Kachka waved off the sheep’s concern. “No, no. All is well. But do you know where my sister is?”

“Your sister?”

“Yes. She misses eye where our mother gouged it out in rage.”

“Your . . . mother?” The woman nodded. “Suddenly everything makes sense.” She walked down several long halls until she reached a door. “Your sister has been placed here. You can have the room next door.”

Kachka opened the bedroom door and stepped into a room bigger than anything she’d ever seen before that was not a tent used for an entire tribe of people. Elina was stretched out on a bed, sound asleep, her hair wet from a recent bathing, a robe similar to Kachka’s around her naked body.

“I will stay here,” Kachka announced.

“But your room is right next door.”

“I will not leave my sister all alone in this giant room. She might get lost.”

The servant opened her mouth as if to debate, but then, she simply closed it, sighed, and said, “As you like.” The servant gestured at Elina. “You may want to take a nap as well. The feast does not begin for another three hours and can go on for quite some time. We can also bring you some clean clothes, if you’d like.”

“I have clothes.”

Again, the mouth opened and closed, and there was an audible sigh. “As you like.”

The servant took her leave, and Kachka entered the room and closed the door. She sneered at the big tub that she was now sure her sister had used and went to the bed. She stretched out on it, and loudly said in their language, “I can’t believe you used that gods-damn tub.”

“It was offered, I used. Are you going to complain the entire time you’re here?”

“You could fit twenty people in this room. Much more if some are willing to sleep on top of others.”

“They don’t do that here, sister. You might as well get used to it. And stop trying to urge the servants into a revolt.”

“They deserve better.”

“Than what? The hard life of the Steppes? Scrounging for food?”

“Just because your wonderful Annwyl is fair doesn’t mean the next ruler will be.”

“I know.” Elina turned her head and looked at Kachka through her one sleepy eye. She’d removed her startlingly bright eye patch before going to bed and her scars were an ugly reminder of all that she’d been through. But Kachka pretended she didn’t see them. As she’d pretended she hadn’t seen the bumps, scrapes, and bruises that her sister had suffered at the hands of Glebovicha’s favored offspring during the years they were growing up. “So I suggest, Kachka, that we help these people keep Annwyl as ruler for as long as she draws breath.”

“Perhaps you are right.”

Kachka reached down to the end of the bed and pulled the fur covering over her and Elina. They snuggled in deep, and Kachka let out a sad sigh.

“What?” Elina asked.

“This is all so very comfortable. I fear we will be weak and broken before the next full moon.”

“Perhaps. But a very nice way to go, eh, sister?”

Then they giggled, as they hadn’t done since they were very young.

Celyn returned from town with new clothes for Elina and her sister. He didn’t want them embarrassed at the feast, but, then again, he wasn’t sure if they were ever embarrassed by anything. Just in case, he got them clothes that he didn’t think either would mind wearing.

As he walked through the Great Hall, the servants were busy putting out tables and chairs. Everyone else was most likely napping. He’d already seen the majority of his Cadwaladr kin down by the lake, happily snoring away and had passed Éibhear on his way to retrieving his Mì-runach friends from the local jail. Again.

Celyn quietly opened the door to the room he’d had Elina placed in. He dropped the new clothes on a chair and walked over to the bed. He could do with a little nap himself and the thought of curling up beside Elina seemed the perfect way to start his evening.

He started to crawl on the bed when a head popped up from under the fur coverings. A head that was not Elina’s.

Startled, Celyn froze as Kachka peered at him. She blinked, then smiled. “Oh, Celyn. Hello.” Her voice sounded sleepy and her eyes could barely stay open. She moved over a bit and patted the space between herself and Elina.

“Come. Join us.”

Celyn jerked so brutally, he lost his balance and fell backward off the bed. He hit the floor hard, but that didn’t stop him from scrambling to his feet.

“You know . . . I . . . yeah . . . no . . . thanks, though . . . but . . . uh . . . yeah . . . no . . . bye now.”

He charged out the door, and slammed it shut behind him. He stood there a moment, panting hard, and wondering what the hell had just happened.

Elina lifted her head and looked at her sister. “What happened?”

“I have no idea. I thought Celyn wanted to nap, but when I suggested it, he panicked and ran out of the room like a frightened rabbit.”

Elina studied the spot on the bed between her and Kachka, studied Kachka, then studied the door. After a moment, she laughed.

“He thought you were suggesting we share him.”

Kachka sat up, her eyes wide. “What? Daughters of the Steppes do not share their men. Ever.”

“I know. I know. But when I was traveling here, I often heard Southland men say things that suggested they were more than happy to find themselves caught between two women like so much meat caught between two big hunks of bread. Do not worry,” she said, patting her sister’s arm. “I will explain to Celyn later.”