“Perhaps Ecton is right.” Young Marquis Wymar spoke up. “About it being political, I mean.” He then hastily added, “We all know what a pompous fool the Earl of Chadwick is. Isn’t it possible that Ballentyne ordered Breckton to hold the final attack until Archibald could arrive? It would certainly raise his standing in the imperial court to claim he personally led the assault that conquered Melengar for the New Empire.”

“That would explain the delay in the attack,” Pickering replied in his fatherly tone, which she knew Alric despised. “But our scouts are reporting that large numbers of men are pulling out and by all accounts are heading south.”

“A feint, perhaps?” Alric asked.

Pickering shook his head. “As Sir Ecton pointed out, there would be no need.”

Several of the other advisors nodded thoughtfully.

“Something must be going on for the empress to recall her troops like this,” Pickering said.

“But what?” Alric asked no one in particular. “I wish I knew what kind of person she was. It’s impossible to guess the actions of a total stranger.” He turned to his sister. “Arista, you met Modina, spent time with her in Dahlgren. What’s she like? Do you have any idea what would cause her to pull the army back?”

A memory flashed in Arista’s mind of her and a young girl trapped at the top of a tower. Arista had been frozen in fear, but Thrace had rummaged through a pile of debris and human limbs, looking for a weapon to fight an invincible beast. Had it been bravery or had she been too naive to understand the futility? “The girl I knew as Thrace was a sweet, innocent child who wanted only the love of her father. The church may have changed her name to Modina, but I can’t imagine they changed her. She didn’t order this invasion. She wouldn’t want to rule her tiny village, much less conquer the world.” Arista shook her head. “She’s not our enemy.”

“A crown can change a person,” Sir Ecton said while glaring at Alric.

Arista rose. “It’s more likely we are dealing with the church and a council of conservative Imperialists. I highly doubt a child from rural Dunmore could influence the archaic attitudes and inflexible opinions of so many stubborn minds who would strive to resist, rather than work with, a new ruler,” she said while glaring at Ecton. Over the knight’s shoulder, she noticed Alric cringe.

The door to the hall opened and Julian, the elderly lord chamberlain, entered. With a sweeping bow, he tapped his staff of office twice on the tiled floor. “The royal protector Royce Melborn, Your Majesty.”

“Show him in immediately.”

“Don’t get your hopes too high,” Pickering said to his king. “They’re spies, not miracle workers.”

“I pay them enough for miracles. I don’t think it unreasonable to get what I pay for.”