A/N: A couple of years have passed since the last chapter. In the story's timeline, I mean, not since I posted the last chapter – although this update has taken quite a while too. This chapter is the longest yet, which is my somewhat pathetic attempt to make up for the long wait. It is not particularly action-packed, but we do witness a first meeting between some of the characters.

Guest of Honour

Farelle drummed her fingers distractedly on the arms of her throne, but stopped when her father sent her an admonishing glance. "What?" she whispered in self-defence. "He is taking a rather long time, don't you think?"

Seated on the other side of the King, Farelle's mother remarked, "Perhaps he is hoping to make a more dramatic entrance this way." She paused. "Though Andy was never one for theatrics, come to think of it."

"Maybe he ran into some problems," muttered Farelle, clasping her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. "Maybe we should send out some guards to find him. Maybe he has been away for so long that he cannot remember the way to the throne room and –"

"Will you be quiet?" King Dantalion hissed. He swept his gaze across the room to make sure that nobody had noticed their minor argument. The various lords and ladies of the court chattered on as usual, quite oblivious to the quiet conversation taking place on the dais. "Farelle," he said in a tight voice that showed he was reining in his temper, "I am absolutely certain that your brother remembers the way to the throne room. It has hardly been two years since he was last here."

"Yes, and isn't that interesting?" the Queen murmured, looking sideways at Farelle and giving a small smile. "He used to visit us every time he went on leave. I am quite keen to meet this mysterious woman who has so captured his heart."

"You and the rest of the court," observed Farelle.

Javen had finished speaking with the guards at the door and was mounting the steps of the dais, moving to take up his post beside Farelle's throne. "They are on their way," he reported, and even the King straightened up a bit at this pronouncement.

"We are finally going to meet her," Farelle said, hardly able to contain her excitement. She looked up at her husband. "Javen, has Andy ever told you anything about his lady love?"

The Captain of the Guard shifted uneasily. "Nothing worth mentioning," he said, but Farelle knew straightaway that he was hiding something. She gave him one of her sterner looks, and he sighed in defeat. "Well, he and I had a talk about it when we liberated the Abhorsen from jail. All I can say is that their relationship is somewhat… complicated."

Farelle exchanged a glance with her mother, wondering what that was all about. But she did not wonder for long, as at that moment the enormous double doors were thrown open and Bieryn, Master of the Household, announced: "May I present Prince Andromis, First Lieutenant of the Scarlet Company, and Lady Zavebe, Mistress of Ornell."

The courtiers murmured with excitement and even some of the Royal Guards craned their heads to get a look. The crowd parted and Farelle could see Andromis striding towards them with a wide smile. He looked much as she remembered him, though a bit more tanned due to riding about the countryside with his soldiers. And beside him was a woman with a mane of curly red hair and a bold nose. She was very tall, and was wearing a rather low-cut dress of vibrant blue. Farelle knew at once that she felt very strongly about her, although she could not say if she liked the woman or hated her.

The King, the Queen, and Farelle descended the steps of the dais, and Andromis and Lady Zavebe stopped a short distance away on the marble floor. "Mother, father," greeted Andromis after executing a bow. He took the red-haired woman's hand as she rose from her curtsey. "This is Zavebe."

Farelle's mother smiled and kissed the young woman's cheek. "Welcome to Belisaere. I am so glad to meet you at last." The King's salutation was limited to a nod and a neutral sort of grunt, but Farelle knew that he behaved like that with everyone.

"This is my sister Farelle," said Andromis, continuing the introductions, "and her husband, Captain Javen."

Zavebe extended her hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

Farelle was surprised by the other woman's strong grip. Her eyes met Lady Zavebe's, and there was something like a challenge flashing in them. Farelle held the gaze longer than was customary, letting Zavebe know that she was someone to be reckoned with as well, Princess or not. When they released hands there was a feeling of wariness between them, and a touch of mutual respect. Farelle still did not know what she thought of the other woman, but recognized that she would have to watch herself around her.

