Said so bluntly, it took Laren by surprise, especially to hear it from Estora. “People change. Perhaps he has seen what is really before him.”

“I do not know, Captain. It does feel hypocritical to complain about that which I once desired, but it—he feels . . . wrong. I had wondered if you noticed him acting differently.”

“I haven’t seen him in days to notice.”

“Because he has been with me,” Estora murmured. “If you do notice anything, please tell me. You have been close to him for a very long time and would notice anything unusual.”

Laren could not even begin to fathom what could possibly be off, except this whole nesting business, but who was she to know anything about the behavior of expectant fathers? Estora’s sense of wrongness, however, was enough to concern her.

“I will seek him out later and see how he seems,” she said.

“That is all I ask,” Estora replied.

Laren paused a moment before taking her leave of the queen.

“Is there something else, Captain?”

“I was going to speak with Mistress Evans,” Laren replied, “but since I am here, I thought I might address it with you directly.” She told Estora about the visit she had had from Anna, and the girl’s request.

“She is so quiet,” Estora said, “that I would not have guessed she had so adventurous a soul.”

“Unless she hears the Rider call, I cannot bring her into the messenger service, but I was thinking, if you and Mistress Evans approve, that perhaps she could join in on some Rider training. I hate to crush the ambitions of one so eager.”

“What training do you have in mind?” Estora asked.

“Beginning riding, basic arms. I know she is receiving lessons in reading and figuring, but if it can be worked into the schedule, there are lessons in geography, history, and etiquette, as well.”

“It sounds,” Estora said quietly, “as if you wish to turn her into a Green Rider even if she can’t be one.”

“Does it?” Laren asked, trying to sound innocent. “It may turn out that none of it appeals to her after all, and she will become more content as a servant, perhaps eventually meet a young man, and carry on a more or less traditional life. Or, if this interest of hers is real, she may come to serve her king and queen in some more useful capacity.”

Estora smiled. “More useful than tending my hearth?”

Laren smiled back.

“Very well,” Estora said. “I will speak to Mistress Evans, and I will see what can be arranged.”

“Thank you,” Laren replied.

They spoke for a while longer, then Laren excused herself. As she walked through the corridors of the royal wing, she found herself pleased with how receptive Estora had been to the idea of allowing Anna to participate in Rider training, but disquieted by her words about Zachary. Was he simply nesting as Vanlynn suggested, or was something more at play? Perhaps it was nothing and the arrival of the Rhovans would stir his intrinsic sense of duty and motivate him to return to more usual patterns. If not, Laren would get to the bottom of it. After all, war was upon them and it was no time for him to indulge in capricious behavior no matter his fatherly impulses. It would neither impress their allies nor instill confidence in him as Sacoridia’s king.

As she descended stairs to the lower level, she was certain Zachary would snap out of it, whatever it was, and continue to guide the realm with a steady hand. If he did not, they were in trouble.

NORTH

Unfortunately, to Karigan’s line of thinking, Estral had not changed her mind about going to North, and as they drew closer, the dense elder woods of the Green Cloak with its grand pines gave way to newer, spindly growth bare of leaves, and thence to an open expanse of stumps and scrub half buried by wet snow where the forest had been clear-cut.

They worked carefully around the broken branches of snags that poked out of the snow like the ribs of a skeleton, and avoided pits where trees had been removed by the roots. Every time Karigan glimpsed Enver’s face beneath his hood, he looked more and more disturbed. She couldn’t blame him, for it was a desolate scene, and it did not help that the low dark clouds were unloading a torrent of rain. Mist rose from the snow-clotted land like ghosts awakening.

She shivered. Even her excellent greatcoat wasn’t keeping the damp out. It was saturated. The horses looked as dank and miserable as she felt. Perhaps the only one who wasn’t sodden and gloomy was the cat, who rode beneath Estral’s coat. He poked his nose out now and then with a twitch of his whiskers, but quickly retreated into his warm and dry refuge.

Karigan had expected to leave the cat behind when they departed Eli Creek Station, that he would surely return to his owner, but as they left, he leaped right onto the packs that burdened Bane. He’d ridden there until the rain. What Bane had thought of his unexpected passenger, he did not say.

The only thing that kept Karigan’s spirits at a reasonable level was the thought that after they took care of business in town, they could head for the waystation and dry out. Unlike Eli Creek, the North waystation was active and kept well stocked.

But first, town. When the hooves of their horses splashed into the half-frozen river of mud that was the North Road, she resigned herself to the inevitable. They plodded westward along the road that would lead them over the River Terrygood and into the town itself.

• • •

The horses slogged through the main thoroughfare in North, their legs and bellies caked in mud. Except Mist who, even with her white coat, remained nearly pristine as if she magically repelled all dirt. Few townsfolk were out in the downpour, and those who were hurried along beneath the overhangs in front of shops. Karigan guessed that few took any notice whatsoever of three drenched and bedraggled travelers.