In the Eye of the Crow: Tales of Lahan, #1

By A. H. Anderson

AS A GIRL, SHE WAS A BRIDGE. AS A QUEEN, SHE'S A HAMMER.

 

With her marriage mending the ancient divide between Elves and Humans, Nara Crawforde knows a thing or two about political prowess. From the moment the queen's crown touched her head, Nara learned she had to be willing to sacrifice everything for the good of her kingdom.

 

Now, unrest is brewing in Lahan. Despite her uncle's claim that the enemy lies in the rival land of Grunid, Nara fears the real threat lurks within her own family. 

When her eldest daughter, Princess Aela, disappears from her chambers, Nara struggles to hold onto her inheritance as traitors step out of the shadows and reveal themselves as some of her closest allies.

Fans of The Folk of the Air and Lord of the Rings will love In the Eye of the Crow and its immersive fantasy tale.

 

IN THE EYE OF THE CROW is the first book in the TALES OF LAHAN series.

 

Reading order for the TALES OF LAHAN series:

Book 1: In the Eye of the Crow

Book 2: The Plight of the Isle

Book 3: The Song of Sorrow

Book 4: The Unyielding

Book 5: The Shielded Place

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. H. Anderson
• Release date: Jun 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738869916

Book preview

Chapter 1

Nara

THE QUEEN OF LAHAN loosed the string from her grip, and the goose feather fletching brushed her cheek as the arrow travelled.

It sailed between the lissom trunks, and Nara’s stomach leapt when the iron head pierced the hide of the mule deer, sinking into the heart. She dug her heels into her mare’s sides and cantered after the sprinting deer, losing sight of the animal. Her gaze combed the wooded forest, brow low as she reined in her mount while her hunting party caught up with her. She held up a hand to stop them. There was only one set of hooves she wished to hear.  A flicker of movement from the corner of her eye, a glimmer in the dappled beams slipping between the branches. She yanked the reins, steering, kicking her heels once more and bringing the beast to a gallop.

The stag slowed as they reached him. He was walking and bleeding, panting as he lay down on his side, seeing his pursuers but lacking the energy to run any longer. Nara dismounted and approached the quarry, the mort sounded. She stooped to her knees, slipped her dagger from its sheath, reaching out a gloved hand to place on the creature’s heaving abdomen while the blade ended the suffering. There was one last warm breath, seeping as a thin cloud into the dewy morning air from the wet black nose.

The queen beamed a grin as she rose to her feet, swiping the blood from her leather gloves onto a cloth. Her men dismounted to lift the kill.

Nara strode into the great hall with the party behind her. They carried the deer off to the kitchens as servants arrived to attend the queen. They took the leather cuffs from her forearms and the breastplate from her front, tutting to each other and fussing over the blood that stained her tunic. The rest of the day would not be so enjoyable as that morning. The jolly smile would fall from the queen’s face when she was made to sit in her study with the house steward. But she was afforded her morning hunt—that would have to do.

Nara’s head was stuffed with knowledge from the moment she could form a sentence. She was the only child born for her father, and Lahan would someday be hers to rule, as well as the provinces of the lords. So, she was made to learn. She had nursery ornaments decorated with crows and the family’s motto in the Old Tongue embroidered on her swaddle blankets.

Nara reclined at the cedar desk her father once boasted, her booted feet sitting atop it as the steward droned on. She took comfort in the fact that Bernard Vega still assisted her. She did not know a single moment of her life where he wasn’t present. Indeed, he delivered her when she was born. He still served her family with complete loyalty, a trait increasingly difficult to find.

After informing her on matters of court and state, Bernard told her of more interesting things concerning her extended family—things he knew she would find amusing.

Your cousin Lady Flarense has just brought another child, Bernard said. A boy.

Nara snorted. Red of hair or black?

Red, if I do recall.

She shook her head. Looking at those children is like looking at a deck of cards. What’s the name then?

Clive. After your grandfather.

I suppose they’ll expect something in it for them.

