Merrin gave what looked an irritated toss of her head, but it was really an attempt to look the prestigious dragonrider everyone seemed to think she was, rather than a clueless peasant girl she actually happened to be. She was sure the rooms were lovely, but the guards looked less like guards than wardens, and -

Thoughts of finding a way to make a discreet exit flew from Merrin's mind. The room - rooms! - really were lovely. Nearly every furnishing could have fed her entire village for a month, and the lesser ones for a week, but that thought made only a brief appearance before being relegated to the back of her head. Merrin shut the door behind her, and after only a moment of brief hesitation kicked off her boots. Feldwar suddenly seemed far less manipulative and much more benevolent now, somehow; and he became positively kindly when, wiggling her toes in the thick carpet, Merrin rounded a corner and discovered something that made the expensive furnishings quite peripheral.

In an admirably short amount of time, Merrin's much-worn dragonrider garb was forgotten in a heap on the carpeted floor, and she was thanking the gods for whoever had thought to heat a bath.

Unfortunately three hours left a limited amount of time to spend reveling in a glory of hot water and steam and scented soap. With a reluctant glance at the ornate clock, whose ticking was even loud and officious, Merrin climbed out of the bathtub - noticing in doing so the inlaid scrollwork on the edge and feeling a faint twinge of scorn.

Feeling actually clean for the first time in what seemed an age - and enjoying it to no end - Merrin eyed the large, deep four-poster bed and deeply regretted that she couldn't climb into it now. The mahogany wardrobe in the corner was what needed visiting.

Upon tugging open the ornate doors she was confronted with a bewildering array of colors. The soft robe she'd snagged after exiting the bathtub felt far more comfortable than any of these looked, Merrin decided as she tried to sort through the wide selection of gowns. A reluctant glance back at the floor where she'd left her breeches and tunic revealed that they were gone, ostensibly to be laundered. No help there. Merrin squared her shoulders and turned back to the wardrobe.

The first dress she pulled out was green satin, pearls worked around the bodice and neckline - and upon seeing said neckline Merrin hastily put it right back where it belonged, feeling her cheeks redden. Further examination proved that noblewomens' taste in dresses was decidedly not Merrin's taste in dresses. Crimson velvet - cream-colored silk - deep emerald in some fabric Merrin couldn't even name. She went through them all once, expression of perplexity deepening with every choice she discarded, and eventually emerged from the bewildering forest of gowns with one of the few that didn't deeply offend her moral standards.

It took another bout of confused examination to discover how one put the thing on, and when Merrin finally stood in front of the large mirror on the wardrobe doors, she very nearly tore it off again. The color was lovely - a shade of deep blue that complemented her eyes very nicely - and the neckline was not so bad. Merrin reflected that she just shouldn't bend over too far. But she was nearly positive that was thread-of-gold worked into the narrow waist, and the fabric felt rich enough to...well...Merrin sighed and turned about in front of the mirror once more, biting her lip. The butterflies in her stomach were not settling down especially, and she had a feeling they weren't going to. Reluctantly she admitted to herself that the dress did twirl very nicely, and spun several times to satisfy her childish urge to do so, wondering wryly if she would have to dance - and if so, who with.

Satisfied with her appearance - though she hadn't known what to do about the loosely curling bronze hair that fell to midway down her back, and had just left it there - Merrin hunted for shoes to match the dress. They pinched, and she did not anticipate dancing in them with much excitement, but she kicked them off in any case and, for lack of anything else to do, wandered over to the bookshelf across the room to hunt for something useful. A map, perhaps.

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The chamber's luxury was not lost on Kendath, though his reaction and Merrin’s could not have contrasted more. The wealth reminded him forcibly of swaggering Meiltha lords. Nobles everywhere were the same. Again he flashed back on High Priest Amrinev, and again he relegated the memory.

He bolted the door behind him and warily scanned the room. The labyrinth of artisan’s delights could double as any spy’s paradise. Thus far no physical threats, no magical emanations that he could sense - which, considering his magical expertise or lack of it, testified nothing. He was blissfully aware that Feldwar could have his mages scrying him at that very moment. Even more blissful was the knowledge that he could do absolutely nothing about it. That line of thought led him inexorably to concern for Merrin, whom he'd left to her own devices. He did not doubt her intelligence, only her... how should he put it... She could be infuriatingly naive at times, he had to admit. The only consolation he could find was that crossing blades with her could be associated with a painful burst of white fire.

