“There are a few sovereign queens already among the Fifty Kings,” he said. “And I’m sure you know it is not always fifty anymore. Last year I think there were sixty-three in attendance, including several from those little kingdoms up north-though it was quite an act of courtesy to call them kings!”

“How soon will we leave?” Roric might be among the warriors to accompany the king-or Hadros might use the opportunity to try again to have him killed here at the castle while his own hands stayed clean. She wondered if there was any way to ask the king to bring him along.

“Ten days. And you will want to bring your finest clothes. I am sure you remember the standards those kings south of the channel set for themselves! We will not be thought another little upcountry kingdom.”

She had not considered that, and for a few seconds she ran in her mind through the fine clothes stored in the bottom of her chest-the red silk dress she had worn when she came here had not fit for nine years. She did recall that, when she first arrived, this court had seemed crude, unrefined, but she had already been ready to hate everything about it. She could scarcely remember her own mother, who had died when her younger brother was born, but now that she thought about it she was quite sure the queen had not worked in the weaving house or done her own brewing.

“And the All-Gemot will be an excellent opportunity to announce your betrothal to Valmar.”

Karin took a sharp breath, then bit her lip. He had brought it up when she had almost forgotten to fear he would.

The king smiled at her as though he had just offered her a treat. “I could not of course urge Valmar on you while you were a hostage here. No man could say that King Hadros made war on girls. But once you are home you shall be able to make your choice freely. You two have spent a lot of time together ever since you were children-I helped make sure of that. By now you must know he’ll make you a fine husband.”