‘Of course, Lenda,’ she replied, brushing aside the implied question of just exactly what she and Sparhawk had been doing when the pair had entered the room.

‘There are some friends outside, Your Majesty,’ Vanion said. ‘They will be able to brief you on some events in greater detail than the earl and I would be able to.’

‘Then show them in, by all means.’

Sparhawk stepped to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of water; his mouth was very dry for some reason.

Vanion went outside for a moment and returned with Sparhawk’s friends. ‘I believe you know Sephrenia, Kurik and Sir Kalten, Your Majesty,’ he said. He then introduced the others, judiciously omitting references to Talen’s professional activities.

‘I’m so pleased to meet you all,’ Ehlana said graciously. ‘Now, before we begin, I have an announcement to make. Sir Sparhawk here has just proposed marriage to me. Wasn’t that nice of him?’

Sparhawk had the glass to his lips at that point, and he went into an extended fit of choking.

‘Why, whatever is the matter, dear?’ Ehlana asked innocently.

He pointed at his throat, making strangling noises.

When Sparhawk had somewhat regained his breath and a few shreds of his composure, the Earl of Lenda looked at his queen. ‘I gather then that Your Majesty has accepted your champion’s proposal?’

‘Of course I have. That’s what I was doing when you came in.’

‘Oh,’ the old man said. ‘I see.’ Lenda was a consummate politician, and he was able to make statements like that without cracking a smile.

‘Congratulations, My Lord,’ Kurik said gruffly, seizing Sparhawk’s hand in a grip of iron and shaking it vigorously.

Kalten was staring at Ehlana. ‘Sparhawk?’ he demanded incredulously.

‘Isn’t it odd how your closest friends never fully understand your greatness, my dear?’ she said to Sparhawk. ‘Sir Kalten,’ she said then, ‘your boyhood friend is the paramount knight in the world. Any woman would be honoured to have him as her husband.’ She smiled smugly. ‘I’m the one who got him, however. All right, friends, please be seated and tell me what’s been happening to my kingdom while I’ve been ill. I trust you’ll be brief. My betrothed and I have many plans to make.’

‘You might start by telling me what it was that made me so ill, Lord Vanion,’ Ehlana suggested.

‘You were poisoned, Your Majesty.’

‘What?’

‘A very rare poison from Rendor – the same one that killed your father.’

‘Who was responsible?’

‘In your father’s case, it was his sister. In yours, it was the Primate Annias. You knew that he’s had his eyes on the throne of the Archprelate in Chyrellos, didn’t you?’

‘Of course. I was doing what I could to stand in his way. If he reaches that throne, I think I’ll convert to Eshandism – or maybe even become Styric. Would your God accept me, Sephrenia?’