A/N Sorry this is rough, but it's as much as I can do to get these written and posted.

Sensible that they were getting nowhere, Pelaren adjourned the meeting with relief, and watched as the weary nobles milled out to the foyer and beyond, where there was wine awaiting them. But Pelaren himself did not move, instead he slumped in his chair and massaged his temples that were beginning to throb, wondering the whole time how he would solve the current crisis without causing a civil war between the nobles. His greatest fear was that they would one day refuse to obey him, which would rend Cherbor apart.

Lord Gedlen watched as Lianna greeted each noble with the grace that she always showed, and waited until the others had dispersed before approaching her.

“My Lady,” Gedlen said, bowing low and kissing her hand.

Lianna’s face broke into a genuine smile. “Gedlen. I have not seen you for a long time. I was beginning to think that you had abandoned all pretence of attending court.” She drew him into an alcove so they could talk in peace.

“Times are difficut for us all,” Gedlen replied, “and I cannot leave home as often as I would like.”

“That’s why you need to marry,” Lianna said, knowing that she had said this many times before. “Choose a woman who can help you direct your affairs at home.”

“Lianna,” Gedlen broke in, then corrected himself. “My Lady,” he said seriously. “I have no intention of marrying, nor do I think I ever will. I have never been a man to take a wife to myself lightly, and though you have introduced me to many excellent ladies in the past, it has not changed my opinion.”

“You are an idealist, Sir,” Lianna smiled. “At least promise me you will come to the ball.”

“Your wish is my command,” Gedlen replied gallantly. “But I doubt that any lady there could compare to our Queen.” His tone was light, but Lianna blushed involuntarily.

“You flatter me,” she said, standing up and looking at him with something akin to sympathy in her eyes.

“I must attend to Olan,” Gedlen said, excusing himself with a low bow. “I promised Pelaren I would look after him. He is too naïve for such a gathering.”

“Pelaren told me of what happened to his father. Do they know why?” Lianna asked with a frown.

“Supposedly his uncle was displeased by his continuing involvement in Fellath, and feels Olan will be more pliable,” he answered. “But I like the lad. He shows great clarity of perception for someone so young.”

“Perhaps it is just the innocence of youth,” Lianna finished softly and went to engage her other guests in conversation as befitted her duties as Queen. Gedlen watched her with a soft smile, then went to find Olan amongst the crowd.

While watching Lianna and Gedlen narrowly out of the corner of his eye, Lord Unger realised that Olan had not yet come out of th council hall. As soon as Lianna moved away from Gedlen, he came up to her and complimented her on the fine wine which did Cherbor proud.

“You are most welcome, Lord Unger,” said Lianna graciously.

“Lord Gedlen is an honourable man, is he not?”

Lianna drew herself up imperceptibly. “They are all men of honour, Lord Unger.”

“A good thing with a Queen as fair as you,” Unger replied silkily, then slipped away into the crowd before Lianna could reply.

Lianna pressed her lips together in annoyance and wondered whether she should mention it to Pelaren.

Olan remained behind after Pelaren dismissed the nobles,. “Sire,” he began timidly, seeing Pelaren’s tired expression.

Pelaren looked up with surprise. “Yes?”

“I’m not sure who to ask…I can’t ask my uncle,” Olan said, stumbling over his words and realising he made no sense. Pelaren watched him patiently. Olan gathered up his courage and began afresh. “Sire, after my father died, I found that he had left his affairs in disarray. Less than half of the gold that was supposed to be in the treasury is actually there. The armoury is in disarray. I don’t see how we could defend ourselves in case of attack. The soldiers look at me as a lad and obey my uncle instead of me. To make matters worse, my mother is pushing me to get married. And I can’t find the deed to the property anywhere.”

Pelaren watched him for a moment, then chose his words carefully. “First of all, you must never admit that to anyone. If they know you are weak they will attack you. Each man out there,” and he gestured towards the door, “would destroy you if he had the chance. They are allies only because it benefits them to be so, and could turn at a moments notice. So if they ask, speak of how strong your kingdom is. I am only helping you now because your father was a good man, but really you shouldn’t have even said that to me.

