Luvenia knocked on the door connecting her guest quarters to the rooms next door.
"May I speak with you?"
There was an audible scramble from the adjoining suite. Luvenia eased the door open just as Hanna arrived at the other side.
"Is everything all right? No problems with the king?"
"Everything's fine. It's actually strange how fine everything is. –Would you like to come in here for a bit?"
Hanna looked awkwardly down at her feet, clad in a new pair of boots. Luvenia was pleased to see that she had been provided with new clothes in bright browns and mossy greens.
"I think I'd better stay here, your highness. I wouldn't want anyone coming in and finding a strange oversized woman in the room with you."
"What if you wore your cloak? –No, I can see how that mightn't be better. Alone with a man in my room..."
"I'm sorry for making this complicated, princess."
"Don't be. We both decided to keep up the 'Iron Hans' persona." She almost patted Hanna's arm, but reconsidered at the last moment. "I wanted to make sure you've been taken care of properly. Even if you're not staying, they ought to make you comfortable."
"Not staying...?"
"My father ordered you to see me safe to Middewold. Won't he expect you to return now that I've arrived?"
Hanna's mouth formed a thin line.
"Your highness... I can't be certain that you're entirely safe here."
Luvenia blinked. "So far, this place seems much safer than home—my old home."
"Be that as it may," said Hanna firmly, "I'll stay with you until I'm satisfied that you're not in any danger."
She felt she should be scolding Hanna for taking this attitude, but at the same time she felt so relieved not to be losing Hanna that she couldn't work up a shred of indignation.
"Very well. You're under my father's orders, not mine."
An emotion she couldn't identify stole into Hanna's face. "Of course, princess."
Luvenia wondered if she'd offended Hanna somehow by that statement.
"If you don't mind my asking... what made you decide to work for him?"
"He pays me well, and he doesn't object to me being 'Iron Hans' even though he's seen my face." Hanna hesitated for a moment before adding, almost shyly: "And... the color of his eyes reminded me of the flowers from my dream."
"His eyes and mine are the same color."
Hanna smiled. "Ah, but I hadn't met you yet, your highness."
"So, if you'd seen me first, I might have become your mistress?" suggested Luvenia—but what she had meant as a joke came out sounding wistful, almost plaintive.
Hanna's expression was hard to read. It could have been anxiety, or impatience, or both.
"You said things went well with the king. Does he know why you were sent here?"
"As much as I do. Lord Caradon wrote about it in the letter. I expect my father discussed it with the envoys, but I wasn't part of those conversations."
"Hmm. How much were you told?"
Luvenia suddenly felt uneasy. "Just... to convince him to marry me. Is there more I should know?"
When Hanna looked away, Luvenia crossed her arms and stared at her. If Eddard's ice-blue eyes had compelled Hanna's obedience, perhaps her own eyes would be at least mildly persuasive.
"It's not exactly something you ought to know," mumbled Hanna.
"Does it concern me?"
"Not directly."
"Hanna, please..." Luvenia opened her hands in supplication. "I have no power in this place, and no one on my side except you."
Hanna sighed and glanced at the princess.
"There's a spy planted in the palace. Only Lord Phaon and the king knew their identity, and Phaon was given a message for them. I retrieved it after he was..."
Foreboding flooded Luvenia's soul. She was not yet free of her father's grasp. Even here, in this place of warmth and color, cold eyes were upon her.
"Did... did you read the message?"
"Yes. It doesn't make sense to me, but it's probably in a secret code."
"Could I see it?"
Hanna retrieved it. There was blood on the paper, even more than on Caradon's letter. It must have been in Lord Phaon's pocket when the brigands killed him.
Luvenia found that her hands were trembling. She stilled herself with a great effort of will and smoothed out the creases in the paper.
"Should heaven fall, slay the hart and snare the hind," she read aloud in a low voice.
"As I said, princess, it's not meant for us."
Luvenia repeated the sentence a few times to etch it into her memory, then handed the message back to Hanna.
"Burn this," she said tightly. "Make sure it's destroyed completely."
Hanna gave her a concerned look. "Do you know what it means?"
"No—but I don't want the spy getting hold of it, or anyone else finding it among our possessions."
As Hanna vanished back into her suite, Luvenia sat down in a cloud-soft armchair and massaged her temples with nervous fingers.
The message, as she interpreted it, outlined a contingency plan. Even as an analogy, "heaven falling" would be a drastic event. There was no way to be sure whether "kill" was being used in a metaphorical or literal sense, or to whom "the hart" referred.
She was absolutely certain of one thing: "the hind" was she herself.
Whether that made "the hart" her mate or her kindred, someone close to her would be in peril, and she would most likely be rendered helpless.
She wanted to tell Hanna her thoughts, but... what if she was wrong? Would Hanna feel obligated to report her suspicions to her father? What if merely knowing the words of the message was enough to make him think she would betray him?
Did Hanna even know what her father was capable of doing—what he had already done?
"Princess!"
