Chapter 4 Triangulation

Usual disclaimer: The characters in this story are owned by EA, Bioware, and probably others and not by me, with the exception of a roguish Prince of Ferelden and an occasional guest star.

No matter how busy they were, Queen Anora and her prince consort had agreed from the beginning that they must make time to be part of their daughters' lives, even if there were days like today, where they only had time for a short appearance in the royal nursery as their nannies fed and bathed them. Still, they told themselves this was better than nothing. It had been a custom their mothers had in common when they were growing up, especially since duty had sometimes called them away from their respective teyrnirs of Gwaren and Highever for weeks at a time.

They weren't sharing the meal this evening because they had a banquet to attend in a few hours, but they did assist with baths after the girls had eaten. They both hoped that doing simple, ordinary things, such as taking a few minutes to read to or play with them, would prevent their daughters growing up to feel closer to their nannies than to them, as was the case in too many noble families. For example, it was Anora's opinion that King Maric saw Cailan far too little, especially after the death of Queen Rowan. Calian had complained to her bitterly of feeling estranged from his father. It was an error she swore not to repeat with her daughters.

Of course, their parents hadn't had to juggle the awesome, and at times overwhelming, responsibilities of ruling over a kingdom still recovering from the Blight, with raising three small children. Anora had been an only child, and enough years separated Nigel from his older brother Fergus that at times he had felt like he was an only child as well. Neither of them had experience dealing with three toddlers demanding their attention all at once, two of them fussy because they were cutting molars. They thanked the Maker every day that they had excellent servants who did most of the work, something they freely acknowledged. They both also felt a great sense of relief some days when they could turn their brood back over to them and flee to the relative quiet of the adult world, though neither of them freely acknowledged that, not even to each other.

In addition, there were four toddlers in residence in the royal nursery counting Erlina's son, born a month after the queen's twins. Queen Anora explained after turning her father's withering glare on the few nobles rude enough to suggest the elf was being raised above his station, that her need for Erlina's service at all hours necessitated having her and her son close at hand, and justified paying for his own elven nanny from the royal allowance. But Anora's closeness with her former maid, who was now serving as her chief lady-in-waiting, was the main reason he was there, with Erlina having her own room close by. Anora couldn't bear to think of Erlina or her son living in the alienage, even if she had ordered enough improvements to be made that it now was the cleanest, healthiest alienage in all of Thedas.

Since the boy, whom his mother had named Gerard, also happened to be the son of the love of Nigel's life, he treated the boy as if he was his own son without question. This evening he was bouncing the toddler, wrapped in a towel and fresh from his bath, on his knee while Erlina ran to get him a clean nightshirt, smiling sadly at the way the boy threw back his head and laughed just like his father. He thought the boy was the spitting image of Zev too, but instead of being fair like him or dark like his mother, his hair was a bright red. But other than that, he was his father's son. Watching him made him wistful thinking about how Zev's life would have been different if his mother had lived and he hadn't been sold to the Crows. But he reminded himself that in that case they might never have met.

Nigel gave him hug and a kiss on the forehead and handed him back to his waiting mother. Zeveran had only seen his son twice in his two years, and only once while he was awake. He was still fighting to escape from the Crows, and he had explained to Erlina that it would be dangerous for her and her son if they should learn the boy was his. It was true, but it also gave him a convenient excuse to avoid being tied down to a woman with whom he had shared some pleasant nights, but had no real feelings for. Likewise, Erlina was long over her infatuation with the dashing assassin, and devoted to her son, so she readily agreed that he should stay far away from them unless he was in disguise.

"My turn!" Nigel blinked as Leanora, already strong and brash at three, frowned and tackled him, demanding his attention. He laughed, tousled her mop of curly golden hair, and swept her up onto his hip. He and Anora both had found it amusing when Ser Cauthrien had remarked a few weeks back how much the girl took after Teyrn Loghain. The odd thing was, they agreed with her, impossible as that was. Most of the nobles and courtiers swore she looked just like her mother, and sometimes they almost forgot that she wasn't Anora's child. But as Leliana had taught him years before, such was the power of suggestion. Nigel thanked the Maker for that.

