"You, Drottine? What stake have you in this fight?"

Lyssia shrugged, trying to keep hold of her appearance of ease. "I feel as though I have already entered the arena. I cannot step away until an agreement is reached."

Liefer spoke agreement first, Ardbon soon after, and then Lyssia found herself presiding over her first petition for justice.

Roakev and Azerian both protested when she explained her plans to potentially step into the arena herself.

"With staves," she clarified, leveling a glare at Roakev. "Remember, I beat you last time. I'm not entirely helpless."

"And I doubt anyone would openly strike you, arena or not," Azerian added before ducking back behind his mother and avoiding Roakev's jab.

Carryn, for her part, remained calm as she kissed Lyssia's masked cheek and took Ardbon's sword from her, freeing her hands. The cousins tried to follow her lead, but Lyssia saw the anxious gazes they passed amongst themselves when they thought she couldn't see. None would speak out against her decision. The crowd's mood seemed to have returned to a celebratory high as those gathered in the front waited to see what happened next and shout the news to those standing too far back to hear.

"Where is the mare?" Lyssia asked Ardbon, but it was Liefer who answered.

"Ardbon would not take her back. She is with my son, Nurik."

"Have him bring her here."

Liefer hurried to follow her request.

"Roakev…" Lyssia took his arm and drew him a little ways off to the side. Her cajoling tone seemed to put him on edge, but he did not pull away. She patted his arm in a soothing manner as she asked, "You have learned a lot about horses from your father?"

He nodded warily. "Yes…"

"I will need your help examining the mare. If there is anything wrong with her, I need to know. And I need you to be absolutely sure of her condition."

Roakev grew thoughtful as he turned to appraise the horse that Leifer guided through the path that had opened up in the crowd. A boy no more than three years younger than Lyssia followed behind Liefer with a hand on the mare's side. The cousin whom Roakev spent all his time talking with earlier stepped forward and offered Lyssia a half bow.

"I would like to offer my assistance, Drottine. I know something of horses."

"Ofrid." Roakev clasped his arm and gave it a grateful squeeze.

"Ofrid," Lyssia whispered his name, and when he glanced back at her, she said, "Thank you."

The mare was standing before them now. Lyssia greeted Liefer's son by name, and his ears turned an embarrassing shade of red.

"Will you allow the mare to be examined by someone without stake in this discussion?" she asked Ardbon and Liefer.

Both men were quick to agree. Their bearings had changed since they had placed the outcome of their disagreement in her hands.

Their postures were more relaxed. Their arms hung at their sides instead of raised to strike, and they met each other's gazes head-on with eyes that held more curiosity than anger.

"My cousins," Lyssia said as Roakev and Ofrid stepped forward to take the mare's lead rope. "They are far more knowledgeable than I when it comes to horses. I trust their judgement."

"Aye, Drottine. I'm sure they know what they're about." Liefer did seem pleased as he watched Lyssia's cousins run their hands along the mare's neck and back and down each of her legs before crouching side by side and lifting her hooves one by one.

The waiting seemed unbearable to Lyssia, caught between the two groups. Ofrid gave nothing away as he returned to his place standing behind her. Roakev brought the mare closer to Lyssia and coaxed her to raise one hoof.

"Ofrid and I have conferred with one another, and we believe that---"

"Wait." Lyssia held up a hand to silence him. "Remove your mask."

"Lyssia?"

"Please, Roakev. Just do it."

Glancing once to either side, Roakev released the mare's leg and reached to untie the tight knot that kept his mask in place. Lyssia took the mare's lead and turned her partway so that the two Karls could see the leg Roakev had indicated.

"I have asked my cousin to remove his mask before delivering his judgement of the mare's condition. This way you may see his face and know that he speaks the truth. Now I would ask…"

Her gaze darted between the two men and the boy who stood behind his father, trying to gauge their reaction to her words.

"...that you remove your masks as well and show me your faces so that I may see you have nothing to hide. If you trust me, you will do this."

Lyssia did not know all the reasons behind Ardbon and Liefer's decisions to wear masks to Mart. She refused to trust those who proclaimed their only reason for going about in a mask was to follow an edict of mourning that had been proclaimed over two decades before. Here, among those who did not frequent the Kongr's stead, she believed that excuse even less. No, some instinct to hide from each other must be at play.

She was setting them up for a test that should be easy enough to pass. How unexpected it must be to hear such a request spoken by the daughter of Dizean, but if they had nothing to hide, then how could they refuse her.

The two Karls came to that realization at the exact same moment, and they removed their masks together, like an image in a double-sided mirror. Liefer pulled his son forward to stand beside him and whispered something in his ear. He removed his mask as well, baring his red cheeks to Lyssia's view.

