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Zhura left them at the door with a look of … was that … commiseration? And then she was gone, almost before Fyia had time to blink. Fyia glanced at Edu, who shrugged.

She stepped further into the warm room, and Edu followed, but waited by the door as Fyia approached the woman by the stove.

Fyia didn't know how to address the Queen Mother, so she said nothing, giving a shallow bow, conferring respect, but not deference.

The Queen Mother looked up from the reeds she was braiding, and nodded in return. 'Sit,' she said.

Fyia disliked the woman's tone, but did as she was told. The Queen Mother looked younger than Fyia had expected, the lines on her face not so deep, her hair—pulled back in a tight bun—still mostly black, her hands deft as she braided.

'Why did you not call off your wolves?' said the woman.

Fyia faltered, both from the directness of her question, and because she didn't know the answer. But then she remembered what had thrown her. 'The King lied to me. When his lie was revealed, my Cruaxee sensed my distress and came to my aid.'

'You did not call them?'

'No,' said Fyia.

'But why not call them off?'

'I thought I was in danger,' said Fyia.

'Why did you pass out?' said the Queen Mother, her eyes not leaving her work.

'Maybe you can tell me?' said Fyia, her voice firm. Fyia got the sense the Queen Mother was used to being obeyed, but Fyia wouldn't be pushed around.

The Queen Mother raised her head. In the firelight, the woman's eyes were little more than two black orbs, but she held Fyia's gaze for several beats. 'Maybe I can,' she said, then went back to her braid.

Fyia waited for more, but none came. The silence stretched, then yawned, then gaped, but Fyia would not be the one to break first. Unfortunately, the Queen Mother showed no signs of doing so either.

Fyia reached for the reeds in the basket to the Queen Mother's side, and plucked three strands from the bushel. She looked closely at the Queen Mother's technique, tied the reeds together, and then copied the woman's movements. If she were to sit here all day, she might as well keep herself occupied.

They sat like that for a turn of the clock, maybe two, and then footsteps approached from the door.

'You called?' said the King, his voice cold like iron, betraying no hint of congeniality.

The Queen Mother didn't look up, but Cal met Fyia's gaze as he surveyed the scene, showing no concern for her health. When and how the woman had summoned him, Fyia did not know, but he seemed agitated.

'Why did you touch this woman with your Cruaxee?' said the Queen Mother.

Fyia baulked. What did that mean? He had a Cruaxee?

The King—Cal—came up short, as though his mother had slapped him. 'That is none of your business, you meddlesome old crone.'

Fyia frowned at his tone … his words, but the Queen Mother laughed. 'You are riled. I wondered if I would see that in you again. I am pleased to have born witness to this momentous occasion.'

Fyia didn’t know what she meant, so she looked from one face to another, trying to glean some detail that would help her understand.

The King said nothing. He stalked to a shelf and selected a bottle of clear liquid, along with three small, sturdy glasses. He dragged a low table to the middle of the Queen Mother and Fyia's chairs, placed the bottle and glasses upon it, then poured himself—only himself—a glass, and knocked it back. He refilled, then took a seat, leaning back in the chair as though settling in for the long haul.

The Queen Mother gave him a scathing look.

'Help yourself,' he said to Fyia, with a wave of his hand. 'It's early, but I'm afraid this could take a while, and the alcohol numbs the discomfort.'

Fyia set down her braiding and leaned forward. 'Seeing as frank conversation seems to be your preferred method, I will speak plainly. I am here because I seek to unite the Five Kingdoms, and return the dragons to our lands. I am sure you will agree, it is in everyone's interests … I was shocked to see the extent of the freeze here in the north, and I propose a treaty between our great nations.'

The Queen Mother coughed. 'You propose a marriage?'

Fyia stopped, unable to prevent the crease of her brow. Did the woman not understand the wordtreaty? 'I propose an economic arrangement that works for your kingdom and mine.'