Amrothlin, the Lady’s son and Kieri’s uncle

Elven ruler of the Lordsforest

Fintha

Arianya, Marshal-General of Gird

Marshal Cedlin, Fin Panir

Marshal Sofan, Crossways

Aarenis

Arvid Semminson, former thief-enforcer, now Girdish convert

Marshal Porfur, Ifoss

Marshal Steralt, Valdaire

Jeddrin, Count of Andressat

Filis Andressat, Andressat’s third son

Visla Vaskronin, Duke of Immer (formerly, Alured the Black)

Samdal, Chancellor and Regent, Horngard

Kuakkgani

Ashwind, itinerant Kuakgan, Tsaia

Elmholt, grovemaster Kuakgan, Tsaia

Larchwind, itinerant Kuakgan, Lyonya

Pearwind, itinerant Kuakgan, Lyonya

Gnomes

Dattur, kteknik gnome and Arvid’s companion/servant

Aldonfulk Prince

Map

CHAPTER ONE

Chaya, in Lyonya

“You killed her!” That first voice, instantly joined by others, rose in a furious screech of accusation. “You killed her! You killed her!”

The angry voices penetrated Kieri’s grief and exhaustion, and he looked back over his shoulder to see at least a dozen elves, some with swords drawn, his uncle Amrothlin among them. Behind them, more Squires pushed into the room.

“I did not,” he said. “I tried—”

“She’s dead! You’re alive; you must have—!”

“I tried to save her,” Kieri said. “I could not.” He stood up then, automatically collecting his weapons as he rose.

“Let me see that!” Amrothlin strode forward, pointing at Kieri’s sword. “If it has her blood on it—”

“Of course it does,” Kieri said. “You saw: my sword lay in her blood, there on the floor.” He had knelt in her blood, he realized, and his hands were stained. No wonder Amrothlin suspected him, though the blood that spattered his clothes had come from others.

Amrothlin reached out his hand. “Let me smell it. I know her scent; I will know another’s scent, if indeed another’s blood is there. Give it to me.”

“No,” Arian said before Kieri could answer, blocking Amrothlin with her arm. “You will not disarm the king,” she said. “Not after what has happened.”

“You!” Amrothlin glared at her. “You half-bred troublemaker, child of one who should never have sired children on mortals—”

“Daughter of one who gave his life to save the Lady,” Arian said. Kieri saw the glitter of both tears and anger in her eyes. “There he lies, and you would insult him?”

“And you know you cannot hold this sword,” Kieri said, forcing a calm tone through the anger he felt. How dare Amrothlin insult Arian—and where had he been all this time? Was he the traitor? “You remember: it’s sealed to me. Smell if you wish, but do not touch it.”

Amrothlin glared at them all, then fixed his gaze on Arian. “What should I think when I find three mortals around my Lady’s body with swords drawn and her blood run out like water from a cracked jug? I see no other foe here. It is you, I say, and this—this so-called king.”