“That was the full contents of the packet, my Queen,” the messenger Brund was saying. He was filthy, sweating and obviously exhausted from a hard ride across country. Nyssa was listening, but she was looking for more.

“I don’t doubt the report, Corporal,” she said finally and returned to looking at the letter and the map that he had brought for her.

The seal of General Brack had been unbroken when it arrived. She trusted the information; she just couldn’t understand why it was so brief. She dismissed him, after thanking him and ordering him to rest, eat and bathe. She promised a return response the next day; he should be ready to leave at sunrise. The messenger saluted and left her.

Nyssa handed the letter to Jara without a word and moved to the table with the map.

“Brack knows what he’s doing, Highness. Why waste the paper if there is little change in the situation?” Colonel Cord said when the corporal had left. The tent flaps were opened for a moment, and the fresh air felt better. Nyssa turned from the map and went to the door. She indicated to her guards to tie them open. It was so stuffy in the tents.

“Brack has more orders than observation, Colonel. I need movements, numbers, details and his opinion on situation awareness. This,” and she waved at the letter in her guardsman’s hand, “is inadequate. Brack is never inadequate.”

Cord kept silent while his queen paced the front of the map. She stopped and took the letter back, glancing only once at Jara, but his expression was clear and he was with her. She read the letter again while both men waited.

My Queen,

The rebellious attempts at disturbing your kingdom’s peace seem to have exhausted itself. Small skirmishes here and there are quelled quite easily by our troops and I feel it is no longer necessary for our presence to be extended.

Expect our imminent return.

General Brack of the Royal 101st Regiment of Orak’Thune

She looked up from the letter to Cord, fingering the blue ribbon that held Brack’s wax seal on the paper. She studied him for a minute and he felt uncomfortable under her gaze. He could see now she was getting more agitated.

“Tell me, Colonel, would you write a letter like this to me, if it were you?” she asked him calmly. He swallowed hard and tried to think quickly.

“I would have included numbers, my Queen. Skirmishes, fatalities, an account of remaining resources and a more thorough narrative to describe my observation of the enemy’s actions and intents, at the least,” he confided.

He was sweating now; a big drop rolling down his spine made him swallow again. He hoped she couldn’t see his discomfort. She waited still, but then she nodded.

“And I would have asked your permission to return,” he added finally.

“Exactly,” she replied firmly and scooped both the letter and map from the table before turning to leave. Jara looked one more time to Cord, while he’d held the side of the flap for his queen to exit first.

Queen Nyssa had been consulting with her general rank on the mission General Brack was currently on, and on the most recent reports of surprise attacks on her southern coast. She had quietly been requesting more preparations in the outfield adjacent to the academy ever since Patrick had told her of Brack’s current missions and the never-ending reports of activities in the south. Nothing to alarm anyone, but she had just enough support to muster basic preparations, in the event her hunches proved true.

Dispatches were coming in too few at a time and she had assembled her staff that day to confer over their next best options. No one was particularly keen to send out troops to answer every report, but the dispatches were in nature, always after the fact, and someone needed to gather intelligence. Brund had shown up during the meeting, and she had dismissed all but Sir Cord, Brack’s liaison, when she’d opened it.

Jara brought their horses around and they rode to the academy building, a mile from the preparing camps. The building was a large and sprawling, two-storey complex that had a massive outfield at its centre and training fields on both sides and behind. She rode up the long pathway to the front, and as she knew they would be, the groom and the General of the Military Academy was waiting for her. The sentry duties, performed by cadets learning the tasks, began a half mile from the entrance to the grounds. They would have seen her coming fifteen minutes before she met the front door and sent word ahead of them via the elaborate flag system they implored.

It was a marvellous system for alerting security preparations to a threat, and immensely convenient to save time for the queen and overlord to be met without waiting for her general rank to be found. General Commander, Sir Titus smiled warmly at her from the top of the broad entrance staircase when she reined in.

“Majesty, what a pleasure and honour to see you today. You are looking well, if I might say,” Titus said with a low bow as he descended the stairs to greet her and wait as she dismounted.