He was thinking too much again. Nothing he could do about it now. With a curse he carelessly threw his sullied cloak on the immaculate rug. He took one step and could have sworn his boots sank a foot into the plush carpet. His gaze alighted upon the ornate tub, partially concealed by a gilded screen in one corner of the room. A bath sounded very appealing, but decidedly not the vulnerability that came with it.

Three hours. Arrogant and wasteful Feldwar may be, but he was no fool. If he'd wanted them dead, he could have had his way the moment they stepped into the audience hall.

Kendath reluctantly undressed, hesitating only when his hands felt the bandages around his midsection. He'd changed them daily with Merrin's help, and the wound was nearly healed now. He experimentally tugged it free. The laceration no longer bled but still retained a faint sanguinary hue. He prodded at the scar for a bit before simply ripping the bandage off.

When he emerged from behind the screen clothed only in a linen tunic and breeches, he found his armor gone. He recalled the daggers he'd concealed in the unlikeliest places and silently wished the laundry maids good luck. A brief battle with the wardrobe yielded a maroon vestment and a gold-trimmed cape to match. He extracted his weapons belt from its hiding place and strapped it back on, folding his tunic around it and throwing his cape over his left shoulder to obscure the falchion.

He checked the sundial on the balcony. An hour left. A friendly tour of the manor might prove enlightening. He snagged a few valuables on the way out. Didn’t hurt to be resourceful. It wasn’t as if the dancing unicorn in the music box actually needed its sapphire eyes.

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Immersed in a lengthy tome about folklore - not what she'd been hunting for but fascinating nonetheless - Merrin hardly noticed when three hours began to be close to completion. When she did it was with a slight start of alarm. Rising to her feet carefully and smoothing the wrinkles in the blue dress, she scanned the chamber and regretfully decided that young noblewomen did not carry sabres to an event such as this. Not that she was a young noblewoman, but the fitted waist and full skirt of the azure gown did not lend itself to a belted weapon.

Noting the sun's position in the sky Merrin hastened to tuck her sabre away somewhere not readily apparent, and step into the less than comfortable shoes. Doubtfully she wondered at their actual use, the appearance being that they would fall apart at the slightest pressure.

One last long scrutiny of herself in the mirror and Merrin was gone, stepping out and shutting the door with a bewildered glance both ways down the hall. The guards were gone, and therefore were not available to ask directions from. A knock at all three other doors revealed no help there. Merrin picked a direction at random, and after twice tripping slightly over the long skirts discovered how to hold them up. Stairs were somewhat of a problem in the shoes, and therefore occupied her attention completely for quite some time. Upon reaching the bottom she loosed her death grip on the folds of blue skirt, born from concentration, and looked about her for some clue as to which direction to go next.

Nobles frequented a large hall, seemingly an entryway, and to her relief Merrin did not merit a second glance from any of them. She looked the part of a young noblewoman of no particular rank or beauty - though that would be no solace in a short time, Merrin was sure. Gulping down her nerves she shrugged the dress up uncomfortably - her shoulders seemed very bare - and went to find exactly where the nobles seemed to be gathering.

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Apparently the east courtyard was reserved only for nobles. Wonderfully for him, Kendath didn't know that.

The criminal at large bolted full tilt down the lambently flickering corridor. Lit sconces danced as he charged by, marking his trail. His footsteps thudded quietly on the stone flagstones, but evidently not quietly enough. Curse these ceremonial boots! A stone's throw behind him came the guards, armor clanking, swords rattling.

"Stop, imposter! His Lordship will have your head in the gallows!"

Apparently the guards around here were touchy lads. But Kendath didn't know that either. Until now, that is. Furthermore, how was he to know that a certain Duke John actually existed? An idiotic misstep on his part. He really should be more creative with names next time.

A crossbow dart whizzed over his head milliseconds after he ducked. He twirled gracefully around the corner, almost smashed into a suit of armor, and ducked into a shadowy alcove, tugging the tapestry back in place. He squinted through a tear in the thick fabric. A glint of steel on the other side informed him that today was his lucky day.

"Come out, scum! Spy! Imposter! His Lordship will have his justice!"

A hiss of swords, clanking of sollerets, and they were gone, vanished around the next corner in pursuit of their elusive quarry. Tentatively Kendath poked his head out from behind the tapestry. All clear. Still keeping to the shadows, he stepped into the corridor and made a beeline in the opposite direction.