Zavebe offered her hand to Javen next, and her eyes widened when she noticed his right arm. It had taken Farelle a few weeks to get used to herself. Felio and Nehima had crafted it well, and it was an odd but strangely beautiful thing, an elegant puzzle of wires, metal plates, and Charter marks. If she squinted her eyes, Farelle could almost believe that her husband was wearing a mailed glove.

"This is remarkable," breathed Zavebe, examining the back of Javen's hand with interest and quite forgetting decorum. The only person who seemed to mind was the King.

Farelle's husband waggled his silver fingers demonstratively. "The Wallmakers fashioned it for me. Nearly as good as the real thing too. I can even cast Charter magic with it."

"You see?" said Zavebe, dropping Javen's hand and turning to Andromis. "This is why the Wallmakers shouldn't be forced to leave. You cannot make them abandon such valuable work." Andromis sighed, and Farelle got the impression that they were continuing an old argument.

The King cleared his throat and stepped forward. "The Wallmakers are not being forced to do anything, Lady Zavebe," he said with what for him passed as politeness. "They are deciding their own fate. It is not up to me to determine, and certainly not up to Andromis."

Farelle glanced quickly at Zavebe, who had flushed but remained defiant. She had to admire the other woman's pluck. Perhaps it would do her brother some good to court a woman with a spine.

"Sitri and my aunts and cousins say hello," said Andromis, breaking the awkward silence. "We visited the Glacier before coming here, and I made them all swear not to tell you anything. Oh, and Gressa is a grandmother now. Isodell just had a baby."

Farelle frowned as she tried to remember the cousin in question. "But she can't be more than –"

"Eighteen," the Queen confirmed. "But remember, your grandmother was twenty when she had your aunt Neryl."

"Speaking of babies, how are the children?" asked Andromis with interest. He had yet to see his nephew and niece.

Farelle exchanged a knowing glance with Javen. "Sleeping, thank the Charter. The nanny is with them."

"Perhaps you would like to see them later," Javen offered courteously, and Zavebe beamed and gave an eager nod. Farelle decided that she could be rather pretty, despite her bold features.

Andromis' sharp grey eyes were darting around the room, taking in the courtiers whose eyes were fixed upon the Royal Family's guest of honour. "It is a larger reception than what I was expecting," he admitted, sounding anxious. "I did request a private party, you know, father."

"We have not seen you for years, Andromis," said the King with a rare smile. "Your arrival alone merits a celebration, and we wished to provide a suitable welcome for our guest." He lifted his arm, and the musicians seated in the corner began to play a lilting melody. As if released from a spell the courtiers started moving and chatting again, although more than a few were still staring at Lady Zavebe. "But other guests demand our attention at present. If you would excuse us."

As the King and Queen went arm-in-arm to circulate among the lords and ladies of the court, Andromis grimaced. "Is this our cue to mingle?" he asked with a mock groan.

"If you remember how," Farelle teased.

Zavebe crossed her arms. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," she said, smirking. "What with roaming around in the woods for months on end and acting like a savage, it's a miracle that Andy can still string two words together."

Farelle glanced at Javen and mouthed, "Andy?" with raised eyebrows. Her brother usually only put up with the nickname from his family. Not even his best friend Marrick called him that.

A servant glided over with a tray of drinks. "His Majesty the King asks that I remind you all to see to your duties," he said blandly. The four of them exchanged wry looks. Farelle rolled her eyes, took a glass of pink wine, and moved into the crowd.

As the Crown Princess it was Farelle's responsibility to circulate and make cordial and amusing comments to the palace guests, but she did not feel like mingling tonight. She exchanged a few smiles and pleasantries with the lords and ladies who addressed her before moving on, and in this way was able to avoid dreary conversations about nothing, that seemed to be all the rage in court. As the minutes passed in this fashion, Farelle knew that it was only a matter of time before she was approached by somebody who would not allow himself or herself to be brushed off so easily. She sighed and tapped her fingers on the stem of her glass, trying to decide which conversation she should join in earnest before somebody truly odious demanded her attention.

