For a very long moment no one spoke or moved. They’re afraid, Sandry realized, listening for clues from the people around her. They’re afraid of Berenene when she loses her temper. I’d better keep that in mind. She’s all sweetness now, but that’s not how she’s remained the sole ruler of Namorn for twenty-odd years.

“What can I say?” asked Berenene with a gentle shrug. “Duty is duty. I can hardly reproach you for making the visit I urged you to make in my own letters. But please, return to us soon, dearest cousin. We have weeks of delights to share. And of course we hope that your friends share in them, too. I certainly would like to avail myself of Viynain Briar’s expertise in my gardens.”

She extended a soft, ivory hand. Sandry kissed it and curtsied deep, hearing Tris’s skirts rustle and Daja’s and Briar’s tunics whisper as they bid their own farewells.

“I know!” said Berenene, a broad smile on her lips. “We shall send some of our young people with you, to guard you and entertain you. Jak, Fin, um…” She bit her lower lip in thought, then added, “Rizu and Caidlene. I can surely spare the four of you. Yes, even Rizu,” she told the smiling maid. Berenene waved off any protests Sandry was about to utter. “I insist. They will be agreeable company for you. Caidlene is a cousin by marriage of Ambros fer Landreg—I’m certain he will not object. They will meet you tomorrow morning.”

“Your Imperial Majesty, I mean to leave at dawn,” argued Sandry. Wonderful! she thought. There’s no way I can refuse without being thought rude, and now I have two of her husband-candidates to pester me! Illogically she wondered, Why didn’t she add that nice Shan? She continued aloud, “We’ll have guards, and Cousin Ambros to guide us—”

“Then you certainly need livelier people for your party,” Berenene interrupted. “Saghad Landreg is a wonderful man, but…sober. And my young people will be there at dawn.” She looked at each of the four nobles she had named. “Will you not, my pets?”

What can any of them say? wondered Sandry as the men bowed and the two ladies curtsied. And what can I say? If I kick up any more of a fuss, she will get angry. There’s no sense in picking a fight this early in the summer. Aloud, she said, “Cousin, you are too generous. Of course I will welcome your friends.”

A footman guided them to a courtyard where hostlers stood with the horses, talking with Shan. He, too, held a horse’s reins, a glossy black stallion’s. When he saw them, he grinned. “I thought I’d accompany you home, so you wouldn’t get lost.” Since they had only two miles of High Street to ride, this was clearly a joke. “I wish I could go with you, but we have hunts scheduled for a delegation from Olart and one of the empress’s cousins from Lairan. It would be nice to get home for a visit.” When Sandry raised her eyebrows in a question, Shan explained, “My parents’ estate is only ten miles south of Landreg.”

“She can’t spare you even for a visit home?” Sandry asked as a hostler helped her mount. “She’s sparing Rizu, and Rizu is in charge of her clothes.”

Shan chuckled as the others swung into their own saddles. “She could spare us all if she chose—the servants take over if we’re needed for social duty, after all. But she likes us to have the illusion we’re useful.” He mounted his horse and maneuvered the stallion so that when their group rode out of the courtyard, he fell into place on Sandry’s right. Daja rode on her left, leaving Tris and Briar in the rear.

“Besides,” Shan continued as they passed the first set of inner gates, “most of what I have I owe to Her Imperial Majesty. The least I can do is lend a hand. That cousin from Lairan can be an imperial-sized pain.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Sandry told him shyly. “All ready for whatever my cousin throws at us.” She turned in the saddle to point to Briar and Tris. “Daja you know, but I don’t believe I introduced you to my other friends, Briar Moss and Trisana Chandler.”

“Pershan fer Roth,” Shan called back with a nod. “Shan. I know I saw Viynain Briar with Her Imperial Majesty, but I don’t recall seeing Viymese Trisana before midday.”

They clattered through the last set of gates in the outermost wall, where the guards came to attention as Sandry rode by. Their party rode down to where the broad palace street met High Street. By now it was bustling with traffic of all kinds, traffic that made it a point not to linger in front of the road to the palace. The guards there kept a sharp eye on it all.

“Are all of my cousin’s troops so very attentive to their duties?” Sandry asked Shan when they were out of earshot.

“She likes to keep them sharp, so she rotates in some of the frontier units every three months or so,” he explained. “They still have their edge from fending off border raids and the odd rebellion, and they get easier duty, so they’re grateful. Kidnap attempts aren’t unheard of, so it’s nice to know the gatekeepers are on their toes.”

“Kidnapping?” asked Daja, obviously skeptical. “In the palace?”

“Near the palace. It’s a west Namorn tradition, in a way,” explained Shan. “See, the custom is—”

A lean, wild-eyed white man dressed in a ragged green robe over even more ragged clothes lunged in front of them, almost under the feet of Sandry’s horse. She drew up hard to save him a kicking, while Shan dragged his infuriated stallion’s head away from the man’s outstretched arms.