“And I had good reason to come here,” the elf said. “An urgent reason. Rise, dress yourself. I must talk to you.”

As arrogant as the most arrogant of the other elves he’d met. And where were the King’s Squires? Kieri fought his anger down. “Over there—” Kieri pointed. “—is the bathing room. You may wait there while I dress.”

The elf raised his brows. “You are ashamed of your body?”

“Ashamed, no. Are you? If you choose to disrobe yourself, then you may stay.”

Beside him, Arian stirred. Kieri put a warning hand on her shoulder and squeezed a little. She lay still at once.

The elf stared a moment, brows raised, then shrugged and moved to the bathing room, disdain in the set of his shoulders. Kieri bent to Arian’s ear. “It’s an elf-lord, from the west, he says. Showed up here; apparently there’s a pattern we didn’t know about. I’m getting up.”

“We knew they might show up any time,” Arian said. “I’m getting up, too. Where are the Squires?”

“Elven magery, I expect.” He swung out of bed and put on the clothes that lay ready on a chair. Arian threw back the covers and levered herself out of bed on the other side. She, too, dressed as quickly as she could. It took her longer, which Kieri knew annoyed her. He stood where he would block a view of her if the elf should be discourteous enough to peek.

When Arian had tied her hair back, Kieri walked to the door of the bathing room and found the elf staring at the bathtub with an expression between amazement and amusement. “Do join us,” Kieri said, with an edge to his voice. He stepped back from the door, and the elf followed, his eyes widening when he saw Arian.

“You’re—you’re Dameroth’s daughter! And with child!”

“And my wife and queen,” Kieri said.

The elf turned to him. “And you’re … Flessinathlin’s grandson?”

“Yes,” Kieri said. Arian moved closer to him.

A spate of elvish, too fast and complicated for Kieri to follow, in a tone between exasperation and distress. Then the elf quieted, gave a short twitch of the shoulders, and met Kieri’s gaze. “I see,” the elf said. “I did not know the Lady had agreed to this match.”

“Is there a reason why you should have known?” Kieri asked.

“I would have thought so,” the elf said. “When was it that you wed?”

“The Spring Evener,” Arian said. “And our engagement was announced, with the Lady’s consent, at last Midwinter.”

“Flessinathlin is more fool than I realized,” the elf said. “She knows—I will speak to her—”

Kieri shook his head. “You do not know she died?” he said; though he had suspected the elf had not heard that at Fin Panir, he was still surprised.