"Even in Eastmark, I've heard much about you, Bricen's son. For the sake of my late sister, Queen Viata of Isencroft, I come to pay my respects."
Tris gave a formal bow. "You are most welcome. We're honored by your presence."
Kalcen had a direct gaze that held nothing back, and Tris found himself liking this unexpected visitor. "Old ways are changing in the Winter Kingdoms. Our world is not the world our fathers knew. Our ways cannot be their ways. This marriage creates a blood bond among Margolan, Eastmark, and Isencroft. Such bonds are not made lightly."
"I agree. It's time to make a new bond from what our fathers put aside. These are dangerous times."
"My seer dreamt of a great storm looming on the horizon, breaking over the Margolan mountains to the South. Even he was not sure of the dream's meaning, but it bodes darkly. Your power as a Summoner is known even in Eastmark. But the living are sometimes more to be feared than the dead."
"Then let's enjoy today," Tris replied.
"Well said, King Martris. Now, my companions and I would take our rest. We've had a long journey."
Crevan came immediately from where he stood near the doors. Tris made his farewell and took his leave. Kalcen's warning kept him preoccupied for many hours, while he received the banal greetings of the nobles who still waited for their moment with the king.
ALONE IN HIS guest room, Jonmarc Vahanian paced. He listened to the courtyard bells chime the eighth hour. It would be three more until Carina would be free of official duties. Time passed far too slowly. He felt for the velvet pouch in his pocket that held the shevir. He'd know soon enough when he saw Carina whether he had any chance of getting her to accept the betrothal token. Gabriel's right. There's no reason to think she's changed her mind. She's wintering at Dark Haven-now I just have to get her to make that a permanent arrangement.
The knock at his door made Jonmarc glance up sharply, and his hand fell to the pommel of his sword. Cautiously, he opened the door.
"May I come in?" King Donelan of Isencroft stood framed in the doorway.
Caught completely off guard, Jonmarc managed to step aside. "Sure. Come in. Your majesty."
Up close, Donelan was even more impressive than he had seemed at a distance. His hair was a darker auburn than Kiara's and his complexion was more fair. Donelan's recent illness showed in his eyes.
"So you're Jonmarc Vahanian," Donelan said, planting his hands on his hips. "Kiara and Cam have told me quite a bit about you."