Lady Flarense admires your family. Bernard sniffed, his white moustache twitching.

Nara’s mouth curved into a wry smile. And Lord Edvin admires my throne.

Bernard brushed a hand through the air, dismissing her biting raillery as nothing more than that. As they may, as they may. What lord of Lahan looks upon the throne and fails to admire it? Yet you’ll scarce find men so loyal as the Harrises, my Queen. He scratched his bearded cheek. Hm, by my troth.

Nara gazed at him, smiling in contentment. Have you seen my daughters today, sir?

Playing in the courtyard, last I saw, my lady. They seemed happy.

Not fighting? Nara added with a smirk. A rarity.

You raise strong daughters.

They must be. They squabbled as soon as Haven could speak, I assume they’ll do so ever more. Nara gazed off in thought, before she returned to the present. Anything else, sir?

Lord Greysen and Lady Alfreda are well on their way from Oland. They’ll be arriving within a fortnight.

Nara pursed her lips. That was one visit she didn’t await with eagerness. Very well, she rasped, having nothing else to add.

By your leave, my Queen. Bernard ran his hand through his wispy beard before departing. Nara remained in the study, pondering. She considered the baby gift they would send to her cousin, and the levy she intended to pass that evening. She hated to tax the people more than she needed to, but something was brewing. Soon, it would be needed, Nara was certain.

The queen found her daughters where Bernard said they were, playing in the courtyard. It was a bitter day, and it looked as though it would rain. Nara pulled her fur collar to her red ears as the clacking of wooden swords serenaded her, bouncing off the close stone walls. She watched them from the top of the steps. Haven was vicious compared to Aela, despite Aela’s seniority. Aela resembled her father completely, tall and lithe, pale-haired with milky skin. Haven took after Nara, short and strong in frame, with ash brown hair and fierce olive eyes.

Nara turned as someone stood next to her. Vaeril was there, the father of the children they watched down below. He took his place at her side in his quiet grace.

He gazed down at his daughters with a light smile and rested a svelte hand on the limestone balustrade. Nara laughed as Haven struck Aela in the stomach when she wasn’t looking, making her keel over and seethe. Vaeril studied the same scene with utmost compassion.

You must pay attention, Aela! They’ll catch you when you’re looking away! Nara called out. The girls noticed their parents then and stiffened, tightening up their technique to impress them.

They’ve been at this for some time, Vaeril said, his voice silvery and composed. Nara felt he spoke the Mainlander’s tongue with more poise than she ever had. I heard them as early as dawn.

The practice will do them good. Soon they’ll use real swords, Nara replied. Vaeril looked at her with deep concern, making Nara crack a smile. With padding, of course.

They are only children, Vaeril said, looking back at them. His gaze was saddened—the dewy, lavender eyes he passed to Aela reflecting what little light slipped between the clouds. They should play and enjoy themselves while they can.

I want them to be ready. Nara appraised them, her expression hardening. She glanced at Vaeril—at his seraphic face and long hair like white mist. Not all of us live so long.

Vaeril offered a gentle smile.

You have many years ahead of you. He reached up and tucked a stray piece of sandy brown hair back into the criss-crossed leather strap that tied it together. He let his fingers brush the rounded curve of her ear, always fascinated by the differences between them.

A smile tugged at the corners of Nara’s lips. And how long does the crow live?

You know the sights are not specific.

When you see the crow again, try to glimpse a year on the proclamation board.

Vaeril mustered a light chuckle, joining his hands together before his waist. She looked at him, admired him.

There was a hard, thudding hit from the courtyard. Nara’s eyes darted to her daughters as Aela brandished her sword proudly.

Ha! she taunted. Back in your place, little sister!

Nara watched Haven as she sat on her knees, nursing a sore arm, her gaze tearing into her sister. Eyes flaming, Haven launched herself forward and swung madly, clipping Aela in the cheek with the hard wooden end of the sword. Aela screamed and fell to the ground, holding her face. Nara turned large eyes to Vaeril, who was already moving, leaving their station to tend to their daughters.