Lyssia smiled in earnest as she examined their faces. Liefer and his son looked so much alike with their sun-tanned features and wide set eyes. Ardbon's face was sun-darkened as well but it appeared more weathered. Lyssia was taken aback by the scar that marred his right cheek. Her eyes lingered on it long enough for Ardbon to grow nervous, and she was not sure her softened smile was enough to put him at ease.

She nodded to Roakev to continue, glancing down to see that he had stuffed his mask into his belt and was holding his long hair back with one hand, making sure it did not disguise his features. He lifted the mare's hoof with his free hand and carefully bent it out for the observers to see.

Lyssia turned quickly back to Liefer and Ardbon, intent on catching any signs of shock or deceit on their faces.

"This is a fine animal, but both of her front shoes are damaged. See here.” He drew a line along the bottom of the mare’s iron horseshoe. "They must be bothering her. Though it's hard to see if you don't know what to look for, and she might not complain if she's as easy tempered as the owner claims. If the shoes are not replaced soon, she could develop a limp."

He stood and reclaimed the mare's lead, walking her in a short circle around Lyssia. She could not tell if the mare's gate was affected by her damaged shoes. But what irked her more was the fact that she could not tell which man was the liar. Liefer's smile was confident yet calm. She could detect no cockiness in his gaze, and she did not think his son's nerves had anything to do with the horse. Ardbon's proud smile at having his mare praised was quickly overcome by an expression of bewilderment.

Neither man was a liar. She would bet every last coin in her purse on that fact. How rude of them to waste everyone's time on a simple misunderstanding, she thought, and then fought hard not to laugh. Only a misunderstanding. She should count it an Urd-Yute blessing.

"The problem is easy to miss? And she is healthy otherwise?"

"She appears to be," Roakev said.

Lyssia did laugh then, a polite chuckle instead of a loud guffaw. "Well, then there is no problem. This is just a simple misunderstanding that deserves a simple solution."

"What solution would that be...Drottine?" Liefer dropped to his knees, hands resting lightly on his thighs, face upturned to hers. The posture of a humble petitioner.

Ardbon stared down at him for a moment before it struck him to kneel as well. He kept his palms up and open, as though waiting for something to be dropped into them.

An idea was forming in Lyssia's mind. She paused, allowing her thoughts to take shape and flow into words. "Karl Liefer, you will not have need of the mare until Yute is passed. Is that correct?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Karl Ardbon, is the iron you were meant to be paid of the quality necessary for horseshoes?"

"Yes, my lady, but---"

"And would there be enough for two shoes?"

Ardbon ground his teeth in frustration. "I believe so."

"Good. Then you have until the end of Yute and the beginning of the planting season to fix the mare's damaged shoes. Liefer will give you the iron and what wheat and corn you will need to feed your family during that time. He will do this because he is a good and honest man, and because you are an honorable man, you will return the mare to him and collect the remainder of your payment - which will be sufficient - before the sun sets on the last day of Yute. Does this seem fair?"

Lyssia waited for both men to signal their assent, although their faces told her that they would not argue. But there was still one more condition to add to the table.

"It would appear that no one is required to fight in the arena today, but I know of another way you can make yourself of use."

Lyssia glanced over at Azerian and Roakev, giving them a silent warning not to challenge what she was about to offer.

"In seven days, my father is sending out boats to fish the waters off the eastern coast. It is to be a part of our Eda-Yute celebrations. I am accompanying him, and we could use three more men, provided they are honest and trustworthy and they can work amicably together. You will, of course, be compensated for your time."

"Drottine, we are honored,” Liefer said, standing and immediately dropping into a bow.

Ardbon followed suit, adding a second bow as he uttered agreement. “You are kind, my lady.”

Neither asked about the compensation she mentioned. They knew that whatever they were given would be more than enough to account for their time spent away from family, and being invited to fish on the kongr’s boat was an honor.

It would also provide a chance for Lyssia to see if her decision was being followed.

A wave of exhaustion overtook her. She barely noticed Liefer and Ardbon's numerous bows as they left the circle of onlookers. She felt her aunt's presence only as a warm arm around her shoulders, a hand in hers. She did not know where her bags were or if she was still surrounded by a crowd of cousins or strangers. She heard someone talking as if from a great distance. They said her name, but she didn't care.

She thought for a moment that she was going to collapse, which would have been alright. Her job was over, and it would save her from having to endure more of the crowd's stares. But she would take Carryn with her. She tried to extricate herself from Carryn's hold, but the arm held her fast.

A sharp smell hit her nose, something akin to the scent of her ointment but not quite the same. Inhaling the scent made her feel less dizzy. She opened her eyes and found Seaka standing before her. She held a flask up toward Lyssia; that's where the smell was coming from.

"A drink to celebrate our wise Drottine for whom we gave thanks this Eda-Yute day. She is a peace seeker and a peacekeeper in the vein of her mother, kind Drottingr Erina. I drink to her memory as well as to the daughter of Erina."