He tweaked her cheek. "Why the frown, my little love?" He already knew the answer as he kissed her cheek then spun her around, causing a fit of giggles. She was a sensitive, intelligent, but demanding child, and had already expressed jealousy towards not only young Gerard, but also towards her little sisters. From some of her questions, he could tell that she was already beginning to grasp the tremendous power and responsibility that awaited her upon her mother's death. He knew if he was still alive, he would likely already have left for his Calling by then, so he wouldn't be around to help her. She had such a strong personality, the kind that he feared might lead her to become a tyrant, if she wasn't properly guided. He freely admitted he had been a lack-wit when he was a boy, even with his parents' guidance. But as a second son, no one expected him to become anything but a bann in service to his brother or a cleric or scholar, so his foolishness was tolerated. He asked himself how did parents ever do it? How does anyone?

As soon as he stopped spinning her around, the frown darkened her pretty face again. "I want to see the dancing, Papa. And you play with Gerard more than me! " she added accusingly.

"Then let us dance!" He met her blue eyes as he stepped out of her mother's earshot, but she was busy putting nightgowns on the other two girls on her lap. Lowering her so that she could stand on his boots as he danced her around the room, he said softly, "Now you know that's not true, Lee. Gerard has no papa here to play with him. Besides, he's with you and your sisters and your nurses all day, so he needs another boy to play with."

"Is that the truth?" She looked doubtful as she craned her head back to meet his eyes and held his hands tightly as they danced around. "What about when Cousin Bryce comes to visit? Gerard can play with him then." She gasped as he finished the left right left-right pattern of the dance he was doing with a jump, landing on his right foot as he lifted her into the air.

"Bryce is just a baby, love. He's far too young for any of you to play with yet." He stood her so she was beside him and took her left hand. "Now follow me. Left foot first." He pointed his toe and hummed a tune for her to follow as he led her through the steps.

He wondered for a moment what his brother would have named his son if one of the twins had been a boy. Anora had been determined to name the child she was carrying after her father. That had led to a rare argument, but it was Erlina who became the peacemaker when she pointed out that if she did, the child would inherit all of the expectations that came along with that name 'Loghain' that he would have to live up to, and in her opinion, it would be as bad as naming him 'Dane' or 'Maric.'

It was a good point, made without bringing up the notoriety now associated with the name that Nigel and her royal advisers had been tiptoeing around for weeks. She was determined not to notice that she and her husband were the only one who ever visited the statue of her father. Nigel was so grateful to Erlina that he could have kissed her. Still, he was surprised that Anora agreed. He was even more surprised that she had suggested in that case the child should be named after his other grandfather. Nigel had also suggested naming the baby Duncan or Cailan, after two good men who died without children of their own. They hadn't even thought of a girl's name right up until the day she went into labor, and then more than two days later, the Maker surprised them by giving them two daughters to name. Sometimes Nigel thought the Maker was laughing at them both.

He spun Leanora to face him after the final leap then bowed reverently to her and smiled with satisfaction as she returned a perfect curtsey. "You're still three, love. You'll have time enough for banquets and dancing when you're older. In fact, I promise you they will grow tiresome. I do think you are ready to start dancing lessons, however." He chuckled at her excited gasp. "I thought you would like that. And since you ate all of your dinner, even the squash you detest, you may be presented to the ambassadors then watch the dancing for a while from the gallery with your nanny, if you can do so quietly. But that is only if Her Majesty agrees."

She was old enough now that she was beginning to grasp that her mummy was so much more than just her mother. Nigel had explained it once to her that her mummy was like the mother of all of Ferelden. She curtsied to him again, enjoying this game of protocol. "Thank you, Papa, Your Highness. I shall ask her."

