Shaso came in, dressed as though he had been outside, his face hidden by scarf and drooping hat. He shook the rain off his cloak and draped it across a chair. Effir dan-Mozan did not look pleased to have water sprinkled across his carpeted floors.

Shaso took off his hat and sat down. “A ship came in from Hierosol,” he said by way of explanation. “The sailors were drinking. And talking. I was listening.”

“And what did you learn, Lord?” asked Effir, who had regained his equanimity.

“Hierosol is preparing. Several dromons—that is what they call their warships, Princess—that were awaiting repairs are being rushed through dry-dock. Drakava has also called back his captains, who were punishing reluctant taxpayers along the Kracian border. He seems to expect a siege.”

“And my father?”

Shaso shook his head. “These tidings come from sailors, Highness. They know little and care less about politics or prisoners. No news, as they say, is doubtless good news. The only concern is what will happen when Drakava realizes he will get no ransom out of Southmarch now.”

“What do you mean?” she said hotly, then realized a moment later that Shaso was right: the last thing Hendon Tolly wanted now was for King Olin to return. “Oh, those…swine! Will Ludis Drakava hurt him?”

“I cannot imagine he would.” Shaso shook his head but wouldn’t meet her eye. He was unpracticed at deception and did not do it well. “There is nothing to gain from it and much to lose—like any chance of help from the northern countries if he is attacked by Xis.”

As if sensing Briony’s doubt and fear, Effir suddenly clapped his hands. “Come, let us have something hot to drink! A chilly day like this gets into your bones if you are not careful. Tal! Ah, no, wait, he is not at home today—off on some errand of his own.” He clapped again, and at last one of his older and more doddering servitors meandered in. When the ancient had been dispatched for mulled wine, Effir rubbed his hands and began talking, perhaps making sure the conversation did not wander back onto the uncertain ground of a few moments earlier. “We brought you here because the time has come to make plans, Princess.”

“What plans?”

“Just so, just so.” Effir turned to Shaso. “My lord?”

“You and I cannot stay here forever,” the old Tuani said. “You have told me so yourself, Highness.”

“Where will we go?” Her heart seemed to swell and grow lighter. “To my father?”

“No.” The scowl turned his face into a mask. “No and no, Briony. I have told you, there is little we could do for him, and it would be even worse foolishness now that the autarch seems to be considering an attack on Hierosol. What we need are allies, but there are very few people we can trust.”

“Surely there must be someone left who believes in honor.” Briony balled her fists. “By the holy Trigon, will they all simply stand by and see our throne stolen? What about Brenland, or Settland—we’ve sent help to them more times than I can count!”