She stopped in front of him and gave him a warm smile. She waited until the groom led the horses away and she pointed to the door, beginning her ascent up the steps. Titus acknowledged Jara, who returned the greeting, and a look of concern passed between them.

“I need your counsel, Titus. May we meet in your office in private?” Nyssa asked and tried not to show the stress in her voice.

Titus shifted at her request. A long and loyal friend to her father, he was her first and fiercest teacher. She respected and loved Titus. Aside from Brack, who grew to be also one of her closest friends, her brother, Jara and Hedir, she trusted no one more.

“Of course, my Queen,” he said immediately and moved aside so she could precede them.

Titus’s office was at the end of a long stone hallway; at each end were floor to ceiling windows, which let in a considerable amount of light. Nyssa appreciated that a learning centre should be so bright and open. Dark and dank places, she believed, weren’t conducive to open-minded and imaginative thinking.

When they had arrived in the spacious rooms of his office, she heard Titus close the double doors to the outer hall, and they proceeded through the rooms, which consisted of three chambers: a private classroom, a secretarial office and finally his own work office in the back corner. There were no chatty students today, and his assistant, was also absent. She waited for him to come around to his sitting area, two chairs opposite an exquisite wooden round table by the window, which afforded a very complete view of the training fields.

“Do sit down, my dear. Tell me how I can assist you this morning,” he said and took the seat opposite from her. Jara moved to stand inconspicuously behind her, but well in Titus’s view.

She took out the letter and map and wordlessly handed them to him. He took them and his spectacles from his coat pocket and laid them out while he placed his glasses on the end of this nose. He read them, re-read them and then folded them up again. He returned them to her and his spectacles to his pocket.

“Brief, isn’t it?” was his comment. She agreed.

“I would recommend you send Cord, if you insist on someone going in your place,” he said after a long while. “His loyalty is tested and confirmed, and I would give him command of a section of Elite operative troops so they can move quickly and with stealth. If General Lord Brack is taken or fallen, we need to know quickly. What we don’t need is another regiment in a trap or ruining the opportunity to understand what’s really happening in the region. I hesitate to entrust another general to ignore the signs and keep to the mission. Honourable and capable they may be, they might just try to help, entrapping themselves in the process, and not following your orders to your precise degree.”

“Do you think Cord can handle the duplicity, should he discover Brack is in fact, embroiled in something more serious?” she asked pointedly. Titus hesitated, but eventually, he nodded.

“If you explain it to him,” he agreed. “He might need some extra insight into your intentions, but he will be able to handle the situation, should Brack be without explanation.”

Nyssa thought about it, and the more she did, the more she agreed with Titus. Already she had had the idea to send one group of Elites, a highly trained, exclusive branch of her military, designated by the Order of Elite, the soldiers that took extra training to be the knights that underwrote their strict oaths and formed her executive officer rank. But her question to Titus today was which commander she should send to oversee them. She trusted his opinion of all her generals more than no other.

“Cord it is then,” she agreed. “Thank you, Titus. Your wisdom in these matters is always invaluable,” she said and smiled at him.

“It is my duty and honour to serve you, my Queen,” he bowed lightly, “but in whole truth, I find it just a sweet pleasure to see you again. I remember the cadet arguing loudly in that front room, and I can’t say I don’t miss it.”

Nyssa smiled. She remembered that too. Many of the fonder memories of her time at the academy greeted her every time she came here now, less the hard and lonely times. It struck her that once she had found the academy a cold and difficult place, but now that she was its queen, of course, it would look completely different. When she had been a student, often she had wondered if one day she could be general of the academy. That was when she was more certain her father would have chosen Patrick over her to lead the country and she would have been given more Elite duties, leading his own general rank as his commander.

She was always still surprised by his choice now. Patrick and Titus had been their king’s second voice to the council, followed by Brack and others. She had had strong support, despite her very young age and experience, and she was ever grateful to these men who continued shouldering her council in their continuing support.

