“I trust… the princess will not object to… company,” Merula panted.

“Of course not. Why should she?” asked Owden Foley, appearing from the other side of the horse column. The weatherworn priest winked a crinkled eye at the princess, then looped his hand through Merula’s arm. “My friend, what an excellent idea to join them. We could all do with a nice, brisk walk. Nothing like a stroll to get the heart pumping and keep the fields in water, is there?”

Merula scowled and jerked his arm away. “I thought the princess asked you to attend to the peasants’ fields.”

“And so I am,” Owden replied, digging a good-natured elbow into the wizard’s well-padded ribs. “That’s why one has monks, is it not?”

“I wouldn’t know,” grumbled Merula.

Owden merely grinned and continued to prattle on about the wholesome benefits of mountain sunlight and pine-fresh air. Tanalasta smiled and silently thanked the priest for coming to her rescue. With the Harvestmaster expounding about the benefits of mountain life, Merula would find it impossible to eavesdrop on her conversation-or her thoughts.

Tanalasta led the way up the road at a lively gait. The pass climbed steeply along the flank of a lightly forested mountain, and soon enough the sound of Merula’s hulling breath faded from her hearing-though it was replaced by the somewhat lighter panting of the Warden of the Eastern Marches.

“If I may say so, Princess, you have changed much since…” Dauneth paused, no doubt as much to summon his tact as to catch his breath, then continued, “Since the last time I saw you.”

Tanalasta eyed him levelly. “It’s all right, Dauneth. You can say it.”

“I beg your pardon?”