At first Karin thought the queen young, for her unbound hair was a deep chestnut, and her figure as she rose slim and lithe. But then she saw the little lines on her forehead, the veins blue on her hands, and the eyes-not quite cynical, because they still looked ready to be amused, but as though they had already seen everything someone could expect to see and then much more.

“You can leave us, Hadros,” said Queen Arane and motioned Karin to a cushioned seat. Her straight eyebrows gave her a look of determination and firmness that everything else about her seemed intended to belie. She said, “I am very sorry your brother was drowned. He would have made a good king.”

“You may have known him better than I,” said Karin, “for I knew him only as a boy.”

Arane’s eyes glittered as she turned. “I did indeed know him well. He was excellent friends with my nephew, my most probable heir-who was also on the ship when it went down.”

Karin murmured, “I too am sorry then,” and sat in silence for a moment. She had no sense, she realized, of how old her own father was, how soon she might have to become sovereign queen herself, but she would have to learn the affairs of the Fifty Kingdoms-or sixty-three, or however many there were.

“It is not all bad,” said the queen with a wave of her hand. Rings were thick on the fingers. “It will keep my cousins busy for at least several years again plotting against each other.” She took a handful of the rich cloth of Karin’s sleeve. “Fine clothing for a princess living in one of the northern kingdoms,” she said approvingly. “Growing up in King Hadros’s court has not made you want to be a warrior, I hope?”

“Hadros has taught me to use a knife to defend myself,” said Karin uneasily. “I had not expected to be a sovereign queen, so I never thought about leading an army…”

“And do not begin to think of it now,” said Arane, tapping her on the knee. “Women can use their wits, their smiles, their tongues to maneuver most men, most of the time-have you not already noted this yourself?”