Adalina paced along the bank of the river near the sweet smelling, yellow-leaved tree where she and Tancred had taken to meeting. The Autumn rain had swelled the river to more than the mere trickle it had been when they arrived in midsummer. Even so, to Adalina it still looked more like a stream. The dusk approached and the great, twisting tree which shed its leaves onto the water cast a long shadow. Still there was no sign of the prince.

  He abandoned me. He watched me bear that humiliation and dropped my cause. I was a fool to trust him.

  “Adalina.”

  She spun on her heel, suddenly alarmed that she had not heard him coming. She had been lost in the torrent of her thoughts. She looked at him first with anger, but her face fell when she saw his expression.

  The prince looked forlorn. Defeated, even.

  “Why?” she asked, in a voice so hoarse it sounded like a stranger spoke through her.

  “I thought you would understand.” He came closer. He wore a cotton shirt with a silver hem which glistened in the dimming light, and his blonde hair shone. He looked impossibly handsome. It infuriated her, as much as what he had said did.

  “Understand what? The ways of your court that you have grown up with, that I have seen for the first time today?”

  Tancred frowned. “Didn't Telio advise you? I thought you would come with attendants and advisors. Not alone and dressed to go hunting for rabbits.”

  “We don't dress differently for different occasions,” Adalina protested.

  “But you know we do,” Tancred replied, a hint of his own anger showing through. It was true; she knew.

  “I wanted to be true to who I am, to stand before your king as myself, a simple Hallin woman, not some imitation of a Western princess,” said Adalina weakly. She had felt proud and strong when she resolved to go alone before the king. But saying it out loud felt proud and foolish.

  Tancred stepped towards her and turned to look at the river and the rustling tree. The clear water sparkled in the twilight. The prince spoke aloud something remembered by rote: “Sometimes we must dress up the truth, in such a way as it can be seen by others.” He looked at her.

  “Whose words are those?” she asked.

  “Devra, the Priest of the Flame.”

  “You said he supports us,” Adalina complained, “but he said nothing.”

  “You didn’t present an image he could afford to support,” Tancred said. His voice was not accusatory, but she felt chided all the same. “You are the leader of your people. You are like a princess amongst them. Where you go, they follow. What you tell them, they believe. It takes power to hold such sway over others. But you chose not to demonstrate that today. Would it have hurt to at least bring a handful of supporters?”

  Adalina looked down and mumbled:

  “You could have explained it better. You could have come yourself.”

  “If I knew you were so stubborn and proud, I would have. But I wanted to avoid whispers that I had invited you. I wanted you to come and speak for yourself.”

  Adalina did not reply. She felt a sudden, crushing weight of failure. Her fingers curled into fists and her face flushed. She had been tested and found out. She was not an elder after all, but rather an imposter child who had been playing at the role.

  “What did your old crone advise?” Tancred asked.

  “The same as you,” Adalina replied, bitterly. “Perhaps she should have gone before the king.”

  Tancred smiled softly.

  “Perhaps. Misery loves company, as they say. She might have won my father’s friendship. Don’t look at me like that. I’m joking! It needed to be you… But… you needed to be better.” Tancred frowned. “Why did you talk to him about the glory of war? It didn’t sound like you.”

  “I was desperate by then. I thought it might appeal to him. I thought because of what happened at Terras he might want the chance…”

  Adalina trailed off. She realised now what an insult it must have seemed. Before his entire court she had alluded to past defeats. And yet, though it was a mistake, it had revealed something to her: the king was in pain. Beneath that sudden flash of anger had been an open, bleeding wound.

  Adalina walked a few paces, sat on the bank of the river and dangled her feet into the cool water. She watched her fractured reflection. The first of the stars appeared, dancing like fish on the surface of the water. Tancred came and sat beside her.

  “What did you come and meet me for?” she asked. “To tell me what I already know? That I failed.”

  “To say that I am sorry. I know I called you there too soon. I was wrong, but I had a reason to think I was right. Something happened. There was a change and I thought…”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Adalina looked at him keenly. His brows were furrowed in concentration, but when he noticed her attention he stopped talking. He wanted to tell her something, but they did not yet trust each other fully. Adalina knew this game better than the one she had played and lost in the hall.

  “I felt it too.” She touched his arm gently and he looked at her. “When I saw your friend, Telio, instead of the messenger. And when I saw your face when I entered that hall. I know something happened. Perhaps it’s not my place to know what.”

  She let the silence grow between them. Tancred shifted on the bank beside her. She waited and at length he spoke again: “Did you ever know someone for your whole life,” the prince started, “and one day wonder if you really met them?”

  Adalina thought before replying. “There was a warrior in my clan. Some looked up to him; others feared him. My parents thought him foolish and arrogant. But none of us really knew him. He almost betrayed us for the Republicans. He almost renounced the gods to save his son. I chose to trust him, but I don’t know why. His heart is still a mystery to me.”