Haven stood over Aela, her shoulders lifting and falling as she panted, her face wild with rage. Vaeril pulled her away. She resisted briefly before yielding. Nara knelt beside Aela, gently pulling her hand away from her face and wincing when she saw the dark red mark across her cheek bone. Tears welled in Aela’s eyes as she looked up at her mother. Nara took her in her arms as she started to sob.

She deserved it, Haven spat, glaring up at Vaeril.

Look at her. Vaeril’s expression was as resolved as Haven’s. Look at your sister.

Haven refused, pivoting to face the other way and crossing her arms. Vaeril reached down and placed his fingers on her jaw, turning her head to Aela where she lay on the ground, crying into Nara’s abdomen.

Haven’s expression softened as she realised what she’d done.

People will be trying to hurt your sister all her life, Vaeril said softly. You shouldn’t be one of them.

Tears slipped silently down Haven’s cheeks. Nara gave her a hard stare, assuring her she would hear more later. For protection from her mother’s wrath, Haven leaned into Vaeril’s waist, crying now in her guilt, letting her tears soak the silk of his robes. He placed a hand on her head.

––––––––

NARA STOOD out on her balcony, leaning her elbows on the limestone, peering out at that land she ruled. To the northwest cut the subtle mountain range cradling the settlement of Banks. There lived men who fished and traded with Elven lands. The city sprawled near the castle fortress, surrounded by high walls many called impenetrable. Nara knew it was not true, but the walls were a symbol of safety for the common folk, and perhaps that was enough. That city’s population neared 25,000, according to the last census. The castle and the city were called Lahan, but Lahan’s reach stretched across the Mainland.

Near the castle and surrounding city was Stone Lake, connected to the river bearing the same name, where loon song was heard as the sun receded over the horizon. Beyond the lake waited Rowse Forest, hiding the towns of Old Acomb and Stroude in a blanket of jack pine, aspen and balsam fir. There, wolves howled out mournful harmonies, and great-horned owls reared their young in empty crows’ nests. Across the river to the south were the Silent Plains—bare fields of blue grama and yellow grass where kings met for battle. To the west of the Plains was Silvrout, shrouded by the Oriel Forest, where men felled trees and traded lumber. From the far west of Silvrout to the high north of Oland, all lands fell under Lahan—all on the Mainland save for Grunid, which shrank greatly after the Mountain War.

Haven met her mother on the balcony. Aela was elsewhere, having a nurse tend to her injured face. Nara had requested that a servant fetch Haven to speak with her, hoping to mentor what she saw to be a small version of herself. Haven tentatively approached as the sun set over the outline of Rowse Forest. She looked up at her mother. Nara was planning her words, her eyes darting this way and that as she plotted them. Her lips twitched, trying to mouth the words as if she were saying them aloud. Her hands lifted from where they rested on the baluster, already amid an impassioned speech in her mind. Then her hands and lips fell still.

Your sister will be Queen someday, Nara said at last. She will need your loyalty undivided. You are how I am—a Crawforde, through and through. We have hot tempers, and good judgement in short supply. She looked down at her daughter and offered a small smile, easing Haven’s nerves. Yet we are strong defenders at our best. Aela will need this from you. You’ll be her advisor or captain of the guard...wherever she wants you.

Haven nodded slowly, her small hands placed one atop the other on the baluster.

Yes, Mother, she managed, her voice hoarse.

Nara’s eyes softened as she beheld her youngest child. She placed a hand atop her head, brushing her fingers through her thin hair. Haven had come into the world with a fury, with passion. Nara’s labour was particularly long and gruelling for her, and indeed there were times throughout when the queen wondered if Haven would ever come. Her second daughter was breech, to begin with. There was a moment of fright when Nara considered the possibility of her own death, and the void in power that would follow it—something kings never had to worry for. Yet, Nara survived, and Haven came into the breathing world squalling, screaming longer and harder than Aela ever did.

Nara’s face fell as she remembered something she was told earlier, news concerning relatives she truly did not feel like seeing.

