Ilsabet kept that regal stance even when her brother and Jorani returned with the worst possible news. The civil war had drained the castle's resources so there was no way they could wait out a siege for more than a few weeks. Worse, should Sundell attack, the castle would fall within hours.

The baron shut his eyes a moment, trying to accept what had to be done. When he opened them, all signs of weakness had vanished, replaced with new resolve. "Bring a potion to give me strength," her father said to Jorani.

"To fight?" the healer asked. "I must advise you that it's too dangerous."

"I only want to look as if I could fight," the baron replied.

Ilsabet understood what he planned to do. She shook her head and said to him, "They haven't won yet."

"They've won the battle. I must see to it that our family survives the war."

While Jorani went for the potion, Janosk wrote an offer to surrender and sent it Baron Peto's camp, requesting an immediate reply.

Lady Lorena cried openly, burying her face in her hands. Marishka, who had kept her distance, moved close and hugged the woman, sobbing with her.

Baron Janosk eyed their grief with distaste. "I release you from your pledge," he whispered to his concubine. "I spare your life."

She looked sadly at him. "Is that really why you believe I weep?" she asked.

"If there are other reasons, your devotion is somewhat belated," he replied. He might have said something to Marishka, but her grief had made her deaf to any advice he would have given. Ilsabet saw him looking at her sister, undoubtedly recalling through her his wife's beauty. He turned to his son. "Mihael, pledge allegiance to Peto and serve him well, then wait for the opportunity to regain what is ours."

Mihael nodded respectfully, yet Ilsabet could see that, though he longed to rule, he was already uncomfortable with the duplicity his father demanded. Poor Mihael, she thought, cursed with both ambition and conscience.