Mannily lifted the crate off the wagon, thankful its weight stopped his hands from shaking. He and his father had ridden behind the army with a cargo of dried meat. When the road crested a hill, he saw the King's army and all their tents laid out in Goddess' Grove. It was a brief view, yet the number far exceeded anything he had imagined. Terrifying.

"Worry not," his father said as he returned to the wagon for another armful. "We will leave the battle to the soldiers. We need but feed them." The pat on Mannily's shoulder was meant to settle him, yet all it did was startle.

"I said I would be there when it starts," Mannily argued. "Was I not given a sword?"

"Aye." His father chuckled. "You are meant to guard supplies, not rush forward to lose your head. It is not our fault we are built for other things. I blame your grandfather - it is his frail bones that hold us up." He grunted as he lifted another crate. "But he did give us a mind to help where we can. In wagoning, we outmatch all."

Mannily placed the crate next to the others. His father was planning to leave for Knacker Ridge and return with barrels of winter wheat. A three or four-day trip, of which Mannily wanted no part. "I mean to be on the line with the rest of them," he told his father. The idea of it almost made him ill. His hands started trembling again, so he moved quickly to the wagon to task them with more weight. Fear showed on him more than others, and he hated himself for it.

His father stopped unloading and stalled Mannily as well. "Did you not see some of what you will face? This wagon is our sword. If the Answer succeeds, we will be as much heroes as those who enter the battle. Unlike them, if the Answer fails, we will breathe and continue."

"And what of Kinday?" Mannily asked. He watched his father's face contort at the mention of his sister's name. It was a cruel thing to throw her name out. Mannily was tired of the cowardice that inundated his mind. At least he could sound brave.

"And you think the loss of you would return her," his father growled. "I feed the Answer's army in her name. Your death will do nothing to better her memory; it will only slow the wagon." There was logic fueled anger in his manner, something Mannily had rarely seen in his father.

"I remember her, father," Mannily said. Kinday was rarely spoken of, and only in whispers as if she had never walked the land - an older sister whose laugh a young brother still remembered fondly. Happiness fled the family at her choosing, and now Mannily knew of the Promise. False dreams of Kinday living as a princess were no longer possible.

Mannily's father sighed and sat on the wagon's back, patting a spot next to him. Mannily let his guard drop and took the offered seat.

"If I thought swords in our hands would do more good," his father said, "I would stand next to you in the line of battle. My memories of Kinday are deeper than yours, and the loss as painful."

"You do not speak of her," Mannily said. It was the first time in winters he had even heard his father speak her name.

"Aye," his father agreed, nodding his head with eyes finding the ground. "It was not possible to end a Choosing, yet it is I who should have tried. I choose to believe the Brother's words of how they would care for her. I knew nothing of the Promise, but still, I could smell the deceit." He looked up at Mannily. "It was like a boulder rolling down a hill, and I chose to step aside to allow it to shatter our home. I could not stop it, though, to this day, I wish I had lept in front of it."

"Do you know what I remember?" Mannily asked. "I remember Kinday and me hunting rabbits. She wanted one to hug, she told me. A trick that made her laugh as I chased the ones we came upon. It did not take long for me to realize I could not catch them. Yet, I pursued them to make her laugh and keep her at my side. I can still hear her when I close my eyes."

"You were young," his father countered. "Memories of youth are always softer and full of hope."

"I am older now," Mannily said. "And my hope is stronger still." Perhaps a little more potent than the fear.

"I do not want to lose you," his father admitted.

"I do not want to live and do nothing," Mannily said. "Mayhap I am chasing rabbits again, but I will be on that line. I know enough to be a nuisance to the enemy and give my betters the room to act." He swallowed hard, knowing it would take all he had to run forward in such a battle. Death was not an easy thing to run toward.

His father nodded slowly, with surrender evident. "Then you must go. I will not have you on this wagon when there is sword training to be had." He added a weak smile and embraced Mannily. "My pride will be with you, so do your best to bring it back to me."

