Isha gathered up her sheaf of reports. In all the years that she had served the empress, she had learned one thing: When Berenene wanted something, she could be relentless. She wanted these four young mages to stay in Namorn. Isha sighed and thought, It never occurs to her there are some people—they are rare, but they exist—who aren’t particularly interested in money, position, or fame. I hope these four are not like that. Trisana Chandler could be wealthy anytime she wishes, if she chose to do war magic. Well, perhaps it’s war magic—not a dislike of money—that has kept her from accepting a position. If we offer her wealth to do magic as she wishes it, perhaps she will choose to stay. It is worth a try.

Sandry was stitching an embroidered band for Ealaga when she realized the hair at the nape of her neck tickled lightly. A moment later she heard Daja’s voice in her mind.

You’d best dress nicely and come downstairs, Daja told her. We have company.

What sort of company? Sandry wanted to know.

Daja showed her friend rather than told her. Through her eyes Sandry saw the empress and her court climbing the steps to the great hall of the Landregs. Daja stood there, watching, as Rizu, Caidy, Fin, and Jak rushed forward to greet Berenene and their friends.

Sandry also noticed that the man standing at the empress’s right hand was Pershan fer Roth. She replied, I’m coming.

Wait a moment, said Daja. Isn’t that the fellow you were talking to, that day in the imperial gardens? Shan? Why are you interested in him?

Never you mind, retorted Sandry as she flung her wardrobe open. She had forgotten that Daja might notice who she looked at. Closing off her tie with her sister, she called, “Gudruny!”

Her new maid rushed in. For the first time in three days, she was not accompanied by her children.

“Where are the little ones?” asked Sandry, stripping off her plain overgown. Her crisp white linen undergown would do for a meeting in a country setting, but not the light blue wool gown she wore on top. She inspected her clothes. Blue silk, blue silk, blue satin, she thought, her fingers walking through the better clothes. Don’t I have any other colors than blue? Ah.

She had found a crinkled silk overgown in a delicate blush pink. Carefully she drew it out and undid the top buttons so she could slide it on over her head.

“The children are with Cook,” replied Gudruny, gathering up the discarded overgown. She put it on the bed and began to tug the pink silk into place. “They are afraid the empress will force me to return to their father.”

“She can’t,” Sandry replied, trying to stand still. It’s just that I haven’t gone beyond the village in three days, she told herself, trying to excuse her sudden attack of the fidgets. I want to see new faces, that’s all. “I got Ambros to explain it all to me while you were getting your things, and he gave me the law books to read. No liege lord may interfere in her vassal’s dealings with her own people. My vassals, my commoners, answer only to me. Her Imperial Majesty would have to get my consent to make any ruling with regard to you, and I won’t give it. That’s my right, under the Namornese charter of noble privileges.”

Gudruny shrugged. “I’m afraid my children won’t grasp the ins and outs of lawyers’ talk,” she explained, guiding Sandry over to the stool before the dressing table. “I shall have to think of a simpler way to explain it to them.”

Something in what she had said distracted Sandry from her own appearance. “Were you worried she could make you go back?” Sandry asked as Gudruny bustled around the room, finding a veil to match the gown, then taking up a comb.

“A little,” the maid admitted with a rueful smile. “Her lack of sympathy is so very well known, Clehame Sandry. She is one of those who cannot believe that not everyone has her strength of mind. There is a reason people will say a thing is as unbreakable as the will of the empress.” She bit her lip and added, “I also think those who kidnapped Her Imperial Majesty were far more gentle with her, more careful of doing her harm, than are those who steal women who are not imperial heiresses. I think perhaps she had more opportunity to escape, so she believes we all have such opportunities to escape.”

“Oh, dear,” whispered Sandry. Horrified, she thought, That has the dreadful ring of the truth. No one would want to bruise a wife-to-be who might be empress one day, but it’s a different kettle of fish for a poor girl who has no interest in the local miller. I’ll bet Halmar tied Gudruny a lot tighter than anyone ever tied Berenene.

She watched Gudruny in the mirror as the woman briskly neatened Sandry’s hair, then pinned the veil on her gleaming brown locks. She’s certainly grown in confidence since our first meeting, Sandry told herself. It’s a good thing I hired her, telling that husband that he had no more rights over her.

Once Gudruny was done, Sandry leaned forward and patted her cheeks to get a little color into them, then bit her lips gently until they were more red.

“I have face paint,” Gudruny offered. “Lash blackener, lip color, something to make your cheeks glow.”

Sandry got to her feet hurriedly. “I don’t want anyone thinking that I, well, that I wanted to attract attention,” she said, nearly stumbling over her own tongue to make her reply sound innocent. “I just thought my cheeks were a little rough, that’s all.” She turned and fled from the room.

Gudruny’s right, thought Sandry as she prepared to descend the stairs to the main hall. I must have looked as if I were primping for…someone whose attention I’m trying to get. And I’m not. I’m glad Shan—I’m glad my cousin is here, after all. I want to get to know all of my family, even if Cousin Berenene refuses to see that I don’t intend to stay.