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In the early hours of the morning, while the Vale of Mists prepared to celebrate the betrothal of Lady Nyrielle with a day of games for children and contests for adults before the grand banquet that would begin with the setting sun, very different preparations were underway in Lothian Manor.

Walking through hallways that bustled with servants even at this early hour, Isabell fought the urge to pluck the folded slip of parchment from her breast pocket to read it yet again before she arrived at her destination.

The message had been perfectly clear, leaving little room for doubt about who had sent it and the purpose of their message.

~In two night’s time, join me for dinner at the Broken Blade Tavern in the village of Maeril. Reunions are joyous and conversations may run long, be sure to pack accordingly.~

Marcel, the mysterious Black Merchant who seemed to know things that no boy his age should know, had promised her and Master Tiernan both that he would arrange a meeting with Lady Ashlynn if they could secure the rights to settle lands near the mouth of the Vale of Mists.

After days of traveling with Owain Lothian, touring not only Hanrahan Barony but the territory claimed by the Dunns as well, Isabell had yet to secure a promise to allow her to settle the lands that she and Master Tiernan had selected.

In fact, when she’d suggested that they camp in the wilderness for a day or two if needed to allow her and Tiernan to inspect the lands as they passed through them on their way to Dunn Barony, Owain Lothian had reacted as though she’d suggested camping in a bear’s den while wearing a suit of raw meat.

He not only flatly refused her request, he berated the coachment to drive their horses faster when they drew close to the Vale of Mists.

Now that they had returned, however, Owain seemed to be strangely reluctant to bring her request to his father.

Day after day, he sent excuses for denying her meeting, citing the Marquis’s workload, preparations to receive visiting barons from the east, and even his father’s health in order to delay the meeting.

Now, it seemed like even Mister Marcel was tired of waiting for a resolution to the issue.

Isabell had no doubt that a man as well informed as he seemed to be had a number of men in the manor in his employ, doubtlessly feeding him whatever gossip or news they could gather.

When she received the note, lying folded on her nightstand and seemingly placed there while she was washing after dinner, her suspicions were all but confirmed.

Packing would be easy. Even though she traveled with multiple trunks on the long trip from Blackwell County, she had learned long ago how to live out of the single chest allowed to an officer among soldiers, and she could make do with even less if she was required to.

But while packing could wait until the last minute, her business of the morning could wait no longer.

"Please announce my arrival," Isabell told the bored-looking serving girl sitting outside Lady Jocelynn’s chambers. "Her ladyship is expecting me for tea and pastries this morning."

"Yes, yer ladyship," the young serving girl said, hopping up from her chair and dropping into a deep curtsy before rushing into Lady Jocelynn’s room to deliver the message. She hadn’t even hesitated long enough for Isabell to explain that she was just a commoner herself before she’d vanished from sight.

A moment later, the door opened again as the servant dashed down the hall, no doubt having received fresh instructions, while a woman dressed in white and crimson robes appeared in the doorway to greet Isabell.

"My lady Jocelynn has been looking forward to your visit, Master Isabell," the dark-haired confessor said warmly, though her dark eyes seemed to hold none of the warmth her voice did. "She’s waiting for you on the balcony."

"Thank you, Confessor Eleanor," Isabell said, carefully keeping her tone even as she addressed Lady Jocelynn’s chaperone. During the time that she traveled with Jocelynn and Owain, she’d the severe looking Confessor intervene between Jocelynn and Owain more than once, clearly deflecting Owain’s inappropriate overtures which led Isabell to tentatively consider the other woman a potential ally.

Still, it was difficult to tell how much of Eleanor’s protectiveness came from a sense of religious doctrine about propriety and how much of it came from a genuine desire to watch over her young charge, leaving Isabell uncertain where the Confessor’s ultimate allegiance lay.

"Will you be joining us for breakfast, Confessor?" Isabell asked politely as she entered Jocelynn’s luxuriously appointed sitting room. From the gilded furniture to the elegant paintings and rich tapestries hanging on the walls, it was clear that the Lothians spared no expense in treating Jocelynn like an honored guest. To Isabell’s eyes, however, it was perhaps the most gilded cage she’d ever seen.

