'What do we do?' I asked Timoth, but he turned on me in frustration.

'You're the Countess!'

At first I reciprocated his anger, but I realised that he was right. Timoth was responsible for the administration of the soldiery. I was responsible for Ebonreach, and it was up to me to determine what this new information meant for my realm. No wonder Timoth was annoyed.

'Well, firstly, we should expel the Vizonian Order from Ebonreach,' I declared.

'That seems prudent.'

'Should we tell the King?' I asked him. He didn't answer, but really I was just thinking aloud. I responded to my own question. '...The King doesn't seem to have much power. Prince Milos is the real ruler of Halivaara. But is he in on it?'

'I don't think so,' Timoth said, surprising me. 'If he was party to the plot, then it would not have been necessary for Ioran to marry him to Allisia. And I doubt even Milos would have sanctioned the assassination of his own brother.'

'Then should we send word to Prince Milos?'

'We should,' Timoth said, sighing once more. 'But how? Any messenger we send will be intercepted. Ioran has clearly been planning this for a long time.'

'We have to try nonetheless,' I replied. 'It's our duty. Ensure that a skilled messenger is sent, with orders not to trust anyone except Prince Milos himself.'

Timoth nodded. 'I will see to both of your orders immediately. However, if you insist on having your wedding tomorrow as planned, I suggest that you turn your mind to it. There is precious little we can do right now, and marrying the Prince may very well preserve his life.'

I smiled at that thought. 'Thank you Timoth. I'm glad you're with me.'

'It's only fair,' he replied, and I thought of all the times we had faced difficult or dangerous trials together in the past. Almost always together, and I hoped it’d always be that way.

I bade him goodnight and checked on Alum once more. He was asleep, but Mistress Pulfae was confident that he would mend.

'Mere flesh wounds, my lady,' she whispered so as not to wake the Prince.

In the morning, I cast all thoughts of conspiracy – and even of Alum's wounds – from my mind. It was time to focus on my wedding.

Yet focus was the one thing that I was lacking. The ceremony was suddenly uninteresting to me, despite having spent my entire life in the grip of anticipation. I pulled on my dress and shoes after a warm bath because it was expected of me. I guess it was only natural: the groom was going to be too heavily wounded to stand, so an overreliance on ceremony might render the whole thing a farce.

Nevertheless, I was nothing less than the embodiment of feminine beauty as I stepped onto the courtyard where my ceremony would take place. Regeda braided my hair, though not intricately so. Prince Alum was dressed in fine silk with long sleeves to conceal his wounds, though the plain wooden chair at the end of the aisle was a dead giveaway. Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes but – surprising even myself – they were borne of sympathy for my wounded lover rather than self-pity for my ruined wedding. I had come so close to losing everything.

The harpist began to play and Timoth appeared at my side. He took my arm and led me down the aisle to face Alum and the monk. The crowd fell silent as I put a hand on my fiancé's cheek. He smiled weakly but genuinely at me, feeding me his strength, his love.

The monk began a long speech in which he entreated Cha to provide us with happiness and health, and required each of us to submit to the care of the other. I was entranced by Alum and did not focus on his words. I spoke when it was obvious that I was required to do so, and Alum staggered from his chair to mirror my vows on his feet. A tear trickled down my cheek at the gesture.

Eventually it was time for Alum and me to join our portals. I did not know it was to be done, but I assumed that it was a simple matter for none had seen fit to instruct me in any special technique prior to the wedding. The monk bade me kneel beside Alum’s chair so that our shoulders were at the same height, and we stretched our hands out before us until our fingertips touched.

'Summon your portals,' the monk instructed us, and we obliged. Two black-green ovals appeared in adjacency. 'Now, clasp each other's hands.' Again, we obliged the monk, and intertwined our fingers tightly. Yet the portals remained discrete entities. 'Kiss your spouse,' the monk said, his tone indicating the finality of his command, and we obliged him with a smile. I closed my eyes for the kiss, and when I reopened them only one portal remained. A shiver borne of passion and fulfilment ran down my spine as my eyes met Alum’s.

The audience cheered and clapped. Even Timoth was weeping. We had done it. We were married, and our portals were joined. I was a princess.

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With the climax of the wedding over, spectators began to mingle and approach me to offer their best wishes. I was only too happy to take the daylight hours off from administering the realm, and kept myself distracted from the recently revealed Vizonian conspiracy with small talk. Relatives spoke of how tall I'd grown since they'd last seen me - usually as an infant or a toddler - and I smiled and giggled and laughed as they expected. It came surprisingly easily to me. I enjoyed the brief reprieve from more weighty affairs.

Alum came to bed with me that night. His forearms and chest were bandaged, forcing us to reverse our roles somewhat, but Mistress Pulfae's attentions had given him sufficient vigour for us to enjoy our first lovemaking as husband and wife. I slept soundly in Alum's embrace and felt that with him at my side, I could conquer any trial.

----------------------------------------

The morning brought with it a feeble hangover, overpowered by the warm afterglow of the wedding. Someone knocked at the door. I threw on my chemise and saw two separate messengers, both of whom I invited into my meeting room.

