C. Dale Brittain by Voima

mistake and he was so glad to see her safe.   Later, she had imagined herself telling him scornfully what she thought of a man who would let his own daughter go to the court of the enemy, perhaps to be cherished but more likely to be made into the lowest kitchen slut.   But she had not expected the hall to be more familiar to her than her father.
    The very stones of the wall seemed to rush at her like the faeys, laughing with delight to see her again.   When she turned to the man who was too short and too old truly to be her father, she had to force herself from beginning her greeting by saying, “You’ve moved the high throne to the other side of the hall.”
    Instead she bowed formally to him and offered him her hand.   He was wearing black, mourning that contrasted with her own jewelry and brightly embroidered garments.
    “I am—   I am glad to see you again, Karin,” he said.   His voice came out half-choked.   “By the Wanderers, you look like your mother.”   He paused for a moment, then found his voice again.   “We have put your brother—your brothers—into the same burial mound as your mother.   Before you leave again, we can go there together if you wish to burn an offering.”
    “I have brought her home, Kardan,” King Hadros said behind her.   “You will find her as pure a maiden as when you first sent her to me.”   She stiffened for a second, consciously trying to keep any expression from her face.   “After more than ten years of peace between our kingdoms, our warriors have forgotten how to make war.”   He held up a piece of parchment, dangling with seals, then crushed it and threw it into the hearth.   “I remit you the tribute from this year forth, and I send you back your hostage.”
    And suddenly it was as she had imagined ten years ago it would be, crushed in her father’s arms while he laughed with joy and kissed her.   She kissed him back enthusiastically, feeling tears at the corners of her eyes.   All at once, beyond expectation, she was home and safe.
    But if she was not going back to Hadros’s castle, who would direct his household, whom would the faeys try to tame in her place, and what would Roric think when he came back again?
    “So—   You mean I am to stay here?” she asked King Hadros, turning in her father’s embrace.   As she turned she realized that he had not said one word of regret or apology for sending her away.
    “That is what I said, little princess,” Hadros said with a smile.   “Acquaint yourself with your kingdom before you come to rule it.   And that other matter—the matter of which we spoke—there is no haste for you to decide.   Your dower chest will be safe for now in my castle.   But accompany your father to the All-Gemot next year, and I shall bring Valmar with me again, and perhaps then we can reach an agreement.”
    King Kardan lifted one eyebrow at her, but she shook her head.   Valmar, she was quite sure, had no idea of any of this.   For a second she wondered wildly if the rider with no back had been summoned by Hadros himself, to take Roric away permanently, and if he hoped that here, away from his castle with all its associations, she would quickly forget him.
    Well, he might hope she would forget Roric, but she did not think any mortal king could make the Wanderers do his will.   She gave Hadros a long look, not wanting to insult him and certainly not wanting to agree.   “I shall consider,” she said gravely, “but I fear my answer will remain the same.”
     
    They had not realized here any more than she had that Hadros intended to bring her home for good.   The maids ran about madly preparing a suitable place, finally putting a bed for her in her mother’s old private parlor, off the royal bedchamber.
    Karin lay between linen sheets, under a green brocade coverlet, her eyes open in the dark.   She thought that they all acted as though treating her with the respect due the heiress to the kingdom would