"Completely, your majesty."

Just as quickly as he had grown serious, Donelan brightened. "Very well then, that's done. Now—I understand you're partial to river rum. How about a drink?"

Kiara waited in her room, looking out the mullioned window at the bonfires that blazed in the courtyard below. Jae perched on her shoulder. She stroked the little gyregon absently, deep in thought. So much had changed since the night she and the others had battled Jared and Arontala within these same walls. Kiara listened to the bells chime the ninth hour, waiting for Donelan to escort her to yet another party in her honor. Carroway had done himself proud with the festivities; the ball would go on well into the night.

A knock at the door roused her from her thoughts. Jae fluttered, instantly alert. Kiara opened the door carefully, keeping a hand near the dagger she concealed in a sheath beneath her sleeve.

King Kalcen of Eastmark stood in the hallway outside the open door. "You're every bit your mother's daughter."

"Your majesty!" Kiara managed, remembering to curtsey. "Please, come into the sitting room. I was waiting for Father."

Kiara looked at the man whom she knew only through letters. She could see Viata in Kalcen's features. He had the same dark -eyes that Kiara had inherited from her mother, the same beautiful brown skin, and the same scent of musky incense that had often clung to his letters, a scent Kiara identified with Viata. Everything about Kalcen seemed at once exotic and heartbreakingly familiar. Kiara did not know whether to laugh or cry.

"My dear, it is so good to finally see you with my own eyes. The portrait you sent doesn't do you justice."

Kiara blushed and looked down, accepting Kalcen's hand as they moved to sit by the fire.

Jae hopped down from her shoulder and sniffed at Kalcen, who reached down to gently touch the gyregon. Satisfied, Jae curled up by the fireside. "I can't believe you're really here."

Kalcen grinned. "I nearly didn't accept the invitation from Margolan. But I couldn't pass up the invitation from you." He looked at her for a moment in silence.

"There's a lifetime of things to tell you, and our time is short. But I came for Viata's sake as much as yours. Our father was a great warrior and a good king in many ways. But he was also a man of his times, fixed in some ideas that have outlived their usefulness. I think at the end he may have regretted the way he treated Viata, but he was too proud to ask forgiveness. I've tried, while striving to follow in his footsteps, to also learn from his mistakes."

Kiara bit her lip. "Mother missed you terribly," she said finally, her voice catching. She spoke Markian, and Kalcen looked up, surprised. "She rarely spoke of her father. But for all the years she lived in Isencroft, she never stopped being of Eastmark. It was in her blood. And while she did everything she could to adjust to her new home, I think she would have been happier knowing that Eastmark was still open to her."

"That you speak our tongue like a native is all the witness I need to know you speak truly. I was just a boy when Viata and Donelan eloped. I was heartbroken—I loved her so dearly. And I watched Father's anger with horror, terrified that something awful would happen. I didn't really understand that we nearly went to war. I only knew that Vi might be hurt."

"All those years,' you wrote to her."

"Not an easy thing—I had to have the letters smuggled into and out of Eastmark. Father would have had a fit if he'd known. He was not a forgiving person," he said with a thin smile. "When I learned of her death, I grieved alone. Father had held her funeral years before—when she married an outlander."

Old anger flared up inside Kiara. "Why was that such a crime? Mother wouldn't speak of it, but how could that bring the Winter Kingdoms to the brink of war?"

Kalcen looked at the fire for so long that Kiara was afraid he might not speak. "East-mark is an old kingdom and a proud people," he said finally. "The Kings of Eastmark can trace our lineage back to the ancient days, to the warlords of the Southern Plains. The old tales say that when our people found the lands that would become Eastmark, they brought with them the Stawar God, one of the Old Gods who are lost now. The Lady wouldn't grant us peace until the Stawar God consented to be her consort. That's why we worship the Lover. The memory of the Stawar God has faded. But he gave us His skin as a token to remember who we are.

"The old legends say that you can tell the honor and the strength of a man by the darkness of his skin—that those who are most like the fierce, wise, brave Stawar God are given His mark. And for generations, although East-mark allowed others to serve and live and trade in its kingdom, intermarriage with an outlander was punishable by death. We were jealous guards of the Stawar God's mark."

Kiara was acutely aware of how pale she seemed in comparison to Kalcen, although in Isencroft she was as tawny as those who made their living out of doors. "It was unthinkable when Viata ran away with an outlander, even one whose reputation was as fine as Donelan's. Father couldn't believe that someone not of our blood could be as brave, as wise, or as strong as the sons of Eastmark." He met her eyes apologetically. "There's a word in our language I won't repeat. But it summed up what Father believed of outlanders."

"Sathirinim" Kiara murmured, and Kalcen flinched as she said it. "Corpse flesh. I heard the Eastmark ambassador say it once to Mother, before she banished him from the palace."

"Old ways die hard, Kiara," Kalcen's dark eyes searched hers for understanding. "I make no excuses for Father. He held his beliefs sincerely. But he was sincerely wrong." Kalcen took her hand in both of his. "It was the threat of war with Margolan that made Father back down. Even in his last years, he dreamed that he might somehow spirit you away from Isen-croft and marry you to one of the Eastmark nobles, reinstating the blood." Kalcen looked down and shook his head. "I knew my sister. I knew that Vi would choose a good man, a man who would be as fine a king as our ancestors. Later, when I was grown and went to battle, I saw that our hired outland troops bled the same color as our own, and fought with the same valor. And 1 knew that the measure of a man couldn't be taken by the darkness of his skin.

"Still, it's one thing to know something in your head. It's another to know it in your heart. And so I came for Viata's sake to see you and to meet King Martris. I had to know for myself whether he was a man of honor. My seers talk of storms and darkness. I believe it's time for Eastmark to forge the alliances Father would not consider. Donelan and I have become allies. Staden and I are just beginning to talk. I hope that Margolan and Eastmark can sign an accord." He looked earnestly into her eyes. "For your sake, as well as Vi's. It's time to let go of the old ways."

"Mother never spoke clearly of the real reasons for the rift—now I see why. I don't know what to think—but I'm glad you're here."

"I wish Viata could know that I've never forgotten her—and that she's done more to shape Eastmark's future than she could have ever-realized."

"I know someone who can arrange for you to tell her."

Kalcen caught his breath. "Then it's really true—your young man is a Summoner?"

Despite herself, Kiara laughed. "You know, that's exactly what Mother said when Tris met her—'is this your young man?'" She dried her tears on her sleeve. "Let me ask Tris to call her." Kiara stood and walked to the door. A whispered word to one of the guards sent a servant running to bring the king.

Tris came more quickly than Kiara expected. There was disappointment in his eyes when he realized she wasn't alone.

"I know you've met formally," Kiara said, taking Tris's hand and bringing him into the room. "But I'd like you to meet as family." Kalcen and Tris both made a nod of acknowledgement toward the other. "And I was hoping that you would call for Mother," Kiara said. "It would mean a lot to me."