Kelton sat in a chair next to Queen Margarey, still bound and sitting upright upon the ground. He sipped a fine tea - not South Alyandar but fresh leaves nonetheless. Luran had sourced it from somewhere, an attempt to gain more favor with her son. Kelton could find no way to tell her that it was unnecessary, that her nearness was all that was needed. He wondered if his half-brothers felt the same toward their treacherous mother.

"They will give you eternity," the Queen whispered when they were mostly alone. She had been docile as of late, so the guards were content to be outside the tent.

"Aye," Kelton said and sipped his tea. "They promise much to many. I have done sums in my head and know their growth alone will defeat them." The Queen seemed surprised by the statement.

"Death is death," the Queen continued. "I know Magna'est. I can bring you to him and forever will be yours."

"I hardly know what I will do on the morrow," Kelton said. "Forever seems a tiresome place where this day and the next become the same. Nay, I only desire to grow old with the one who curls my toes." He chuckled, for he enjoyed toying with the Queen. Her mind was warped, and she could not understand that without death, life held little meaning.

"Your woman is cursed," the Queen said, her whisper turning cruel.

"And you are not?" Kelton said, sipping the tea casually as he looked down at the Queen. "You birthed my brothers but sold them for a profit that will never be. How does that not scar your mind?" He was curious about the true answer to that question.

"How is yours not scarred," the Queen countered. "At the cost of a few, there has been peace in this land for winters beyond memory. You have brought war, and it will cost far more. If you were to succeed, would you not open this land to conquest. Who is the true horror?"

"You choose Lord Brandishe's argument," Kelton said, nodding. "It is a valid one I have long thought on. I ask: If this peace is so valuable to the land, why do the Brethren hide behind lies to keep it? Nay, peace is only a tool they use to care for their herd. They are but wolves keeping sheep. Tell the sheep the truth, and they grow fangs as you have seen. Peace is valuable, but so is choice. Many, including I, find the Choosings and cursings too steep a cost and choose not to pay. You do not believe the same; thus, I am brotherless."

"I have been Promised," the Queen said as if it explained it all. It did not have the vigor it should have. Perhaps she was beginning to see her misplaced trust. Kelton wondered if it will surprise her when the Brethren renege. He pondered if it was natural for a corrupted soul to trust other corrupted blindly.

"You have made dreadful miscalculations," Kelton said. "What is forever for a mother who claims her own sons' lives - it is but a short thing of misery." He stood with his mug, deciding he had chosen the wrong seat. Toying with her had lost its luster. "Know that there is a steep cost to granting you the Promise and no profit in it. None of the honor you rely upon is left among the Brethren, for your precious forever has sucked it from their souls. You have given more than most and will receive nothing in return."

"You lie," the Queen said, though the words trailed to silence when a group of Sorinnians entered the tent. Four women warriors lead by one fat with child.

"Good day, your highness," Kelton said, adding a smile with his bow. It was good to see a friendly face.

"Good day, your highness," Yanda returned. She made it sound as ridiculous as it felt. "I have been informed that a queen suffers here." Kelton indicated the Queen and moved to the other end of the table to find a more comfortable chair.

"Bucket or the trees?" Yanda asked the Queen.

"What?" The Queen asked. Kelton found the terror in her eyes humorous.

"I have been told you have been bound all night. Surely you desire relief. I ask again, bucket or the trees?"

"There is a tent for the queen," the Queen said, her eyes pointing in the direction of the King's army. She had no idea of how to live outside of a castle without a servant's attention.

Yanda sighed. "Unlike tents, buckets and trees care not for titles. You are allowed either, but no more."

"Here?" the Queen asked, looking at Kelton as if the shame would be too much.

"The trees then," Yanda said. "I shall unbind you, and you will be taken to find some privacy there. I warn you that if you call out, you will be gagged, bound, and returned without relief." She indicated the guards who attended her. "If you run, they will spill your insides upon the ground. They will not tolerate any actions beyond those necessary and do not waste time negotiating. They are as loyal to me as I am to them, even if they could understand your words."

"You mean to kill me," the Queen said.

"Your choice of who to trust is painful to watch, "Kelton said. "Princess Yanda means only to ease your day. Take her offer." He shrugged." Or remain to soil your dress and foul the air."