Tinges of dusk through the arched windows hinted that perhaps he should be heading down to the dining hall now. Slimy imbecile. Himself, that is. With the fortune he didn't have, the guards might not even recognize him downstairs. His gold-trimmed hood had fallen back during the escapade, but no doubt plenty of noblemen looked like him....

It didn't matter. What mattered was that now he knew exactly how to escape this thrice-cursed prison.

He stopped by his room to exchange the gold-trimmed cape for another one of similar hue to his tunic. He battled his sweaty hair into some parody of order, before admitting defeat and repeating something he'd witnessed from a certain dwarf wizard. Aside from the infinitesimal bit of water he snorted up his nose, the dunk worked remarkably well. The basin was just the right size too.

Thus it was that he entered the entryway to the dining hall half an hour late, looking a tad more ruffled than he should have looked. The throng of priggish nobles tasted him, then promptly spat him back out next to the shadows of a potted plant. The entire affair reminded him suspiciously of a similar fete at Vryngard.

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It seemed that all Merrin needed was to be introduced once. Since the Prince, floating at his ease through the throng of ladies delicately sipping wine or lords bowing over their female counterparts' beringed hands, had floated regally up beside her and presented Merrin Dragonrider to Lord Something-Or-Other, she'd curtsied to a dozen pairs of lords and ladies, been told their names, and promptly forgotten all of them.

Currently she was groping for a conversational statement with the latest noble, a very tall young man with blonde hair slicked back to an alarming degree. His eyes kept straying to the neckline of her dress, which Merrin was very anxious had slipped during her many curtsies. It hadn't, and was very much as concealing as it had been originally, but this knowledge was unfortunately not at Merrin's disposal.

"And - how is your wife?" she gasped finally after several futile attempts to make his gaze go bloody well somewhere else. Merrin was faintly surprised at her own vehemence, even mentally. She thrust her shoulders back, determined that however much his eyes might examine it that dress would show nothing.

"She is well, my lady," he replied with a careless shrug. Merrin gritted her teeth. My lady.

"And - have you any - any children?" Gods, that was grasping, he looked Kendath's age at best. Merrin glanced furtively around for said Kendath, but he was nowhere in sight. It looked as though she would have to struggle through on her own.

"No, my lady," he said, suggestive smile growing, and Merrin was sure that if there had been dancing - no couples had yet moved to the dance floor and the music had not yet begun - he would have asked her. The thought made her positively frantic. She must escape before then, she must.

"Ah - if you will excuse me, my lord, I fear there are those I have been ignoring - " she attempted with a hastily dropped curtsey. Those shoes pinched horribly.

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((sorry, i'v got a new job. Its from 4 in the afternoon to 10 at night. For me, thats precisely the time you guys are on, so i'm always going to be slightly behind you))


Evlyn entered the room and froze on the threashhold. Ah. Now why was this familer Any doubts she held about her host doubled. This was a Meiltha room, nothing more nothing less. Contrary to what others may have thought at this point she did not welcom this thought. Her Meiltha quarters has always been veering on the Spartan, this was a side of her chosen people she had not liked.

She went warily round the room, looking for hidden spying devices. She did not bother with magic as she had none. She spotted the bath. Huh She crossed over to it and stood, sluiceing the water over her head. Soft; almost silent footsteps were muffled by the soft carpet, picked up the messy pile of outer clothes and left the room. The door closed with a soft snap. Evlyn jerked up; still wareing her dagger belt and snarled.

She crossed to the wardrobe and looked through the dresses. Unlike Merrin; none of them offended her. The only problem was they were too form hugging to ware her rescued, and newly washed in the bath; trews and shirt underneath. She regarded them for a moment before folding them up as small as possible and tying them to a bustel. After a few moments she chose a similer dress to the one Merrin had first dicarded; emerald silk, gold thread worked around the bodice and neckline. The neckline being a V that reached her diaphram. She brushed her strait blond hair black and osentatiousely strapped her dagger belt in full veiw around her waist. (takeing care of course to remove two dirks and secrete them in her dress.)
She regarded herself in the mirror. She looked beutiful, butiful and deadly. Just the impresion she wanted.

An hour later she made her way though the hall, pointedly ignoreing the few gaurds brave enough to point out to the 'hounered stranger' that you could not carry weopans into the hall.

She saw Merrin hurry away from a blond man and glided over. "How dose it go Merrin" she asked in a smileing voice, her black eyes fliting spespicousely round the room.




