Isana cleared her throat and gave the young woman an arch look.

Veradis’s eyes sparkled, and though her cheeks didn’t become pink, Isana suspected it was only because the younger woman was using her furycraft to prevent it. “Though, my lady, since lives were at stake, I did issue letters of credit to the appropriate contractors, so that they could go ahead and begin their work, beginning at the worst camps.”

Isana signed the bottom of the document and smiled. “Isn’t that the same thing as doing it without me?”

Veradis took the document back, blew gently on the ink to dry it, and said, in a satisfied tone, “Not anymore.”

Isana’s ears suddenly pained her, and she frowned, looking back out the window. They were descending. Within a minute, there was a polite tap at Isana’s window, and a young man in gleaming, newly made steel armor waved a hand at her from outside. She rolled down the window, letting in a howl of cold air and the roar of the columns of wind that kept the coach aloft.

“Your Highness,” the young officer called, touching his fist to his heart politely. “We’ll be there in a moment.”

“Thank you, Terius,” Isana called back. “Would you see to it that a messenger is sent for my brother as soon as we land, please?”

Terius saluted again. “Of course, my lady. Be sure to fasten your safety straps.”

Isana smiled at him and closed the coach’s window, and the young officer banked up and away, to move back to his place at the head of the formation. The sudden lack of roaring sound made the inside of the coach seem too still.

After a silent moment spent rearranging her wind-tossed hair, Veradis said, “It is possible that he knows, you know.”

Isana arched an eyebrow at her. “Hmmm?”

“Aquitaine,” Veradis said. “He might know about the fortifications your brother has been building. He might know why you came here today.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I saw one of Terius’s men entering Senator Valerius’s tent this morning.”

Valerius, Isana thought. A repulsive man. I’m really rather glad Bernard found it necessary to break his nose and two of his teeth.

“Really?” Isana asked aloud. She mused for a moment, then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if he knows, really. He can say what he wishes and wear anything on his head that he likes—but he isn’t the First Lord, and he never will be.”

Veradis shook her head. “I... my lady...” She spread her hands. “Someone must lead.”

“And someone will,” Isana said. “The rightful First Lord, Gaius Octavian.”

Veradis looked down. “If,” she said, very quietly, “he is alive.”

Isana folded her hands in her lap and looked out the window as the valley below began to grow larger, the colors brighter. “He is alive, Veradis.”

“How can you know that?”