The Queen thought for a moment, then nodded to Yanda. Yanda signaled to two of the warriors who lifted the Queen to her feet by her arms. Margarey grunted and struggled against the assistance, though it looked more like a lack of coordination.

"A queen?" One of the lifting guards said in Sorrinian. "She is but a bag of weak bones."

"What did she say?" the Queen asked. There was still fear in her eyes.

"She is admiring your skirts," Yanda lied. "We have never seen the like."

The Queen smiled, the lie erasing her trepidation. When her hands and feet were unbound, she went willingly with her new guides, swinging her hips to accentuate the movement of the gaudy tassels sewn into her dress.

"A timely falsehood, my sister," Kelton said, acknowledging Yanda's wit.

"In truth," Yanda sighed. "I am hoping she attempts escape. I see your purpose in her, yet her vileness demands its equal measure."

"She will receive her due," Kelton assured Yanda. "No matter the outcome here, her true masters will see she breathes no more. They have one duty, and it is to achieve more days. She has no purpose in it."

Yanda chose a chair next to Kelton, her belly seemingly making the task of sitting more difficult than it should be. She leaned back, clasped her hands together under her unborn babe, and smiled. "Juno is as much a delight as I imagined she would be - a strong mind that sees the softness of things. Yet, there is a warrior buried inside her. You bring that out."

"She brings out the same in me," Kelton said. He smirked. "That dress you fitted her with, it made me forget what we do here. Was it your desire to boil my blood in such a way?"

"It was her desire," Yanda replied, waving away her part in it. "I but gave her the means. You are no different than other men, a bag of prurient thoughts easily enticed." Her smile grew. "That she stirs that pot, well, that displays her yearning to swim in those thoughts with you."

"Verdi's visit was ill-timed, of that I am sure," Kelton admitted.

"Aye," Yanda agreed, then changed the subject to something Kelton would have preferred she kept to herself. "This talk of the last-of-the-line, it is growing. I think it is fed by a few though others now are adding their voice. It follows the knowledge of your birthright, a secret that will surely reach the King's army by the morrow."

"My father is there now," Kelton said, pointing in the direction of the King's men. "The secret will be well known by this night, for he is ordering a gathering. We will soon find out which side each will take."

"And what of Serenity?" Yanda asked. Kelton had hoped to avoid delving into the subject, preferring the talk of armies.

"What of her?" Kelton asked with a stiff face.

"I know you and Serenity are in agreement and that Juno has your heart," Yanda said. "It is my mother who has asked me to add her consul to your thoughts. She believes that it may be time for a small falsehood, one that sets minds to purpose. Mayhap, you and Serenity can conspire. It may take only smiles and the holding of hands in front of a few."

"Nay," Kelton said. He added nothing else, not even a change in expression.

"It is what I told her your response would be, though she thought it more convincing coming from me." Yanda shrugged. "You have only just met your mother. In time, you will find they do not always understand the word nay." She smiled. "It gets harder to say it to them as well."

Kelton smiled back and placed his hand upon Yanda's belly. "Will you torture your little one as well?"

Yanda laughed, her duty to her mother done. "My mother believes it is her revenge that grows in me."

"You did run away," Kelton reminded her.

"I only chose the wrong ship," Yanda said. "Or was it the right one? Principles float in many directions for us rebels." A sigh escaped her lips. "Do you still think on Captain Sebastian, Simbawla, and the others? "

"Aye," Kelton replied, sitting back. "Much of them still steers my mind. Nobility is not only reserved for those with titles." He frowned. "Do you remember Karprinicas?" Yanda's face showed she did not. "The one violated in your stead."

The memory, now tied to a name, appeared in Yanda's eyes, and she returned a solemn nod. "Her plight still pains my heart. A shell of a woman, if she still breathes."

"She breathes," Kelton said. "It was she who ended the vengeance I intended to impart on Captain Sol'in de Marque. It seems he feared my return and granted her necessary care." He smirked. "She wallows in power of her design, backed by my stalled retribution at her request. It is not wholly just, yet it is the life she desires. I believe she delivers a bit of torture each day in retaliation."