(a bustel is a roll of cloth that was worn by baroque ladies underneath thier dresses on thier arse, to make the said part look bigger)

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Made by Lembas

Merrin was almost glad that the next haughty noble she turned to exchange meaningless pleasantries with was someone she knew - which was a mark of how desperate she was. In her peripheral vision she caught a brief glimpse of a stocky lord, dark hair and beard greying, and a lady on his arm. No doubt in another moment she would be speaking with them.

"As well as can be expected," she said tersely, dropping a curtsey just for the look of it. Much as it really did irk her to do such to Evlyn. Their dislike was decidedly mutual. Reluctantly, upon facing the other woman Merrin was forced to concede that Evlyn really was very pretty. And how did she glide like that? Merrin was not clumsy, but she was far from being entirely graceful. "Have - have you seen Kendath about?" she inquired in a lower voice, knowing the pair about to speak to her were drawing nearer. "I don't - I mean - I don't need him, but have you - "

"'Tis the young dragonrider in the flesh," came a silkily refined voice and Merrin turned away from Evlyn. She was no doubt feeling harried but her pretense otherwise was very successful - at least, if you were not acquainted especially with her mannerisms. "My lady Merrin" - was that a derisive smile from the lady opposite, along with emphasis on her common name? - "may I present myself and my Lord Gieriad?"

The name hung on by its fingertips for a moment before dropping into the confused tangle of titles Merrin had been futilely trying to remember. "How lovely to meet you," she said in reply, curtseying and wondering how many more times she would have to before the evening ended.

((Just out of curiousity...how does Evlyn have blonde hair and black eyes? They don't generally go together ))

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Kendath peered out from behind the plant's leaves and concluded that the throng of nobles was finished tasting him for tonight. He edged out from behind the pot to lean against the wall, cross his arms over his chest, and develop a general nonchalant air that was deflated somewhat by his glaring at all passerbys who wandered too close.

His concern for Merrin hadn't abated. There was no telling what Feldwar's guards had done to her in those three hours. For all he knew, she could be happily sipping dung in a prison cell at that very moment. Furtively he cast about among the crowds. He should have at least glimpsed her by now, though provided the dining hall was a large place.

At last he gave up and searched alternatively for Garthag. He trusted the white-robed wizard about as far as he could throw him, but Garthag's judgement was sound. Surprise, surprise. The wizard was nowhere to be found either. But then again, if Kendath were a spiffy mage, he'd have escaped this hellhole three hours ago.

"Attention, lords and ladies, good people of Amarinth!"

Kendath snapped up from craning his neck, flicked Prince Feldwar one glance, and went right back to his searching. Contrary to his flattering attention, the nobles murmured their approval and rained a marvelous ovation on the Lord of Amarinth.

Feldwar held up his hands for silence. "I thank you kindly for gracing my humble hall tonight..." The rest of his words dwindled to a monotonous drone in Kendath's ears. Spacing these speeches out was a feat of enormous skill, acquired from a thousand yawns spent during Meiltha councils.

"... in this fete devoted... let us honor the exalted Lady Merrin Dragonrider, Savior of Vryngard, Chosen of the Gods!"

He snapped awake to thunderous applause. Feldwar likely couldn't see from the high dais, but the farce was evident from the marble floor. Ladies twittering their disdain, lords exchanging sneers... At Feldwar's gesture the crowds parted for their most honored guest to come forth.

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Before she quite knew what had happened Merrin was the object of a frightening amount of unimpressed gazes - unimpressed however much they pretended otherwise. She froze for the barest moment, hands tightening convulsively on the folds of her dress. In that split second, her expression flew through various phases of shock and alarm before the emotions could be fought down enough to retain a mien of relative calm.

What did they want her to do? Painfully aware that she had not the slightest clue how to proceed, Merrin let go her fistfuls of indigo fabric and started forward, eyes determinedly on Feldwar and the dais.

That walk took an age. Merrin couldn't help hearing the murmurs - they did not really try to stifle what they said behind their hands. Before she was more than halfway she had to drop her eyes, a slew of emotions turning her crimson. At first alarm and a certain amount of stage fright, compiled with an anxious knowledge that she knew very little of what she was doing. On being confronted with what was obviously an audience of those who laughed behind their hands at the peasant pretending at being a lady, she found herself feeling miserably humiliated - and eventually hot with anger. This was no banquet in her honor - and had it been, she never would have wanted it! - this, this was nothing more than an opportunity to mock her inexperience and lack of social status.

