"Marry me."

Wynn sighed, turning away and walking toward the window. Her would-be fiancé followed.

"My Lady?"

She stared over the sea below to the distant horizon.

"Lord Lappa, you do understand that the Crown would like to arrange my marriage to the Prince Royal? Your half-brother?"

The Marquis nodded.

"I heard that, in passing. I also heard that they failed to arrange your marriage because you're an advocate of a proper proposal in person."

Again the Lady Nystral sighed.

"So here you are?" He nodded. "Your Lordship, I appreciate the sentiment but I really don't see how we can marry. I should be at home."

"Yet you would consider marrying the Prince?"

Wynn nodded.

"Of course. Not many things would drive me to leave someone else in charge of my fief, but the hand of a Royal Prince should be plenty."

She didn't mention that even then it would have to be her Royal Prince.

"Your Grace, I really don't hold much hope that my brother will ask you to marry him. He's a stubborn man, bound by tradition and honour, and nowhere in history was someone of his rank expected to concede what you ask."

"A concession, is it, to ask a woman honestly and faithfully for her hand? What are you doing here, Lord Lappa?"

He paused a moment.

"I propose an alliance, my Lady. I know that a Duchess could find better partners, but Lappa is quite wealthy and with land on both sides of the trade route we could become wealthier than either of us has been. Besides, I am accomplished as men should be: I've lead men in war and at peace, proved my skill at arms and earned the respect of many. Whatever support, protection or company you might expect from your husband, you will find me a more than adequate partner."

She turned abruptly.

"Do you love me?" Throughout the siege of Kaliers she had never seen fear in his eyes, but there was a hint of it now. "Lord Lappa, are you in love with me?"

"In the future I could well be... But at the moment, no. My Lady, we have a solid basis for a decent noble marriage."

Wynn nodded.

"I know I may sound naïve when I say this, petulant as well no doubt, but if I marry it will be for love. Perhaps my inheritance has brought with it a need for a husband but what people like Lady Ayer cannot understand is that I simply do not care about rank: I would marry a farm hand if he were the right man."

After a few moments, Lord Lappa smiled.

"You are a very brave woman."

"Sometimes one has to be."

She moved back into the room, taking a seat on one of the couches.

"He doesn't love you, you know."

It was some time before Wynn nodded.

"Yes, I know. But I don't appreciate hearing it."


That night she dreamed. Part of her understood that, but it wasn't quite as lucid as her father's dreamscapes, it was a nightmare that swept her along with it even though something was obviously wrong. Something - some poor impression of Lord Nystral, perhaps - chased her through a garden, like the courtyard gardens of the Palace but overgrown and wild with weeds and thorns.

She felt like two people as she ran; there was the shallow and flimsy girl who ran on through the gardens and the more remote presence armed with the secrets of the dreams her father gave her. As the scene wore on it was clear that the running girl was in charge, but the terror of the pursuit did not affect the thinking Wynn as she waited patiently for the sequence to end.

When they reached a dead end, that changed. In one body they stopped, turning to face the aggressor. As though reacting to the detached Wynn's thoughts, the atmosphere was changing. It felt less and less like a scripted scene and grew more expectant in air, as though Wynn was supposed to act next. As the fear in her reactive and dream-bound self peaked, she began to feel it on other levels as well: what if it were a trick, some ruse of her father looking for an easy kill?

Tearing away from the semi-lucid nightmare she mustered all the control she could and reached for the scroll of Marrosh, just as she'd reached for her sword the last time she'd seen her father. The feeling that her end was near grew stronger until the only escape she could see was to summon the First to save her. The scroll was nowhere to be found.

The shifting apparition closed on her, drawing a broad blade and swinging it enthusiastically. She had a few last moments trying to grab the scroll before he drove the blade into her gut. He pulled at the blade, every tiny movement ringing through her with new waves of pain until she blacked out.


It took her several moments to realise that she was still alive, sitting bolt upright in bed in her rooms in the Palace. May was just beyond the foot of the bed, laying out some clothes.

"Is everything all right, your Grace?"

Wynn did not respond, instead reaching to her beside cabinet. The scroll was gone.

"May, there was a small roll of parchment on the table here. It's extremely important; do you know where it is?"

May nodded.

"Yes, my Lady, it fell on the floor, so I put it in the drawer there for safe keeping."

The Duchess pulled open the drawer and sighed with relief when she saw that the name of Morrosh was safely stowed in the cabinet beside her bed. She took it out and put it back on top.

"Thank goodness. Listen, May, I need this to stay here. It's very important that I be able to reach it if I need it; it's to do with my bad dreams. Do you understand?"

"I can obey, your Grace. I don't need to understand."

Wynn nodded.

"Thank you. Perhaps one day I'll be able to explain it, but for now I need you to trust me and do as I say."

May curtseyed deeply.

"Of course, my Lady."



Next Chapter: Chapter 67