In the six hours since Garrin had last passed through the Great Hall, it had completely transformed. Servants had made rows of long banquet tables, each covered with a white tablecloth and decorated with a silver runner, candles, and bouquets of white primrose, snowdrops, and ivy. Silver silk banners hung from each of the twelve columns supporting a high marble ceiling, and the floor was strewn with furs and richly embroidered rugs to hold in the heat from an enormous fire pit blazing cheerfully in the center of the room. The low chandelier spanning nearly half the room had been lit with what seemed like hundreds of candles, which cast a bright glow over the hall that had always seemed dull and dark to Garrin.

The effect was illuminating. It had to be to impress the royal families from Fyrest’s sister countries. Garrin had visited them both a handful of times in his youth, but the last time he’d seen the Eiliad or Thiyaan royalty had been nearly ten years ago. Princess Lliane Teyrnelis of Eiliad, the Second Kingdom, was only about six months younger than Garrin, and they’d gotten along well as children. The other Teyrnelis children were much younger, so Garrin only know them by name. He was more concerned with the royals from the Third Kingdom, Thiyaan. They were a passionate, volatile group that seemed to always take offense at something, despite every effort being made to keep them happy and comfortable.

Luck was not with Garrin; when a herald rushed into the room to announce that banners had been spotted working their way up the hill, he described the golden banners of Thiyaan. Resigned, Garrin put on his most welcoming face and stood at the entrance of the Great Hall to wait. It might insult them not to be met at the gate, but Garrin was still a prince. He wasn’t about to act like a servant to flatter his northern cousins. They could do with a reminder that they were guests of equal rank and not due any extraordinary shows of respect.

Garrin heard them coming long before they entered the Great Hall—mostly because of the children. The Kirahan family boasted 9 children, 8 of which were girls under the age of 16. The oldest, Crown Prince Senjay, was a year younger than Garrin. It was he who led the procession; apparently Garrin wasn’t the only one taking on extra diplomatic duties.

“Prince Garrin,” Senjay said, offering a miniscule head tilt of deference. His long dark hair was braided and tied back out of his face, which all the noblewomen assured him was very handsome. To Garrin, Senjay had always looked too foxlike to be attractive. “We are honored to be greeted by you.”

“I am honored to greet you,” Garrin answered. He returned the tiny nod and surveyed the rest of the company. “Has the queen not made the journey with you?”

“My mother found the journey taxing,” Senjay said. “Unfortunately, she has no energy for a lengthy reception. Your servants took her directly to her quarters.”

“I shall be sure to send her refreshments,” Garrin said, nodding to a passing servant to give the order. He gave a deep bow and scurried off to fulfill the request.

“How kind of you,” Senjay said. “You are a credit to your kingdom. Of course, if we had been given adequate time to prepare for our journey rather than receiving your invitation at the last minute…”

Last minute. Garrin had sent out their invitations 6 months ago. A retort bit at Garrin’s tongue, but he held it there and peered past Senjay to the next eldest, Princess Setaare. “In fact, I’m sure you would all enjoy some refreshments,” he said. “Some hot tea, perhaps? And maybe some warmed honey milk for the young ones?”

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Setaare curtsied, spreading her golden, fur-lined skirts wide and tossing her head haughtily at Senjay as she rose. “Thank you, Prince Garrin. Please don’t think poorly of us because of my brother’s bad manners. Some of us know how to behave in public.”

Garrin reached out and caught her hand, pulling it in for a light kiss. “I never doubted it.”

Chin lifted high as she passed Senjay, Setaare led her sisters to one of the banquet tables, which servants were already setting with cups of warm drinks and sweets. “You are welcome to them as well,” Garrin said to Senjay. “Though perhaps you’d prefer something stronger?”

“Tea will be fine, thank you.” Senjay’s voice betrayed no hint of irritation, and his smile, when he flashed it in return, seemed genuine. “You have more bite in you since we last spoke.”

“I’m not sure how offering refreshments can be called bite,” Garrin said.

Senjay smirked as he made his way toward his sisters. “No,” he drawled. “You wouldn’t.”

And Garrin would have to spend the next two weeks with him. Two weeks minimum—in the past, the children of the royal families often stayed behind for a month or more after their parents returned home. But maybe this time Senjay would return with his mother. King Kirahan had died three years earlier, no doubt leaving Senjay with more responsibilities than a Crown Prince would normally have taken on. Perhaps Garrin would be safe after all.

The noise from the Kirahan table kept Garrin distracted, so it felt like only moments had passed before the herald returned to declare the Eiliads’ arrival. Finally. Princess Lliane had been his ally against Senjay in the past, and he hoped she would be again. He straightened as the doors of the Great Hall opened to admit the small party, made up of only the king and queen of Eiliad and their children, Lliane and her younger brother Mered.

This time, Garrin’s bow was appropriately deep and formal. “I am happy to welcome you to Whitecliff,” he said, smiling at each of the travelers. “I hope your journey was not too difficult.”

“It was quite pleasant,” answered King Iefan. “But even if it were not so, we could not have missed your betrothal ceremony. It seems like we were just celebrating your birth, and now here you are! Only a few short years from being crowned king yourself.”

Garrin gave another quick bow. “I am content to wait for that day. Would you like some refreshments here before I show you to your quarters? Or shall I take you there first so you can rest?”

“I think we could all use some rest,” the king said.

“Of course.” Garrin swept his arm across the hall, inviting the king to join him rather than having to follow. “I will have refreshments sent to you once you are settled.”

“You’ve grown quite tall since we last saw you,” said Queen Berys. Her face was flushed with travel, and her eyes bright and approving. “I am glad to see you taking over some of your father’s duties. He was always so quiet and reserved. It will do this court good to see some change.”

Was that a slight? Garrin knew his father and the Teyrnelises hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but they’d always remained cordial. He hesitated over the proper response, but before he could voice it Iefan was waving the comment aside. “Pay no mind, she meant no offence. We are simply proud to see how much you’ve grown these last years. It bodes well for Fyrest’s future.”

Garrin didn’t know about that, but he smiled and accepted the compliment anyway. They had nearly reached the guest quarters, which were situated just outside the Great Hall. “The ceremony will begin at nightfall,” Garrin said, opening the door to a large gathering room where the family could meet around a fireplace already burning against the far wall. From there the Teyrnelises could choose any of the four bedchambers connected to the main room, but as they had stayed there several times before, Garrin didn’t bother explaining it to them. He simply repeated his promise to send refreshments and said he would leave them to rest.

He caught Lliane’s eye as he backed out of the room. Her expression was oddly cold, though he could think of nothing he’d done to offend her. He’d have to see if he could talk to her later that night.

Satisfied that he’d completed his duties, Garrin returned to his room (taking a roundabout path to avoid Senjay and his siblings in the Great Hall) and took up his harp to calm himself before the ceremony.