"You certainly have your curtseys down." He chuckled again as she beamed at him then ran off to request an audience with her mother, who had just handed off the twins to their nannies. He called after her, "Don't forget to ask what you should wear."

He strode quickly across the room to intercept the nannies before they took the twins off to bed. But little Eleanor was already rubbing her tiny fists into her eyes as she fought sleep. She had been an easy one to name, as she had been born with a healthy head of the same wheat-blond hair that Nigel had inherited from his mother. She had been a tiny baby, noticeably smaller than her second-born twin, and was still often sick and plagued by a chronic cough. When she wasn't teething, she was a quiet, shy child, whom someone had already described as serene.

"There's my sweet girl." He had been worried during her pregnancy that Anora might decide that her own child should inherit the throne, if she could figure a way around their convoluted lie. But Eleanor had also been sickly from the start, and then it was obvious from the time they started developing their personalities that she didn't have the fire in her to rule. Before she could walk she was already surrendering toys not only to her twin and her older sister, but also to Gerard. She preferred looking at picture books or drawing to her sisters' rough and tumble games. He could see her becoming a scholar in the Chantry some day, and he had already bought a complete set of Brother Genetivi's travel books that he planned to start reading to them when he returned from his mission to Orlais.

He reluctantly let her nanny take her away after giving her a kiss on her forehead and turned his attention to the other, Moira, whom Anora named after King Maric's mother, the Rebel Queen. It seemed to him that Anora had been determined to give one of her children a name to be lived up to. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely before she drew back to look at him through a curtain of thick wavy black hair that had fallen into her face. "I want to see the puppies, Papa." It was a demand, not a request. His mabari and one of Cailan's favorite bitches that had survived Ostegar had recently produced a litter, and the pups were just beginning to be playful. Moira was fascinated by the mabari kennels, and he knew it was just a matter of time before one of the pups bonded with her, like Buddy had done with him.

She stared at him, having the same piercing blue eyes and intense gaze of her grandfather, that others only imagined in her older half-sister. She really was the spitting image of Loghain Mac Tir, though few commented on it. It wasn't only his coloring she had inherited. Not too long before, they had watched her furiously riding her rocking horse, holding a wooden sword out as if charging some unseen enemy. He could see the born warrior, but her mother had other concerns.

Anora had whispered to him on their way back to their chambers, "You do think her features will soften as she grows older?"

He knew what she meant, and had reassured her, but he knew that the bards probably wouldn't write songs praising her beauty. Not that he thought she would be unattractive when she was grown. He was her father, after all. On the other hand, he could see her taking her grandfather's place as her sister's general. And as the former Warden Commander of Ferelden, he knew already she had it in her to survive the Joining. If she had been the first born twin, he could see her some day challenging her older sister for the throne, but being third in line, that was out of the question, unless for some reason when the time came, the Landsmeet didn't think Leanora was fit to rule, which was highly unlikely. That was another reason to thank the Maker.

He kissed her forehead before he replied. "I will take you to see them tomorrow, but you mustn't get too close, my little she-wolf, fearless though you are. Mabaris are war dogs, and every bit as dangerous as papa's blades, even as pups. You must always remember that."

"Yes, Papa. After breakfast then." Again, it was not a request, and she knit her tiny brows into a frown as she stared at him, waiting for a response. It wasn't the first time she had issued a direct challenge in her short life, and he knew there would be many more to come.

But he had stared down her grandfather, as well as an archdemon. His gray gaze back was like tempered steel. "First, your lessons, pup. Besides, I still have to pack for my trip to Orlais."

She gave him another fierce hug, having conceded the battle, for now. "Good. After lessons."

"It's a date." Pleased with winning the negotiation, he handed her off to her nanny and turned to see Anora giving him The Look because of his promise to Leanora, which she had no choice but to agree to since he had put it all on her, and Leanora had made her request like such a proper little lady. He shrugged at her sheepishly as she was turning to order her nanny to dress her in her blue gown. Sometimes their life seemed to be a repeat of his childhood. He remembered his mother giving his father The Look any time she felt he was being too lenient with him, as he often had been. He strode across the room to make amends, bowed, and offered his hand. "We should go dress ourselves, Your Majesty. We must be properly armored for the evening."

