"My Queen!" The young Ser bowed so low, his golden forelock brushed the ground.

Vale bowed as well, but his eyes, vibrant and burning, held her gaze with a boldness that belied his calm acceptance of her dismissal.

At a quarter before ten bells, the Baristani family, clad in their best clothes, arrived at the royal palace. At least eighty Fey surrounded the carriage that conveyed them, with Ellie's quintet running alongside the conveyance as it rolled through the palace gates and up to the wide steps of the palace's grand entrance.

Though she had vowed never to do so, Ellie had once again donned her green dress and her mother's bridal chemise, hoping that it would bring more luck this time than it had the last. Her mother had helped her put up her hair in a soft, flattering style of curls and intricate plaits, held down by a set of long-toothed ivory combs. She wore no jewelry. She had none. But Kieran of the Fey had presented her with a girdle of delicate gold links and a sheath for Belliard's knife, decorated with six small, lovely jewels that shone red, blue, green, white, black, and lavender. The knife fit the sheath perfectly and now rested snugly on her right hip, pressed against the folds of her green gown. Belliard had said nothing when he saw it, but his eyes had flickered for a moment and she knew he was pleased.

An important-looking little man in elegant clothes met them at the top of the palace stairs. He greeted them with a gracious bow and introduced himself as the Right Honorable Ser Taneth Marcet, Undersecretary to the Minister of State. "If you and your family will follow mm, please, Master Baristani.”

He led them into the palace, down several marble-floored hallways, and into a luxurious antechamber. Ellie had never seen such wealth. Massive portraits of royal Celierian ancestors adorned the walls, their painted eyes looking down with imperious detachment. Gorgeous ivory brocade chairs overflowed with tasseled ice-blue and deep rose pillows. A rich, exquisitely carved sideboard of solid burlwood rested against one wall, its lustrous top covered with silver trays bearing all manner of fruits, comfits, tiny finger sandwiches, and delicate pastries. On a nearby cart rested a three-legged silver urn with eggshell-thin porcelain cups, tiny silver spoons, and a selection of sugars and creams elegantly presented around it.

After a brief investigation of the antechamber, the Fey settled themselves into the four corners of the room, and Belliard stood beside Ellie.

The Undersecretary gestured to the food and drink. "The refreshments are yours to enjoy," he told them, and he backed out of the room.

"Ser! Wait! Can you please tell us—" Sol's voice died off as the doors closed.

Lillis and Lorelle made a beeline for the comfits and had —already jammed three or four of the delicate candies in their mouths before Lauriana noticed and rapped out a sharp order to desist.

"But, Mama," Lorelle objected around the mass of sweets in her mouth, "the man said we could help ourselves.”

"And have powdered sugar and chocolate stains all over you as a result? I think not. And don't talk with your mouth full, Lorelle.”

The twins pouted, but as soon as their mother turned her attention back to Sol and Ellie, they each snatched another handful of comfits and hurried to plop themselves down on one of the large chairs facing away from their parents, where they proceeded to furtively nibble their purloined treats. Ellie shook her head and noticed that the Fey named Kieran was smiling again.

"Well," said Lauriana. "It looks as though they intend to keep us in suspense. As it's obvious we're being treated as guests rather than prisoners, you would think someone would tell us what's going on.”

"I imagine we'll know soon enough," Sol replied in a distracted voice. Ellie cast him a surprised glance, only to smile fondly as she recognized the cause of his distraction. His attention was riveted by the carving on the burlwood sideboard, and he crouched down beside the piece to inspect it.

"Exquisite," he breathed, running a hand over the intricate designs that had obviously been worked by a master. "Laurie, my dearest, come look at this workmanship. I've never seen finer. I wonder who did this. One of the old masters, no doubt. Probably Centarro. It looks old enough, and the amount of detail—amazing!—is right for the period. Maybe Purcel … but no, he was never one to work with burl- wood …" Completely absorbed, Sol pulled a small magnifying glass from his suit pocket and began looking for the tiny master's seal that was sure to be hidden somewhere on the carving.

Ellie, having skipped breakfast in the morning's rush, reached over him to help herself to a buttery fruit-and-mit-filled pastry, then moved to the cart to pour a cup of dark, steaming keflee into one of the delicate cups provided for that purpose. Holding the warm cup to her nose, she breathed deep of the spice-scented aroma and sighed happily. She poured a healthy dollop of honeyed cream into the bittersweet drink and took a sip, closing her eyes in bliss. Nothing should taste so lovely as this. Rich, creamy, sweet, spicy, with just enough bitterness to make it full-bodied. She rolled the flavors around on her tongue and nearly moaned in pleasure.

"The gods' blessings on whoever discovered keflee," she murmured, opening her eyes to find all the Fey watching her in fascination. Her chin came up in defiance of the blush warming her cheeks. "Well, surely some of the Fey must like it too?" she challenged.

"Aiyah." That came from the blond-haired warrior named Kiel. "Many do. But few who ... enjoy it … so well.”

Before Ellie could respond, the doors at the far end of the room opened wide and the doorman announced in ringing tones, "Her Majesty, Queen Annoura of Celieria.”