In the center, a tall figure wore a chain of office—was that the duke herself? Arian reined back a little so that Gwenno Marrakai reached the other group first. Yes. That had to be the duke, from the courtesies exchanged. She had only moments to assess the woman she’d come to see. A face like a blade, but with laugh-lines as well. Erect in the saddle, broad-shouldered, weathered skin, dark eyes, steady gaze, intelligent and commanding. This was someone she could trust. And someone who knew things about Kieri she herself needed to know.

“This is Arian of Lyonya,” Gwenno Marrakai was saying. “A former forest ranger, who brings news from Lyonya.”

Arian met the Duke’s gaze as Duke Verrakai turned to her.

“Are you one of Kieri’s messengers?” she asked. “I thought he was using King’s Squires now.”

“The message is not from him, my lord. Forest rangers asked me to bring you this word—best given in private, I would judge.”

“Very well,” the Duke said. “Be welcome here, and I will hear your news when we are warm inside.

“Settle your troop,” the Duke said to her squire. “Then eat dinner with us. Beclan left this morning for the south, so we will be a small group—Master Feddith has another of his headaches. You need not serve.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Arian followed the Duke to the house as Gwenno led her troop toward the stables.

“You’re a Knight of Falk, too,” the Duke observed, touching her own ruby. “Well met, Sister, and Falk’s grace to you.”

“And Falk’s honor be upon this house,” Arian said. She reached out, and they clasped hands in the Falkian greeting.

“You travel light for this season,” the Duke said, glancing at the light pack Arian carried.

“It’s my years as a ranger,” Arian said.

“Enter, and welcome. If you’ve been traveling for days, I expect you’d like a bath.”

“Yes, thank you, my lord,” Arian said.

The Duke beckoned to a neatly dressed servant with a light blue tabard. “Bel will show you to a chamber and make sure you have what you need,” she said.

Arian followed the servant upstairs and along a corridor to a room that looked out over a walled garden and orchard. She could hear shrill voices of children at play and looked out to see them scampering up and down paths at some game, their nursemaids standing by.

“The Duke’s children?” she asked Bel, wondering how a woman soldier had borne so many.

“No, lady. These are the old … the former … they were too young to be attainted, I mean. The Duke’s responsible for seeing they grow up good.”

Arian saw one—a boy, she thought—throw a lump of frozen mud at another and thought the Duke had her work cut out for her.

“The bathing room’s just along here, lady. I’ll have the water hot in no time.”

Soon Arian was bathed, dressed, and settled in a comfortable chair near the fire with a pot of sib and a plate of pastries; dinner, she’d been warned, would be some hours yet. “Someone will call me?”