Chapter 7: The Envoy

The iron door stayed shut.

Maelis put her palm flat against the carved bird, and the metal was warm as skin.

Footsteps rang in the corridor behind her, and she snatched her hand away.

A young guard stood there, out of breath.

"My lady, the king asks you to come to the great hall. A rider has come from Corrin."

Her stomach dropped.

She followed him up through the keep with her hair still damp from the pools.

The great hall was full again.

Torvald sat on the dais in his chair, dressed in black, his face carved from stone.

Ruvane stood at his right shoulder, and he looked too pleased.

In the center of the floor stood a man in royal blue, dusted with road mud, holding a rolled parchment sealed in gold.

She knew his face.

It was her father's envoy, a smooth, middle-aged lord who had once told her she looked best when she kept quiet.

"Lady Maelis," he said, and bowed an inch. "Good. You are here."

"Princess Maelis," said Torvald, without raising his voice. "Queen of Emberhold. You will use her title in my hall."

The envoy's smile twitched. "Of course. Forgive me."

He cleared his throat and unrolled the parchment.

"King Osric of Corrin sends greetings to the Dragon King.

"Princess Odalys has been found, safe, in a river town.

"She was ill with nerves, and wandered."

A few snorts ran through the clan.

"The king acknowledges that a mistake was made at the gate.

"He proposes to correct it." The envoy read from the page, with relish.

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