“Me too, General,” she said and reached over to pat his old hand. She rose, kissed his cheek and left him seated at his window. Time was of the essence and the Elites needed time to prepare for departure. Titus bowed to her and tipped his head ever so slightly to Jara by way of assuring him he would be close should she need anything more.

---

It was May now, warm enough for any large campaign to get underwayShe hadn’t met with Cord yet. It had been three days since her meeting with Titus. The strategy of the mission continued to roll in her mind, not feeling completely right. She wanted to bring Hedir into her work now; she wanted to be able to discuss these things with him, but now, wearing training clothes and light armour, everything was different. She stumbled over every thought that crossed her mind.

Nyssa was returning from the academy every day, clearly more agitated. She wrestled with the right time to bring Hedir into her role out there, but would he want to come? Would he allow her to continue now that her worst fear had happened? Would he force her to stay in chambers, with him in council meetings, perhaps insisting her brother take over because there could be a call to arms?

Nyssa entered the palace stables at full speed with Roan pounding the cobblestones in agitated fury, mirroring her own emotions. The groomsmen scattered until she’d stopped and dismounted, only returning to the take the reins when she stood there, impatiently waiting for them to do something.

Jara, ever present at her back, arrived on her heels along with her, but could only shrug and apologize under his breath when he handed over his own reins; Nyssa had already gone up the staircase. He had to run to catch up to her, which had also become a habit of late; he as much as anyone knew something was bothering her but, for the first time, could not find out what it was. Nyssa had been curt with him too, annoyed at times that he was always there—it was clear she was struggling, but for all his coaxing, even he could not bring it from her. He’d gritted his teeth and worked harder to guard her. There wasn’t much else that he could do; helping and being there for her just wasn’t happening for the moment.

It was clear to Patrick as well that she was upset about something, as he watched this arrival from his office window one afternoon, but for all his observations, he could not place what it could be. He’d spoken to Jara, but he’d not had any insight—though he’d practically begged him to get to the bottom of it.

Finally, Patrick had decided to ask Hedir. Never before had he not asked his sister something directly and not gotten a straight answer, but this time, he had Hedir, who was his brother now, and since marrying his sister, Patrick could see the peace Hedir brought to her. He felt this approach might be gentler. He trusted him to know, if not, to see it also.

“You sent for me, Patrick,” Hedir said quietly as he gracefully came up the long carpet in the middle of the Crown Hall. Patrick was sitting at one of his work desks, which was to the side of the dais and the three throne chairs. He had an office, but on days where they heard cases in the hall, he liked to have things close by.

The large stained-glass windows provided exciting colours on the papers around him, and he always felt like he was working in a garden.

He looked up at his brother-in-law and smiled, indicated he should sit in the velvet stuffed chair opposite himself and waited. Hedir nodded and sat without making a single noise. Patrick asked the staff working in the room to give them a moment and they bowed politely and left.

“I hope you will forgive my bold self this morning, Hedir,” Patrick began. He wanted to be sure he didn’t overstep with his request. Really, it was just a concern, but this was the queen, not just his sister, and if it got back to her that he was prying, well, it could end in awkwardness.

Hedir cocked his head to the side slightly, but after only a second smiled warmly.

“Nothing would make me happier to know, Patrick, that you felt comfortable enough by now to trust that very little you could say, I would consider bold,” he said.

Patrick chuckled and took a bigger breath. He rose and went to the sideboard where his assistant had left out the coffee service. He turned and pointed to it and Hedir nodded.

He brought the tray to the table and set it beside Hedir. He poured them each a cup, set one out for Hedir and took his own back to his seat, leaving the service for Hedir to flavour his cup to his tastes.

Hedir quietly prepared his cup and waited for Patrick to continue..

“This is about your sister,” he said with confidence but gently. He sipped his cup, which made him smile even more. He loved Orak’Thune coffee.

Patrick tapped the edge of his cup while he regarded him. Suddenly, he sat forward and leaned a bit across the table to talk quietly. There wasn’t a soul in the room, but he was cautious.