My Aunt and Uncle Wembleye will be visiting us soon, she told Haven, hoping the child could take more joy in it than Nara could. They’ll bring my cousin Olyver.

Haven scrunched up her nose in distaste. An amused huff escaped Nara. Haven looked back out at the view as the trees turned black with the fading light.

May I stay in my chambers? she asked.

No, Nara said. We must all greet them. Treat Olyver kindly...and carefully. He is shrewd, despite his parentage.

And mean, Haven murmured.

Nara sighed, unable to disagree with the child. She sent Haven off to prepare for sleep and remained on the balcony well after darkness settled over the earth. She stood in deep thought, eyes trained on the moon. She was burdened by the knowledge of her relatives' visit. She had no doubts that her uncle, Lord Greysen, would urge her once again to make a move on their rival kingdom of Grunid. He had always been insistent that Nara see to completion what her father began.

A most calm evening, considering the storm we witnessed this morning. The soothing voice pulled Nara from her thoughts. She relaxed her shoulders as he removed the crown from her weary head—a stunning piece commissioned by the first King of Lahan. Nara wore that crown within the castle’s walls, in her court where she received guests.

Vaeril’s steps were soundless across the stone floors, a trait she’d grown used to with time.

Your children must seem like animals to you, she jested. I hear Elven children never fight.

They fight with words, said Vaeril. It brings deeper wounds than wooden swords. He deftly pulled the leather strip from her hair, releasing the tired strands.

Vaeril stepped up beside her as her crimped hair fell free. Nara looked at him, meeting his kind eyes. That violet blue changed depending on the light. At this hour, they were the colour of cornflowers.

If only they’d inherited your lamblike nature. Aela seems to have some of it, thank the stars, Nara said.

His eyes twinkled with teasing. "Thank the Rulers," he corrected.

She smirked, blinked slowly as she beheld him. Her state of dazed admiration faded. We will need to make arrangements for Aela’s betrothal soon, Nara said, knowing Vaeril would not be pleased. She wished to discuss it quickly, for that very reason. But Vaeril did not care for quick discussions.

She is only a child, he said, his fair brows knitting.

She’ll be betrothed. It will be some time before she is wed.

Such knowledge is too much for a child to shoulder. Surely, we can delay for a while yet. She has much to learn.

We are fortunate. Aela will stay here once she is married, since she is to be queen. It is only Haven we will lose to some other lord.

I should like to not lose either of them.

Nara looked at her husband and smiled. Like her, he loved his daughters. Nara supposed she showed it differently. She wanted them to be strong. Vaeril would shield them like chicks under his wing forever if he could.

Who would you have her marry? Vaeril asked, still seeming displeased with the concept.

I’ve considered the youngest son of the king in Ailmar.

You would send her to Eladalis? he whispered, horrified.

Nara gave a breathy laugh. You say it as though I’m sending her away to never be seen again. She would be there only for a while.

Ailmar is no place for Aela. She is a halfling.

I dare say Aela has more of an advantage than you ever did here. And she’s always tended towards Elven ways. She looks much like you.

Vaeril sighed and straightened his posture.

I doubt the Aephines will take kindly to a half-Elven match. They are staunch.

‘Tis a shame. Nara mustered a heavy sigh. The northern Elves were so tolerant. You’d be married off to some princess in Eladalis if they hadn’t been.

You were not fond of the match, if I remember. Vaeril turned from the balcony and entered the queen’s quarters, placing Nara’s crown at her bedside.

What young girl would be fond of marriage? Nara chuckled as she turned, her face falling when she saw Vaeril standing still as stone, facing away from her.

She rushed to his side and took his arm, leaned out to see his face. His eyes glowed a vibrant white, every part of them. She held his arm and kept quiet, knowing she would just have to wait for the sight to pass.

He blinked—his hand lifted to his temple and his eyes cleared. Nara reached up and set a hand on his cheek, hoping to offer comfort while, at the same time, waiting for him to tell her what he saw.

