The story so far: Adon Santinetta and Crown Prince Lorens, accompanied by Princess Carena and Lord Bardonnel, make a state visit to Satele, where they encounter a mob at the dock. After reaching the palace, they attend a welcoming luncheon that quickly turns political, and later that night, during a ball in their honor, an assassin strikes, barely missing his target. The next morning, during trade negotiations, Lord Marinacci makes an unwelcome proposal.

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven

Crown Prince Lorens’ face darkened. With flinty eyes boring into Lord Marinacci’s across the ornate conference table, he clenched his teeth as he tried to maintain an amicable smile, but his lips wanted to peel back into a wolfish sneer. Beside him, Lord Bardonnel made to remonstrate with his Satelen peer, but the prince forestalled him with a heavy hand on his arm. At that, Petron leaned back in his chair, though he was no more relaxed than before.

“Lord Marinacci,” Lorens said in the cold, commanding voice that made career officers in Margonne’s army shudder, “you would do well to reconsider your proposal. The crown of Margonne has no desire to involve the princess in these negotiations, and she has explicitly asserted that she will not be made a pawn in them. If your intentions are genuine, I recommend you avail yourself of the traditional protocols between nations for broaching such proposals. Besides, there is no one present in Delphino who has the authority to treat with you on such dynastic affairs, not even I.”

Corado Marinacci returned the prince’s smile, but his appeared natural and carefree. “Oh?” he said, as if unaware of his diplomatic gaffe. “I have been misinformed on that point. My humble apologies.” He bowed his head nonchalantly, unchastened.

“Perhaps it would be advisable for us to adjourn for this morning,” Lord Andalo interjected mildly into the subsequent tense silence. “Clearly, these negotiations have become strained, and some intervening time may allow us to begin afresh in our next session. Would tomorrow at the same hour be acceptable?”

With a sideways glance, Petron deferred to Lorens, and the prince nodded. “Tomorrow, at the same hour—sharp,” he said, growling, no longer hiding his displeasure. “If I am forced to wait even one minute, we will leave. No games, Lord Andalo, just serious, good-faith negotiations as between friendly kingdoms. I trust I have made myself clear.”

“Indeed, your Highness,” the Satelen trade minister said, his voice tight.

“Good day, then,” Lorens said, standing and leaving the room without a backward glance, Lord Bardonnel at his heels.

After conveying the prince’s instructions to Captain Parees, Adon returned to the palace with four additional guards, the same four Marines who had accompanied the carriage on their first day in Delphino. Kestrel’s captain had insisted he take them, and Adon had gratefully accepted, knowing that a larger detachment of guards could make a difference should the situation in Satele’s capital deteriorate. His inexperience made him question how precarious circumstances actually were in the Satelen court.

Sending the Marines with one of his guards to Lieutenant Archeta for assignment, Adon and the remaining guard, Tilem Sora, a Leitan from Wesfair, wandered through the palace to the gardens behind it. The captain’s mother had told him how magnificent they had been during her last visit to Delphino, encouraging him to take at least one long stroll through them. “Perhaps,” Liandra had said, as only a mother can hint, “you’ll come back with a few ideas for Cassindra’s garden.”

The palace’s formal garden covered about three acres. It showcased a large fountain, bubbling at its center, and two small fish pools, all connected by stone paths lined with beds of early-blooming flowers or long swaths of thick turf. A compact maze of precise hedges snaked along the length of the rear wall, fronted by large plots filled with multiple varieties of rose bushes. Small copses of trees and shrubs, many beginning to leaf out as winter ended, dotted the intervening landscape. Benches and a few tables and chairs tempted the visitor to linger at the loveliest spots along the way.

To Adon’s relief, Private Sora possessed a keen knowledge of plants and enjoyed gardening, so they enjoyed a lively conversation as they wound through the highly manicured landscape. The Leitan had a special interest in trees and shrubs, explaining at length how the gardener had combined particular varieties together to resemble their native habitats. The garden clearly impressed him.

On their way back to the palace, they happened upon Crown Princess Grania, kneeling in an unadorned gray woolen dress beneath a white smock, planting bulbs in the composted soil of a flowerbed. A young member of the Satelen Palace Guard stood nearby at attention. Catching their approach out of the corner of her eye, she sat up, smiling broadly. She stood, brushing off her hands.

“Captain Santinetta!” she called, waving. “What a pleasant surprise! You must come join me for a chat! Oh, what a lovely morning this has turned out to be now that you’ve arrived!”

Adon bowed and returned her smile. “Princess! I could not have planned a more welcome meeting! My companion here, Private Tilem Sora, and I were just discussing how beautiful your garden is, and now we can express our admiration to you personally! It is lovely!”

“Thank you, Adon and Private Sora!” she replied, beaming at them. “I can take little credit personally. I ask the Chief Gardener to set aside a flowerbed or two for me to design and care for. All the rest comes from his hard work and that of his staff.”

“I will enjoy telling my wife about all this when I return,” Adon said, gesturing about him. “She is the gardener in our family.”

“Then I will have to send her some of my bulbs! I will put together a package for her before you leave.”

“You are very kind, Your Highness.” Adon bowed again.