A short time later, Nigel was putting the touches on the queen's waist-length hair, still golden though it was becoming gray through the temples. He had created several braids, and he now wove them high on her head. Whenever possible, when they retired for the evening, he would unbraid it and brush it out before she went to bed. She loved his brushing her hair as much as he loved brushing it. It was as close to intimacy as they came these days besides occasional massages, which she guiltily accepted. It was also the perfect opportunity to discuss the day's events once they had dismissed the courtiers and servants. He always finished with a kiss on each cheek and on her lips before he retired to his own chamber with a book and a bottle or two of red wine, where the servants assumed he read long into the night and drank himself to sleep.

This was his routine that anyone studying or spying on the royal family would have observed, except for partaking of an occasional game of cards with the guards and a discreet visit to the Pearl once every week or two. One of his trusted courtiers would have been sent to Sanga with a coded note earlier the day, announcing his planned visit and what arrangements he required or whose service he requested. It would be an unthinkable violation of decorum for him to go out unguarded, even while slipping out to a brothel, so he always left through one of the service entrances with his hood pulled up accompanied by one or two guards wearing plain armor.

At the Pearl, they would enter through a door in the back near the kitchen. Inside he would quickly be shown to a hidden waiting room. He kept his hood up unless he was alone except for his guards, but there was an unwritten rule followed by those with coin enough to purchase the Pearl's discretion, that no one would acknowledge another patron while waiting except by a curt nod, nor would they mention anything of what had been seen or heard to anyone afterward. But his secret visits there were no secret to his wife, or to any of the servants who worked in the royal chambers. In fact, it was no secret that Anora encouraged those visits since he was denied her bed.

As far as anyone observing him knew, this had become his routine, unless there was the odd visiting ambassador or emissary for him to entertain. He resisted the charms of servants and courtiers, explaining firmly that there was a difference between hiring the services of a professional, and having an affair that might lead to embarrassment for the queen. He said he only wanted to be left alone to read in peace. But on many nights, once servants and courtiers had been dismissed so he could devote his attention to a favorite book (he learned to take care that he wasn't seen with the same book too often after one of his courtiers pointed out that he must be fond of Nevarran romances), he locked his door and changed into dark, oiled leathers and a mask and disappeared into one of secret passages, then into an unused room and out a window.

This was when Ser Wolf of Highever went to meet Ser Wolf of Rivain, if had sent a message that he was in town. By now he had others in his pack: Ser Wolf of Denerim, Ser Wolf of Gwaren, and their recent addition, Ser Wolf of the Waking Sea. Only the first knew that their leader was also the prince. With four Dark Wolfs at large in Ferelden, their exploits were beginning to take on legendary status. It also removed some of the pressure to apprehend the Dark Wolf when it became obvious that couldn't possibly be in two or three places at the same time, and therefore was being blamed for things he couldn't have done. Some even pointed out that his activities in Denerim slowed after the battle against the archdemon, leading some in the guard to speculate that the real Dark Wolf had been killed and that others were capitalizing on his name and reputation to intimidate victims.

Nigel would also meet regularly with other contacts, such Sister Seraphine, a former assassin who found her way to the Chantry (Leliana had amazed him once telling him how many 'soiled doves' had taken refuge there and lived as sisters), and the merchant Cesar, who would tell him the latest interesting stories that he had heard from other Antivans, such as who might be hiring. He was also the one who received messages for him from the other wolves. Every few months Cesar would also have word about Zev's latest slaughter of a Crow cell, and even guildmasters, which was what Nigel was really interested in. The queen knew little of these excursions, and knew nothing at all about his pack of wolves. She didn't really care to know anything other than her husband had some questionable skills that he had put into her service for the good of Ferelden. The rest was between him and the Maker, in her opinion.

