"I can't."

Nepanthe became aware of a subtle tension in the room. There were undercurrents here sensed only by a few.

King Bragi stared into infinity. "Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything? Can't you guess out loud?"

Mist stared at her knitting. The imp's needles became silvery blurs. "I don't feel Lord Ko Feng anymore. There may have been a coup." Cautiously, she admitted, "A few old supporters got in touch last summer. They thought there was something in the wind."

Trebilcock snorted. "Something in the wind? Crap! Ko Feng got his butt thrown out. They stripped his titles, his honors, and his immortality. They as much as accused him of treason because he kept his army intact instead of trying to finish us off at Palmisano. A corps commander named Kuo Wen-chin replaced him. Anybody who had anything to do with the Pracchia got swept out along with Feng. All reassigned to Northern and Eastern Armies. What amounts to internal exile. Ko Feng vanished completely. None of the new bunch were involved in the Great Eastern Wars." Trebilcock's glance flicked from Aral Dantice to Mist, as if daring contradiction.

Michael is a strange one, Nepanthe thought. Dantice and Gjerdrum are his best friends, and they say he's weird. Only Varthlokkur seems to understand him.

She wasn't sure what her husband saw in the younger man. She did know he liked Michael, and found him intriguing.

The King asked, "Mist?"

"Michael's connections are better than mine."

Bragi made a slight gesture. Nepanthe caught it. She watched Michael respond with a tiny shrug. The King said, "Varthlokkur, don't you have anything to contribute?"

"I haven't been watching Shinsan. I've been busy."

Nepanthe stared at the tabletop and blushed. She had mixed feelings about her pregnancy. Excitement and eagerness and way too much worry. She was too old... But she had to try, to replace the son she had lost during the war...