care for the things that I must do,” he observed, and there was a plaintive note in his voice. He finished the glass of wine as if girding himself for a task.

Not another word would he divulge to me. He arrayed himself carefully for dinner, and I had to suffer the indignity of the green jerkin and yellow leggings. “Perhaps it is a shade too bright,” he conceded in response to my incensed gaze. His grin was too broad for me to believe any apology in his words. I did not know if it was the wine or one of his fey humors. “Stop glowering, Badgerlock,” he rebuked me as he adjusted the cuffs of a muted green coat. “I expect my servants to maintain a pleasant demeanor. Besides, the color does set off the darkness of your eyes and skin and hair all of you. It rather reminds me of an exotic parrot. You may not appreciate such a show of yourself, but the ladies will.”

Obeying him taxed all my ability to dissemble. I walked behind him to where the nobility had gathered before dinner. This was a larger group than the night before, for Lady Bresinga had extended her hospitality to those who had hunted with her earlier. They might have been invisible for all the notice Lord Golden gave them. Sydel was seated at a low table with young Civil. An assortment of feathers was spread out before her on a cloth, and they seemed to be discussing them. She had obviously been watching the door, for the moment Lord Golden entered, her face was transfigured. She gleamed like a lantern in the darkness. Young Civil also underwent a transformation, but it was not so pleasant. He could not very well sneer at a guest in his mother's home, but his features went very still and cold. Dismay clutched at my belly. No. I wanted no part of this.

But Lord Golden, smiling and charming, made directly for the pair. His greetings to everyone else in the chamber were brief to the point of neglect. Without even a pretense of subtlety, he seated himself between them, obliging Civil to move over to make room for him. From that moment on, he virtually ignored everyone else in the room as he focused all of his allure on the girl. Their heads bent together over the feathers. His every movement was a seduction. His long fingers stroked the gaudy feathers on the cloth. He selected one, and touched its softness to his own cheek, and then leaned forward to draw it gently down the length of Sydel's arm. She giggled nervously and drew back from the touch. He smiled. She blushed. He set the feather back on the cloth and shook a reproachful finger at it as if it were at fault. Then he selected another one. Boldly he held it against the sleeve of her gown, murmuring some comparison of color. He gathered others from the cloth, arranged them in a sort of feather bouquet. With the tip of one forefinger, he turned her face to look at his, and then, by a trick I could not see, fastened the feathers into her hair so that they hung down and followed the line of her cheek.