The hall full of drengs and thegns and heerthmen and noblewomen pretended not to watch as Alfödr planted his hands on the table and leaned down so his single eye was on a level with mine. “I don’t believe you.” His gravelly voice was low, his gaze on fire.

I shook my head hard. “She helped me get dressed earlier. That’s the last time I saw her.”

“You told me yourself you would back her,” he said. “That you approved of her insubordination.”

“Pappa, Selah would never flout your authority that way,” Torden cut in.

Alfödr dismissed him with a wave. “Of course she would.”

Of course I would, I wanted to add. But one glance at Torden silenced me. His back was ramrod straight in his chair, his voice confident, but his eyes on Alfödr were almost pleading.

Torden sat before his konge a soldier of Asgard. But he wanted his father to see his son.

“Your Majesty,” Huginn said, “it is unlikely that Prinsessa Anya will make an effective match if she is not found soon.”

Alfödr turned his furious gaze on me. “Do you hear that?” he whispered. “You helped her run away. You have lost me an ally. With the Imperiya drawing nearer every season, we lose a marriage alliance for the sake of a crush.”

I gripped Torden’s hand. “But I didn’t—”

Aleksei stepped to his father’s side. “It’s okay, Selah.”

“You—” Torden’s jaw tightened, but Aleksei held out a hand.

“Pappa,” Aleksei said reasonably, sidling over to Torden and me. “Let me talk to her.”

“Let you?” Alfödr stared at his Yotne son. “Why?”

“Because I know Selah, and I can make her see reason,” Aleksei said, sounding as reasonable as I’d ever heard him. “She doesn’t understand the way we do things here.” His black eyes met Torden’s, then mine. “But she knows how far we’ll go for family.”

“Majesty, if Anya is not found, and soon—” Huginn tried again.

“But if we send out search parties, the kingdom will know, and word will spread to our allies of the prinsessa’s . . . dalliance,” Muninn cut in. “If we exercise patience—judgment—this may yet be resolved quietly.”

The king stared at me for a long moment. I could practically hear his teeth grinding over the scrape of the bow against the strings of the hardingfele.

“Three hours,” he muttered, just loud enough that all his sons could hear. “You have three hours to bring her back. If my daughter is not home by the end of the ball, the world will know why.” Alfödr stepped nearer to me. “You will not marry my son. You will not find a husband anywhere in the civilized world who will accept such a wayward wife.”

“Three hours,” I stammered back. “I’m sure she just lost track of time. I’ll find her.”

“Yes,” said Alfödr. “You will.”