“She’s upset about something. I know she doesn’t want to show it expressly, but Nyssa isn’t good at hiding her emotions at home. I’ve spent my life learning how to read her. I’m sure most people here have noticed something, but I wanted to ask you the same. Have you noticed?” Patrick seemed a little sad.

Hedir could see the concern in his brother-in-law’s eyes was deep and genuine.

He nodded and, after another sip, reluctantly lowered the cup to balance on his crossed knee. He kept his hands around the base, warm and comforting.

“Yes, she is distracted,” Hedir said. “She is experiencing many new things, adjusting to some truths I don’t think she feels prepared for.”

Patrick was listening intently. He stared for longer than expected when Hedir didn’t offer more. Hedir went back to his coffee, but he took Patrick’s expression in.

“You were expecting specifics. Nyssa doesn’t share personal feelings immediately; I am sure you know better than I. From what I can ascertain, she is strategizing her options, for whatever it is that is bothering her, and trying to decide her best course of action. I can agree with you, however. It must be big. She is definitely distracted and unhappy about it,” he added.

Patrick leaned back. He steepled his fingers, the effect gave him a wise air. Hedir found it charming.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Brother Patrick,” he said. “She will come out with it in her time and in her way. I have gauged, though it is still a short time that I have been married to my wife, that waiting is the best course of action in this regard. Forcing her can have disastrous results, that which I have discovered.”

Patrick huffed. “You have learned a valuable lesson there, my friend,” he said, and then he laughed, brightly and openly. Hedir smiled broadly too. “Fine, let my sister have her secrets. I know her well enough to know if it were about the security of our home, she would not hesitate for pride. This, therefore, must be her own issue, so those who love her must acquiesce to let her come to it in her own time,” he said and raised his coffee in conclusion.

Hedir did the same, and the two men sipped their coffee in quiet peace, framed by the streaming sunlight falling on the desk from the high windows.

---

“You will send Cord?” Patrick said with mild surprise.

He turned to follow her as she moved past him. He glanced at Jara, but he was moving ahead of them and not engaging in the conversation.

“I consulted with Titus, and he agreed he could be trusted,” she replied, rummaging through her desk.

“Trusted to follow orders, yes. Trusted to be smart enough to evaluate Brack without you?” Patrick qualified.

He’d come to a stop at the side of her enormous desk where she was preoccupied with looking for something.

“You would have me go in his place?” she said, whirling from the mess she was making of her desk to stare at him. He was surprised by her reaction, but didn’t respond.

“I thought you of all people would protest my leaving right now,” Nyssa continued, but she was still staring at him.

He was still surprised. He wasn’t sure what was missing from this conversation. He looked again at Jara, who now stood near the door but only narrowed his eyes at being noticed.

Patrick wasn’t overly thrilled with Jara of late. He’d become distant and more ‘professional’ than friendly. He never left his sister’s side, not until he signed off from her at her private apartments at night and to the sentry in the hall, but he rarely joined in the conversation anymore, didn’t actively participate from what Patrick noticed.

Nyssa treated Jara respectfully and never openly dismissed or ignored him. Clearly, their working relationship was seamless, but glaringly obvious was that Jara had no more insight into Nyssa’s increasing erratic behaviour, despite the fact he spent every waking hour around her and more, and he seemed more to have closed ranks around them rather than seeking outside support.

They had achieved the ‘guardsman/monarch’ rhythm Brack and his father had had; they coexisted and moved in simultaneous motion, but Patrick was beginning to worry something else was more off with them, or at least her. Brack and Madras had been close friends and had complete confidence between them. He knew Jara held that without question before she married, but if it hadn’t survived the broken hearts of their lost relationship, it could be a bigger concern.

Right now, however, he hadn’t the time to get into it and frankly, he could only complain or question if professionalism was suffering, but it was not. At least Jara was friendly and warm to Hedir, from what Patrick saw.

“Nyssa…” he began, but he stopped. He frowned. “Nyssa, what are you not telling me right now?”

He said it as gently as he could, taking a step forward. She stared at him. For the first time in a long time, he thought he saw a look of surrender in her eyes. There was something there.