Luvenia jolted upright. Hanna was bending over her, but pulled back once she had Luvenia's attention.
"Sorry—you looked like you were in pain." Her big hands knotted together. "Are you all right, princess?"
Her mind said "No" but her mouth said "Yes."
"Are you sure? It's fine if you're not, you know. We– everyone here wants to take care of you."
This reassurance lightened Luvenia's heavy heart by a few ounces.
"I'm just a little tired. I might rest after tea." She gave Hanna a convincing smile. "Have you eaten yet? You can go find something you like, or I can ask for something for you."
"I'll manage, your highness. Would you like to be alone now?"
Once again, her mind said "No," but what her mouth said was "I'm about to ring for the maids."
"Then I'll go back to my room. Shout if you need me."
"A princess does not shout," countered Luvenia with mock dignity. "She makes proclamations."
Hanna's low laughter filled the room like sweet music.
***
"You honestly didn't know?"
Gorogon shrugged. "I never had occasion to ask their names. They rarely work in my wing of the palace."
"So you had no idea that you employed maids named Millie, Mollie, and Mellie?" Luvenia grinned over the rim of her glass. "Aw, now I'm sorry I told you. I might have driven you half-mad just by talking about them."
"I'm sure you'll find other opportunities to test my sanity, dear child."
She and Gorogon had shared a quiet supper; now they were meandering through the palace gardens, sipping postprandial cordials and chatting amiably. In the rosy light of the setting sun, the events of the previous night seemed like nothing more than a nightmare.
"There's a lovely little gazebo down that path there. Would you like to see it?"
"I would love to, sire."
He took her hand, easily and naturally, and she didn't mind at all. Even though her memories of him were scant and faded, their past familiarity and his present kindness were enough to make her feel comfortable and safe around him.
The gazebo was decked in climbing vines with delicate white blossoms. From the outside, one could not see its occupants, but once seated inside they could see enough to detect anyone approaching.
He had brought her someplace private, where no one would see or overhear them. Her skin tingled. Should she be nervous? Should she feign shyness? What did he want? What did he intend?
"Lu," said Gorogon tenderly, "we need to talk about our marriage."
"Oh?"
"It would benefit both our countries, of course, to solidify our alliance with a legal union."
He was holding her hands and looking into her eyes, but his words weren't within shouting distance of romantic. She wasn't sure how to feel about this.
"I'm ten years older than you, which I know is less than ideal. It would be better if I had a brother a few years younger, but... ah, well."
This was not going the way she had anticipated.
"I understand that it's not uncommon in Alatir to take concubines in addition to a queen, but that's not the custom here, so it's important that we be of one mind in that regard."
"Sire," she interposed gently, "is this really what you brought me here to talk about?"
He fell silent and let his gaze drop to their joined hands. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
"Lu... there's..." His eyes flicked up to her face. "There's something wrong with me."
Luvenia blinked.
"You're a lovely girl, Lu. I want you to know that it isn't your fault in the slightest."
"I don't understand."
"I... am not like other men."
He pulled his hands free and turned away, ashen, trembling. She sat petrified, hanging on his next word.
"In all my life, I have never been... tempted... by even the most beautiful of women. The gods know I've tried–"
His voice cracked. Luvenia held her breath until he spoke again, calmly but sadly.
"It's my duty to govern this kingdom, and to sire heirs. I have trained all my life to do the former, but I very much doubt I can manage the latter."
Once the initial shock wore off, the facts began to assemble themselves in Luvenia's mind. A few of her unasked questions were neatly answered by this new information.
"Lord Caradon knew... ah, of course he knew." She moved a little closer and rested her hand on his back. " 'Yours til death,' he wrote."
Gorogon nodded miserably.
"I'm glad you told me." Gently, gingerly, she rubbed his back in slow circles. "They say husbands and wives should have no secrets from each other."
He nodded vaguely—then sat up and faced her with wide eyes.
"You're– you don't–"
"You were right, sire. We do need to talk about our marriage." She drew herself up, as she always did when formally speaking as a princess. "You ought to know that I do not desire to be queen."
"Oh."
"However." She let the word hang in the air for a few seconds. "I am willing to assume the role in order to secure my place in Middewold."
"Oh." He looked mildly lost. "...Why?"
"I can't go home." Her shoulders sagged. "And... it's so lovely here. I've only been here for half a day, and already I don't want to leave."
"You're welcome to stay, even if you don't marry me."
"Marriage benefits us both, your majesty. I'll have the legal right to remain here, and you'll have a wife who understands you." She leaned toward him without meaning to. "We're still young, you and I. There's time enough to decide the issue of an heir."
"You make an excellent point."
The king went down on one knee and took her hands in his. Despite everything she now knew about him, her heart raced to see him poised for a proposal.
"Luvenia Charisse Eddine, Princess of Alatir, would you consent to be my bride?"
For no reason she could fathom, an image of Hanna's scarred face rose in Luvenia's mind.
She carefully brushed the thought aside.
"Your majesty, Gorogon of Middewold, I do consent."