Taxes rose. The gold of Tygelt was used to fill the nobles' coffers. The Kislovan peasants, who had been promised assistance after the war, protested the hardships and were imprisoned and executed by the petty nobles. The peasants then appealed to Baron Janosk, but his course was already set. The delegation that came to Nimbus Castle was imprisoned as insurance against rebellion. The rest went home and, ignoring the plight of their comrades, rose in open rebellion. In a desperate move, Janosk had the prisoners burned in the Pirie town square. In the two years since, Baron Janosk's reputation had become bloody, implacable. Now with one more battle the civil war would be over.

Her father told her that he would never be defeated, not so long as his family believed him to be invincible. She'd not given in to doubt even once through the night. At dawn, the commotion in the castle quieted somewhat, and she had returned to her room and slept.

No, let Greta scold, she would stay in bed this morning.

Much of the wood needed to heat the castle in the damp winter months had been taken for the smelters. No new logs could be cut until the rebels were driven from their strongholds, Ilsabet's breath frosted in the chilly air. She stifled the cough that would alert Greta that she was awake, and buried her face in her blankets.

Her peace was short-lived. A quarter hour later, Greta returned, standing by her bed, shaking her as if she were Greta's own child, not the daughter of the lord of her land. Ilsabet accepted the familiarity from the woman who had raised her. "Ilsabet, your father sent word that he is coming home to eat with his family," Greta said. "If you wish to miss seeing him then just go on…"

Greta never finished. Ilsabet had not seen her father in over a week. His presence was a gift she would not miss. She threw back the covers and reached for the robe Greta held out to her.