“He wasn’t killed by the Fief Lord,” she told Ellese. “He was killed by a soldier in service to the queen. If it’s any comfort, his death was far from quick.” She reached for her pack and extracted the scroll-case containing Alornis’s sketch of the priest. “Did you ever see this man here?” she asked, holding it out to Ellese.

The girl’s head rose and she wiped a threadbare sleeve across her face before reaching for the parchment, nodding as she glanced at the image. “Sometimes. Father called him his holy friend. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. Neither did Mother, she would take me upstairs whenever he came. But one time I heard them arguing and went to the top of the stairs to listen. Father’s voice was too soft to hear but I could tell it was different, not like him at all. The other man was louder, angry, he said something about years of wasted effort.” Her eyes darted to Reva’s face for a second. “He kept saying things about a girl, a girl of some importance I think.”

“What did he say?”

“That her mar . . .” Ellese trailed off, fumbling over the word.

“Martyrdom?” Reva suggested.

“Yes. Martyrdom. He said the girl’s martyrdom should wait upon her uncle’s hand, when there were more eyes to see it.”

Her uncle’s hand. Reva grunted in grim amusement. They thought Uncle Sentes would kill me. Vaelin’s arrival made the Ally’s creature change his plans. How much do they fear him?

“Thank you.” She took the sketch from the girl’s hand and returned it to its case then rose, gathering up her things and strapping on her sword. “If there’s anything you want to take, fetch it now.”

The girl’s head came up, eyes wide and fearful once more. “Where are you taking me?”

“To Alltor. Unless you’d rather stay here.”

• • •

“What happened to the walls?” Ellese asked three days later as they crested the hill east of Alltor. She sat atop the mare’s back, Reva leading her by the reins. The girl’s legs were too weak to allow her to walk any distance and the mare not strong enough to bear the weight of two. However, regular meals had done much to brighten her spirits, and provoke an unending torrent of questions.

“They were broken,” Reva told her.

“By what?”

“Big stones launched by great engines.”

“Where are they now?”

“They were burned.”

“By who?”

“One by me, the other two by a load of pirates.”

“Why?”

“They were very angry.” Reva’s eyes went to the river, swelled by winter rains, the dark waters concealing the boats that bore the dread engines along with the Father knew how many corpses. “And the queen asked them to.”

“Is she very beautiful? Mother went to Varinshold once. She said Princess Lyrna was the most beautiful woman she ever saw.”

At Warnsclave she had seen the queen with the orphans, the smile she showed them so different to the one she showed all others, a smile of real warmth and depthless compassion. Later the same day she received word of a band of outlaws preying on refugees to the west and ordered Lord Adal to hunt them down, sparing one in every three captured and these were to be flogged before being pressed into service as porters. She sent the North Guard commander off with a smile that day too.

“Yes,” she told Ellese. “She is very beautiful.”

She saw scaffolding on the walls as they progressed along the causeway to the main gate, clustered around the breaches where men could be seen at work hauling stone.

“Blessed Lady Reva!” the House Guard sergeant on the gate fell to one knee before her, his men following suit. “Thank the Father for your safe return.”

“Just Lady will do,” Reva told him, her eyes taking in the sight of the city. Rubble all gone but still so many ruined houses. “Or just Reva if it suits you.”

The sergeant gave an appalled laugh as he backed away, head still lowered.

Ellese leaned forward in the saddle, speaking in a covert whisper, “Who are you?”

“I told you who I am.” Reva’s eyes lit on a burgeoning cluster of people in the streets beyond the gate, downing tools and starting in her direction, voices already raised in joyous welcome. “Sergeant, I believe I will require escort to the mansion.”

• • •

Veliss greeted her with a formal bow and a chaste embrace. “I’ve been away too long,” Reva murmured, feeling the flush build on her cheeks.

