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“Yes and no,” Ria replied. “It seems my cousin was widowed. Since she’s expecting a child, she hopes to stay with my family until she decides how to proceed with her life. I’m afraid I may be her last living relative.”

That was almost true, actually—Tes was now family of a sort, and the rest of her relatives might as well be dead. And even Ria’s blood family was small and distant enough that she might not even receive word if they all died off.

“Has she heard of your…” Gartren’s lips twitched. “Change in station?”

Ria only broadened her smile. “It seems not. If you’ll excuse me, I must go discuss the matter with Toren and Mehl. I do need a lady’s companion, after all.”

Since Ria wasn’t choosing that companion from the court ladies, there was a certain amount of insult in the statement, but Lady Gartren showed no sign of offense. No doubt she considered it ignorance on Ria’s part. That or a duty beneath her own importance. Who wanted to sit in attendance of the former tailor’s daughter?

Hah. A princess-in-hiding, that was who.

* * *

Mehl stoodat the edge of the courtyard, his arms crossed as he studied the low platform being constructed in the center. On the opposite side of the square, four mages leaned close together, gesturing here and there as they consulted. But they all knew the plan. Even though Mehl was not a mage, he was more than happy to stand here and remind them.

This secret mission was the Kings’ own order.

Once the platform was complete, three of the mages formed a triangle around it, and the final mage stood in the center. A circle of light flared in a ring in front of the outer three before sweeping up to form a dome around the central mage. This was standard, a shield that blocked sight of the spells used for execution. But that wasn’t what the lead mage was weaving today. No, he was building illusions and teleportation spells of such intricate design that the light started growing dim before they finished.

Sir Macoe slipped up beside him as the shield winked out. “Studying magic now?”

Mehl snorted. “You know very well I am not. Are you prepared for tomorrow’s proceedings?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sir Macoe answered. “More than prepared.”

It was a simple exchange. Innocuous. Yet they understood each other perfectly. Sir Macoe already had his trusted guards at the location where Tes would stay until they could present her as Ria’s cousin. Despite Tes’s innocence, the warrior in him hated having her so close to Ria, but he couldn’t deny it was an excellent plan. As was ordering the bodyguards to observe the princess while offering protection.

Oathbinding spell or not, it would be a while before she had Mehl’s full trust.

Then Sir Macoe sent him a mental message.“Remain on your guard. A contingent bearing the royal standard of Centoi alongside that of Prince Ber departed the Centoi palace a few days back. One spy transported back to warn us, but the other still trails them.”

Mehl kept his gaze on the platform even as his mind cataloged each worry.“Is Ber with them?”

“Possibly, but the spy didn’t get a clear look.”

“When do you expect their arrival?”Mehl asked next.

Only he was close enough to hear Sir Macoe’s sigh.“A week and a half. Possibly two. No mages were with them that the spy could see, so if they’re attempting a transportation spell, it’ll have to be in the next large town a few days’ ride away. But since our own mages have been ordered to refuse them transport into our borders, even that wouldn’t get them far.”

It was a sad state of affairs when any envoy required such careful tracing. This was the kind of attention usually reserved for an enemy. Although their strained alliance with Centoi hadn’t been severed on paper, it was growing increasingly obvious that it would soon end. He shouldn’t be surprised. Matters had started heading that direction when the Centoi king had allowed Ber to stay with them.

“I believe I must prepare for dinner,” Mehl said aloud. “I’ll be sure to tell High King Toren that you’re giving admirable attention to your duties.”

Namely the stealthy ones.

* * *

Toren had just resumedwork after speaking to Ria about the arrival of her so-called cousin—in front of the scribe, of course—when Mehl strode in. He groaned low at yet another interruption, but one look at his husband’s face had the sound cutting off. Something was…not wrong, exactly. Important. What pressing news did Mehl bear now?

“Give us a moment, Iyeth,” Toren said to his scribe.

“Considering the time, Your Majesty, should I complete my current tasks in preparation for tomorrow?” Iyeth asked as he stood.

A glance at the window revealed a rapidly sinking sun. No wonder the poor man was subtly begging to go home. “That is an excellent idea. Forgive me for losing track of the time.”

“It is no matter, Your Majesty.”

By the time the scribe gathered his papers and departed, Toren was ready to drum his fingers atop his desk with impatience. But he resisted. Gods knew Iyeth had been patient with him this day despite his scattered thoughts. It would be some time before he established a new routine, which would settle his mind immensely.