By the time they had reached the festival grounds, Fastia had filled Neil's head with the names of so many lords, ladies, retainers, grefts, archgrefts, margrefts, marascalhs, sinescalhs, earls, counts, landfroas, andvats, barons, and knights he feared it would burst. He spent most of his time nodding and making noises to let her know he was listening. Meanwhile, Sir Fail, still speaking with the king, drew farther and farther away. The rest of the royal party outpaced them until only he and Fastia and a few of the deviceless knights were left.

When they reached the hilltop, with its gaudy and bewildering collection of tents, plant growth, and costumed servants, Fastia, too, excused herself. “I need to speak to my mother,” she explained. “Details about the celebration. Do try to enjoy yourself.”

“I will, Archgreffess. My deepest thanks for your conversation.”

“It is little enough,” Fastia said stiffly. “It's rare we get a breath of fresh air in this court, and well worth breathing it when it comes along.” She began to ride away, then paused, turned her horse back, and brought her head quite near his, so that he could smell the cinnamon perfume she wore. “There are others in the court you haven't met. I pointed out my uncle, Robert? My father's brother? My father has two sisters, as well. Lesbeth, the duchess of Andemeur, and Elyoner, the duchess of Loiyes. You'll find the first sweet-tempered and pleasant in conversation. Elyoner I advise you to avoid, at least until you are wiser. She can be dangerous for young men like you.”

Neil bowed in the saddle. “Thank you again, Princess Fastia, for your company and your advice.”

“Again you are welcome.” This time she rode off without looking back.

That left him alone, which gave him time to let it all sink in, to try to understand the seeming chaos around him.

And to struggle with the fact that he had actually met a king. No, not just a king, but the king, the Amrath, the Ardrey —the emperor of Crotheny and the kingdoms that served it, the greatest nation in the world.

He looked for the queen and found her near the edge of the hill, talking to two ladies. There, too, vigilant Craftsmen kept both their range and their guard.

It was said these men renounced all lands and property upon entering the royal bodyguard. It was also said that they felt neither pain nor desire, that none could stand against them, that their weapons had been forged by giants.

Perhaps that's why he hadn't recognized them right away. To Neil, they seemed like any other men.

Alone, Neil had the leisure to reflect on just how out of place he felt. In Liery, he had known who he was. He was Neil, son of Fren, and since the destruction of his clan, the fosterling of Fail de Liery. More than that, he had been a warrior, and a good one. Even the knights of Liery had recognized that, and complimented him on it. He had been one of them in all but title. None had successfully stood against him in single combat since he was fourteen. No enemy of the de Lierys had ever stood against him at all, not since that day on the beach.

But what use was he here, in this place of frilly tents and costumes? Where even the most civil of the royal bodyguard spoke to him with such condescension? What could he do here?

Better that he serve the empire as he always had, as a warrior of the marches, where it mattered little whether or not one wore a knight's rose, and mattered much how one wielded a sword.

He would find Fail de Liery and ask him not to recommend him. It was the only sensible course of action.

He looked about and saw Sir Fail break away from the king.

“Come, Hurricane,” he told his mount, “let's tell him, and hope it's not too late.”

But as he turned, he caught a glimpse of the queen. The sight of her held him momentarily.

She was still mounted, silhouetted against the blue sky. Beyond her, the land dropped away to a distant green, still misty with morning. A breeze ruffled her hair.

He realized he had stared too long, and began to turn, when a motion caught his eye. It was one of the Craftsmen, his mount at full gallop, careening across the green toward her, a long silver flash of steel in his hand.

Neil didn't think but kicked Hurricane into motion. Clearly the knight was rushing to meet some threat. Frantically, Neil searched with his eyes as he galloped forward, but saw nothing the warrior might be responding to.

And then he understood. He drew Crow, flourishing her and uttering the piercing war cry of the MeqVrens.

Her gown was of a red so dark it seemed nearly black, and it was hemmed with strange scrolling needlework that glinted ruby. Over it she wore a black robe, embroidered in pale gold with stars, dragons, salamanders, and greffyns. Amber hair fell in a hundred braids to her waist. She wore a mask of red gold, delicately wrought; one eyebrow was lifted, as if in amusement, and the lips carried a quirk that was almost a sneer.

“Who are you?” Anne asked. Her voice sounded ridiculous to her ears, quivering like a baby bird.

“You walked widdershins,” the woman said softly. “You have to be careful when you do that. It puts your shadow behind you, where you can't look after it. Someone can snatch it—like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Where are my friends? The court?”

“Where they always were. It's we who are elsewhere. We shadows.”

“Put me back. Put me back right now. Or …”

“Or what? Do you think you are a princess here?”

“Put me back. Please?”

“I will. But you must listen to me first. It is my one condition. We have only a short time.”

This is a dream, Anne thought. Just like the other night.

She drew a deep breath. “Very well.”

“Crotheny must not fall,” the woman said.

“Of course it shan't. What do you mean?”

“Crotheny must not fall. And there must be a queen in Crotheny when he comes.”

“When who comes?”

“I cannot name him. Not here, not now. Nor would his name help you.”

“There is a queen in Crotheny. My mother is queen.”

“And so it must remain.”

“Is something going to happen to Mother?”

“I don't see the future, Anne. I see need. And your kingdom will need you. That is blazed on earth and stone. I cannot say when, or why, but it has to do with the queen. Your mother, or one of your sisters—or you.”

“But that's stupid. If something happens to my mother, there will be no queen, unless father remarries. And he cannot marry one of his daughters. And if something happens to Father, my brother Charles will be king, and whoever he chooses for wife will be queen.”

“Neverthelesss. If there is no queen in Crotheny when he comes, all is lost. And I mean all. I charge you with this.”

“Why me? Why not Fastia? She's the one—”

“You are the youngest. There is power in that. It is your trust. Your responsibility. If you fail, it means the ruin of your kingdom, and of all other kingdoms. Do you understand?”

“All other kingdoms?”

“Do you understand?”

“No.”

“Then remember. Remembering will do, for now.”

“But I—”

“If you want to know more, seek with your ancestors. They might help you when I cannot. Now go.”

“No, wait. You—” Something startled her, and she blinked. When her eyes fluttered open again, Austra was standing in front of her, shaking her.

“—nne! What's wrong?”Austra sounded hysterical.

“Stop that!” Anne demanded. “Where did she go? Where is she?”

“Anne! You were just standing there. Staring no matter how hard I've been shaking you!”

“Where did she go? The woman in the gold mask?”

But the masked woman was gone. Looking down, Anne saw that she had a shadow again.