The Hag snarled. "Stupid," she growled, rapping her stick on the ground. She exhaled huffily. "Not how I would have done it at all. But nobody ever thinks to ask me. Oh, no, they're all too good to ask for help from the Graveyard Hag, who managed to save her own country."

"And nearly ruined it before that," pointed out an amused sounding voice. Its owner was even more amusing, with a set of antlers protruding from his skull and his skin a bizarre combination of greens and browns.

The elderly crone rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Weiryn? Quickly, I don't have much time!"

Serious now, the hunt god crossed the room. "I want my daughter safe. I want that cretin in the Dark Realms, and I want him to stay there this time."

"And I want to know why you're telling me this," snapped the Hag, planting her staff in front of her and leaning her weight on it. "It's impossible. It's out of our hands."

"Is it?" Weiryn asked carefully. "What of -" He indulged in a brief smile - "Lady Arabella?"

Impatiently, the crone tapped her stick against the floor. "What of... her?" she demanded tightly.

"Exactly," was the prompt reply. "Nobody cares to consider her. I believe she may be the key."

The woman looked disgusted. "You've spent too long with your head above the clouds," she informed him scornfully. "Have you forgotten who she is?"

"And have you forgotten where she comes from?" retorted Weiryn promptly. "It's not Tortall, therefore it couldn't be considered interference. She has displayed many traits that would suggest her to be a diplomatic genius. Perhaps you would care to remember her treatment of Master... Enfell?"

A slow grin began on the Hag's face. "I think you might have something there."

*

"Pieces in a chess game," I murmured to myself. "That's all they are."

I shivered slightly, pulling my rug tighter around me as the dying fire shaped the shadows of the room. Perhaps warmth would bring me the ideas that I needed, help me to connect these pieces.

I brushed my blonde hair from my face, carefully considering the board before me. Players, that was it.

The first piece was mine. Arabella Laiha. What would I do? Months ago, I had been so certain of my purpose in life, now I struggled with simple decisions. The fate of another's country lay in my hands. I was currently the favoured of gods, although few Tortallans had even seen my face. Why I alone had been singled out baffled me, but I was not one to argue with easily angered deities.

I regarded my red-headed knight. Alanna the Lioness. What would I make of her? Proud, stubborn, temperamental, she might prove more a hindrance than a help. She would need constant checking, but she was a wonder in battle, something that apparently even rumour was no match for. I pushed her aside for the moment.

Thayet the Peerless. Unless she was going to stun somebody with her incredible beauty, she wasn't going to be much good. I sighed, hand hovering over her figure, running through stories of the Queen leading troops into battle in my mind and wondering whether I could rely on them. For now, at least, I placed her next to the King's Champion, commending myself on my ruthless decision making and excellent progress.

Veralidaine Sarrasri was unfortunately out of action, as I had been informed by the Graveyard Hag herself. Still, it would be important to keep her safe so that she didn't affect my next player.

Numair Salmalín? What use would he bring me? I gritted my teeth slightly, suppressing the anger within me. Not follow orders, that was what. Sulk and protest when commanded, then run off and do his own thing anyway. Powerful mage, powerful nuisance.

Lianne and Jasson were too young to be involved, and I thanked Mithros that they hadn't been harmed in any way. I couldn't remove their protectors, not after what had happened to the other three Conté children. Roald was dead, Kalasin... well. And Liam had vanished off the face of the Mortal Realms.

Or had he? I reached my next figurine. Liam of Conté, it was marked. A slow smile tugged at my lips. This must be the Liam that the Hag had warned the Goddess had marked out for her own plans. I set him aside from the others.

The impostor. Princess pretender. Oh, she had many names in my mind, none of them favourable. My fingers itched to pull her apart now, but I couldn't, not yet. Time enough for that later.

I scoured the board for the real Princess Kalasin. My heart skipped a beat when I realised she was absent. Did this mean the gods didn't intend for her to take part, or did it mean...? I gulped and closed my eyes, deciding to move on.

I didn't recognise the next figure, though his plaque proclaimed him to be Josua Taylor. I considered him through narrowed eyes, drumming my fingers on the table. Somebody I could deal with later.

I searched the board again. There was still no Kalasin.

Where had she gone?