“I heartily agree, my lady.” Veliss turned to Ellese standing nearby and squirming a little under the scrutiny. The crowd beyond the mansion gate was large and loud with acclaim. News of Varinshold’s liberation and the extinction of the Volarian army had spread swiftly to all corners of the Realm and Reva’s arrival seemed to serve as a spark for a general victory celebration.

“This is Lady Ellese,” Reva said, beckoning the girl forward. “Heir to Lord Brahdor’s estate and now Ward of the Lady Governess. Find suitable rooms for her, if you would.”

“Of course.” Veliss extended a hand to Ellese, who came forward to take it after a moment’s hesitation.

“I thought Lord Sentes ruled here,” the girl said.

“He died.” Reva glanced back at the still-cheering crowd. “Declare a holiday,” she told Veliss. “Forever more this will be the Day of Victory. And hand out that hidden stock of wine you think I didn’t know about.”

• • •

“The walls,” she said later when they were alone in the library and Ellese tucked into a voluminous bed upstairs.

“To be repaired first by virtue of popular demand,” Veliss explained. “The people don’t feel safe without them. I’ve seen to the reconstruction of the larger dwellings when I can, but they wanted the walls repaired and who am I to deny them?”

“The treasury?”

“Surprisingly healthy. Volarian soldiers were rich in loot and I had Arentes set his men to gather up as much as they could before the Nilsaelins or sundry outlaws got to it. Even so, rebuilding a city is a costly business, and when that’s done we have a half-ravaged fief to see to.”

“The queen has made firm promises regarding the costs of reconstruction. Apparently the Northern Reaches now yields more gold than it does bluestone. It may take some months to arrive, however.”

“Well, we shouldn’t starve thanks to Lady Al Bera and Lord Darvus. It’ll be a hard winter though.” She sat next to Reva on the couch beside the fire, taking her hand, their fingers entwining with automatic intimacy.

“The Reader?” Reva asked, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Sends a messenger every week with stern advice on how best to govern the fief in accordance with the tenets of the Ten Books. Sometimes it’s addressed to your grandfather, sometimes your great grandfather, and it rarely makes much sense. Last week he fell asleep during his own sermon, not that it matters since the cathedral was mostly empty.”

“A good choice then.”

“So it seems.”

“Where is Arentes?”

“Off chasing down the last of the Sons and hopefully subduing a band of outlaws in the western dales. They’re becoming a bit of a problem. War tends to succour only the vilest hearts.”

“The Book of Reason, verse six.” Reva smiled and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Are you becoming seduced by the love of the Father, Honoured Lady Counsel?”

“No.” Veliss stroked a hand through her hair, even longer now as Reva couldn’t recall the last time she had cut it. “I’ve only ever been seduced once. And I find it more than enough.”

Reva tensed in anticipation of the response to her next words, feeling a great temptation to leave it until the next morning but knowing the reaction would be even worse if she did. “Tomorrow I will call a general assembly in the square, where I will read out the queen’s Edict of Conscription.”

Veliss’s hand withdrew from her hair, her eyes wary. “Conscription?”

“The queen builds an even greater army, and a fleet to carry it to Volarian shores.”

Veliss rose from the couch, moving to the fireplace, her hand gripping the mantel. “This war is won.”

“No, it is not.”

“Am I to take it, my Lady Governess, that you will sail with the queen and her mighty fleet?”

Reva resisted the urge to reach out to her, seeing the whiteness of her knuckles on the mantel. “Yes.”

Veliss shook her head. “This is madness. Her father, for all his myriad schemes, would never have dreamt of such folly.”

“We need to stop them coming back. This is the only way.”

“Lord Al Sorna’s words, or yours?”

“We are of the same mind.”

“Or are you just hungry for another war? I can see it, you know. The way you chafe with impatience to be gone when you’re here, how bored you are by this place, by me.”

Though the words were softly spoken they held enough truth to make Reva flinch. “I will never be bored by you. If I seem impatient it’s because I’m not made for governance. And believe me or no, I have seen enough of war. But this has to be done, and I require your help to see it done right.”