The knight went for his sword. In turn, Oreth found a half dozen soldiers pointing swords at him.

“It will be no great inconvenience to me, horse man,” the duke said, “to throw you out into the storm. And you’re new here, so my son won’t claim any loss if I kill you. So tell me everything.”

Sir Oreth didn’t hesitate. “It was Darzin D’Mon’s idea, my lord. A prank and nothing more. He said the winter snow wouldn’t bother her because she’s an Ogenra of House D’Talus.”

At this confession, the entire congregation broke out into murmured outrage. Brother Qown felt his own anger, but for different reasons. Janel was resistant to cold, but Darzin D’Mon had no way to know that. Indeed, Darzin would have assumed the opposite—because the Royal Houses didn’t teach their women magic.

Which meant Darzin D’Mon had tried to murder Janel as a lark. Assuming Sir Oreth wasn’t lying. It might well have been the knight’s idea all along.

“And how did you gain entry to the wives’ quarters?” The duke demanded. “Be specific.”

Before he could answer, a woman screamed and everyone turned toward the main doorway.

A dead woman walked into the hall.

She might have been beautiful, except for being so clearly lifeless. This woman appeared to be an animated corpse, left on the ice for years. Frozen blue crystals clung to her like tiny jewels. The ice and cold had dried her flesh to her bones.

She wasn’t Yoran. Her skin looked too dark. Her hair resembled snakes made from black wool, tied back with silver pins and rings. She dressed for battle, all silver chain and sparkling steel. Nothing about her seemed appropriate to the duke’s court.

Except her manner, the envy of any sovereign.

Two women trailed behind her, handmaidens to a queen of war.

One of them was Janel.

A shocked silence fell over the great hall.

Xivan Kaen, the dead but not gone Duchess of Yor, began to laugh.

“Oh, husband,” she said, grinning with a smile made grisly by how little tissue existed between her skull and skin, “Have they forgotten me so quickly?”

“It’s been a long time, my love,” said Duke Kaen.

Xivan drew her sword and pointed it to the gathered courtiers, each in turn, before sheathing the blade again. “Did you think you’d kept me down just because you’d murdered me? Did you think it would be that easy?”

“Xivan, have you decided to return?” Kaen didn’t seem upset or surprised to see her. “You know I’ve always wanted you here and not in those damn caves.”

She chuckled. “Yes, and I’ve missed you and Exidhar both. I needed time to think things over.”

“It’s been fifteen years,” Kaen reminded her.