Nigel's excursions weren't limited to the night either. Just this day he had taken advantage of the absence of the Orlesian delegation from their chambers to do a quick bit of snooping there, carefully replacing any traps he disarmed along his way once he finished. He waited until Erlina had tipped him off that the ambassador and her maid had left for an audience with the queen, who was also doing her best to keep her busy for him. Erlina showed the maid to the kitchens to fetch her mistress some herbal tea and introduced her to other elven servants, one of whom was one of Nigel's well-paid contacts and a talented actress, not the dim-witted maid she pretended to be.

One of his eyes in the market had been dispatched to follow the Orlesians 'porter,' and had told to watch him out of sight, make note of where he went, who he talked to and if possible, what he asked, and follow him when he left. Nigel himself had distracted the ambassador's bodyguard Anton by taking him on a tour of the kennels (he noted with concealed disgust that the Orlesian didn't appreciate a good dog), then leading him to the practice field, where he watched Nigel spar with a few of his guards. He invited Anton to face off against Ser Cauthrien. Before he left to meet the queen, he gave her a prearranged sign that confirmed the bodyguard was a chevalier and that she should hold nothing back.

It had been a very productive day. Now as he put the finishing touches on Anora's hair, with only Erlina attending her so that they could speak freely, he told his queen what he had learned. "They're most definitely interested in our defenses. Our agent was also right about the ambassador being one of those pushing hardest to reclaim their "lost province." Our good sister in the Chantry said she fed their spy some stories that would lead them to believe that we have more templars available than we really do who would leap to Ferelden's defense in a heartbeat. The sister said she also complained, since she had such a sympathetic ear, about how the Circle's loyalty was to the crown rather than to the Chantry. One of my other contacts said the porter wasn't able to find any disgruntled nobles in the tavern. That might be enough to make them think twice."

Their finery nearly always matched. This night Anora was wearing a form-fitting magenta brocade gown with black velvet sleeves and gold piping. It had taken her more than a year to lose the weight from the twins, and she was proud to show off her figure. Nigel's form-fitting doublet and trousers were made of the same black velvet as her sleeves (he wore black often enough that some dubbed him 'The Black Prince'), but trimmed with the magenta. As much effort as he put into his wife's hair, he was content to wear his in the same style he had for years, loose and hanging down just past his shoulders, with a forebraid on either side of his face, usually tied tied back behind his head with a thick black silk braided cord that he could pull off and turn into a garrote, a trick he had learned from Zev.

Anora watched him in the mirror through the corner of her eye as Erlina applied a modest amount of rouge to her cheeks, fretting that her queen was wearing no more than a servant would in Orlais. She asked coolly, "What did you think of the chevalier? Does he look as formidable at they say? And do you think it's true that the ambassador is a bard?"

Nigel kissed his wife's cheek, smirking at Erlina's muttering for interrupting her work. He gave the elf a kiss on the cheek too before he applied a bit more powder over the red stain on his lips. He considered painting a small heart on his cheek but thought better of it. He would save that for Val Royeux. "I'm quite certain. She has far too many hidden containers in her bags, and some rather nasty poisons and daggers I found secreted in one of them. She didn't have any incriminating documents, but then she wouldn't. Being a bard is an open secret in Orlais. I remember that it was considered quite exciting if someone had hired a bard to visit you, and even more exciting to thwart him or her and whoever did the hiring. I hope she can be persuaded to sing for us. She's supposed to have a remarkable voice."

Anora nodded curtly. "Will you sing for us as well, my dear?" They were going into an area she didn't care to share, but she knew she must for the good of Ferelden. "Do you think she is also an assassin? Who do you think hired her?"

Nigel paused to give her his full attention, understanding Anora was asking if the bard was going to try to murder her, that being one way to create enough chaos that they could take Ferelden easily. He tried to set her mind at ease. "A bard at her age? She must be good, and I am sure she's taken more than one life, but I do believe this visit is for the purpose of espionage. Remember, from what our spies have reported, Empress Celene is opposed to going to war. And as for who hired her, certainly not the empress."

