"Hope the wolves are elsewhere." Cam grimaced as he shifted in his saddle.

"Carina's going to have a few words about that leg," Kiara replied, trying to lift herself from a dark mood. The night's business bothered her more than she cared to show, and while to be of Isencroft meant to know the sword, she had no illusions about the dangers of adventuring.

Cam managed a strained grin. "Let her. After all, she'll be off to Dark Haven soon and I'll miss the scoldings that come with the healing."

Kiara smiled. "I'm sure you'd be welcome to visit."

Cam chuckled. "Jonmarc's had his eye on Carina since we were in Linton's caravan. I'll wait until after the wedding to visit." "Whose wedding? Mine or theirs?" Cam looked at her sideways. "Both." They fell silent again until the forest was behind them and the wagon path merged into the main road. Kiara's breath misted in the cold air, and the warmth of her war horse was all that kept her from being chilled through. Ahead, the lights of Aberponte, the Isencroft palace, and the city that surrounded it glistened against the snow. "Do you think we've gotten the last of them?" she asked.

"That's the third nest of raiders we've taken out in as many weeks. I don't think the divi-sionists are a large group—just vocal and fanatic, which is always a bad combination. I doubt we've gotten them all, but we've probably set them back somewhat—enough to get through your wedding and make it all a moot point."

Kiara watched the city. "I never thought I'd come home from Margolan and have my own people trying to kill me, after dodging Jared for most of last year."

"Your people aren't trying to kill you, Kiara. They understand what's at stake and just how bad the last three harvests have been. They know you risked everything to keep Isencroft out of jared's hands. And most of them remember the tales from the old days, when the raiders would sweep down every spring and loot everything they could get their hands on. The divisionists don't care how many of our people starve, and they won't be on the front line to drive back the raiders. It's all just words to them." He shook his head. "Father's lands were close enough to the sea for me to remember what it's like when raiders come. Once was enough. Never again."

"Everything's changing, Cam."' The road beneath their horses' hooves had become packed snow, hard as stone from the busy daytime travel into Aberponte. "When I went on my journey, I thought I could put everything back the way it used to be, before father got sick. But it's not working out that way." "It never does."

Kiara and Cam barely had time to strip off their armor and turn their horses over to the grooms before a page came with a summons from the king. Cam was limping, but he waved off assistance. Kiara kept her left arm close to her body, painfully aware that it had begun to swell. Sooty, sweat-streaked, and blood spattered, they made their way toward the throne room. Jae perched on Kiara's uninjured shoulder.

"Good thing Donelan isn't expecting us dressed for court."

"Father rarely stands on ceremony."

They were not surprised to see both Cam's sister Carina Jesthrata and Allestyr, the seneschal, waiting with King Donelan. Carina hurried toward them as Cam steadied himself against the wall and Donelan bade them sit. Jae flapped down to the floor and made his way over to the warm hearth.

"Well?"

"The intelligence was correct," said Kiara. "The stockade was armed—and they were divisionists. We brought the survivors back for trial."

Carina was already at work on the gash on Cam's leg. Kiara glanced at the kettle of water that warmed by the sitting room hearth; Carina had prepared for them to arrive worse for the wear.

Carina poured a violet liquid into Cam's wound. "Watch what you're doing!" Cam yelped. "It hurt less than that when he stabbed me."

"You're starting to sound like Jonmarc."

"Don't you have anything in that bag of yours that isn't vile-tasting or painful?"

"No. Now sit still."

Allestyr took one look at Kiara's arm and brought her a glass of brandy. "I'm not sure it was a wise thing for you to ride out with the troops this close to our departure for Mar-golan," the seneschal said. "Aside from placing yourself in danger, it will hardly do to present you to your groom looking as if you'd fallen out of a carriage."

"I got my share of bruises when we were on the road last year—and none of us had the luxury of getting frequent baths once we started the trip back. I dare say Tris has seen me look worse."

Donelan sighed. "Tris will certainly overlook any scrapes, but it's the Margolan court you need to worry about."

"Mother prepared me for this from the day I was born. Goes with the whole idea of being 'betrothed at birth.' I'm more worried about what happens to Isencroft once I leave—and whether or not you dare come with me to the wedding."

"The day hasn't arrived when I'll let a bunch of bandits keep me from my daughter's wedding. Besides, the best way to counter their rumors is to prove them wrong. After all, there's no joint throne until after I die. If I live to be a very old man, you and Tris will have a suitable heir for the Isencroft throne. The only power the divisionists have is fear. Once their followers see that your wedding changes nothing—at least in the short term—perhaps they'll slink away."

Kiara reached out her right hand and clasped Donelan's. "Have I mentioned how much I love the way you look at things?"

Carina finished bandaging up Cam's leg and turned her attention to Kiara's arm. "Typical shield break. Not as bad as some. I can get it well on its way toward healing and decrease the swelling and the bruising before the wedding— but no more raids. There's a limit to what I can patch up, and we can't have you limping down the aisle like some border ruffian!"

"Dammit, Carina, this was personal! Those divisionists are out there saying I'm a traitor to the crown—a traitor to Isencroft. We got Jared off the Margolan throne and crowned a king who won't plunder Isencroft for his own benefit. I would have betrayed Isencroft if I'd gone meekly to wed Jared and let him rape the country the way he did his own servants."

Donelan laid a hand on Kiara's shoulder. "There will always be ignorant, dangerous people who twist the truth for their own ends. No amount of arguing will change their minds because their argument isn't based on facts, it's based on their own petty point of view. It goes with the crown, Kiara. Always has—always will. It's a king's dilemma. Explain to the people just how bad it is, and they panic. Tell them less than the whole truth, and they riot over the one course of action left to us. At least after tonight, the divisionists will need time to regroup, maybe long enough that we can get you to Margolan safely. Once the wedding is over this will die down."

Kiara grimaced as Carina bound up her arm. "And if it doesn't?"

Donelan gave a tired smile. "Then Cam and I will deal with it." He exchanged glances with Allestyr.

"There's something you're not telling me."

Donelan moved away and began to pace. "I have a new man in Margolan. He's very well-placed. There's been an attempt on Tris's life, Kiara. A nearly successful attempt."

"What happened?"

"A lone archer was able to get off one clear shot. Your young man is exceptionally lucky. The arrow was only a handbreadth shy of his heart."

"But Tris is all right?"

Donelan nodded. "Well enough to summon the spirit of the assassin, whom his guards had already killed."

"What else did you hear?"

"Apparently, the archer was recruited by someone of means, perhaps someone from outside the kingdom."

"Why?"

"Who knows? Though by all reports Tris has made a good start, some will blame him for the hunger that's sure to follow ruined farms and exiled farmers. And there are those in Margolan who also dislike the idea of joined kingdoms.