“Queen Arian,” the old woman said. She had a wary look in her faded blue eyes—as well she might, Arian thought. “I am Maris Mahieran; as a widow, I chose to take back my family name. You wished to meet my great-nieces?”

“Yes,” Arian said. “Thank you for coming—you know I met your father in Lyonya?” She looked at the girls. One seemed to be near Beclan’s age, and the other younger. Neither answered but looked to the old woman.

“This is Naryan,” the old woman said, touching the older girl’s shoulder. “And this is Vilian,” she said, touching the younger. The girls curtseyed and murmured a polite greeting.

“Please, let us sit down,” Arian said. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” said the old woman, and “No,” said the younger girl. Vilian … Arian tried to imprint the unfamiliar names in her mind. It took but a glance at the serving wagon for one of the servants to approach with a tray and another with mugs and a pitcher of chilled water.

Both girls glanced at their aunt and at her nod piled food on plates and began to eat. The old woman accepted water but ate nothing.

After a sip, she put the goblet down and folded her hands in her lap. “What do you want, Lyonyan queen?”

“At the moment, to be here among green things,” Arian said. “I miss the forests of home.”

“Ah. It is the elf blood, no doubt. You’re not as young as you look. They say you are your king’s age: is that true?”

“Yes. Did you know Kieri when he was Duke Phelan?”

Maris blinked. “I knew Kieri when he was a brash young soldier come to beg a commission from our king’s grandfather. Hair like a flame, cocky as any barnyard rooster. I was married then; my husband died on that campaign. Not your Kieri’s fault, so I was told.”

“Did you think so?”

A shrug. “I know only that my husband died. Kieri Phelan was very young to end up in command, I thought. Many thought. And so many more experienced died.”

“Old grudges grow stale,” Arian said.

Maris’s face relaxed into a grin. “Ah, my dear, there is no grudge. But you looked so like a picture painted on a plate—cool on such a warm day, not a hair out of place. It came on me to disturb that smooth surface if I could. You will say badly done, when you were kind enough to speak to us, but … it is my nature to prod immobility.”

Arian stared for a moment and then laughed. “So you are not a poisonous old lady?”