As for the problems in your kingdom, they are not so dire that you cannot fix them. Demand records from the keeper of the treasury. If he refuses, then threaten to hang him, since he is shielding someone. Find out where the gold has gone and get it back, then strengthen your army’s loyalty to you by appointing as commander someone you can trust. Double his wage if need be.”

“I have already done that, Sire, but the treasury keeper is due to hang soon, and he still hasn’t spoken.”

“Then arrest your uncle on a pretext and have him questioned. If you are paying your army more than your uncle is, then they will obey you. And take my advice, don’t get married until your affairs are in order, although you can court as much as you wish. Indeed, I recommend that you do so. Pay your suit to several wealthy heiresses, and your people will respect you more because of the money they hope you to gain.”

“Thank you.” Olan bowed awkwardly as Pelaren rose. “Must I now go into the foyer?”

“I would recommend you make your appearance there briefly, but after that your time is your own, and there are many hunting tracks around the castle which make good riding,” Pelaren said knowingly. He watched as Olan, who was a keen horseman, brightened.

“Thank you sire,” Olan said again, and almost ran out of the meeting hall in his eagerness. Just then he saw Unger, who seemed to have been waiting for him.

“Olan, my boy. We missed you outside. I do hope you are intending to join us,” Unger said genially.

“Of course, Lord Unger. I was just delayed.”

“Good.” Walking beside Olan and adopting a conspiratory tone, Unger asked how Olan’s mother was.

“She is well,” replied Olan. “She has been much occupied with preparing for winter.”

“Have the wolves been troubling you much recently?” Unger asked. “I hear there are many in your part of Cherbor.”

“Not more so than normal.”

Unger began speaking to Olan of wolves, but his attention soon wandered. Seeing his plight, Lianna called, “Lord Unger, come and share with us your opinion on the best way to protect out shores from pirates this winter.” She was surrounded by a group of lords who seemed to be having a heated debate.

Unger looked reluctant, but unwilling to disobey his Queen, he obeyed her request. Lianna gave Olan a sympathetic smile as, unnoticed by everyone else, he went out of the nearest door.

Free at last, thought Olan. Here all was peaceful- the only sound was the twitter of birds fluttering across the neatly clipped hedges, and the hum of the bees as they darted from blossom to blossom in search of nectar. As he followed the broad path that arched around the back of the palace to the stables, he heard voices drifting around the corner; it sounded like they were engaged in a heated argument. Suddenly coming around a corner, he encountered a man and a young girl, evidently the owners of the voices. At his approach, the girl broke off whatever she had been going to say next and fixed him with a reproving stare.

“I’m sorry,” he said in answer to her gaze. “You sounded much further off. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No harm done,” replied the man cordially, who Olan noticed was dressed in the garb of a stablehand, and had a gentle demeanour. “Maybe you can help me talk some sense into young missy here.”

Olan bowed to the girl, who appeared to be about six or seven years of age. She was dressed in a simple blue dress that came to her knees, and her dark hair was pulled back with little regard to fashion. But judging from the costly fabric of her dress, and the deference with which the stablehand treated her, Olan guessed that she was the daughter of some visiting nobleman.

“Lady, I am Lord Olan the Third of Neremath, and I have the honour of making your acquaintance,” he said gravely.

“You look too young to be a Lord,” she replied, but curtsied back demurely. “You may call me Kira,” she said with a twinkle in her dark eyes, “and that is Rodgers, who won’t let me ride the woodland track by myself.” She pointed to the stablehand who watched her fondly.

“I am sure Lord Olan will agree with me that you are far too young to ride alone, and I am too busy to accompany you,” he replied, obviously repeating his earlier argument.

Olan interrupted before Kira could answer. “If you would allow me to ride with her, I would count it an honour.”

Rodgers looked at him doubtfully, obviously unsure about trusting his young charge with a stranger.

“Oh please, won’t you?” Kira pleaded.

