Lyssia’s eyes skimmed the page, trying to find meaning in the phrases. It wasn’t a note, it was a poem. No, not a poem. A lullaby.

It was beautiful in a sad way. Her opinion of the song was tainted by the knowledge that Magnor’s mother was the only woman she knew who had sung it, and she no longer could. But if she didn’t think about that, she could imagine the gentle cadence of a mother’s voice.

She rolled onto her back as she read through the song a third time. It pleased her that Magnor had thought of her enough to send it, and she wondered again how her version of the Lay of Rilken had made him think of it.She sat up and started to gather the papers on her bed to make room for her tray, pausing when she saw the line of ink smudged across her thumb. She snatched Magnor’s poem off the bed and flipped it over, staring at the smudged line of writing hidden in the bottom corner

I would have sung it to you if I could, lady songbird, but my voice is not made for singing. This is the best I can manage.

The page slipped out of Lyssia’s hand as her fingers curled into fists.

Lady songbird...My songbird…

Lyssia had heard that nickname whispered in love before. It was not meant for her. But Magnor could not have known.

She bent to retrieve the page and marched it across to her desk where she could stare at it while she ate her meal, or as much of it as she could stomach. But the poem followed her even when she left it behind to pour herself a cup of calming tea and return to her studies. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on Bjarke's slanted handwriting, it was Magnor's words that swam before her eyes.

They were still present when it was time for her to leave her room again. Her gaze had already swept the crowd pouring into the dining hall twice before she realized who she was looking for. Her eyes darted over to the nearest group and latched onto a familiar face.

"Lady Sidne, I wish to thank you for the hearty snack you left for me this afternoon. It was quite delicious and...fortifying."

Sidne pressed a hand to her lips as if to stifle a laugh and jumped as her fingers touched the surface of her mask. Lyssia took note of the reaction, but Sidne recovered quickly.

"You are most welcome, Drottine Lyssia. I am afraid my eyes have outgrown my stomach. What once seemed like a snack is now but a mouthful, and a portion of supper a mere snack."

"Don't tell me you ate a whole chicken as well?"

Sidne shook her head, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Two chickens," she said, holding up two fingers. "They were quite small. I'm ready for three more."

"Oh, well as long as that makes you happy...You better hurry to take your place inside."

Sidne had been standing beside a group of three men. One of them broke off to place a hand on her arm and slid his other arm behind her back. Such a small gesture, but Lyssia sensed the strength of his protective spirit, and she knew at once that he would make an excellent ally.

"Jarl Gavin, we meet at last."

"Drottine." Gavin disentangled himself from his wife to offer her respect, but they did not stay apart for long. Sidne leaned into her husband, a weary look crossing her visible features.

Lyssia nodded to her in understanding. "I won't keep you long. I only wished to meet the young Jarl I have heard so much about."

"You have heard of me?"

"Yes. From Jarl Halvor."

"Halvor? What did he say?" he asked in a cool voice.

"Well...he said you were young, married, marked by a raven. All true.” She gestured toward the pin he wore on his cloak. “He also said you were strong but not a threat. Not smart enough to speak up for yourself. Only useful if you could be taught to speak when told to."

Lyssia paused, her eyes shifting to the two men with crossed arms and stiff backs who now flanked Gavin. Their stances faltered at her gaze and they dropped their arms in unison to offer respect. Lyssia chose to ignore them as she addressed Gavin again.

“You do not seem flattered by his assessment of you. To be clear, I don't mean to insult you by repeating it. I only mean to warn you that there are unkind eyes watching you, and your wife.”

"Thank you, Drottine. I will take note of your warning. You have been very direct with me, so perhaps you will allow me to ask you a question.”

He turned and gestured for his friends to leave them. They retreated to stand beside the door to the dining hall, but as soon as Gavin turned his back, they set their curious stares on Lyssia.

“What do you know of the struggles between the members of the Jarlsclan?”

“I know that many of the western Jarls have chosen Halvor as their spokesman, but all he has talked about when you gather here for Jarlmeets is how no one listens to him. He promises solutions and delivers only complaints and idle threats. He speaks only of and for himself.”

“Yes, he does like to whine. My friends and I share my father’s opinion on that matter.” Gavin took a breath as if to say more, but then he pinched his lips together and nodded for her to keep speaking.

Lyssia narrowed her eyes, determined to hold his intense gaze. “I also know that the traditional border between the western and the eastern steads is the Scyftan River, but it is not an equal divide. There is more land present on the eastern side. There are more Jarl-owned steads there, and the Jarls from these closer steads are more likely to frequent my father’s table. I wish Halvor and his allies would take that into consideration and understand that my father does not try to ignore them.”

She had to look down and blink or risk her eyes watering, but she made sure to look back up before she continued.

“I know the Kongr cares to hear your voice, as do I. I did not speak falsely when I told your wife that. I shall be preoccupied with these peace talks with Dunival for the next fortnight, or however long our foreign allies are with us. But I extend an offer to you, and to your wife, and your allies”---she nodded to Gavin’s friends---”to stay after they are complete. Stay and speak with me and my father of the west and our family on the other side of Scyftan River. I don't think it's true that you have nothing of import to say, and I would learn from you.”

“My lady...you speak so generously of one you do not know. I think I would be remiss not to accept your invitation for me and my wife. I cannot speak for my friends, but you have my respect. I will entreat them to listen to you..”

“As will I,” Sidne added, punctuating her statement with a flip of her hair.

Gavin gave her a fond look and kissed the top of her head. “Then it will be done. My wife has a way of making things happen."

“I just like being useful,” Sidne murmured, ducking her head.

“I think that's wonderful. I---Father!"

The Kongr did not utter even a one-word reply. He nodded once to acknowledge Lyssia and her companions and walked on.