*

Promising, all so promising.

So much promise, gone to waste.

Momentarily, the portrait of Princess Kalasin became animated, infused with an imitation of life. The features blurred, creases folded into her face. Her hair lengthened, darkened, streaked with grey. She became taller. Plumper. Older. A crown set upon her head, too heavy to sit there long. She sat still, almost too still. Watching -  or waiting… Silently. Alone.

There was a motion beside her. The swarthy man moved, graceful in his mature years. Greying at his temples, but it did not seem to matter to him. His wrinkles did not bother him. Old without being ancient, stiff without creaking.

Kaddar Gazanoi Iliniat, Emperor of Carthak, was who she was destined for.

She would have never wanted for anything.

And yet, as she sat on the throne, rich beyond her wildest dreams, married to a loyal, respected man, empress of a vast country, she still felt… discontent. She still felt as though she was not meant to be there.

*

The time for brooding was at an end. I packed up my chess-set and glanced around the room, searching for anything of value. There was nothing that could not be replaced when this comedy of errors reached its finale.

I drew my hood over my blonde locks, careful not to muss them and set out for the palace.

*

"Sorry, ma'am. We've orders not to let anyone past."

I struggled to hide my frustration. "My master will not be pleased to find how I have been treated!" I declared indignantly, stamping my foot on the ground. When they merely shrugged, I turned on my heel and stormed off, full of feminine indignation and not entirely sure what I was going to do now.

"You seem awful eager to deliver a game," observed a voice coolly.

I winced and stopped. "So would you be if you saw the game!" I declared, wishing that I had been able to think up a better excuse. "I happen to serve a master craftsman!"

"Show me it then," the stranger suggested, only his eyes, though not the colour, visible beneath his thick hood. He was short, much shorter than me. It was hardly necessary to draw myself up to my full height, but I did so anyway, needing any comfort I could find, even if it was only a small one.

"This game is intended for the Emperor himself."

He coughed – or perhaps laughed. "Then you should not be ashamed to show it off."

I hugged my arms tighter around the board, narrowing my eyes speculatively at the man. "Perhaps I do not want to show it off to someone who does not wish me to see his face," I replied evenly.

This time, I heard his laugh clearly. "Pray, then tell me the name of your master so that I might see some of his work. Or do all prospective customers need to be judged on their appearances?"

He was mocking me. I decided to ignore it. "Then you refuse to remove your hood?"

"I do," was the prompt reply. No sound of a chuckle this time.

I swallowed tightly, preparing to gamble on the chance that he didn't want to be discovered and hoping desperately that he had no knife. "You can't be too careful, wandering these woods," I said casually. "Nobody knows who they might meet. It's a good thing that the palace is so heavily guarded." I kept my eyes trained on the snow, breathing in deeply before I delivered my blow. "Guards within earshot, too, certain to hear a scream if a lady were to happen across somebody… unsavoury."

He inhaled sharply. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing of consequence," I answered, with far more ease than I felt. The bottom of my stomach seemed to have dropped away. What had I been thinking? I was defenceless, and those guards certainly wouldn't bother coming to my rescue even if I did call out.

"One might consider the fact that, out of the two of us, I was the one able to gain access to the palace," he informed me smugly. "Besides, I don't appear to be the only one with a hood on here."

I cursed my lack of foresight. "A gentleman would realise that the scandal that would result from the removal of a lady's hood with no chaperon around."

There was a pause. He tilted his head to one side, considering something, and then let the hood fall back. "So you see, we are both women."

I flushed.

*

It was quiet as we ran to where she claimed Josua had gone. I fired questions at her, noting her avoidance of many issues. She still didn't believe who I was, although the extraordinary chess pieces had convinced her enough to take me to her charge.

Suddenly, the echo of laughter bounded down the corridor. I frowned slightly, and picked up my pace, hampered by my skirts.

"I am!"

The voice came from the room to my left. I noticed with apprehension the limp, bloodstained bodies by the door. They were not a comforting sight.

"You expect me to believe that you're Princess Kalasin?" asked a scornful voice, clearly audible despite the thick wooden door.

Kalasin! She was alive!

Pulling free of the Lioness, who had gripped my arm at the mention of the princess, I burst through the door.