It was pure anger that stayed Merrin from fleeing at that moment, though it did not replace hurt humiliation. When the Prince, garbed in brocade with lace practically spilling in waterfalls from neck and sleeves, offered her a hand onto the dais, she removed it the moment it was acceptable to do so. How dare they! Give her titles she didn't merit, pretend to honor her for acts she'd never committed - pretend!

Again she found her fists full of azure gown, and realized belatedly that she should curtsey. She was not angry enough to face Feldwar without doing so. Merrin would not have admitted it for the world, but shyness had been a vice she'd never quite overcome.

If intimidation made her curtsey, anger brought her chin up the moment she straightened. "Your highness," she acknowledged, making a valiant attempt at cool poise. It would not have fooled anyone she knew well for even a minute.

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Evlyn made a quick desision. There was no time to ask Merrin's permission, she'd just have to hope to go along with it. She followed Merrin up onto the dais, and made a curtsey behind her. Then stood a little back, takeing the part of a lady in waiting.

It was a fact that Evlyn kept quite, but she had been born and bred a noble before she joined the Meiltha. As far as she could remember, it was perfectly acceptable to have your lady in waiting follow you everywhere. And if they objected, she'd just throw her title around a bit and see what happened; the Lady Evlyn Corbie.

So she stood with eyes downcast at the back of the dais.

(I probley should have brought this in earlier, but it only just occured to me. Evlyn's familly are Independant of any faction, though she joined the Meiltha as a teenager. The Corbie familly are nobles, and due to some intresting magic in the past thier genetic makeup means that they all have black eyes.)

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Made by Lembas

The first thing that struck Kendath was relief at Merrin's safety. The second was an insight unbidden and just as quickly relegated - how beautiful she looked, a faint flush tinting her cheeks, her poise accentuated by her flowing gown. Even from the back of the hall he noticed the stiffness in her shoulders, the contrived courtesy with which she addressed Feldwar. He concluded that not for a thousand gold would he have wished to be in her place.

The smiling gaze of His Royal High and Mightiness swept over Merrin, swept over Evlyn, then returned to the former. "My lady Merr - ah, excuse me. Merrin." He ducked into a small bow. "We are honored by your presence this evening. Will you dine?" He gestured expansively at the empty seat to his right. Without waiting for acquiescence, he clapped his hands twice.

Doors behind the dais opened, admitting an endless line of servants bearing platters of steaming food and drink. Honey mead, roasted venison, fresh greens sprinkled with lemon, sugared delicacies from across the sea... The enticing aromas drifted throughout the hall as the servants reached the dais first, placing the platters on the long table.

One glance at the high dais, where Feldwar was drawing out Merrin's chair, told Kendath that Merrin wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. There went Escape Plan A. They'd have to wait until after the banquet - not a happy prospect. The sooner they were out of here, the better for all of them.

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"More wine, Merrin?" Prince Feldwar asked in soothing tones. Nonetheless he poured the crimson liquid into her crystalline chalice. Duke John of Baste was jabbering something in his left ear, but Feldwar was only feigning attention as he studied the much more interesting guest on his right.

Years of experience in court affairs and other affairs had shaped Feldwar into a shrewd arbiter of women. At first glance this one didn't impress him overly much. His own war mage, the Enchantress Selennia Darkwing - now there was a female worth bowing to! But Merrin had some spirit, he'll give her that. Some pride as well. Not overly arrogant... at least she didn't look like she wielded some power that would interest him....

Despite everything, Feldwar found her intriguing. He'd seen something flicker in those icy eyes when she'd straightened from her curtsy. In brighter days he may have been genuinely interested in her, but since the shadow had darkened his life with black wings of despair, he found little pleasure left in wooing maidens.

"You find Amarinth hospitable, I hope?" he asked with his customary warm smile.

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Merrin's wine glass, had one been paying attention to it, only got progressively fuller as the banquet progressed. She'd touched it only once, and in that instance hurriedly set it down again. The same could almost be said of her plate - though she'd made some effort to try the dishes of bewildering variety and taste. What was occupying Merrin's attention, and had for every excruciating minute she'd sat at the high table, was trying to find among the rainbow of dazzlingly attired nobles the one figure she actually wanted to see.