The first carried word of Princess Allisia’s pregnancy. This was significant because the royal line of succession passed through any child of Milos and Allisia before reaching Alum, meaning that if the child lived, Alum was highly unlikely to ever become King - and I to become Queen. Though it had always been unlikely, and I was satisfied being both a princess and a ruling countess, I was nevertheless a touch disappointed. On the other hand, it would hopefully lessen the tension between Milos and Alum.

The second messenger spoke of a pretender rebellion in Trent led by a man styling himself as “Duke Entregwa Crower”, whom I knew to be one of Wiseria’s bastard sons. Wilbern was no doubt already on the task of crushing the uprising, but his land was already beset by raiders and bandits and the organised rebellion would render his land impotent for years.

I felt guilty at the hand I’d had in assisting Entregwa’s cause by jilting Wilbern, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Ebonreach had neither the men nor the finances to spare for Trent, and they would likely be rejected in a display of confidence anyway.

I asked the messenger if there had been any word of Duke Wilbern’s personal life - if he’d arranged a new marriage - and he confirmed that no such arrangement had been made. It seemed that my failed betrothal had poisoned the well, at least for the landholder Wilbern had been seeing prior to my return to the capital.

I also felt grateful that I had not married Wilbern. Based on the evening I’d spent conversing with the noblemen of Iyasgorth who all but openly supported revolution against Wiseria and Wilbern, I had no doubt that Entregwa’s rebellion would have happened even in the absence of my failed betrothal to the Duchy’s ruler, and in that case I would presently be living under the very real threat of being beheaded by my own brother-in-law.

Mistress Pulfae was the next visitor at my door. I led her all the way through to the royal bedroom so that she could continue to treat Alum while I relayed the news to him.

‘It’s not your fault, Saemara,’ he consoled me about Wilbern. ‘The House of Crower stands on rotten foundations. Marrying Duke Wilbern would have been as paint on its walls.’

‘I suppose…’ I replied, not entirely convinced, but knowing it was too late to change it. ‘Do you think the Vizonian Order is behind Entregwa’s rebellion?’

Alum nodded sombrely. ‘I think that they would not miss an opportunity to destabilise the realm. At the very least, Entregwa will be receiving funds and arms from the Order.’

This quietened me for some time. In addition to my other concerns, I now had to consider the instability at the edge of the County and the likely flow of refugees into Trackford. It would not be too difficult for Vizonian agents to conceal themselves among those fleeing the violence in Trent.

I did have one thought about what to do, but it was so bold, so unprecedented, that I was fearful to voice it. I was not even sure that it was borne of prudence and not of selfishness. Alum sensed that I purposefully stayed my tongue and reached out to caress my cheek.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s nothing,’ I replied dismissively. ‘Just an idea.’

‘Saemara, when will you learn? You are the Countess of Ebonreach and the Princess of Halivaara. Your ideas can transform the world. You have the power to bend reality to your will. Do not let timidity and meekness stand in the way of your path to greatness.’

‘It is neither timidity nor meekness that gives me pause, it is merely an unwillingness to voice a notion half-formed and half-considered.’

‘Perhaps I can help you to consider it,’ Alum suggested. ‘We can also send for your brother. I know you value his counsel.’

I shook my head, remembering his angry reaction when I’d asked him what we should do after interrogating Tadruk the assassin. ‘I think he would prefer to be left out of policy discussions.’

‘Then I, a humble Prince of Halivaara and Count of Ebonreach, must suffice,’ Alum replied in jest. I laughed and jabbed him in the shoulder, causing him to wince and Mistress Pulfae to frown at me.

‘Have it your way,’ I conceded. ‘But not now.’

I was wary of Mistress Pulfae’s eavesdropping. I knew little about her tendencies so I was loathe to give voice to a controversial opinion in her company. Alum was less reticent.

‘Is this about the suggestion I made before you broke our betrothal that Ebonreach should invade Trent and reclaim its historical lands?’

My jaw dropped at the casual way in which he spoke of such matters. I looked at Pulfae, who was trying to look small.

‘No!’ I replied in exasperation. ‘I think Wilbern has enough on his plate without us adding to it.’

‘You need not share his plate. I counsel you: be wary of overkindness in statecraft. You must consider what is best for Ebonreach: supporting the beleaguered House of Crower, or taking advantage of this opportunity.’

‘I’m aware of the situation, thank you,’ I replied rudely, and in spite of the fact that I hadn’t really considered such an action. ‘Like I already said, that is not what I’m considering.’

‘I’ll take my leave. Countess, Count,’ Pulfae said before Alum could respond. She’d already packed her medicines back onto the tray, though I was unsure whether she was actually finished or simply wanted to be free of the conversation.

‘Thank you, Mistress,’ I said to her.

When she’d left, Alum turned back to me and spoke softly. ‘Saemara, we are alone now. Will you not tell me your idea?’

I swallowed and nodded. ‘I did vow to keep no secrets.’

‘What idea do you propose?’ he repeated.

‘I want to move the capital from Haelling Cove to Trackford.’