"Since Master Isabell has come to visit without Master Tiernan, my presence is hardly required," Eleanor said smoothly. "I’ve already sent Epina to inform the kitchens that I’ll be taking my meal in the halls below.

Before I retire," Eleanor added as her dark eyes flicked in the direction of the balcony. "Can I ask you for a small favor?"

"You can always ask," Isabell responded, lowering her voice and slowing her pace as the women crossed the room. "A good merchant entertains every proposition, no matter how preposterous, and judges it only on its merits."

"You may not have heard," Eleanor began slowly, coming to a complete stop next to the crackling hearth in the room. "But Lady Jocelynn and I can be considered cousins, even if the relationship is somewhat distant."

"I thought that noblemen renounced their household when they entered the Church," Isabell said, raising an eyebrow at the Confessor, who wore a strangely conflicted look on her face.

"Even if there are blood ties between you, surely those were forgotten long ago when you donned the robes of a Confessor. "

"No one can sever all earthly ties, Master Isabell," Eleanor said with a slight shake of her head.

"Too many of us are called to return to our families when misfortune strikes.

One misfortune has already struck the Blackwell family in Lothian March.

I fear that another may devour Lady Jocelynn, no matter what advice I give. "

"Lord Owain," Isabell said, not bothering to mince her words now that the Confessor had said as much as she had.

"That man’s eyes divide the world into tools he can use and people he must conquer.

He seems to look at women with the very same gaze," she said.

"Are you worried that he intends to use Lady Jocelynn as one of his tools? "

"Worse," Eleanor said with a heavy sigh. "I’m afraid that he sees her as a woman he must conquer."

Instantly, the warm air from the fireplace felt several times hotter, as if Isabell had stepped directly in front of one of Master Tiernan’s smelting forges rather than a simple hearth.

Behind her silver-rimmed spectacles, Master Isabell’s eyes tracked rapidly around the room, looking for any sign that Lady Jocelynn was close enough to hear them or that anyone else was in the room with her.

While her eyes searched the room for hidden observers, Isabell’s mind worked with lightning speed as she tried to understand just how much the other woman knew about the truth.

Taken on its own, the statement that Owain Lothian wanted to conquer Ashlynn’s younger sister was all but a condemnation that he intended to commit adultery or worse.

But if Eleanor knew that the ’Ashlynn Blackwell’ in the Summer Villa was an impostor, and if she believed that Owain was moving onto the next Blackwell sister, then the simple chaperone must know some of the deepest secrets that swirled around the Lothian and Blackwell families in the March.

In which case, the question of whether she was an ally or not became even more important to resolve.

"I’m sure the Church has strong opinions on the notion of a married man ’conquering’ his sister-in-law," Isabell said carefully.

"In this case, the Church has no opinion at all," Eleanor said lightly.

"And by extension, as a Confessor, I have no opinion on the matter either.

But, as someone who once carried the Blackwell name, and as a woman who has heard the confessions of countless young women who have been led astray by charming men in positions of wealth and power.

.." she said, allowing her voice to trail off suggestively.

"Well," Eleanor said lightly as she straightened her shoulders, as if she were standing up under a heavy burden. "You can imagine that such a woman would have many worries about her charge that she isn’t permitted to express. And perhaps you can also imagine why such a woman would seek out the aid of someone whom her young charge has come to admire for her tales of bravery in battle and love that defied a king’s wishes. "

"You want me to deliver a warning to Lady Jocelynn?" Isabell asked. "Can you tell me what I’m supposed to be warning her against?"

"I’ve said more than I should already," the Confessor said, raising the crimson cowl of her robes to cover her head and giving Isabell a long, searching look before she turned toward the door. "But I believe that Master Isabell must have already seen the truth of Lord Owain’s character. Perhaps you’ve even learned things about him during his stay in Blackwell City," she suggested.

"The truth is one of the most powerful weapons the faithful can wield against evil, Master Isabell," the Confessor said as she crossed the room. "I just hope that you can open Lady Jocelynn’s eyes to a few truths today."

With that, and without giving Isabell a chance to respond, Eleanor slipped out of the sitting room, closing the door quietly behind her and leaving Isabell alone to find her way to the balcony where Jocelynn waited for her company.

"Lady Jocelynn," Isabell said softly under her breath. "Just how much trouble are you in that even a Confessor is powerless to intervene?"