“He’s been waiting for you,” Chemoise said, smiling stiffly. Yet there was a certain excitement shining in the girl’s eyes. Perhaps Chemoise hoped that Iome would find love, was reminded too much of the lover she herself had lost a day past. Chemoise had been Iome’s playmate. Iome knew the girl’s every slightest gesture. As Iome glanced up, Chemoise’s features softened and her eyes shone. She obviously approved of the prince.

Iome forced a smile. Of all the times to see such excitement in the girl’s eyes, today seemed most inappropriate. Chemoise had walked in a fog for the past day. Shocked by her lover’s death, planning for her unborn child, forgetting to eat if Iome did not beg her to do so.

Right now it seemed as if Chemoise didn’t recognize that a war brewed. Part of her mind seemed to sleep. Perhaps she really doesn’t see, Iome realized. Chemoise could be so innocent. Once, Sergeant Dreys had teased her, saying, “Chemoise believes sword fighting is much like carving a duck, the only difference being that you don’t eat your foe after you slice him up.”

Chemoise took Iome’s hands, urged her up the steps, until they stood in the sunlight. After the coolness of the shadowed keep, the warmth of the sunlight felt good.

When she reached the top, Chemoise waved toward the prince in introduction. “Princess Iome Sylvarresta, may I have the honor to present Prince Gaborn Val Orden.”

Iome did not look at the Prince. Instead she looked out over the battlements. Chemoise scurried to the far side of the tower, some forty paces off, to give Iome and the Prince some privacy.

To Iome’s surprise, the young soldiers who manned the catapults followed Chemoise, affording even more privacy. Iome glanced down at the catapults, noted the metal shot in the weapons’ baskets. These catapults had never fired on invaders before. The only time she’d seen them used was on feast days, when her father fired loaves of bread, sausages, and tangerines out over the castle walls to the peasants.

Iome’s Days stayed only a dozen paces away. She said, “Prince Orden, your Days is currently in your father’s company. I will act as recorder in his stead, for this portion of your chronicles.”

The Prince said nothing to the Days, though Iome heard his cloak rustle, as if he nodded.

Iome still did not look in the Prince’s direction. Instead she hurried to the far side of the tower, sat on a merlon, and gazed out over the autumn fields at her father’s kingdom.