  Tancred nodded slowly and asked:

  “Did he fight for your people, in the end?”

  “He’s still fighting for them now and searching for his son. And I still don’t know if he believes he will find him. I don’t know who he really is, even though he was like a second father to me.”

  Tancred nodded and thought for a moment then spoke slowly, as though still unsure whether he should unburden himself to her.

  “What if he was your father? Would it be wrong to say you did not know him?"

  His kind face was creased in confusion and anguish.

  “Sometimes it’s like that,” Adalina said softly, “with the people we are closest to.”

  She wasn’t sure at first whether he had heard her. He appeared lost for a moment in distant thoughts until eventually he said: "I always longed to meet the man they said he was. I thought we would have gotten along better. But the years passed and I never saw him, except in glimpses on feast days.”

  Adalina knew the story of King Brunulf. Everyone did. But if the king was lacking something Tancred hoped he would recover, to Adalina the man was more than she expected. He was described by most as a frail and failing ruler, vacillating between the advice of one courtier or another. It was said that before his defeat at the walls of Terras he was full of fire – the very image of Hurean on Earth. But when he returned from that doomed invasion, he sank into a slow decline. That was the story, but it did not feel true.

  For all that he mistreated me, he was not weak. He commanded his court with a single gesture. He knew his own mind.

  “You thought my arrival would give him a righteous cause,” Adalina said, starting to understand the young man beside her. “You thought in saving me, your father might also save himself.”

  Tancred looked at her and blinked, then bowed his head. He picked a stone from the ground and threw it into the river and the ripples shone in the moonlight. Adalina shivered.

  “What should I do now, Prince Tancred?” she asked. “Should I move into the city and earn a living weaving baskets?”

  He gave a dry chuckle.

  “We both know you won’t do that. But you only have two paths ahead of you.”

  She waited and listened.

  “If you could speak to the king alone, then you could speak freely and he could listen without measuring how your words are received by his court. But he will not invite you for a private audience and he is seldom alone.”

  “When is he alone?”

  “Every day at midday, during the hours of worship. But you won’t pass the gates and nor should you try.”

  “And the other way?”

  “Tackle the court. Go to Katarthion and speak with Crayas in the heart of his territory. Seek out the chief magistrate. Win over your fiercest opponents.”

  Adalina scoffed.

  “That awful man who looks as though you could roll him down the hill? What would I have to discuss with him?”

  “Speak to him and find out. Discover what he wants and whether you can offer it. Or find out what he fears. You need the court to invite you back, now that I have wasted my trick.”

  Adalina threw a pebble in, too. It fell close to where the prince’s had and its ripples reached the far bank.

  “Elder Ada! Elder Ada!” a child’s voice behind them called.

  Adalina turned to see Pasha scampering across the plain between the camp and the river. The bundle of hair bobbed up and down and Adalina and Tancred both chuckled. Then Pasha came close enough to stare at them both with her wild, dark eyes and Tancred’s laughter quietened. Pasha had that effect on those who didn’t know her.

  “Elder Ada, look!” She held up a tiny, tightly rolled scroll held closed by a piece of string. “One of Kastor’s birds came. There’s news from the forest!”

  Beresa appeared some way behind Pasha, carrying a torch and calling out to her daughter:

  “Come back, Pasha! The elder is not to be interrupted.”

  “It’s alright, Beresa,” Adalina placated the flustered mother, who looked more nervous now than she would do facing an army of enemy soldiers. “Let’s see the message.”

  “You have ravens coming to you from the forest?” Tancred asked in surprise. “How do they find you?”

  “You have not learned all our secrets yet, Prince,” Adalina replied. “Let’s see what news he and Heridan have sent.”

  Adalina strained to read in the moonlight and Beresa held a torch above her, but did not peer over her shoulder. Most Seveners were not able to read. She read the message, then read it again. Though they could not see the words, they must have understood something from her face.

  “What is it?” asked Tancred. “What news does it bring?”

  “Did he find Oli? Did he?” Pasha asked, jumping up and down.

  “No, Pasha. I’m sorry,” Adalina replied. Then she asked Beresa: “Did Elder Mildred already read this?”

  Beresa looked uncomfortable.

  “The Elder finished a jar of wine before dusk and went to bed. The raven arrived shortly after. What does it say, Ada? What news is there from home?”

  “Heridan and Kastor are still alive,” Adalina said. Beresa’s tense shoulders relaxed a little. “But they have not found Ingo yet and the war goes badly for the Levonin. They say that every patrol which journeys south now carries with it one or more of the new weapons. They have forts all along the River Scursrun and roads that reach almost to the old village. They are building in it, Beresa. Our wild home that we loved and hated; they are taming it.”