He had been that way since Magnor's arrival. Except for his customary, "Be watchful. Keep your eyes and ears open, your mouth shut during meetings, and remember your place" speech, he had not spoken to her once.

Granted, she had never thought of her father as chatty. At least, not around her. But she deserved more recognition than a passing glance.

Lyssia waved Sidne and her husband forward before she had time to dwell on the cold greeting. “Now that my father has arrived, supper will begin soon. Please, don't let me stand in your way.”

“My lady.”

“Drottine.”

Lyssia’s eyes followed them as they joined those still finding their places in the dining hall. Her father’s table was only half full. Eindre and Carryn were present, Nimeah sitting between them. They were all smiling as they chatted, an arm's length between them. Her father, sitting at the center of the table, was already preoccupied with his cup, but he nodded along to their conversation.

Even Bjarke looked relaxed slumped over a book at his place at the end of the table. Lyssia was fascinated by this view of her family, but her eyes kept slipping over the head table and back down to the table closest to the door where Sidne and Gavin sat close to each other. It reminded her of the ease she had felt walking into her cousins’ tent and eating amongst her young cousins, bumping shoulders and laughing.

Lyssia paused poised with the hem of her skirt raised above the doorstep and her right foot lifted to take that final step into the hall.

Where are Az and Ro?

She pulled back from the door and turned to peer down the path. It wasn’t like either boy to be late for a meal, or to leave her without an escort. Not that she needed an escort, but she did not often find herself without one.

"Waiting for someone?"

Lyssia turned slowly to face the group advancing down the path.

"Kongr Magnor." Lyssia dropped into a deep, formal curtsy, ignoring the startled goosebumps that popped up along her arms.

"Drottine Lyssia. Surely they can't start supper without you?"

Lyssia waved the question aside as she glanced over his bowed back, her eyes searching for two familiar figures. "Did you happen to bring my cousins with you?"

"No, no Ilvanian champions here. Only a horde of hungry foreigners."

Lyssia clasped her hands before her. The sound of her palms slapping together echoed in the sudden quiet. "Hungry guests, you mean. You have been welcomed. Feast. Enjoy."

Magnor's men needed no further encouragement. The group split around her, eighteen men offering various degrees of respect as they carefully passed her without jostling. Only Magnor and his second remained, staring down at her over Magnor's shoulder.

Magnor gave him a hard look. A silent conversation took place between them, and then he turned around and headed back down the path that led to the Dunival's sleeping quarters. It was unexpected, but Lyssia was too distracted to ask why he was not joining his friends.

Lyssia glanced around uncertainly. "Do what?"

"Say the wrong thing. Make you get that flight or fight look in your eyes." He leaned toward her, his gaze making her legs and her jaw lock. "I did. I apologize."

"Kongr Magnor, you should have already learned that Kongren do not apologize."

"In truth?"

"In truth…" Lyssia shifted a step back, her eyes searching the path again even as she answered Magnor. "...yes. Kongren compromise, they obtain new information, or they change their minds. But they do not apolog---"

"Did you get my note?"

"Y-yes. Thank you."

"You did? Good. It was my mother's song."

"Yes, you told me. Thank you, my lord."

"My lord...Kongr...Drottine…" His mouth puckered as though he tasted something sour, but then he took a deep breath and smiled at her again. "Can we not drop formal speech, Lyssia? At least for tonight. The formal talks do not start until the morning, and I am already weary of hearing my own title."

"I apologize, Kon...Magnor."

His answering smile was immediate. "So you can apologize to me, but I am forbidden to apologize to you?"

Lyssia tried to force a laugh to match his, but she found it came naturally. The weight in her chest lifted. She grasped onto the temporary relief. "I'm afraid so."

"Actually...I was hoping you might allow me to sit beside you tonight. I noticed that you, like me, often spend supper in silence. It would be nice to enjoy conversation for a change."

"And what would we talk about?"

"I hadn't prepared a topic. I'm sure there's an old conversation we could continue."

"No...there's not. We've never really...talked."

Magnor made a pained noise and clutched a hand to his heart. "Drottine, you have dealt me a harsh wound. I know we have not always gotten along, but I thought we had…earlier we...” He shook his head, letting his thought rest unfinished. “I wish to do better. Dunival depends on my skills at diplomacy now, and it was my father’s last wish that I make friends of his allies. Can’t we try to be more than merely tolerant of each other?"

He tucked his hand into his pocket and presented his arm to her.

"Of course...Magnor." Lyssia placed her hand in the crook of his arm, falling in step with him as he started toward the dining hall.

"Ask me a question. Anything you wish to know about me or Dunival."

"Anything? And you will answer truthfully?"

The timing of Lyssia's question was odd as it coincided with a crowd of masked faces turning to watch them take the first step into the hall together. Lyssia smiled automatically, shooting an apologetic glance up at Magnor.

He also had an overly polite smile plastered in place. "Anything. I will never lie to you."

"How would you be celebrating Yute in Dunival if you were not here and your family...?"

Magnor's arm jumped, pulling her in closer and then releasing her. Luckily, they had already made it to the table and Lyssia was able to put a hand out to steady herself. She continued down the table to the chair she usually occupied beside her father, but she hesitated with her hand hovering over its back.

It was Magnor’s right as a visiting dignitary to take the seat beside her father. She stepped back as he reached for the chair, but he only slid it out a foot and gestured for her to sit.

“Did you know Yute was my mother’s favorite time of the year,” he said, lowering himself into the empty chair beside her. “Especially Urd-Yute and the cold months. I never understood that when I was younger, but I get it now. Giving thanks for what we don’t have anymore can be just as important as giving thanks for what we do have.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Lyssia said in between sips of water.

“We have this Urd-Yute tradition in Dunival involving a cliff and buckets of dirt and…”