"It's broken," Carina pronounced. "I can do some healing and wrap if for you to get you through the ceremony, but try to avoid dancing-and long receiving lines."
"Any idea who was behind it?" Donelan did not move from where he and Kalcen sat by the fire.
"The men were bewitched," Tris replied, gritting his teeth as Carina worked on his ankle. "Memories wiped clean. No idea who sent them. Even the ghosts couldn't say."
"Our guards are instructed to be of whatever help they can in securing the festivities," added Kalcen. "If your enemies were bold enough to strike in Staden's court at Winter-stide, a gathering such as this one may be irresistible."
"We thought we'd taken every precaution," Tris said, feeling the warmth of Carina's healing magic ease the pain in his ankle. Kiara took his hand. "Are you all right?"
"just a little shaken up. So much for wedding day jitters!"
He kissed the back of her hand. "Still game to go through with it?"
"Absolutely," she said, bending to kiss his cheek.
"We're guessing that whoever sent the soldiers hoped for an incident to cause Isencroft to force its princess to return home," remarked Kalcen.
"At least if the attackers were Margolense, we know they're not those damned Isencroft divisionists," Donelan replied. "Kalcen and I are agreed: the best thing is to show our solidarity with Margolan."
"Thank you," Tris said raggedly as Carina completed her healing.
"See if you can put weight on it without help," Carina prompted. Tris stood and shifted his weight, finding that he could stand without wincing. "I'm afraid that's all there's time for-we're due for the ceremony in a candlemark. If there's time later, I can do more."
"This should get me through," Tris said. He looked down at his ruined clothes. "The wags at court will talk more if I show up looking like this than if I had an arrow in my back. I'd better go get ready, and leave Kiara to her preparations."
Jonmarc stood as Tris headed for the door. "I was headed that direction anyhow. I'll make sure you get where you're going."
"You know, you're supposed to be a guest."
"Old habits are hard to break."
"THERE'S AN EASIER way to do this," Jon- marc said to Carina as they waited for the royal wedding to begin.
"What, elope?" Carina shot back. Beside her, Cam snickered.
Trumpets blared as the guests in Shekerishet's great room jostled for a good look at the bride and groom. Tris and Kiara entered together. Kiara's wedding gown was in the Isencroft tradition; red silk, slim cut, slit almost to the hip, and below that, billowing silk trousers in vibrant orange, the colors of flame, sacred to the Aspect Chenne. The colors made her dusky skin glow. A wide, ornately embroidered sash accentuated Kiara's waist, and flowing sleeves almost covered her hands. Her auburn hair was loose and long, and a lace-like headdress of golden mail, finely crafted and embellished with small gems, fitted closely over her hair, framing her face. Around her neck glittered an opulent necklace in the Eastmark style with matching earrings of gold that cascaded nearly to her shoulders. On her right hand was the signet ring of the heir to the Isencroft throne.