“Now, Vitorio,” she said, turning to her guard, “send for tea and refreshments! And bring me a bucket of water and a towel so I can wash my hands. I wish to talk to Captain Santinetta for a while.”

Gulping, he began, “But, Your Highness!”

“I will be perfectly safe!” Grania said, cutting him off. “You will be leaving me in the care of two Palace Guards!”

“But—!”

“Vitorio,” she said, her voice hardening. “Go.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard said, his face reddening. He turned stiffly and strode away at a swift pace.

Grania sighed. “And he’s one of the better ones. The rest of them smother me. If I’m not safe in my own palace, where will I ever be safe?” She turned to Private Sora. “Private, would you kindly take a position out of earshot? I wish to speak to your captain privately.”

Adon nodded his assent, and Private Sora saluted, saying, “Yes, Your Highness.” He turned on his heel with precision and marched several yards away, turning back and coming to attention, eyes scanning the garden.

The princess clutched her hands before her and began a slow walk toward the nearest table. Adon fell in beside her. Glancing at her face, the captain noticed her bunched brows and downturned lips as she stepped somberly along the path, her shoulders drooping. Arriving at the table, she eased herself into the chair as if she had aged a decade during the short walk.

“Princess? Are you well?” Adon asked, his concern conspicuous in his hushed voice.

Grania gave a sharp snort of laughter, but serious hazel eyes looked up at him. “I am hale but in deep distress, captain.” She sat straighter, donning the poised princess demeanor for his benefit. “Do you recall in our previous conversation that I admitted that I have to play the court game?”

“Vividly,” he answered as he sat across from her. “I was shocked in my naivete, but after further thought, I decided it was necessary in your position.”

“Necessary, yes,” she said, nodding. “A cursed necessity, rather. I now further confess that I have a web of spies throughout the palace to keep me abreast of what goes on. In my defense, they are eyes and ears only. I do not use them to run messages or try to influence what goes on. I just like to know what’s happening or what will happen, so I can prepare myself for the effects.”

For a long moment, she stared down at her hands clasping the edge of the table in front of her. “This morning, one of my spiders, as I call them to myself, delivered a message I have been dreading for more than a year now. And despite all that time, I still have no idea what to do now that it has come.”

She stopped, squeezing her eyelids shut and pursing her lips in a vain attempt to hold back tears. Sniffing, she brushed them away with the back of a dirty hand. She took a minute to calm herself. “I must keep my royal dignity a while longer. I cannot let Vitorio know that I’m aware of the secret, as I don’t know for sure where he stands.”

Adon nodded and cleared his throat, never taking his gaze from her face. “What can I do?”

Grania chuckled mirthlessly. “What can you do? You don’t even know what I’m talking about!”

“It doesn’t matter, princess,” he said. “I will do what a friend can do. I will ask the prince what aid Margonne can give you. He is sympathetic, so he will give what aid he can.”

“It doesn’t matter to you what my secret is?” the princess asked, eyes wide. “You don’t need to know what it is before you pledge your help? You want nothing in return? No deals? No promises? No rewards?”

Adon shook his head. “No, Grania. Those are part of the game, which I don’t play. I just try to do what’s right, what my parents taught me, what I’ve learned over forty-some years to be what’s best. I will not take advantage of your distress for personal gain.”

She gave him a wan, toothless smile that faded as quickly as it appeared. “We are unaccustomed to such virtuous nobility here.” Stiffening her back, she glanced over her shoulder to see if Vitorio had returned, but she could see no one. She took a shuddering breath. “My spider told me she overheard part of a conversation while serving breakfast this morning to a few minor lords loyal to Marinacci. They spoke cryptically, but it is not difficult to figure out what they meant.”

Grania stopped again as if she did not want to say more because the truth was just too painful. Adon waited patiently, knowing rushing her would do no good. “Where is that tea?” she asked, looking toward the palace again, but still, no one was coming.

Finally, she said, “I might as well just say it. I’m not being coy or dramatic. If anything, I can hardly believe it, and I’m frightened and embarrassed. To think it has come to this.” Scowling, she shook her head. “The spider told me one minor lord said to the other, ‘Your pieces are on the board?’—an obvious reference to Nosh, the game of intrigue we Satelens like so much. The other replied, ‘I can hardly wait for the moon to rise.’ As you know, the Spring Feast is just three days away—on Moonday. Other bits from my spiders mention the Feast, too. I think Lord Marinacci will use the Feast’s relaxed atmosphere to make his play.”

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A note:

Nosh, the board game Princess Grania mentioned, is a Satelen variation of an ancient Taurani game brought from the Old World. Its pieces reflect various personages and positions in real royal courts, and its goal is to control the board and one’s opponent’s pieces through trickery, bribery, capture, warfare, or death. The game played in Delphino is the most extensive and cutthroat version of all, mirroring that kingdom’s often ruthless political intrigue. It is assumed among Satelen nobility that any worthy courtier must play a proficient game of Nosh, and the best Nosh players possess the skills necessary to succeed in the real intrigue of court politics. Lord Marinacci is an aficionado of the game, owning dozens of sets and playing daily.

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