The other nobles of Kislova followed, seeming almost eager to swear allegiance to their new lord. The generals went next, beginning with the troop commander, Raimundi, ending with old General Noire.

"Marishka Obour," Peto called next.

"Don't do it," Ilsabet whispered.

Marishka looked at Ilsabet as if certain she'd gone mad. Still weeping, she went forward. Trembling, she knelt and swore as the others had, then kissed the baron's foot. She was so overcome with grief that Peto had to help her to her feet. Just for a moment, he paused and looked into her face, as if noticing her great beauty for the first time.

Then came the moment Ilsabet had been waiting for. The audacity of her plan filled her with terror and excitement. Peto called her name. She did not move from her place in the crowd. "Ilsabet Obour!" he repeated.

She remained where she was, though the crowd parted around her, and Mihael glared at her.

"Come forward," Peto repeated, more gently, as if fear that kept her away.

"No," she replied simply.

Mihael moved to her side. "Father asked that we do this," he whispered fiercely.

"Father ordered that you do this," she replied in a whisper loud enough for those nearby to hear. "The rest of us can do as we choose. Perhaps father's order is something Baron Peto should know." Whatever arguments Mihael might have raised vanished at the force of her threat.

"This is an embarrassment," he went on.

"Embarrassment! These are our conquerors. I will not pledge," she declared. Before the argument grew any hotter, she pulled her father's signet ring off her finger and held it up for all to see. "No one will ever take his place," she said, then threw it to the ground, cracking the crystal seal with the heel of her boot.