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The King raised a suggestive eyebrow. 'Indeed, it can.'

Fyia's heart thudded in her chest. 'And my people rebel against the very changes you deem desirable. They rebel because I have invited magic-wielders back to my lands, because I have allowed women into the university and guilds, and outlawed the stranglehold a small, privileged minority have on trade. They rebel because I am a woman, and they can't comprehend that I have bested five Kings—five men!'

'Not single-handedly, from what I hear,' said the King.

Fyia went still. 'You seek to diminish my achievements?' she said. 'You think that the most productive use of our time? To be in the best interests of your people?'

'I am sure you must be tired after your journey,' said the King. 'Aaran, please see our guests to their quarters in the tavern.'

Her escort bowed his head to his King, then held out an arm, directing her back towards the window.

The tavern? He was putting her in the tavern? Was he slighting her, or was that the best his kingdom could offer?

'You seem to have made quite an impression on the King,' said Edu, looking around her sparse room. It was below ground and lit by candles, the tavern's bar upstairs. It was cozy, with furs on the bed, and rustic wooden furniture. Edu's room adjoined hers, and looked much the same from what she could see through the open door.

'I'll admit we're not off to the best start,' said Fyia, sinking into an armchair. 'Do you think they were the Black Hoods at the Fae'ch party?'

'I couldn't say,' said Edu, 'seeing as you're the only one who met them.'

Fyia thought back to the man with deep brown eyes and shaved head, to Cal. The King had something of that man about him, but his eyes had appeared green in the dim light of the hall. Not that she'd been close enough to see for sure, but his hair and name were different.

She supposed the woman at the Fae'ch party could have been Zhura. Fyia hadn't got a good look at her that night …

Fyia shrugged. 'The Fae'ch magic changed all of us … maybe the man at the party wasn't really a Black Hood at all—just a Fae'ch trick—and I’ve felt no hint of the magic Cal used on me.' She reached for her wolves, their presence reassuring. 'And my wolves seem happy, rabbiting in the woods.'

Edu nodded. 'Good, because we're not equipped to deal with a magical attack.'

'No,' agreed Fyia. She longed for the day she would find someone who could help her understand her abilities … to teach her to use them properly.

Music started above, and a familiar voice drifted down. Edu and Fyia passed a look of understanding between them, then hurried up the stairs.

Rouel was on stage, lute in hand, singing of Fyia's might and prowess. Fyia inwardly cringed as all eyes in the room swiveled to her. They seemed amused, rather than angry at her guard's presumptively taking over their stage, so she gave a non-committal smile and headed to the bar.

The tavern was typical, with a large fire, rowdy men and women guzzling amber colored liquid from thick glass tankards, the warring smells of stale ale and stewed meat filling the air.

Rouel's song came to a close, and as he started up again—this time playing a fast, well-known tune—a man at a nearby table began banging on the wooden floorboards in time with Rouel's beat. Fyia tensed ever so slightly, but relaxed when a couple jumped up from a table near the stage. They took to the open area in the middle and began an energetic jig.

A smile took hold of Fyia's face as she watched them, and then, to her surprise, a hand drum joined Rouel's lute, and a soprano voice joined his baritone. Fyia could barely believe her eyes when she realized it was Zhura who'd joined him on stage. Not the usual pastime of a princess …

'Zhura won't be outdone,' said the King, coming up beside her.

'She does this a lot?' said Fyia, a little wary given their earlier interaction.

'She's our most celebrated entertainer … although, she's handy with a sword too, so don't make the mistake of underestimating her.'

'I rarely underestimate women,' said Fyia. 'I leave that to the men, and Rouel is one of my guards. I trust his skills with a sword as much as I enjoy his music.'

The King downed his beer and signaled to the bartender for two more. He held one out to Fyia, and she looked at it for a beat before accepting. She cared little for beer, but the King would surely mock her if she said so.

'Do you live in this tavern too?' she asked. She had to raise her voice to be heard, the floor now heaving with bodies. It was a wonder the floorboards held.

'No,' he said simply. 'The accommodation is not to your liking?'

His words were light, but Fyia sensed something beneath them. 'I care little for plush surroundings,' she said. 'My home has been a war tent for as long as I can remember. I am merely intrigued … would like to understand you and your people. That is why I'm here, after all.'

'Oh, is that the reason? I thought you'd come for my hand in marriage …' He laughed at her shocked features. 'That is one way to unite our kingdoms, is it not?'

Fyia shook her head; brutal honesty was one way to communicate … 'I can assure you, that is the last thing on my mind, Your Majesty. And if I must eventually marry, it will not be to you.'