The two women stood there, speaking as frankly as Laren could ever wish, and speaking together as only two women could, about Lady Estora’s future, the king, the country, and—most of all—F’ryan Coblebay.

Lady Estora proved to be a mix of nobility and humility, grief and despair. But she was strong, and Laren expected no less of her.

Finally, after the exchange of many words and some well-spent tears, Lady Estora said, “It would be a relief to get this over with.”

“I understand.” Then, moved by Lady Estora and her situation, Laren took the noblewoman’s hands into her own. “My lady, I know Zachary very well. I knew him when he was a young terror in these halls, keeping me on my toes constantly; and he’s grown into a thoughtful and compassionate man. Yes, he has a temper that flares now and then, but honestly, I have met no finer man than he. He listens and judges fairly, and he thinks very highly of you.”

“He does?” Lady Estora seemed genuinely surprised.

Laren gave her hands a gentle squeeze, and nodded. “This sort of thing is never easy, but he will not be rash in his judgment. You must trust me on this.”

She arranged for them to meet with Zachary the very next day. She was glad he agreed to it so soon, because she did not know how well Lady Estora’s nerves would hold up if the wait was a prolonged one.

The two women arrived at the solarium at the appointed time and Laren saw that she shouldn’t have worried about Lady Estora, for her entire demeanor was resolute.

It had snowed overnight, and the gardens outside the windows had turned into a fairyland of lumps and drifts and soft shapes, unsullied so far except by the tiny tracks of birds and squirrels. Snowflakes whirled down in gentle flurries, muting the light.

The two waited in silence for Zachary to arrive. When the knock finally came, they both turned toward the door.

“Please enter,” Laren said.

Zachary stepped into the solarium leaving his attendants outside. She watched him assess the two women standing before him and the barrenness of the room in one swift gaze and saw that he was curious and perhaps a trifle nervous.

They exchanged courtesies and Zachary said, glancing at the unlit hearth, “It is cold in here. I could have—”

“No, thank you,” Lady Estora said.

He looked from her to Laren, and back again. “Is the solarium not to your liking? I could have Cummings arrange for—”

Lady Estora raised her hand in a gesture that requested his silence. “We do not wish to discuss the solarium, my lord, but know it is a gift that is most welcome and appreciated.”

Zachary stroked his beard. “Then what do you wish to discuss?” He gave an uneasy half smile. “Singly you are each formidable women, but I must admit that facing both of you here together, you are more intimidating than an opposing army.”

Laren tried to reassure him with a smile of her own. “We are not opposing you. Do not worry on that count! But do keep it in mind for the future when you are married.” She meant it in jest, but if this meeting in fact went well, and the wedding proceeded as planned, she suspected he’d continue to find Lady Estora a formidable woman, one who would not bend to his every wish. One who would not break the moment difficulty struck. She would stand by his side even if Mornhavon the Black himself stood on the castle steps with all his hordes behind him. She was a gentlewoman, but one with much hidden strength. One who should not be underestimated.

“I shall keep it in mind,” he said with a nod of his head. “But please, what is this about? I am not sure I can take the suspense much longer.”

“It’s about a secret,” Laren replied. “A secret that my Riders and I have been honor-bound to keep for some years now.”

“What? Laren, you have never kept anything from me. At least so I supposed until now…”

She saw his hurt, and a touch of anger. “We’ve not been keeping it from just you, but from everyone.”

“They’ve done so to protect me,” Lady Estora said before he could interject.

“I don’t understand,” Zachary said. “What is this secret?”

“It begins with my arrival to court,” Lady Estora said. “Your father was still regnant, though near the end of his illness. I was here for his funeral and for your coronation.”

“I remember,” he said.

Lady Estora was plainly surprised. “You do?”

Again, the uneasy half smile. “Forgive me, my lady, but there were few young men who wouldn’t.”

She nodded slowly as if she’d heard such things often enough. “You must also guess I was terrified being at court for the first time. Timid, shy. I had never traveled far from home and my parents left me here with only my old nurse and cousin as guardians. My cousin’s job was to show me off as bait for a proper suitor.”

This last held an underlying tone of bitterness, but she only spoke truth.

Lady Estora glided over to the windows and gazed out to the garden beneath its blanket of snow. She spoke as if to herself. “I was lonely. More lonely than you can imagine. Here I was in a strange city, with customs that were, frankly, different from those at home. Many believed Coutre a backward province, and that I must be an ignorant bumpkin, hence unfashionable and uninteresting. Others, those among my rivals, were perhaps jealous of the attention I received from the suitors they desired for themselves. I was not accustomed to the games played in court, the machinations, the blades thrust into one’s back, and so I withdrew. Sought solace elsewhere, away from the social world of court. It all would have been intolerable if not for F’ryan Coblebay.”