Seaka drank from the flash and then offered it to Lyssia again. Her fingers closed woodenly around the container of liquid, and she paused as she heard "to Erina, and the daughter of Erina," travel like a whispered refrain, first through her entourage and then around the strangers gathered to watch them.

"Drink, Lyssia," Seaka said in much the same tone she had used when trying to get Lyssia to drink her medicine when she was young and not feeling well. It was an automatic reaction to take a deep breath, hold it, and swallow two big mouthfuls of liquid.

It didn't taste like she thought her ointment might. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the flask held treebark tea mixed with honey, the familiar taste only marred by a hint of something spicy.

The tea was strong. It eased her dizziness and strengthened her shaking legs. She focused on the section of crowd in front of her and lifted the flask as if offering a toast before bringing it to her lips again.

She turned to hand the flask back to Seaka with a grateful smile. The Lach patted her hand and whispered, "Smile, little dove."

Lyssia did not have time to ask her what she meant, because following on Seaka's heels was a woman that Lyssia did not recognize. She wore a red scarf tugged up high over her chin but no mask.

“Drottine,” the woman whispered and bowed her head. She held out her hand, and Lyssia reached out as if to clasp it in greeting. But instead of squeezing Lyssia’s fingers, the woman pressed her palm open and dropped a smooth bead bracelet into it

“Vas heill, Drottine,” she said, and before Lyssia could respond, she was gone and another woman had taken her place.

Lyssia’s eyes grew wide as they roved up and down the line of people that stood waiting to wish her good health and good day and place little trinkets and containers of food in her hands. Not one person wore a mask, although several people were gripping cloth and leather masks in their sweaty palms.

The day had warmed considerably without Lyssia noticing. She decided quickly that she would have preferred passing out, but Seaka's treebark tea kept her on her feet.

“Vas heill. Vas Eda-Yute,” she said over and over, smiling with practiced precision and clasping one sweaty hand after another.

No one had to tell her that this was not the time to refuse gifts. She sensed the importance of this moment, though she had never experienced anything like it before. She did not give in to her desire to see what expression Roakev wore. After her talk with him outside their families' tent earlier, she wondered what he would say about all this.

Lyssia did sneak glances out of the corner of her other eye. She watched her aunt's proud smile widen with every hand she clasped, and she saw more and more of the older cousins quietly bid their leave of her. Lucky them. They must have sensed their usefulness had come to an end.

Still, they had stood beside her while she faced down a man with a sword. She wished that she could have had more time with them today. Or that she would have spent less time planning her escape and more time getting to know these strangers who called her cousin.

Why should hoping for such a chance make her feel guilty? Why should she be denied any connection with them? She had never dared ask her father these questions before. It was an unspoken rule - the separation of his wife’s family from his own - and only Carryn had survived the split. It was easy enough not to think about them when they were nameless and faceless, but Reeza...Ofrid...

Lyssia had been brave enough to argue for her chance to visit the Mart today. She had been brave enough to bid for her freedom to walk among her people unchaperoned. And yes, she had been brave enough to end a potential sword fight between two grown men with nothing but her voice. It suddenly didn’t seem too far a reach for her to broach the topic of visiting cousins with her father.

She saw Ofrid break away from the group and called out to him. "I beg your patience, Karlswoman," she said, leaving her place in front of her line of well-wishers, and walked over to where Ofrid waited with a look of bemusement on his face.

"My lady, how can I serve you?" Ofrid asked, lowering himself into an overdone bow.

Lyssia stifled a flash of hurt, wondering if he meant to insult her. "Cousin, since I have already handed out three fishing invitations, I thought I might continue. I would be pleased to have you and as many of our kin who can be spared visit my father's stead and fish with us. I'm sure my father would be pleased to have you, and Carryn as well. We have plenty of room to accommodate you all."

Ofrid wrung his neck, such a look of nervousness on his face that she feared she had caused him pain. Perhaps that last comment had been too much.

"Ofrid…?"

"Are you sure your father...I mean, the Kongr, that he would…" He took a deep breath. "It is my understanding that we were not welcome at the Kongr's stead."

He echoed her earlier thoughts perfectly, but she shook her head. "It's time...It's time for us to be together. We’re cousins. Family." She reached out hesitantly and squeezed his fingers when he slid his palm atop hers.

"If you are sure we would be welcome...I will speak with my father and try to convince him to accept your invitation. Thank you...Cousin."

Lyssia released him, and he beat a hasty retreat away from her receiving line, which had curved closer to where they stood. Her own hope mirrored in his eyes was what energized her as she returned to receiving gifts and offering blessings.

When it was over, she looked over the small pile of gifts that lay at her and Carryn's feet.

"What am I supposed to do with all of this?"

