“Anna, my love.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a hearty kiss. “You did a wonderful job as usual.”

“Goddess spare me from High Courts.” She grumbled, but I could see that his praise had pleased her.

Othur grabbed a chair and sank into it with a sigh. He snagged the last slice of bread and cheese. “And you, young lady.” He bit into the bread and chewed. “He is looking for you. And getting worked up about it.”

I didn’t have to ask who “he” was. I sighed and started to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Anna smacked my head and bellowed something that resulted in a bowl of warm water and cloths being set in front of me. “Child, you are filthy. At least see to your face and hands. What is that on your jerkin? ” Anna pushed away from the table. “No, I don’t want to know. Let’s see if we can clean you up.” I did not resist. Since I had been a child, and after the death of my mother, Anna had the raising of me. While my smiles had no effect on her, she was always there with the warmth of her hearth and her love. I knew better then to try to avoid her fussing.

Othur wisely sat quietly, with a mug of ale, while I washed. He was always a quiet one, but when he spoke, you needed to pay attention. Anna tsk’ed over the state of my tunic, and took a wet cloth to the worst of them. The activity of the kitchen seemed less frantic now that the meal was done, and the clean up started. After I passed Anna’s inspection, and been given a quick hug, I swept up my basket and followed Othur out to the castle proper.

We kept to the back halls, passing the occasional servant. The cool quiet made for a relief from the busy kitchen. I worried my lower lip with my teeth. Perhaps I should tell Othur about the brooch after all. But all my reasons remained the same. I frowned as we walked. There was no one that I could really confide in, no one to turn to for advice. Maybe at least Othur could advise me as to how to…

“Lara.” I looked up as he drew me to a stop.

“I need to see to some of the guests that are staying. You’ve heard about today’s events?” He placed a hand on my shoulder. I nodded.

“He is in his study.” Othur squeezed my shoulder. “Try not to anger him.”

That was like asking fire not to burn.

I grimaced, but nodded. Othur gave me a doubtful look, then hurried on his way toward the guest tower. I continued on mine, up the spiral stairs to the King’s tower, shaking my head as I walked.

It was soon after Xymund’s mother died when the King married my mother and I was born. Xymund had been well in his majority and acknowledged as heir at that time, but I was sure that his resentment of me had started with the first coo from my father’s lips, and intensified with every word of praise that followed.

I still had no understanding of it. He had been the rightful heir, and anointed King since our father’s death these three years past. But the jealousy was still there, even when I had made it very clear that I would not train for high office, that I would follow the healer’s path. I smiled, thinking back to Father’s outraged reaction to my decision. But he had come to accept it and was grateful at the end for my skills, even though I could not defeat death’s shadow for him.

But even when Xymund had been acknowledged King, anointed and crowned, the envy and ill feeling continued. I didn’t understand. He had power, wealth, and women falling in his path eager to become the next queen. But some form of happiness eluded him, and I was fairly certain that I was to blame. It soon became apparent to everyone in Court that being a ‘friend of Lara’ did not advance one in the King’s good grace.

Even so, I’d tried to step back into the Court life after Father’s death, only to find that I could no longer tolerate the pomp and nonsense. The conversations were inane, the meals long and tedious. I had little in common with the ladies, and the lords all looked at me as they would a prize breeding mare.

Which gave me more time for my studies and exercising my skills.

Father had left me lands, which generated a modest income. Xymund held those in ‘trust’ saying that a healer knew little of managing lands. I had tried to leave the castle, tried to retire to an estate, where I could set up a house of healing and maybe a school. But when I raised the topic, Xymund would refuse, saying that my value as a potential wife in an alliance marriage outweighed the value of my school. Although there were limited candidates in the neighboring kingdoms, especially given my age, he had always refused any offer for my hand.

He seemed to take pleasure in denying my dream.

I shrugged and gave myself a shake. Anna, Othur, and I had talked this out and agreed that when Xymund wed and had his own heir, he would let me live my life as I chose. It seemed likely that he would wed within a year’s time. There had been talk of at least two prospective alliances. Or at least it had seemed so before the Warlord’s attack.

Which reminded me of that man in the tent. I stopped and chewed my lip.

Goddess forgive me, I was not going to betray a wounded and sick man to Xymund just so that he could undo all my work. Others might think it a betrayal of my king, but to my mind it was extending the Goddess’s mercy. Just in case, I ducked into one of the alcoves off the hall and put the brooch into the top of my boot. I pushed it down far enough to insure that it would not fall out. The boots were big enough. One would not be able to tell it was there. I’d wait and speak to Lord Warren tomorrow. He’d make sure that the right thing was done.

A moment more, and I was before the guards at the door to the King’s study. I nodded to them and set my basket down against the wall. There was the sound of raised voices from within. The argument sounded heated. I glanced over at the guard, who shrugged. He knocked on the door. There was instant silence, then Xymund’s voice granted entrance. The guard swung the door open. I kept my eyes down, advanced five steps and sank to my knee.

Xymund loved the pomp of his circumstances and required the formality. Father would have kicked him in the buttocks for it. Othur felt it showed Xymund’s lack of self-confidence and I agreed.

The guard behind me cleared his throat. “Xylara, Daughter of the House of Xy.” I turned my head and shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. He caught my meaning. “And Master Healer.”

The argument hadn’t stopped when I entered, they were too caught up in the dispute. I could have been a chair for all that they noticed. I risked a quick glance up at my half-brother. He was not a tall man, but looked impressive, still dressed in formal court garb, bedecked in a dark blue tunic and pants with silver trim. He wore a simple coronet, having discovered that the full crown had an annoying tendency to fall if he moved his head too quickly. His brown hair was graying at the temples, and his face bore lines of worry that had not been there a few months ago, although the lines were hard to see in the angry flush that covered his face. When he shifted in the chair behind Father’s old desk, it creaked. He had gained weight in these last few months.

Another quick glance at Lord Marshall Warren, standing over by the fireplace. Spry and thin, he always seemed to me to be in motion. No flushed face there, instead his face was white, drawn and pale. “ Please, Your Majesty. We can drive them back from the walls if you let—”

“Do you question my competence, Warren?”

The slight pause didn’t help matters. Xymund tightened his lips, but Warren was quicker. “Majesty, none of us have had to deal with horse archers before this. We’re not used to their tactics—”

“Damned horses.” Xymund was snarling. “I hate those horses.”

“Their horse archers are devastating against the foot, Majesty. But they have no siege equipment at hand, and the snows will come before they can build sufficient—”