A fanfare cut through the babble of voices like a sharp sword through silk. The herald in his colorful tabard stepped forward and banges his staff three times on the wooden platform.

  "Noble lords and ladies!" His voice echoed across the field. "His Majesty has a joyful announcement to make!"

  The crowd fell silent instantly. Thousands of faces turned toward the royal box, where King Edmund rose from his throne. Although he was not nearly as festively dressed as he had been at the opening of Parliament, he effortlessly radiated authority.

  "Lords, ladies, and loyal subjects," the king's sonorous voice rang out, carrying across the entire tournament field. "It is Our great pleasure to announce, on this glorious day, the union of two of the noblest houses in Our realm."

  An expectant murmur rippled through the crowd as Valentina's heart sank.

  "Duke Cosimo Greystone of Duskenshire and Marquess Merrick Ashbourne of Timberpine, step forward!"

  The two men rose from their seats simultaneously. Duke Cosimo strode forward with his characteristic calm self-assurance, while Marquess Ashbourne stepped forward somewhat more stiffly. It was only noticeable if you paid close attention, but court procedures seemed to make him slightly uncomfortable.

  "Amazing that a man who leads the dangerous life of a Marcher Lord can be unsettled by the court," Valentina thought.

  "Which terrain is more dangerous – the royal court or the wild borderlands – is ultimately a question of experience and inclination," Vyxara whispered in her thoughts. "A sufficiently large faux pas here can cost you your head just as surely as a misstep in the Summercrest Range."

  In front of the royal box, the duke and the marquess met and bowed first to the king, then to each other.

  "Lord Lorenzo Greystone, son and heir of the Duke of Duskenshire!"

  Lorenzo rose from the Greystone section. He had removed his armor but still wore his tabard, and the dried blood from his healed wound still clung to his temple. As he stepped up with dignified effort, every eye in the audience followed him. He took his place beside his father with his back straight as a lance.

  "Lady Innogen Ashbourne, daughter of the Marquis of Timberpine!"

  "She looks ravishing," Vyxara murmured softly in Valentina's head.

  The grace with which Innogen rose and briefly took Valentina's breath away, spoke of her years of courtly training. Innogen's pale blue dress shimmered in the afternoon light like frozen water in a mountain lake of her homeland in the western mountains. Her smile was appropriately sweet, but Valentina, who knew her so well, saw the tension in her shoulders and the way her hands were clasped together to hide the trembling.

  She took her place beside her father, directly opposite Lorenzo.

  King Edmund smiled benevolently down at the assembled group. "It is the will of these two noble houses that Lord Lorenzo Greystone and Lady Innogen Ashbourne should enter into matrimony with Our blessing and under the benevolent eyes of the Martyr."

  The crowd burst into enthusiastic applause, but the king raised his hand for silence.

  "This union," he continued, "will not only bring together two young people of exceptional qualities, but also two of the most powerful houses in Our realm. Lord Lorenzo has demonstrated his skills today with both the sword and Essence Weaving." He nodded appreciatively to Lorenzo, who bowed deeply.

  "And Lady Innogen," the king turned his gaze to her, "is a young lady of impeccable breeding, with her own remarkable abilities in Essence Weaving, as we have been assured. Her education at Bridgewater University speaks to her sharp mind and dedication to her studies."

  Innogen sank into a perfect curtsy, her cheeks slightly flushed from the public attention.

  "Duke Greystone, Marquess Ashbourne," the king addressed the fathers. "Are the terms of this agreement settled to your satisfaction?"

  Duke Cosimo stepped forward. "They are, Your Majesty. The dowry is generous and appropriate to the standing of both houses."

  "Three thousand gold crowns, I heard," someone whispered reverently behind Valentina.

  Marquess Ashbourne nodded in agreement. "The arrangements are satisfactory in every respect, Your Majesty. My daughter will one day become a worthy Duchess of Duskenshire."

  "Then let the young couple come forward!"

  Lorenzo and Innogen moved simultaneously, meeting in the middle before the king. They stood side by side but did not touch, both wearing polite smiles that did not reach their eyes.

  "The wedding," announced King Edmund, "will take place after Lady Innogen completes her studies at Bridgewater University, in one year. Thus she will be allowed to complete her education, as befits a lady of her rank and intelligence."

  The crowd applauded enthusiastically. Cheers rose from the common ranks, while the nobles clapped dignifiedly.

  "Lord Lorenzo, you may take your betrothed's hand."

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  Lorenzo turned to Innogen, and for a moment their eyes truly met. He took Innogen's hand, raised it to his lips, and breathed a kiss onto her gloved fingers. The gesture was perfect in its formality, neither too long nor too short, neither too passionate nor too distant.

  "May the Martyr bless this union!" King Edmund exclaimed. "May they have many years of happiness and many strong children!"

  The cheers of the crowd were deafening. Valentina stood next to the satisfied duchess and clapped mechanically, her face wearing a smile that felt as if it were carved from stone.

  "You're doing well," Vyxara murmured reassuringly.

  The noble gallery exploded into motion as nobles streamed onto the stage to offer their congratulations. Lorenzo and Innogen were immediately separated, each surrounded by a different group of well-wishers.

  "Lady Innogen!" Lady Bianca Montfort pushed her way forward, her round face beaming with enthusiasm. "What beautiful children you will have! With his curls and your golden hair, I can just imagine it, oh, how sweet!"

  Innogen's smile froze for a split second before she put it back on. "You are too kind, Lady Bianca."

