Beckram answered her, “The day before Tosten reached us, I had word from a friend that the king was going to summon us all to him. Tosten told us that the king has already taken Ward.”

Tisala, standing unnoticed behind Stala, had forgotten how effective a weapon Ward’s cousin had in his voice and face. The rich baritone caused a pleasing flutter of her heart, and his face combined the best of Hurog features with unusual golden skin tones and reddish hair. Unlike Ward, Beckram was very handsome—she’d heard somewhere that he’d married Ward’s sister.

“We decided to lead them away from Ciarra and find out if Hurog were still safe, before we let them catch up with us,” said Duraugh. “Have you had any word from Oreg?”

Stala nodded, though Tisala hadn’t seen any messengers come or go, nor any sign of a carrier pigeon coop. Maybe, being a wizard, Oreg had other means of communication—although her father’s wizard had not.

“He says they’re two days out of Estian. Ward is fine. Oreg says he’s already won over the general, though none of them, possibly with the exception of Garranon, have a clue what they’re dealing with.”

“He’s not trying his stupid act again?” exclaimed Beckram.

Stala rolled her eyes. “Of course not, but you know how he is. Even without the act most people think he’s not too swift.”

“It’s the eyes,” added Tisala, deciding it was time to make her presence felt. “They’re lovely, but not the eyes of a clever man.”

Tosten grinned at her under his dirt. “Nope, it’s that it takes him so bleeding long to say anything. Uncle Duraugh, Beckram, allow me to introduce Ward’s warrior-maid and Haverness’s daughter, Tisala. Tisala, you already met Beckram, though you might have forgotten.” His tone made it clear that he was well aware that no woman, having once met his cousin, would ever forget him. “And this is my uncle, Lord Duraugh. Though he’s Shavig to look at, he holds his estate in Tallven, which gives the king’s chamberlain ever so much trouble at formal dinners—does he sit with the Tallvens or the Shavigmen?”

Lord Duraugh set aside his weariness and bowed with automatic courtesy. “Lady.”

Tisala smiled. She bowed in return. Women who topped six feet looked ridiculous and awkward bobbing up and down, so she avoided curtsies when she could. She remembered meeting Lord Duraugh and his son any number of times in Estian, though she doubted they could say the same.

“Lady,” said Beckram.

“I congratulate you on the upcoming birth of your child, Lord Beckram.”