Captain Mapstone’s Riders—his daughter—would be in the middle of this conflict, this threat, facing these enemies the king was preparing for.

Despite the warmth of the kitchen, his insides turned as cold as the storm that raged outside.

MESSAGES

Karigan watched as her father folded the letter from Captain Mapstone, running his fingers over the crease again and again, his expression grave. It seemed more lines were scribed into his forehead and around the edges of his mouth than she remembered; that more gray swept from his temples.

She didn’t know what the captain wrote in that letter, besides the request for more supplies. Obviously something that disturbed him, and she wondered what it could possibly be, but protocol required she not ask—not even her father. It was up to the recipient to decide whether or not to speak of a message’s contents.

It had been quite a while since Karigan last visited home. Except for her father looking a little older, the rest seemed unchanged, including her aunts. Well, maybe Aunt Tory had grayed a little more, too, but everything in the kitchen was in its place, pots and pans hanging where they’d always hung, the same old farm table of amber wood beneath her hands, Cook at the sideboard. Nothing in her bedchamber had been touched either, her old clothes were still hanging in the wardrobe, a couple years removed from the latest fashions. If anything, the house seemed just a little smaller, as if it had shrunk the tiniest bit. Or she had grown.

Maybe I’m just used to the castle, she thought. Her father’s house was large; the castle was rather larger.

It was comforting to be in the familiar confines of the home she grew up in, to be among people she knew and loved; a completely different world from the fast pace of Sacor City and the castle, where she was surrounded by so many strangers.

At the same time, she felt uneasy being home, even on official business, for there were other matters she needed to address with her father. Matters of a personal nature. He’d kept secrets from her, and not good ones.

She twisted her teacup in her hands, gazing at specks of tea leaves swirling in its depths. Her aunts chattered on beside her, and she only half-listened. She managed to put off coming home for months, thanks to winter storms that kept everyone cooped up in the castle, but suddenly Captain Mapstone needed the one message conveyed, and it was time, she said, that Karigan’s father receive the others, as well, and who better to bear them than his own daughter?

Her father cleared his throat and Karigan looked up. “You mentioned there were messages,” he said. “More than one?”

“Oh!” she replied, and grimaced. She withdrew from her satchel the lesser of the two that remained, and passed it to him. “From Lord Coutre.”

“Lord Coutre?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Her aunts ceased their chattering. He took the letter and broke the seal. He read rapidly, and exclaimed, “Order of the Cormorant? You’ve been granted lands in Coutre Province?” He read on, then gazed at her, his eyes wide and full of questions.

Aunt Stace snatched the letter right out of his hands and read it for herself. When she finished, she was the mirror image of her brother. Aunt Brini grabbed the letter next, and the others, including Cook, clustered around her to read over her shoulder.

“You rescued Lady Estora from abductors?” Stevic asked faintly.

“I, er, helped,” Karigan replied, her cheeks flooding with warmth. The other reason she didn’t want to come home was having to explain her deeds without causing them all to faint. Just remembering the dangers she faced was enough to make her shudder.

When her father and aunts recovered, they demanded details. Karigan kept her responses vague: “I was on a message errand to Mirwellton—right place at the right time.” And, “No, Lady Estora was not harmed.” She emphasized the role others played in the rescue and left herself out of much of the story.

She told them how the traitorous group, Second Empire, used the abduction as a ruse to distract the king and his Weapons so its members could infiltrate the castle for “information.” She did not bring up the book of Theanduris Silverwood, and in fact managed to avoid referring to any supernatural or magical elements of the story altogether, knowing her father’s dim view of such things.

Nor did she speak of her adventures in the royal tombs beneath the castle. The realm of the tombs, while not precisely a secret, was not something casually discussed.

Her explanations appeared to satisfy them: evil plot, abduction, infiltration—all thwarted, and Karigan helped! She was afraid, however, her third message would only provoke more questions, and with a sigh she withdrew it from her satchel. It bore the royal seal of the firebrand and crescent moon. Her father stared in disbelief.

“More? The king’s seal?”

Karigan nodded, waiting in a sort of dread while he read it.

When he finished, he looked at her with a stunned expression, and passed the letter to Aunt Stace without a word. Her aunts and Cook gasped as they read, and gazed at Karigan as if seeing her anew.

Her father then laughed. It was a mirthful laugh that filled the kitchen with warmth. It wasn’t exactly the reaction Karigan was expecting.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Aunt Tory said, with a sniff. “It’s a great honor to Karigan and our clan.”

Stevic G’ladheon continued to laugh, wiping tears from his eyes, and Karigan could only shake her head in disbelief.

“Great honor, yes,” he said. “I’ve always been so proud of my daughter, no matter what odd course in life she chose. But never in all my existence would I ever imagine a G’ladheon being knighted. Not only that, but it’s an honor not conferred upon anyone for hundreds of years.” Karigan’s father was not overly fond of the aristocracy, and she had recognized the irony of the honor the moment she received it. Not that knighthood exactly raised her to the aristocracy, but still ...