"I have little else to tell you, except that your father's health is unimproved. The great pains still come upon him without warning, and his mood suffers because of it. The physicians attend him, and I have sent for…"

"That's enough," said Eneas suddenly. "The rest is only meant for me-small matters of my household. Jino and a few others keep an eye on things for me when I am away from home."

"Your father is ill…?"

Eneas shook his head, a little too hard. "A distress of the stomach. My uncle has sent a famous Kracian physician to treat him, the best of his kind. My father will be well soon."

Briony suddenly felt she understood some of what was going on, or at least the cause of Eneas' brittle mood.

"You are worried, dear Eneas," she said. "No, don't say anything. Of course you are. Worse, you fear that something might happen to your father while you are away." She wanted to say, "And you fear that Lady Ananka and her supporters at court may try to take control of the throne in your absence," but she knew he would feel obligated to disagree. Sometimes, Eneas' sense of honor forced him through a tiring series of responses that he and everyone else knew were not his true feelings, but simply what he felt as obligations. Instead, Briony continued with, "And you are caught between your oath to me and your loyalty and worry for your father and your country."

He glanced up at her, startled. Lord Helkis and some of the other nobles in the great tent were beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. Eneas sent them away, keeping only the young pages as defense of Briony's modesty.

"You presume much when you presume to know my mind, Princess," he said when they were more or less alone.

"I'm sorry, Highness, but I believe what I say is true."

He gave her a stern look. "Still, even if so-and I do not concede it-it is not to be talked about in front of all and sundry."