Yanda smiled. "Then we must survive this war, for I will see her power trebled."

Kelton moved his arms, flexing his shoulders to test the hindrance of the tunic. It was of thick whitish cloth, jointed in a way to allow freedom of movement. It was meant to enhance the status of the wearer, the sleeves sewn with swirling golden braids. Below the neck, a wedged gap was bridged by a series of three gold chains. They hung in lazy arcs holding the tunic's opening straight, yet allowed for expansion if there were a need for movement.

"Be still," Yanda ordered. She pulled at the side of the tunic, then flipped the edge so she could alter the seam and pull it tighter to the body.

"You need more meat on your bones," Parinada said. "It looks better on me." Yanda's hand moved quickly and smacked her claimed one's side, then returned to her sewing without missing a stitch. "Still looks better on me," he said, adding a chuckle.

"It is the finest thing I have ever worn," Kelton said. "Weaved hair, and now clothes fit for a Sorinnian prince. It tells a better story than the truth it covers."

"It does nothing more than the blue sky does for the sun," Yanda said. Her attention and insistent hands moved to the other side, sewing it tighter at the waist.

Parinada chuckled again. "Those were her words to me once."

"That was before you filled my belly with an obstinate child who refuses to emerge," Yanda said, though her bright smile diffused any thought of genuine anger.

"My son is a stubborn one," Parinada informed Kelton.

"Daughter," Yanda corrected.

"Careful, my love," Parinada said. "A daughter with your beauty will easily claim half my heart."

"And I will claim it back when the sun goes down," Yanda countered.

Kelton began to feel he was in the middle of something that should not include him. Yanda and Parinada's eyes met, and knowing grins appeared. "Mayhap, it is good enough," Kelton said, looking down at the tunic.

"It is done when I say it is done," Yanda said. Parinada shrugged and nodded to Kelton, indicating that surrender was the only option. Kelton sighed and stood still to speed up the process. The Knowing announced the approach of Juno.

"That is a fine look," Juno said as she entered the tent. Kelton was pleased she was once again adorned in her Sorrinnian dress with the golden rose brooch. It quickened his heart in a most pleasing way.

"Are we to give them all our clothes?" Parinada asked. There was humor included.

"It is one tunic and one dress," Yanda replied in Sorinnian. She switched her language for Juno. "My claimed one believes you will demand all our clothes and leave us naked." The tone held the same humor as Parinada's.

Juno smiled and moved in a most Sorinnian way. She gently kissed Parinada on the forehead. "Our thanks to both of you grows by the day." Yanda translated, adding a blush to Parinada's cheeks.

"We are defenseless, are we not?" Kelton said to Parinada, remaining still as ordered.

"Yes," Parinada agreed. "Though surrendering is sweet as honey."

"They are speaking poorly of you," Yanda warned Juno.

Kelton was sure Juno could not see Yanda's smile, so he rolled his eyes. "Never trust the words of a woman in her condition," Kelton told Juno. Then grunted when he felt a needle poke into his side. "Or let them near you when they are armed." Juno chuckled, and Yanda turned her head to share in it. Kelton found the friendship between the two pleasing, even if it was at his expense.

"I am to tell you that the King's army has gathered," Juno said. "Your father asks that we join him there once you are done here."

Kelton let out a deep breath. "It is time then." Juno's slow nod was joined by a smile built from both pride and pity.

Rolic lay in his wagon with his eyes closed. He had traded that last of his coin for the privilege of not being lifted out and thrown under the nearest tree. There was some comfort in a flat surface laden with a few blankets. There was also the vague notion that wolves would find it more difficult to climb aboard. Once he was dead, the wolves could have him, but not before. The idea of being eaten alive had grown in his head since Floren had mentioned it. Better to die in his sleep and become food for worms.

"You survived the travel," Filgot said.

Rolic opened his eyes to see the man leaning over the wall of the wagon. It was a pleasant sight, unlike that of Floren. Filgot wanted nothing and seemed to care even less. Floren pretended not to care, but her ministrations proved it a lie.