"I suppose there's no way of knowing unless you can find something in Orlais."

" No, there really isn't, unless someone talks. As for the chevalier, I gave him enough to entice him." He stood and struck a few seductive poses to demonstrate, then trailed his slender hand down his body, ending by lightly stroking himself for a moment through the tight black velvet before resuming his place before the vanity. "Then I disappointed him by not giving him a go at me on the field, and plan to do the same in the bedroom. I also set Ser Cauthrien on him when I left, and you know she hates chevaliers as much as your father did. We'll see how well he can dance tonight."

Anora watched his performance, while Erlina blushed scarlet and asked, "Does that work? Most women..."

He chuckled and resumed his primping. "Indeed, most women would find that vulgar. But not all women, m' dear. And a man looking for another man..." He shrugged. "It starts with eye contact to let one know you're interested. Men are different. We are disgusting beasts, I know."

Anora cocked her head to look over at him. "He is handsome, in a rather dark, brutish way." She wasn't jealous. Their relationship had progressed from that of strangers occasionally sharing a bed for the sake of duty when they first married, to a too-brief time as passionate lovers, and finally to that of two intimate friends who shared all their secrets. And they did, as far as she knew. "Why won't you meet him later?"

Nigel chuckled as he finished lining his right eye. "Meet him, my love? Do you mean why won't I invite him for an assignation later?" He paused to paint a delicate stroke on his left eye lid. "No, I think not."

Anora frowned as she studied herself in the mirror, wondering if she should give in to Erlina and let her touch up the gray that shined like silver in her hair. "Why not? Isn't he your type?"

He darkened his neat eyebrows. The chevalier was clearly her type. Most men would be jealous, but he wasn't. The real reason he had been banned from her bed was she swore after two and a half days of labor she wouldn't be put through that again. "Handsome? Should I be jealous of the brutish chevalier, my love? Perhaps you would like him to slip into your bed and ravish you?" He smirked at her blush. "Besides, you know very well I don't have a type." He was still amused at how she tried to arrange his trysts. At first she was always pushing him towards men, as if she perceived men as less of a threat to the two of them. In fact, when she had first told him he should find relief for his male passions, as she put it, she hadn't wanted him doing so with other women at all.

He gave her another affectionate kiss on her cheek. "You are beautiful as always, my love. No, I'll spend the evening with another for two reasons. First, I'm not convinced I could get much about their plans out of him. He might be useful while I'm in Orlais, if I can play him, but that's about it. Second, he is a chevalier, and therefore, he is a brute. He couldn't get at me with that enormous mace of his on the practice field, so no doubt he hopes to give my ass a good pounding with his lesser mace. And it is lesser. I looked when we were in the privy."

Anora gasped, feigning disgust. "Nigel! Must you?" And yet it was always she couldn't wait to hear all the details when he returned from a tryst, no matter how sordid. It was as if she enjoyed a vicarious sex life through him. He knew she loved the fantasy of the chevalier coming to her chamber and ravishing her, but that it would never happen in reality.

"Yes, I must, because you asked." He stood and took the crown she was to wear tonight out of the chest where it was kept and carefully placed it in the nest of hair he had woven for it. "No, I'm thinking of either the ambassador herself, or her maid, who I suspect is her protege. She seems too young for it, though. But it's hard to tell with elves."

Erlina had spent the most time with her and agreed with his assessment. "Indeed, I noticed that she asked a good many questions and takes more liberties than an Orlesian elvish servant would, which tells us she is more than a maid, no? That's very careless, if she is a bard. She can't be very experienced."

Nigel nodded. "That's true. However, inexperience also might make her more dangerous if she thinks she's cornered. So it's either the old cat or the kitten. Perhaps the ambassador, though I don't think I'm good enough to play someone of her caliber. She is rather attractive, however. I was struck by how much she reminds me of Wynne in size, shape, and features."