Vaeril looked at her steadily, his eyes sure.

The bear takes the crow.

Nara’s stomach dropped. Grunid?  Grunid takes Lahan?

He shook his head fervently. It cannot be, he murmured. The sigils I saw...the bear and the crow... his eyes met hers, and a shiver ran up her spine, they were infants both.

Chapter 2

Haven

HAVEN PREFERRED THE COMPANY of trees to people.

There was no bliss, the princess found, like that of wandering the woods with her thoughts and a pouch for collecting stones and mushrooms. She would bring them back to the castle, asking anyone who would listen about them. Her mother never had much patience for such affairs, but her father knew quite a lot, and he would sit with her to discuss her findings. At times, he would even go with her into the woods. His company, Haven did not mind at all. He said little, but when he did, his words meant something. It was rare to find companions who did not yammer on meaninglessly about everything under the sun. Haven always wondered if all Elves were like her father, and if they all might be pleasant to spend time with.

Vaeril shared her love of the forest. It was perhaps the only thing they truly had in common. In every other way, it seemed Haven had taken solely after her mother. She wasn’t entirely disappointed with that truth—her mother was strong, after all.

On that day, Haven was in a tree. Trees were easy for her to climb, and she went unseen by the world. She could watch life unfold before her. Haven climbed trees that were tall enough to see the village of Cael. She observed the commoners bustling to-and-fro down there, going about their business. Often, she envied them.

As Haven climbed the skinny limbs of the evergreen, sap stuck to her small hands and bark scraped her flesh. She liked the tingly sting that came with it—proof that she was away. The raw wind chilled her, but it also encouraged her onward as it blew the rich scent of pine and earth past her pink nose. She looked down and saw that she’d torn a small hole in her playing trousers.

Your mother is searching high and low for you. The voice, gentle as the breeze, made Haven startle, and she nearly lost her grip on the tree. She slipped, quickly regaining her footing. Be careful, my little robin.

Haven rolled her eyes—she hated when he called her that. Knowing that it was he who said it kept her from commenting. She understood it was a term of endearment for him, but she spent too much time being called little by everyone. There was nothing ‘little’ about Haven.

I just got out, she reminded her father, who stood at the bottom of the tree. When she looked at him, she thought the forest suited him. He looked like a mythical dryad when he moved along the forest floor, like the ones the nurse read to her about. He was quite unlike other fathers in Lahan—or perhaps other fathers were just unlike him.

Haven knew she was unlike most daughters too. Her playmates in Cael immediately noticed her ears, nowhere near as pointed as Vaeril’s, but still slightly sharp. She tried to cover them with her hair. She didn’t need anything else separating her from the commoners. Aela seemed to wear her own ears like some badge of honour. She was proud of her Elven blood. Aela could be stupid. Haven knew it was best to find common ground with others, rather than boast the things that made one different.

You must come greet your aunt and uncle, Vaeril called, and Haven wanted to go even less.

They can greet themselves, she muttered.

They’ve travelled a long way. They’ll want to see both you and Aela. Come before your mother comes after you herself.

Haven debated it before slowly descending the tree, making her father smile. She jumped down from the bottom branch, landing firmly on two feet. She looked up at him—his fair brows furrowed in distaste. Vaeril knelt and dipped a piece of his robe in the stream, using it to wipe Haven’s grimy face. She fought, finally yielding when he held firmly to her arm.

We’ll have you properly cleaned up at home, he sighed, rising to his full height. Come. He extended a hand, which she knew to take. His clean hand held her dirty one as they wandered back to the castle.

His long hair, a white gold like Aela’s, glimmered in the sunlight slipping between the branches.

You’re the only one who ever finds me, Haven grumbled. The servants never can.

They forget that my little robin spends all her time up in trees.

What do the Wembleyes want this time? Haven snapped, knowing from her mother’s rantings that the Wembleyes never came just to visit. Vaeril exhaled, leading her over the bracken-covered forest floor and pointing out raised tree roots to prevent her tripping. He never stumbled, but she was prone to it.

