Silvy was grateful for blessedly uneventful nights at inns north of the river, along the road. They were guarded, of course, men in the hallways outside—serjeants or the queen’s guards, alternating.

Medor Colle, leading their party, sent riders ahead late each day to arrange for food and lodging. Two each time. One man alone on this road was vulnerable, even if trained and armed. There were Jacquards—the notorious fraternity of outlaws—here in the valley of the Livraise River. Along with other random brigands, hungry and angry and reckless.

They paused outside a sanctuary one morning so those who wanted to could go inside for the rites. Silvy didn’t. Had a sun disk her grandmother had given her. She did value that, even if she never used it. Family, memories. She knew some of their ancestors had been pagan, going back to their origins in Varena. She remembered her mother telling her she could always go there, at need. She remembered her mother’s visions, not common, but present in their lives. Maybe…maybe why she’d been so receptive to Gauvard Colle’s summons? Hard to know. Your family history went with you, she thought, wherever you travelled in life. Hers wasn’t especially dark, but it was hers, and the half-world hovered at the edges.

Four women in a room each night. They had a very large bed once, Marina invited her servants to join the two of them. Silvy thought it generous, but she didn’t know the norms of a court. She slept with Anni and Eudes often, didn’t she? It seemed that the one who snored in the carriage also did so at night.

It was Marina who knew this countryside, and who told Medor when to send his men ahead to arrange for food and rest. Her own home was hereabouts, north and west. That was, Silvy assumed, why Gauvard (and the queen) had asked her to be part of this rescue. If it was a rescue. If it could happen. Her anxieties were considerable, she was realizing.

They came to the château of Bascot de Thunier late the fourth morning. It lay on the north side of the road. The lord was out hunting, they were told after they pulled the carriage up at the end of a short drive. Silvy was regretting knowing nothing about him. She’d had time to ask questions, just didn’t have…the habit of doing so.

“We’ll attend him in his reception room, then,” said Marina di Seressa to the steward, her tone brisk. “Food and drink, please.” It really did help in life to have that kind of confidence, Silvy thought. And experience.

They were ushered into a good-sized room on the main floor. Medor came in with them, without asking. This might not be a cordial encounter, Silvy realized. He had confidence too, she thought. A different sort.