Anora sneered. "Yes, I saw the resemblance too. She could be her younger sister, if Wynne was Orlesian and dressed like a high-priced harlot."

Nigel chuckled. "But my love, that's how all noblewomen dress in Orlais. The harlots themselves are chaste in comparison, except when they're among the nobility."

"That is why all the nobles wears masks, no? They wish to hide their shame." Erlina didn't try to hide her disdain for Orlesian nobility.

Though not formally a slave, she had been sent as a gift to Anora from a previous ambassador to Empress Celene, on the occasion of her marriage to Cailan, along with a note stating that now that she was queen she needed a proper lady's maid. Her father suspected that Erlina was a spy, and had wanted her sent back. But Cailan had suggested that if she was a spy, it might be better to have her close where she could be watched. So she had stayed. Then Erlina had quickly warmed to her new mistress, who treated her more kindly than anyone had in her homeland, and eventually told her the real reason she had been sent, which was to insult Anora's court by implying that a young inexperienced Orlesian maid was still better than the most experienced Fereldan courtier.

"Are we ready?" Nigel stood and looked at himself again in a full length mirror before placing a small coronet on his head. "Buddy is being brought up. I know they'll have fits when we make our entrance with a mabari beside us."

Anora took another look at herself in the mirror. "I am ready. I've arranged that the chevalier be seated beside me. You are on my right side, and the ambassador is beside you. That way you may devote your attention to her or her maid. I think I shall ask him to dance."

Nigel threw his head back and laughed. "You are attracted to him, aren't you. How many dances will he claim on your dance card? Will I get any besides the first?" He wasn't jealous, mainly because he was positive that the chevalier would rather fight a pack of blight wolves naked and armed with only a rusty soup spoon than spend an hour in the arms of a woman, even one as beautiful as his wife.

Anora flushed and turned her withering glare on him. "I grew up with horror stories about the brutality of the chevaliers. His handsome face will never cause me to forget that. I am only distracting him by playing at interest." She was mildly annoyed, but at the same time, in the back of her mind she was pleased that her husband cared.

Nigel kissed her cheek. "Forgive me, my love. Can you blame me for feeling a little bit jealous?" He smiled inwardly, knowing he was playing his part well. He bent and double checked the daggers hidden in his boots.

She blushed again and beamed at her husband. "No, I'm flattered, really. So I'm on him. Erlina?"

"I shall play the disdainful Orlesian courtier and do my best to distract her maid whenever we can find a moment to talk. After all, I am so happy to have another Orlesian elf to talk to after languishing for so long in this cold, backward land that smells of dog. And I so want to hear all the news of my homeland." Erlina smiled and curtsied to her queen and her prince.

"And I shall play the fop you were forced to marry. I don't want to be too much of a dolt, though. I don't want to scare away my prey. I'm settled on the ambassador, though I shall do my best to flirt with her maid as well. I'll get one or the other to my chamber tonight. Pity blood magic is forbidden by Chantry law. I would love to have a blood mage at our disposal to help with interrogation so we might learn how far along the conspiracy is. It would be much safer than all this subterfuge."

"Nigel!" Anora gasped in alarm and stood there with her hand over her mouth, a look of horror in her eyes. However, at the same time, her political mind was agreeing with him.

"I know, I know, my love. I was just thinking aloud. Besides, even if we could find one, could we even trust a blood mage not to turn his power against us?" The truth was, he knew very well where he could find a blood mage, but he hadn't made use of his talents yet. He would save that until there was no other option.

A firm knock at the door announced the arrival of the rest of the royal retinue, along with the crown princess and her own small retinue of her nanny and two guards. They took their positions with him on her left with her arm placed on top of his as Erlina went to open the door. Anora whispered, " Every time we enter court, I think this must be how an actor feels just before setting foot on the stage for the first time in a performance."

He whispered back, "I'm sure of it, and it's ten times worse tonight. Now smile!"