He considered her now—a magelord born and bred, and now at least partly trained. But marrying a Tsaian noble would not serve his realm or Tsaia, and what he felt for her was admiration for someone else who had overcome childhood anguish to become better than anyone could have predicted.

Other women soldiers he had known—some nearly as good as Tammarion had been, and one now a paladin—had stirred his admiration of their skill and courage but nothing more.

After her one attempt at matchmaking, the Lady introduced him to no more elf-maids. Through Orlith, she sent her advice, suggesting he consider someone with at least some elven blood. “Your children will all have taig-sense, as you are half-elf,” Orlith had said. “But their children and grandchildren might not, if you and they marry those without it. For the kingdom’s sake, the Lady begs you, consider.”

He had considered. Now he considered again, and fell asleep considering, to dream—not of marriage, as he half-expected—but of a woman no man could marry: Alyanya, Lady of Peace, crowned with flowers, holding a wreath of wheat and poppies in her hands. She held it out, and he felt the prickle of the wheat stems on his brow, the scent of poppies in his nostrils.

Kieri woke in the dark and thought about that. The Lady of Peace approved his attempt to make peace with Pargun … so he would expect. But wheat and poppies? By tradition, she carried those as signs of fertility.

He fell asleep again. This time he looked up—as if lying on the ground—and saw ranged around him shining figures that dimmed until he could recognize them. Only in a dream, he thought, would Alyanya—this time holding an armful of flowers—stand between a man in ruby-studded silver armor—Falk, that must be—and a broad-faced farmer in a blue shirt and gray trousers. Gird? Was he seeing Gird the way Paks did? And a black-haired, big-nosed young woman with a necklace of diamonds … Torre? And the other man in armor, his hand on the neck of a scaled creature … a dragon? Camwyn Dragonmaster?

Behind them all was light and music … music too beautiful to comprehend … and the light grew, once more absorbing their colors until he woke with a ring of silver brilliance still shimmering in his vision against the dark room. No doubt they wanted something of him, but what? He lay awake until dawn—not that far away, he could tell by the quality of the darkness—trying to understand.

He rose as usual, dressed as usual for weapons practice, and thus the first woman he saw was Arian, King’s Squire, armed and—he had reason to know—capable. And attractive. A woman he could have loved, if only she were not so young. Half-elven, which would have pleased his grandmother. At the door of the salle, he met two more women with swords, King’s Squire Lieth and Erris, Sier of Davonin, who had decided to take up swordplay for reasons no one but the Sier completely understood. A gray-haired widow with children and a first grandchild, she showed no interest in Kieri as other than king, but applied herself to her new interest with more enthusiasm than anyone expected. She took her bruises and strains with a shrug and did whatever the armsmaster told her.