“I won’t be offended if you wish to ask the Queen her opinion of my character,” said Olan.

Rodgers smiled suddenly. “It isn’t that at all, sir. I was only wondering if Kira would be too much for you to handle.”

Olan met his smile. “I have two younger sisters of my own. Trust me, she will be no trouble.”

Seeing Rodgers’ nod, Kira bounded off ecstatically, not waiting to see if Olan was following her; indeed, it was all he could do to keep up. “This stable holds the riding horses, the war horses are separate. This one is Vespir, a hunter, and over there is Firebrand, who killed two riders before Rodgers tamed him. Cayli and Zenda are the carriage horses, and…”

“Slow down,” begged Olan, amused by her enthusiasm. “Which one should I ride?”

She looked him up and down. “Most would say a hunter like Ulin or Vepir, but I think you should ride Firebrand because you have tamed a wild horse like him before. It’s true, isn’t it?” She looked at him accusingly.

Olan only nodded.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed in triumph. “They can smell fear,” she added confidentially.

“Which horse is my lady riding?” asked Olan with a twinkle in his eye, amused by her banter.

She pointed to the end, where a bay pony was stabled. “Snowdrop. She’s called that not because of her colour, but because she’s cold-hearted. I don’t think so. You just have to get to know her.” And with those words she raced off- presumably to saddle her horse.

Olan followed suit, choosing Firebrand, as the girl had suggested, and soon the pair were cantering along one of the trails that led through the woods. The king, as Kira soon informed him, loved hunting pheasant along this route, though with food being scarce, they more often fell prey to foxes, or hungry peasant families who were willing to risk the guards for the sake of a few choice fowl. With a light heart, Olan rode through the forest, trying to forget that in a few hours he would have to return to the castle and take up the mantle of duty once more. But his mount was swift and the company pleasant, and Olan tarried too long in the forest, returning just before dinner. Kira, who had been so blithe while on her horse, also seemed to realise that she had stayed too long, and with no more than a few words of thanks, she raced around the corner of the stable and disappeared out of sight. Olan returned to the castle with sinking spirits and braced himself to face the disdain of the courtiers. Suddenly he realised that he did not care; the afternoon had been worth it.

Soon after he entered the castle he was greeted by the Queen, who assured him with a kindly smile that the council had not reconvened since he left. “I was sure that they would not since nobles, like children, are often too fond of the pleasures of food and drink to be too hasty in attending to business. Which,” she added with a sad smile, “I am sure has been the downfall of many kingdoms. But not ours.” Then brightening, Lianna advised Olan to dress for dinner. “Not that you don’t look adorable in what you are wearing now,” she added maternally, “but not everyone appreciates the smell of horse as much as we do. Now, if you will excuse me, I must dress for dinner, and ensure my children are presentable.”

Olan stood at the foot of the stairs with the other nobles. It was customary for the royal family to enter down the large staircase in the dining hall, and it was for this ceremonious entrance that the assembled courtiers were waiting. At long last the herald, who was standing at the head of the stairs in readiness, cried, “Ladies, Gentlemen, peers of the realm, allow me to present His Honourable Majesty, Pelaren the Third, son of Terinor, King of Cherbor, ruler of Fellath, and his consort, Lianna, daughter of the Sea King, Queen of Cherbor and Fellath, ruler of the Islands.” Olan watched as Pelaren and Lianna appeared arm in arm at the top of the staircase. The herald continued. “And with them, their children, Prince Renald and Princess Kiralee of Cherbor.”

Olan saw the young Prince and Princess appear at the top of the stairs, and with a jolt, he recognised Kira. She looked quite different, her hair smoothed, demurely standing beside her mother, looking as if racing about on horseback was the last thing on her mind, but as she proceeded down the stairs, she saw Olan, and her eyes twinkled with that same incorrigible mischief. Olan returned her smile with a stiff bow, and saw a hurt look flash in her eyes. Throughout the entire evening he studiously ignored her, though she kept trying to catch his eye.