His ears seemed to relax at her words.

“Ah, Captain, good to see you about and visiting your boys.”

Laren turned to find Horse Master Riggs approaching. She was a compact woman of middling years and came from a family of hostlers from Hillander Province. Her father had served Zachary’s family estate, as her brother did now, and she came to Sacor City to train both horses and riders. Laren had seen her handle the most high-strung of stallions and the shyest of foals with a sure and kind hand, and she had a knack for teaching riders of all abilities. Laren was glad that Riggs was there to oversee the training of Green Riders and their horses.

“You’re right about Loon,” Riggs said. “He’ll learn. How’s the shoulder?”

“Not bad.” She’d been following Vanlynn’s instructions exactly, and Ben had given her tiny bits of his true healing touch to encourage her shoulder to mend, but it was a secret between the two of them, for after the assassination attempt on Zachary last spring, Vanlynn decreed that Ben’s ability was to be reserved for dire need only. His ability had its limits and was not to be exhausted on illnesses and injuries that would mend fine on their own. Laren agreed, especially with the queen expecting, but her shoulder had become a hindrance in accomplishing her duties, and Ben had wanted to help. He said that he could make her shoulder less likely to dislocate again. Who was she to argue?

“Glad to hear it.” Riggs rubbed her elbow as if remembering an old injury of her own. “I’m waiting for your young lady to appear for her lesson.”

“My young lady?” Laren stared blankly at her.

“Anna? One of the queen’s servants?”

“Of course. It’s been arranged then?”

“Yes, through Mistress Evans. Going to put the girl on Mallard.”

Mallard was an unclaimed Rider horse with an easygoing disposition, more likely to nap in the sun than run away with a novice rider. Laren couldn’t think of a better mount for Anna’s first lesson.

“Ah, this must be her now,” Riggs said.

The girl stood uncertainly at the far end of the building.

“Hello, Anna,” Laren said, hoping to put her at ease. “Come meet Horse Master Riggs.”

After introductions, Riggs looked Anna over with a critical, but not unkind, eye.

“We won’t be doing side saddle.”

Anna was wearing a skirt.

“Have you no trousers?” Riggs asked. “Boots?”

Anna shook her head.

“Mistress Evans won’t thank me if your livery is soiled.”

“Hmm,” Laren said. “I could probably track down something secondhand that one of my Riders can’t use anymore.” Rider uniform parts did begin to look shabby after a while and had to be put out of service, even if they weren’t worn out, because the king’s messengers must look polished.

Riggs nodded. “Good. Then we’ll just begin with the basics of getting to know a horse.”

Laren patted Loon and Bluebird one last time and nodded farewell as Riggs led Anna down the aisle toward Mallard’s stall. Laren did not want to be a distraction—the girl already looked nervous enough. Undoubtedly, she would be introduced to the horse, get to pet and brush him, and learn to put a halter on him and lead him around. It would be a good, gentle start. Laren, meanwhile, would find Mara and ask her to track down some likely pairs of trousers and boots.

• • •

Later that day, Laren was going over Rider accounts with Daro in officers quarters when a Green Foot runner came to her door with a message.

“From Counselor Tallman, ma’am.”

Laren thanked the boy and unfolded the paper awkwardly with her good hand. According to Les, there was a meeting transpiring with Prince Tuandre on substantive issues, and that perhaps she would like to be present. Why hadn’t Zachary summoned her? This was most unusual.

Her dismay must have been plain for Daro asked, “What is it, Captain?”

“A meeting underway without me. Would you help me with my dress longcoat and sash?” The visit of a dignitary like Prince Tuandre required her formal uniform, and with Daro’s help, she was properly attired, though the coat had to be draped over her bad shoulder. There was nothing else for it, though, and she set off for the castle.

When she reached the meeting room, Willis opened the door so she could slip in. Zachary sat slumped in a small version of his throne chair at the head of the table, and the prince at the opposite end in a comfortable chair of his own. Along the sides sat advisors and courtiers of both Rhovanny and Sacoridia. Laren kept against the wall near Fastion, for there were no empty chairs, and she did not wish to disrupt the proceedings by requesting one, or even by moving to stand near Zachary. She tried to catch his eye, but his attention seemed concentrated inward, his attitude withdrawn.

The meeting focused on issues of trade, and with Rhovanny as one of Sacoridia’s primary trade partners, it was certainly important. As the prince’s people negotiated with the king’s over tariffs, it brought to mind a customer and a merchant haggling on market day. Rhovanny’s most important export was wine, and the Rhovans were eager to find relief from taxes, just as Sacoridia’s merchants would likewise desire relief.

Laren watched Zachary more than the negotiators. Normally he’d join in on such talks, but she did not think he was paying any attention whatsoever. Was he sick? He looked healthy enough. It was clear to her he did not wish to be present. To be fair, Prince Tuandre spoke little, but at least he made the occasional remark and seemed otherwise engaged. This must be quite the education for him, for he was but eighteen or nineteen. He’d a bevy of counselors with him, however, to speak for Rhovanny’s interests.