Anora kept Marcus’s thoughts wound around the spindle of her mind. Stitching them into a portrait wasn’t really necessary, but it amused her and added to his torment. He knew what she planned. He’d seen it all quite clearly when her mind had locked onto his. A pity, but one of the drawbacks associated with using this spell was that the caster was forced to open his mind in order to trap his opponent’s. Anora had considered the risk and decided it was worth it.

She’d severed the human’s contact with Draconas, and although Marcus knew her plans, she was not worried about him revealing them to anyone. The prince might wriggle and squirm, but she had fast hold of him. He could not escape, not until she freed him. For Marcus, freedom would come only with death.

The human mother rustled into the room. Ermintrude was nearly as pale as her son. Her face was drawn and troubled. Her dimples had vanished. Going to Marcus, she felt his forehead and his pulse and she gave a deep sigh.

“I think he is improving, Your Majesty,” said Anora in the guise of the lady.

Ermintrude didn’t hear. She was concentrating on her son to the exclusion of all else. She smoothed back the hair from his forehead, then, seeming to remember they were not alone, she turned to Izabelle.

“I am sorry, my lady. What did you say?”

“I said I think he is better, Your Majesty,” Anora repeated.

“I don’t know,” said Ermintrude bleakly. “I don’t know.”

Shaking her head, she added, “After this terrible news from New Bramfells, I have been thinking that you should return to your home, Lady Izabelle. I should never have permitted you to stay, and I would not have, if I had known the danger would be this great.”

This plan did not suit Anora at all, and she was ready with her arguments.

“Your Majesty,” she said, her eyes lowered modestly, “I cannot bear to leave His Highness. Perhaps I flatter myself—I am sure I do—but it seems to me that Prince Marcus has some small regard for me, and I fear my departure might cause some setback in his recovery.”

Anora raised her eyes to meet the Queen’s. “I am not at all afraid so long as I am inside the safety of castle walls, ma’am. I would be terrified to leave.”

“You would have an escort,” the Queen assured her.

“And that would take brave men away from the fighting, should it come to that. My father would never forgive me.” Anora lowered her eyes again. “I will go if you command me, Your Majesty. But I would much rather stay.”

Marcus roused at that juncture. “What is the matter?” he asked, noting the lady’s high color and his mother’s frown.