I could not tell you, he answered steadily. Your mother will speak with them about that. All you need to do is play with your cousin.

"My second cousin, Edha."

Vaeril smiled at her accented pronunciation of the word meaning ‘father.’ He’d taught her that when she was very young. Haven always thought it sounded much warmer than addressing him in the Mainland’s terms.

Your cousin, nonetheless, Vaeril reminded her.

When will Aela be married? Haven asked. She had been hearing whispers in the halls of matches the queen sought for Aela. Before long, lords and kings would be bringing their sons. Even at her young age, Haven knew that Aela’s hand was greatly coveted.

Vaeril was alarmed by the question. Not for some time, he answered. She is very young.

Haven was silent before she inquired further. When will I be married?

Not for even longer. Why do you ask?

I’d like to marry someone who could take me far away.

Hm, Vaeril murmured sadly, then his lips curved into a teasing grin. Perhaps I’ll never let you marry, he said. I’ll keep you here with me forever. He gave her hand a quick squeeze, but Haven couldn’t fathom the possibility of staying in that castle forever. Getting married isn’t the only way to see the other realms, Haven. Your mother travels to meet foreign lords. One day, she may take you with her.

Haven’s eyes lit up at the thought. In her experience, lords came to Lahan. She never thought about going out to meet them in their lands instead. She may see the twinkling, blue lanterns of Tairia, the sweeping mountain valleys of Ailmar, or the brutal, sand-dwelling Islemen. There were provinces within Lahan she’d never seen either—the forest people of Silvrout and the silver-miners in Oland. She supposed she’d be seeing some from Oland that very day—though she did not much look forward to it.

Vaeril and Haven arrived in the throne room just as Nara was sending men out to look for her daughter. Nara’s face fell when she saw the state of her youngest child, covered in smudged dirt and twigs. Aela stood beside their mother, lithe hands folded regally. She was dressed in a satin gown of the lightest blue with long sleeves Haven was sure one could trip over, her pale hair curled in ringlets. A single look at her sister and Haven knew it would be her own duty to entertain Cousin Olyver. The thought made her scowl.

The queen spoke. Our guests will be here within the hour. Raya will get you ready, Haven.

What do I have to wear? Haven whined.

A gown, child, of course! Nara said in her rough, commanding voice. The queen waved her daughter off to find the nurse. Haven looked up at Vaeril, hoping to evoke a pity from him that her mother did not willingly proffer. He gazed at her firmly and nodded towards the hall.

Haven rolled her eyes again and caught a smirk growing on her sister’s face. She glowered at Aela before releasing her father’s hand to go do Nara’s bidding.

Haven found the nurse Raya easily enough and was immediately plunged into a soapy bath and scrubbed head to toe. The bath was hurried, and Raya removed Haven from the water with soap still in her hair. She threw her clothes on—a simple linen gown with a wool kirtle dress atop it. Then came the braided belt at her waist with the small silver crow pin to clasp it. Compared to Aela’s attire, Haven’s was simple. For this, she was grateful.

Raya raked through Haven’s matted hair and hastily twisted it, guiding it around to form a crown’s shape at the back of her head. Raya brushed through her short bangs and sent her on her way. Haven realised, to her delight, that the nurse forgot her shoes. She beamed as she ran through the halls in bare feet, hoping it would last. The stone floors were cool against her skin—almost akin to dipping her toes in the forest creek.

Haven arrived just in time. She stood next to her mother, who sat in the throne. Her father stood on the queen’s right, and Aela was planted beside him. Servants waited nearby in case there was a need. The steward Bernard was near, as well as some guardsmen by the door. Nara turned to Haven, and her eyes travelled down to her feet. Haven tucked one foot atop the other upon being noticed. Her mother’s eyes grew wide, and her lips parted to speak. Before she could say anything, the guards were opening the doors.