  Meanwhile, Lorenzo was being pestered by a pimply-faced nobleman of perhaps fifteen years of age. "Lord Lorenzo, what advice do you have for a man who wishes to court a lady? How did you win Lady Innogen's heart?"

  Lorenzo's answer came smoothly: "Patience and sincere correspondence, Lord Regis. Affection grows through shared thoughts and common interests."

  "A diplomat just like his father," Vyxara sneered in Valentina's mind.

  "Hear, hear!" cried an elderly lord. "Well said! The youth of today could learn from your example!"

  Duke Cosimo beamed like the midday sun itself, accepting congratulations from all sides. "Yes, we are very pleased. The Ashbournes are an excellent family. This alliance will benefit both houses."

  Marquess Ashbourne conversed with other Marcher Lords, his voice lending weight to Valentina's position. "We have high hopes that their children will inherit the gift of Essence Weaving. With the talent of both parents..."

  "A dynasty of Essence Weavers!" one of his conversation partners enthused. "Very clever. It is important to breed this gift into the nobility. In Clairmontine, they are already much further along with this..."

  Servants began carrying trays of wine and small delicacies through the crowd. The tournament break had turned into an impromptu celebration.

  "When exactly will the wedding take place?" asked a countess curiously.

  "After the exams in Bridgewater the king said," someone replied knowingly. "So probably sometime next summer."

  "A summer wedding! How romantic!"

  The conversations revolved endlessly around the political implications. The Earl of Redpool discussed quietly with another lord: "This alliance significantly shifts the balance of power. The Marcher Lords are now firmly bound to Greystone."

  "And thus to the king's plans," his conversation partner added meaningfully.

  Valentina couldn't take it anymore. The smile on her face felt as if it would crack at any moment. "Your Grace," she murmured to the Duchess, "if you would excuse me for a moment..."

  Duchess Rosalind nodded understandingly. "Of course, my dear. But hurry."

  Valentina fled behind the stands, away from the eyes of the crowd. She leaned against the rough wooden structure and pressed her palms against her eyes. She would not cry. She must not cry.

  "Let it out," Vyxara whispered gently. "Just for a moment."

  "I can't," Valentina thought back. "If I start, I might not be able to stop."

  "Then breathe. In deeply, out slowly. Think of something else. Think of the Tower, why don't you? Just imagine his other tower, how it's-"

  "Vyxara!"

  "...slowly rising from the undergrowth and striving straight toward the sky."

  Despite everything, Valentina almost laughed. "That's your solution?"

  "It distracted you quite a bit yesterday," Vyxara teased gently. "Come on, a few more deep breaths."

  Valentina took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and forced her face back into a mask of courtly nonchalance. By the time she returned to her seat, the wave of congratulations had subsided. Lorenzo and Innogen were back with their respective families, both looking exhausted.

  "The tournament will resume shortly!" the herald called out. "The first round of jousting is about to begin!"

  The crowd began to sit down again, but in the noble gallery, the conversations continued to revolve around the engagement. Valentina resumed her place behind the Duchess, her gaze involuntarily seeking out Innogen. Her friend sat stiffly next to her mother, her hands neatly folded in her lap, her gaze fixed straight ahead.

  In the lower tiers, however, an enthusiastic murmur rippled through the crowd and the engagement was almost forgotten. The joust was traditionally the highlight of every tournament, and this one would last for several days.

  It was probably so popular because it was the most exciting, violent, and fastest of all the disciplines. Two knights rode toward each other with their lances lowered, and whoever managed to knock his opponent out of the saddle won. Whoever managed to break three of his opponent's lances without falling himself also won.

  The first two knights were already riding onto the field. Their armor gleamed, freshly polished by diligent squires. The heavy warhorses snorted and pawed the ground impatiently.

  "Lord Owyn Caulibert versus Sir Rickard of Sandsend!" announced the herald.

  Valentina watched as the two men took their positions at opposite ends of the wooden barrier. The lances were handed out, heavy ash shafts with blunt tips for the tournament.

  "At least this is a little bit more entertaining than all the social banter," Vyxara remarked dryly.

  The signal sounded. The horses thundered toward each other, and then there was a deafening crash. Wooden splinters flew everywhere, and Sir Rickard was thrown from his saddle in a high arc. He landed hard on the soft ground but remained conscious.

  The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

  While the next round was being prepared, Valentina let her gaze wander over the tournament grounds. Among the waiting knights, near the competitors' area, one distinctive figure stood out.

  The Tower.

  He wore no armor, not even a tabard, just a simple grey shirt and dark trousers, but his sheer size made him impossible to miss. He stood apart, talking to no one, just watching. His grey-blue eyes followed every round closely.

  "He's not scheduled to compete today," murmured Lady Beatrice, who had followed Valentina's gaze. "I think he's not due until the day after tomorrow. But he's already studying his opponents."

  The afternoon sun began to set, casting long shadows across the tournament field. After a dozen more rounds, the herald rose one last time.

  "The jousting will continue tomorrow! Tonight, House Greystone will celebrate the happy engagement with a reception!"

  Everyone was excitedly talking about the evening's festivities.

  "We are in a bit of a hurry," the Duchess said meaningfully to her ladies. "There is still much to prepare."

  No sooner had her carriage reached the courtyard than Duchess Rosalind sprang into action.

  "Dundee! Is everything ready? The flower arrangements? The food?"

  The housekeeper curtsied. "Everything is as you wished, Your Grace."

  Valentina mechanically helped with the preparations, checking the seating arrangements with Lady Beatrice, while her mind was elsewhere.

  "You've been through worse," Vyxara whispered gently.

  But as the house buzzed with busy preparations around her, Valentina didn't feel so sure about that.