In the next instant, it was gone.

“Nothing. I have told you everything and you’re right: absolutely right. It is me that must go,” she shook herself and returned to her desk, but Patrick saw Jara move purposefully from the door. “It is crazy for me to trust something like this to anyone else. I must go,” she repeated to herself.

Patrick was disappointed and frustrated.

“Nyssa, if there is something you are not telling me, that you should be telling me, I will be put out with you if you hide it. If it is politically important, I could be more than put out,” he said, pointing his finger at her. When she made no further reply, he left the room.

Jara moved to stand closer beside her, but his distance was noticeable as was his silence.

“I’m fine,” she said without looking at him. “Brack is our concern. He was your mentor, Jara. I would think you would want to get to the bottom of this as much as I do. Can we not get on with it?!”

She looked up at him in frustration and his expression was cold. She had nothing to offer him. Nothing and she knew it, not friendship, not warmth, not encouragement. She felt herself in her own prison unable to reach for his help because she had no idea what to say. She wanted him, her friend and confidant, more than anyone else right now even, but looking at him shredded her last grip in her confidence. To him of all people, what would she say?

She clamped her mouth shut.

“I’ll order the horses and supplies and muster the Elite. We’ll leave in the morning,” he said flatly and turned on his heels and left quickly. He slammed the door behind him, causing her to shut her eyes and her body jerked with the loud noise.

Now alone, she looked back to where she had been rummaging, but she gave up on it. Her stomach felt some butterflies. The nausea rolled through her system again and she braced to let it pass, but she placed her hands over her womb and a moment of panic gripped her throat. Her eyes fell on her calendar and glaringly clear, as if written in red ink, was the last time she’d bled.

Three months, give or take.

Nyssa threw her head back to hit the headrest of her chair in self admonishment, her eyes clenched shut, and fought back tears.

Her mind drifted to Hayden, sweet and warm in her arms and it was inviting. She did want it but not at the cost of Brack’s life or her own freedom to lead and be the queen she needed to be. She was only nineteen and… winds, she was afraid.

Leaning forward to collapse over her desk, Nyssa wept into the fabric of her sleeves.

“Three weeks,” she whispered to herself, sniffing. “There and back in three weeks, I’ll be fine.”

In three weeks, she could accomplish what she needed in securing Brack home. She would return at the head of a small company, slowly and at ease. In three weeks, she could tell Hedir in private while she would sit to hear his expectations of her behaviour. She could take losing her command and active roles, digest it more easily.

To tell Jara, she considered, was just too risky that he would tell Hedir, disagreeing with her gamble. Loyal, she trusted him always, but in this, she just didn’t know what he would do. He would have to wait too.

Her goodbye with Hedir had been brief and she knew he doubted her reasons, but she very nearly didn’t make it. She had withdrawn from him in the last few days, thinking about Brack and how to get the answers she needed, but when he touched her, her body screamed loudly yes, but her heart knew she was lying to him and shut her out. She felt scared and unsettled when she was with him. He had become a reminder of the only thing that right now brought her fear, but he too had changed and Nyssa didn’t understand it. She’d watched him move to her whenever she was around, his hands touched her, reached for her, his mouth was on her neck, in her hair and he seemed lost to her, intensely aware of her, unable to break from her. She wanted him just as much, but she was afraid of this new intensity too.

Now she prepared to ride out with twelve very seriously dressed Elite knights at her back. No pennants or identifying armour this trip. Her own uniform was black leather and soft pliable suede and the only markings to indicate her rank was a burgundy band around her bicep. She kissed Hedir, who handed her the reigns and his own silver and steel dagger.

“I am with you, but Nyssa, you should know, I am not comfortable with what you are not telling me. You must speak to me when you return,” he’d said to her.

She’d agreed and seen the intense unhappiness of their separation, but it was duty. She’d explained it firmly and that she would not be long away. To Patrick, she nodded and he’d only sighed in surrender and nodded back. She gave the signal to Jara to ride out.

“Three weeks,” she whispered to herself. “They’ll all know in three weeks.”