“You like him, don’t you?”

I look at Pryderi dumbfounded.

“Oh, come on, Saoirse. I know you better than anyone, you like him.” She plants herself before me, hands on her slender hips, a knowing look on her face. I hate it when she gives me that look. Undressing quickly, I get into the bath to avoid giving an answer to her. The water is warm and calming, she has added lavender and rose oil, and the soft scent fills my nose. I can still feel her looking at me, waiting. She will wait until the water is ice-cold, and I have died of a fever if she has too.

Or not.

“Alright.” I sigh, exasperated by her silent gloating look. I don’t want to see the look of satisfaction on her face at this admittance. “I’ll admit… that he has me… intrigued. I never know what he is going to say… or do. It’s…interesting.”

“Uh-huh. Intriguing, huh.” Is all she mutters, as she lathers my wet hair with soap, washing it vigorously. Best to keep to safer subjects.

“I like Lyva. She’s adorable, and a bit cheeky, kind of reminds me of someone.” I keep my tone light hoping that she will take the bait. I don’t want to discuss Lycur anymore.

“If she is anything like you, she will certainly be a handful as she grows.” Her tone is filled with irony. She rinses my hair clean and sets to the task of brushing it. It’s not often that I let her do my hair; she chides me for my lack of care. I hate having her do things for me; she is my friend more than my maid and I can do most things myself.

We slip into a comfortable silence as I dress. It’s been two days since my last salutation, and I won’t wait any longer. I slip past the guards without worry, Pryderi follows me as a chaperon, and they don't dare cross her. If anyone is scary when they are mad – it’s her.

The air is cool and the first winter breeze teases at my damp hair. I lift my arms high to the sun, giving thanks to the dawn of another day; the rays warm my skin and fill me with peace. I stand on tiptoes and lift my arms high again, making a soft movement with my fingers; I bring them down before me until only my face is raised to the sun. I do the same action in all four directions, letting the energy course through me, kissing my face and melting the surrounding wind. This is what I have been craving — warmth from the sun.

Finally, I sit with my legs crossed and eyes closed and let my Avarian senses take over; I can feel everything around me. Everything has a rhythm that thrums just under the sound of my breathing. The rustle of trees from the wind, the soft flapping of bird wings as they take flight, the servants bustling around, some of them cheerful, some of them not. I inhale the sweet smell of the morning air; crisp and cool with the promise of winter.

A long whimsical Lupinel howl sends a delightful chill down my spine. Instinctively, I know who it is. He cries out again in greeting, much closer than before. I open my eyes and turn to see him standing on the opposite tower to me. A large dark wolf, his long wolf tongue, lolls out the side of his mouth in what looks almost like a grin. He nods his head in acknowledgment. A mix of emotions that I don’t recognise run through me and I realise that I’m actually glad to see him.

I smile and lift a hand to wave, I need to go inside, but I don’t want to. Pushing my hair from my face, I stand and wave again before leaving the tower top. He barks his response, and I can’t hide my grin from Pryderi. She doesn’t say anything, but then she doesn’t have to, her eyes tell me exactly what she is thinking. I hope she’s wrong.

It has to be him; there is no other explanation. No other Lupinel knows where I take my morning salutation. He came looking for me. The soft smile plays on my lips when I return to my chambers. Both mother and father are pacing the room, worry etched in every line of their posture.

"Ah hi." I pause in the doorway. They stop when they see me. Mother’s eyes travelling up and down my body, taking in my dishevelled appearance. I wait for the lecture. She says nothing. That’s strange. It sends alarm bells ringing in my head.

“Where have you been?” Father demands out loud, his hands on his hips. Neither of them can use their abilities to sense me when I perform the ritual. The intense concentration keeps all others from disturbing me. He is seriously miffed. This I expected, especially after our tense conversations over the past two days.

“I was doing my morning salutation. Pryderi was with me, and I’m tired of being confined in here.” I ignore his scoff and sit down, noting that Pryderi has slipped away. She knows when to make an appearance and when to be inconspicuous.

Lucky girl.

“You feel well then?” Mother stands behind me, her fingers working on the tangles in my hair. Easing the tension in my shoulders. She is cautious, and I get the feeling that something big is about to happen — something that has upset my father.

“Very well, as I’ve been telling you both for the past two days.” I give Father a pointed look. “Any word on who poisoned me?”

He glances down from where he stands at the window, his jaw clenched, ignoring my comment. That would be a no.

“Nothing conclusive yet, but that’s not why we are here. We have news from the negotiations, something we didn’t want to tell you until you were well enough to hear it.” Her voice is hesitant. The heat tickles my chest, I squash it down before it can settle.

“Oh?” My stomach tightens with the stretch of will. From Father’s silence, I gauge it’s obviously not good.

“King Lyall would like to make the peace treaty completely binding.” Her voice is so soft, it’s hard to hear. I look between her and father with confusion, wondering what I’m missing.

“But that’s good news, isn’t it? That’s what we wanted, right?” I ask, turning in my chair. She doesn’t look happy.

I don’t understand.

“No, it’s not what we wanted. As I suspected, he wants to make the treaty more permanently binding than a signed contract.” Father speaks through gritted teeth from the window — his rage poorly veiled. The energy in the room changes as I feel Father push his Avarian sense to me – checking my reaction to the news. He only uses his senses on others when he needs to know what they are intending. I have no intentions for him to probe.

Why is he focusing on me?

“What do you mean?” I am either missing something or too dense to pick up on the conversation. What is more binding than a contract? I still don’t understand. Father sends another probe at me – I give him a sharp look to tell him to stop. He shudders and pulls back.

“More of an alliance through marriage. He has demanded that the treaty be finalised with a betrothal between you and Lycur. A permanent alliance.” Mother explains, her hands move from my hair to my shoulders in comfort. I sit completely still, silently digesting the information.

“A permanent alliance.” I repeat slowly.