Amberhill barely gave the Weapon any notice. “I see. It is most unfair, though I know Zachary has your best interests in mind.”

“His best interests,” Estora muttered.

Amberhill rubbed his chin. “Yes, I can see how the restriction chafes at you. Perhaps I can put in a good word on your behalf?”

His words calmed her. She had no idea if this young noble had any influence with his cousin, but she appreciated the offer of help and wasn’t about to turn down an ally.

“Would you care to accompany me?” she asked.

He bowed again and offered her his arm. “It would be my honor.”

He kept her laughing all the way across the castle grounds and into the castle itself and she almost forgot her troubles. A page informed her she would find Zachary in his new study in the west wing. By the time they reached his door, her mood had altered favorably, but now she must face Zachary.

“I wish to see the king,” she told the Weapon at the door.

He bowed, “I’m sorry, my lady, but he’s meeting with—”

“I am very tired of hearing ‘I’m sorry, my lady,’” she said.

“But—”

Bolstering her resolve with a deep breath, she reached past the Weapon, knocked on the door, and admitted herself without waiting for permission to enter. Zachary and his counselors stared and met her with flabbergasted silence. Colin Dovekey was first to respond and rose from his chair with a bow, followed by Captain Mapstone and Castellan Sperren.

“My lady,” Zachary said. “And Xandis?”

Amberhill swooped into a bow, a roguish smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” said the Weapon at the door. “I tried to—”

“It’s all right, Willis. Carry on.”

“Yes, sire.”

Willis and Fastion withdrew into the corridor, closing the door behind them. Zachary sat on the edge of his desk, waiting expectantly for Estora to speak. She glanced around, trying to collect her thoughts, her resolve turning to embarrassment. The chamber was barren but for the necessary furniture. Zachary’s possessions from his old study had not yet been unpacked.

“What is it, my lady?”

He asked politely enough and she could not read whether or not he was annoyed by her intrusion. Her gaze darted to his counselors, her determination flagging even more in front of this audience. She supposed she ought to get used to this trio, for they were his closest advisors, and if they were a part of his life, they were to be a part of hers as well.

She cleared her throat. “I wish to go for a ride into the country,” she said. “I need off castle grounds or—or I shall go mad.”

Zachary nodded slowly. “Yes, and as you understand from our previous conversation, we are as yet unsure of what threat, if any, our Eletian visitors pose. I do not wish to place you at risk.”

“If I may intercede,” Amberhill said, placing his hand over his heart, “the Eletians have been here a while and have not proven aggressive toward you or your people. They are carefully watched by your soldiers, and my lady is well guarded by your Weapons. It seems unfair to stifle the lady’s desire to ride into the countryside that she will soon be ruling jointly with you. What will the people think if they perceive her to be hiding in the castle?”

A silent hurrah rose up within Estora, for Amberhill stated what was in her heart and she found herself grateful for his presence and persuasive voice. His was a logical argument, as opposed to the emotional one she was sure to have used. He made her plight sound not a trivial complaint, but a matter of importance to the welfare of their country.

Their audience followed the exchange with interest, especially Captain Mapstone who, with a smile on the edges her mouth, appeared amused by the situation Zachary now found himself in, and maybe not displeased that Estora chose to assert herself.

Zachary shifted against his desk. “Lady Estora is our future queen and her safety is not to be taken lightly.”

“If it would ease your mind, assign her additional guards, and I will personally vouch for her safety and accompany her.” Amberhill bowed again.

“I will think on it,” Zachary said. He was not pleased, but he also sounded like he had run out of arguments. “I’ll have an answer for you in the morning.”

It was clearly a dismissal, and when Estora and Amberhill stepped into the corridor and the study door was shut after them, Amberhill said, “Be ready in the morning, my lady, for if I read my cousin right, we shall be cleared for a long day’s ride in the countryside.”

He sounded as eager as she felt.

Amberhill took his leave of Lady Estora as swiftly as courtesy permitted. He must head down into the city and warn Morry of what was afoot. Then Morry must make contact with the plainshield. Plans and possibilities engulfed his thoughts as he strode through the castle corridors. This was the opening the Raven Mask had been waiting for.

In the morning, Amberhill walked to the stables attired in riding breeches, snug where it counted, his supple black boots unrolled to his thighs. He wore one of his better longcoats of rich blue velvet with matching gloves. Underneath was his canary waistcoat and a new linen shirt with a black silk stock. His hair was tightly drawn back with a black ribbon that blended into his hair. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his rapier.

He knew very well what effect the ensemble had on women. He knew how their gazes followed him, lingered on him, young and old, poor and rich. Some men would regard him as foppish, dismiss him as less than manly or incapable of using a sword. He preferred they underestimate him.