The announcer came first, introducing their guests at length. The various titles seemed excessive to Haven, and she wondered why they couldn’t simply be known by their first names. In strode Lord Greysen Wembleye, the tall, robust baron with frown lines between his brows. He was followed by Aunt Alfreda, thin with hay-coloured, greying hair, and proud eyes. At her side was their youngest son, Olyver—a black-haired boy with a constant sneer on his reedy face. He would be fifteen by then.

Your Majesty, Greysen addressed the queen, bowing low. He looked at Vaeril, unable to keep the smirk from his face. Lord Vaeril.

To what do we owe the pleasure, Lord Wembleye? Nara asked, drawling.

The smile stayed in Greysen’s eyes as he observed her. Simply a visit, my Queen. It has been too long since we have been to your glorious realm.

Haven knew better. The Wembleyes had enough servants with them to stay for some time.

Haven watched Cousin Olyver as her mother conversed with Lord Wembleye. Olyver appeared as bored as Haven was, but it annoyed her when he did it. Surely, he should be paying attention. He would succeed his father someday. Haven didn’t need to pay attention. She was not the heir. Haven’s eyes flitted to Aela, who was listening intently.

See? Haven thought, aiming it at Olyver. That’s how an heir should act.

The guests were received in the banquet hall, where an extensive meal was served. Normally, Haven ate stew made with varying meats—whatever the hunting party caught—and bread with cheese. It was rare for there to be such a feast. They were given roasted boar with cooked vegetables and grapes. Grapes were unheard of. They came from Eladalis. Feasts like this one only happened when guests were visiting. Haven thought it was the one redeeming quality of receiving the Wembleyes.

Haven ate quickly, alarming her sister. Aela sat across from her and took her food daintily, taking her time with each bite. She gave Haven a disgusted sneer. Haven looked to Vaeril for defence as Nara spoke with both Greysen and Alfreda. Vaeril simply motioned for her to slow down, much to Haven’s chagrin. Aela once again smirked and returned her eyes to her own plate.

What happened? the boy’s scratchy voice piped up from beside Haven.

Both Aela and Haven turned to Olyver, who pointed at his own lean cheek. Aela’s face crimsoned and her hand absently lifted to her bruised face.

This little beast hit me with a wooden sword, Aela said grimly, her darkened eyes lifting to her sister.

You did that? Olyver asked. Haven nodded woodenly. ‘Tis good fortune to make an elder sibling bend the knee.

Aela scowled. For a moment, Haven liked Cousin Olyver a bit more than before.

There was little time for play after dinner. The Wembleyes arrived late in the day, and they spent the evening settling. Haven was relieved that she didn’t have to entertain her mother’s cousin but discontented with being sent to bed early. She played with the idea of roaming through the halls, ultimately yielding to tucking in for the night.

Hopefully, Olyver could be avoided in the morning as well.

Chapter 3

Nara

EARLY POLITICAL STROLLS WERE far from the queen's idea of a good morning.

She’d been invited on a walk with Lord Wembleye to discuss what she assumed would be his true reason for coming. The bloody Wembleyes always had some reason. Visits for the sake of courtesy alone were unheard of.

The cool dew clung to the blades of browning grass as the sun peaked over the horizon. The roses were wilting with the coming winter. Nara took to picking shrivelled buds from the stems as they conversed.

I’d like to know what it is you truly want, Lord Wembleye, Nara said at last, tiring quickly of the trivial matters Greysen raised. There was little reason to prolong it. Sooner or later, Wembleyes made their business known. Some lords were more opinionated than others.

Grunid is expanding rapidly, my Queen, Greysen said. I’m sure you knew that.

Aye, what of it?

Such expansion should surely warrant our attention. They inch closer each day.

Grunid is far from Lahan, and further from Oland.

For now.

Nara stopped and faced him.

What would you have me do? she asked, knowing he would tell her.

I would unite with you against them. Our combined armies could reverse this progress.

It is no crime to expand one’s territory.

Until the territory is ours. Until House Ramos rules House Crawforde.

Nara’s brows knit in offence at his words. "They are gaining back territories lost during their last king’s reign. It is of no concern to me. The southron realms are no allies of ours. Should