Seaka, who had stayed beside Carryn throughout the whole exchange, bent to pick up a wrapped parcel of cheese. "I know of a family in need - two families, now that I think of it - who could use these gifts."

"Wonderful. You may take it all. I would be grateful if you would not tell them where they came from when you take the gifts to them."

"Me, take the gifts? I have no means to carry all this."

"Did they come to Mart today?" Carryn asked.

"How should I know? Oh, never mind! I was only trying to be helpful…"

Carryn smiled indulgently at the old woman as she lapsed into muttering to herself. She turned to Lyssia and gasped, reaching quickly for her arm.

"Lyssia, are you alright?"

Suddenly, four pairs of hands were reaching out to steady her and four pairs of concerned eyes were glued to her pale face.

Lyssia could not tear her gaze from the black-masked figure who was slinking through the crowd, shoulders hunched as if he was trying unsuccessfully to blend into the crowd.

"Yes. I'm fine," she answered, surprising herself with her own flat tone of voice. It seemed she had reached her limit for emotions. She tugged on the end of a braid that had escaped from the rest. "I was just thinking what my father will say about---”

“About you jumping in front of that Karlsman's sword? He'll be too pig-headed to recognize how brave and Drottine-y you were. But then again, he never agrees with me, and I thought that was the greatest thing I've ever seen. If I told him that he'd just call you foolish and me an---"

"Azerian! That is inappropriate!" Carryn rapped her son on his side. "You shouldn't be saying such things. Although, I too, would defend your actions, my dear."

Lyssia nodded absently at their assurances, but she wasn't paying attention to her or Azerian. Her gaze was caught on Roakev. He wasn't smiling at her or shaking his head at Azerian. He looked almost as exhausted as she felt; his eyes were full of a sad understanding.

Here was where she stood on equal footing with her older cousin. Neither could live up to the roles their fathers expected them to uphold, but neither could stop trying.

Lyssia leaned into Roakev's chest, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and bent to place a kiss on top of her head.

"I won't be the one to tell him what happened. I doubt he'll hear the news from anyone here. It's over. It's done. You're not hurt. I'll get you home. Get you some rest. It'll be like nothing happened."

Lyssia pulled away, prepared to tell him that Bjarke would carry the news to her father, and she didn't want to pretend, and besides, how could she when she had invited who knows who many people now to visit the stead and fish on her father's boat. She took a deep breath to tell Roakev all that, but then she caught sight of something over his shoulder that erased all other thoughts from her mind.

Roakev felt her stiffen and turned, pushing her behind him. Lyssia's eyes skipped over the three masked men approaching them. They had no armor or visible weapons. They made no threatening moves, but they had an aura of baleful intent about them. They were making a beeline straight for their group. Straight for her.

Azerian stepped around the pile of gifts and moved up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Roakev. He bent to pick up one of Karl Ardbon's swords that had been discarded on the ground.

"Wait! Don't!" Lyssia flung herself forward and grabbed hold of Azerian's arm.

"Lyssia, let go!"

"No, Azerian! We don't know if they mean harm."

He uttered a wordless hiss and attempted to swing her back around behind Roakev. She let him move her but kept hold of his arm.

"Don't you dare pull a sword on someone who has not threatened us."

"We won't, but we will protect you." In one fluid motion, Roakev pushed Lyssia back to stand beside Carryn and Seaka and pressed one of the swords into her hand. "And you will protect us."

His words sent an icy thrill down Lyssia's spine, but she shot an extra glare at Azerian before turning to face the newcomers. People shifted out of their path and threw them wary glances, aware as she was from this distance of the predatory nature to the way they stalked forward, eyes glued to her group. But no one stepped forward to stop them.

The wrapped leather that covered the sword’s hilt pressed hard lines into her palm. No matter how silly she felt pointing a weapon at someone who for all she could see was unarmed, she was grateful to have its weight to ground her.

The men stopped twenty paces away, just on the other side of the walled-in arena. The one who stood in the lead held out his hand, motioning for his companions to stay where they were as he continued forward.

Lyssia's view was blocked momentarily as Roakev shifted his stance from watchful to cautioning. The hand holding the dagger he had slid from his belt jumped a few inches and then returned to rest against his leg. She could see, though, that the man's eyes never left her. He paid no mind to the defensive posturing of her cousins but strode straight up to them.

"Drottine Lyssia."

Lyssia was thrown off guard by his relieved sigh. "Yes," she said, responding to his statement as if it were a question and watching with growing curiosity as the man knelt on one knee.

"I beg your protection for myself and my men."

Lyssia licked her lips and ran her hand down her skirt, searching her mind for an appropriate response. When she opened her mouth, the only thing she could think to say was, "Who are you?"

He tugged his mask to the side. The ties fell away easily as if he had not taken the time to secure them properly.

Lyssia drew in a sharp breath. "Magnor?"