his own off by mistake. He slipped it on her finger without giving any thought to the implications.
Despite the similarity of the two rings, there were a few minuscule differences, and women are notoriously adept at recognizing such tiny variations. Ehlana gave the ruby ring he had just placed on her finger what appeared to be no more than a cursory glance, then with a squeal of delight, she threw her arms about his neck, nearly pulling him off-balance in the process, and glued her lips to his.
It is unfortunate, perhaps, that Vanion and the Earl of Lenda chose that moment to enter the room. The old earl coughed politely, and Sparhawk, flushing to the roots of his hair, gently but firmly disengaged the queen’s arms from about his neck.
The Earl of Lenda was smiling knowingly, and one of Vanion’s eyebrows was curiously raised. ‘Sorry to interrupt, My Queen,’ Lenda said diplomatically, ‘but since your recovery appears to be progressing so well, Lord Vanion and I thought it might be a suitable time to bring you up to date on certain matters of state.’
‘Of course, Lenda,’ she replied, brushing aside the implied question of just exactly what she and Sparhawk had been doing when the pair had entered the room.
‘There are some friends outside, Your Majesty,’ Vanion said. ‘They will be able to brief you on some events in greater detail than the earl and I would be able to.’
‘Then show them in, by all means.’
Sparhawk stepped to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of water; his mouth was very dry for some reason.
Vanion went outside for a moment and returned with Sparhawk’s friends. ‘I believe you know Sephrenia, Kurik and Sir Kalten, Your Majesty,’ he said. He then introduced the others, judiciously omitting references to Talen’s professional activities.
‘I’m so pleased to meet you all,’ Ehlana said graciously. ‘Now, before we begin, I have an announcement to make. Sir Sparhawk here has just proposed marriage to me. Wasn’t that nice of him?’
Sparhawk had the glass to his lips at that point, and he went into an extended fit of choking.
‘Why, whatever is the matter, dear?’ Ehlana asked innocently.
He pointed at his throat, making strangling noises.
When Sparhawk had somewhat regained his breath and a few shreds of his composure, the Earl of Lenda looked at his queen. ‘I gather then that Your Majesty has accepted your champion’s proposal?’
‘Of course I have. That’s what I was doing when you came in.’
‘Oh,’ the old man said. ‘I see.’ Lenda was a consummate politician, and he was able to make statements like that without cracking a smile.
‘Congratulations, My Lord,’ Kurik said gruffly, seizing Sparhawk’s hand in a grip of iron and shaking it vigorously.
Kalten was staring at Ehlana. ‘Sparhawk?’ he demanded incredulously.
‘Isn’t it odd how your closest friends never fully understand your greatness, my dear?’ she said to Sparhawk. ‘Sir Kalten,’ she said then, ‘your boyhood friend is the paramount knight in the world. Any woman would be honoured to have him as her husband.’ She smiled smugly. ‘I’m the one who got him, however. All right, friends, please be seated and tell me what’s been happening to my kingdom while I’ve been ill. I trust you’ll be brief. My betrothed and I have many plans to make.’
Vanion had remained standing. He looked around at the others. ‘If I leave out anything important, don’t hesitate to step in and correct me,’ he said. He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Where to begin?’ he mused.
‘You might start by telling me what it was that made me so ill, Lord Vanion,’ Ehlana suggested.
‘You were poisoned, Your Majesty.’
‘What?’
‘A very rare poison from Rendor – the same one that killed your father.’
‘Who was responsible?’
‘In your father’s case, it was his sister. In yours, it was the Primate Annias. You knew that he’s had his eyes on the throne of the Archprelate in Chyrellos, didn’t you?’
‘Of course. I was doing what I could to stand in his way. If he reaches that throne, I think I’ll convert to Eshandism – or maybe even become Styric. Would your God accept me, Sephrenia?’
‘Goddess, Your Majesty,’ Sephrenia corrected. ‘I serve a Goddess.’
‘What an extraordinarily practical notion. Would I have to cut off my hair and sacrifice a few Elene children to her?’
‘Don’t be absurd, Ehlana.’
‘I’m only teasing, Sephrenia,’ Ehlana laughed, ‘but isn’t that what the Elene commons say about Styrics? How did you find out about the poisonings, Lord Vanion?’
Vanion quickly described Sparhawk’s meeting with the ghost of King Aldreas and the recovery of the ring which now – mistakenly – decorated the champion’s hand. He then moved on, covering the de facto rule of Annias and the elevation of the queen’s cousin to the Prince Regency.
‘Lycheas?’ she exclaimed at that point. ‘Ridiculous. He can’t even dress himself.’ She frowned. ‘If I was poisoned and it was the same poison that killed my father, how is it that I’m still alive?’
‘We used magic to sustain you, Queen Ehlana,’ Sephrenia told her.
Vanion then spoke of Sparhawk’s return from Rendor and their growing conviction that Annias had poisoned her primarily to gain access to her treasury in order to finance his campaign for the Archprelacy.
Sparhawk took up the story at that point and told the young lady who had so recently netted him of the trip of the group of Church Knights and their companions to Chyrellos, then to Borrata and finally on down into Rendor.
‘Who is Flute?’ Ehlana interrupted him at one point.
‘A Styric foundling,’ he replied. ‘At least we thought she was. She seemed to be about six years old, but she turned out to be much, much older than that.’ He continued his account, describing the trek across Rendor and the meeting with the physician in Dabour who had finally told them that only magic could save the stricken queen. He then went on to tell her of the meeting with Martel.
‘I never liked him,’ she declared, making a face.
‘He’s working for Annias now,’ Sparhawk told her, ‘and he was in Rendor at the same time we were. There was a crazy old religious fanatic down there – Arasham – and he was the spiritual leader of the kingdom. Martel was trying to persuade him to invade the western Elene kingdoms as a diversion to give Annias a free hand during the election of the new Archprelate. Sephrenia and I went to Arasham’s tent, and Martel was there.’
‘Did you kill him?’ Ehlana asked fiercely.
Sparhawk blinked. This was a side of her he had never seen. ‘The time wasn’t exactly right, My Queen,’ he apologized. ‘I came up with a subterfuge instead and
