Silvy said, “It could, you know. Regardless, it is time for me to return. Lovely as this has been, I do have a tavern to attend to.” She smiled at the other woman, saying it. The two of them had been sharing a bed here.

“You tire of what we have to offer in the countryside?” Marina di Seressa said. But she also smiled.

“Perhaps some of it may be offered, and found, in Orane?” Silvy said, looking demure.

Thierry’s turn to laugh. “I suddenly feel as if I should go outside and chase butterflies.”

Marina gave him a look. She said, “We will take guidance in Chervaux. Silvy can go home any time. Easiest and safest from there, with a proper escort. I might be asked to go back with the queen. Thierry is wisest to stay here until we know more.”

“Alone? I will go mad,” he said.

“Not alone. My mother and children will be here to amuse you,” Marina said, placidly.

He didn’t answer that.

“And you might write better in solitude,” she added. And did not smile. “We’ll leave for Chervaux in the morning, with guards. I’m going to ask at the next château for some of theirs. We’ve done that for each other before. If the Anglcyn have landed again, it is a dangerous time. Silvy will be my attendant, if she’s willing.”

Silvy allowed herself a half-smile. “You have found me unwilling in anything?”

And was rewarded richly because both the others flushed.

—

They didn’t leave until the day after next. It took time for ten requested guards to arrive, although they did come. Courtesies among the nobility, Silvy thought. This had been a taste of a world she’d never even slightly known.

She had even begun to learn how status worked here. They were two days from the river and the châteaux strung along the Livraise like jewels.

Marina’s home was among several owned by distinguished families, but not those of the first order of nobility. Rank in this valley was measured by how close you were to the river. And Chervaux, right beside it, the largest château of all, belonged to the crown.

It was even being expanded, she saw as they rolled up to it. It was already enormous, more a palace than a hunting lodge, though she knew the court would always hunt when it was here.

Thierry was on his horse among the guards, she and Marina in the carriage. Again. With the same two attendants. There had been no incidents on the way south; they were a well-protected party.

They pulled into a vast courtyard—immaculately groomed gravel, flower beds all around—and came to a clattering halt. She and Marina stepped down.

Someone was waiting. Someone in armour, very young. A woman. Short brown hair, plain features, extremely blue eyes.

“They are not here yet,” she said gravely. “I am Jeanette. Who are you?”