At first she was scanning their ranks for black garb, which should have been easy to spot, so Merrin was bewildered that she couldn't find him until she remembered that he wouldn't have attended dressed in his usual attire any more than she would. She nearly gave up after that, especially since it did not reduce the amount of tension she felt in the least to respond to Feldwar's every comment and attempt to locate Kendath simultaneously. "Aye, it's - lovely," she managed, toying with the napkin in her lap.

She'd found herself edging away from him halfway through the second course, moving slowly over to the arm of her chair in order to escape somewhat from what seemed an unending scrutiny. Merrin had promptly forced herself to stop and now sat rigidly in the middle of the cushioned seat, trying to decide whether she was angry or shy or just miserable. At the moment she was shy. "It's...very different, Amarinth," she ventured, having decided that silence was more uncomfortable than even stilted conversation.

There he was! Merrin could immediately see why she hadn't spotted him earlier, dressed as he was. Unconsciously she found herself trying to see better, sitting up straighter to look. He looked very different...but Merrin found herself quite liking it, the change from black to color. Before she caught herself she was wondering if he would dance with her and feeling herself blush at the though.

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"Different from Vryngard, then?" Prince Feldwar asked. A skilled conversationist, he disguised the general awkwardness behind an air of delighted interest. He'd been to Vryngard a few times and found the place as different from Amarinth as a beggar was to a king, but for conversation's sake he refrained from voicing that.

He still couldn't see why the Shadow would care for her, Chosen of the Gods as she was, other than an innocent drop of blood in the despot's evening wine. Why should I care? he wondered bitterly. I have no control over him, yet he exerts full power over me, over Amarinth. He imparts what he wishes to impart, no more. Nay, the Lord of Amarinth no longer thought in terms of the future, of ambition for his people and city.

Everything - his very life - centered around the present. And the fear. There was always the fear.

Habit would have coerced him to risk a glance behind him, but his public composure prohibited it. He never attended banquets. Indeed, he reserved his depraved presence for one man and one man only.

Prince Feldwar shuddered before he could catch himself, and suddenly he found himself in no mood for pleasant conversation. "You are... uncomfortable," he observed, the words sounding forced despite his best efforts. "You are dismissed, if you wish it so."

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Thoughts of dancing with Kendath fled instantaneously. Merrin was appalled at herself - had she really been so obvious? With his permission or no, the thought of giving in to her own shyness with all the noble population of Amarinth looking on was an extremely unattractive one.

"I thank you, I'm not uncomfortable," she demurred, aware that it was a lie in every sense of the word. "Only a little - ah - I'm afraid I am not very used to..." she broke off. He didn't seem to be listening, regarding his plate with a frown. What had brought about the abrupt change? "Are you - you are not uncomfortable yourself?" she ventured, hoping it was not a hideous breach of etiquette to inquire - and not quite caring if it was. He was not unkind, she found herself reflecting reluctantly. Only perhaps blinded by riches...or was that all?

His lack of reply made her venture further, cautiously. "The rooms were lovely, I do thank you." Perhaps she had been rude...he had been generous, after all, however much she disliked the banquet in itself.

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"Deliver her to me..." The voice, sibilant as silk yet ultimately deadly, whispered in Feldwar's mind. "She is yours. Deliver her to me now..."

"Now?" he gasped, unaware that Merrin was still watching him. He clutched the carved arms of his chair with an iron grip. He could not look at his guest, knowing that once he did... once he began to comply... He murmured, barely audibly, "Not now. Not in front of..."

"DELIVER HER TO ME, SLAVE! I GROW WEARY OF YOUR PATHETIC EXCUSES!"

His head ached on the verge of explosion. The bright lights, strong aromas, inane blabbering of his other guests... he couldn't stand it! No! "Yes, master!" his mind screamed. Panting for breath, he seized Merrin's wrist. "Come with me."

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Merrin involuntarily jerked backwards but he didn't let go. What was wrong? He looked fevered, suddenly almost frantic - it couldn't have been something she said, something she did. She started to shake her head, searching his face anxiously, but the grip on her wrist tightened. "Yes, yes, I'll come!" she finally acquiesced under her breath, stiff with alarm and the thought of who might be watching. "I will! Let go - let - "

He released her almost as suddenly as he'd seized her wrist initially. Merrin had a split second of time to attempt to read the strange look on his face. What on earth? Had he eaten something - she broke off that train of thought in disgust, of course he hadn't. "Your highness - are you all right?" she asked in bewilderment as they rose. Other nobles were doing the same, the meal being nearly over, so it went unnoticed for the most part.

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