Something she saw made her freeze in her tracks. Sir Falgon was making a beeline for her, having seen that she was unengaged. Wanting to do anything rather than speak with that pretentious one-eyed Council member, Farelle took a deep breath and struck out into the crowd. She slipped between two quarrelling noblewomen before finally making it to the clear space at the end of the room, knowing that she did not have much time. Two Royal Guards nodded at her respectfully, but she was preoccupied with trying to locate her husband.

"Javen!"

He turned immediately at her voice, and she seized his left arm – the real one. "Quick, protect me," she hissed, dragging him back into the crowd.

"From what?" The Captain of the Guard looked bewildered, his head swivelling to and fro as he sought for a source of danger among the mingling courtiers.

"From Sir Falgon," she explained, and his expression cleared. "Pretend that we are having a conversation."

"We are having a conversation," her husband pointed out in his usual straightforward manner as they moved further into the crowd and away from the approaching knight.

Farelle gave his arm an impatient little shake. "Yes," she said through her teeth, "but pretend that we are discussing something exceedingly important. Something that absolutely cannot be interrupted for any reason in the world." She nodded and smiled at Palace Mage Girvase, who gave her a curious look as they bustled past.

The Captain was clearly at a loss. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I do not know. Just pick a topic," she said, starting to get a little irritated. She could see Falgon coming closer by the minute, and manoeuvred so that the refreshment table stood between them.

Javen must have sensed her mounting displeasure because he bit his lip and looked around the room for inspiration. "Er – it is unusually crowded in here today."

"Is that really the best you can do?" Farelle groaned. She turned right around to look at him, shaking her head and smiling at his idiocy and utter lack of imagination. She felt a warm wave of tenderness for her husband, thick as he could be. "How is your arm?" she asked softly.

"It's all right," said Javen, turning his arm so that the candlelight flickered off the silver surface. "It still burns sometimes. And where the metal meets the flesh the pain is incessant, but Nehima told me that I would just have to live with it."

Farelle shook her head. "My poor darling," she whispered, catching his hands in hers.

It took the sound of somebody clearing his throat for Farelle to realize that she had been staring lovingly into her husband's eyes. She turned to see her parents, but looking past her father's admonishing gaze, she realized with satisfaction that her intimate moment with Javen had discouraged Sir Falgon.

"Yes, father?" she asked with a brilliant smile.

The King tilted his head to the side in a way that bizarrely reminded Farelle of her sister Sitri. "Shouldn't you be mingling, Farelle?"

"Ignore him," said her mother with a smile. "He is just jealous that he could not escape from Sir Falgon as well as you could."

Farelle grinned. "You saw that?"

Her father gave her a stern look. "Try not to be too proud of yourself."

Andromis and Zavebe emerged from the crowd to join them. Zavebe was looking belligerent, and Farelle's brother seemed rather hassled. Farelle guessed that the other woman's tendency to speak her mind had forced her brother to negotiate his way out of a few political situations. "Excellent, have we finished with mingling?" asked the Prince with obvious relief.

The King gazed back and forth between his son and daughter. "You two are impossible."

"An unjust accusation," Farelle declared. "You detest mingling at least as much as we do, father. Why not do away with it altogether?" The King treated her to one of his most forbidding looks, but the Princess was in such high spirits at her brother's return that she paid it no heed. Or perhaps it was the wine.

"That sounds like a splendid idea," said Andromis, only half-joking. "And as this is a party in my honour, after all –" Zavebe elbowed him sharply. "I mean in our honour, deciding when the mingling is to end and the dancing is to begin should be decided by me – er, us," he added hastily at Zavebe's glare.

Penemue was shaking her head. "Andromis, usually you and your sister are such mature, responsible individuals…" She turned and raised her arm, and the musicians immediately began to play an elegant dancing tune. The lords and ladies moved to the sides of the room, clearing the middle of the floor for the next stage of the evening.

The King was staring at his wife, astonished by her betrayal, and she smiled back serenely. "It is their night, darling," she pointed out, and Farelle's father could say nothing to that. Andromis bowed and offered his hand to Lady Zavebe, who took it, and they practically ran onto the dance floor before the King could change his mind and order everyone to resume mingling. Soon other couples had joined them, including Farelle and Javen.

"Well?" asked the Captain of the Guard as they whirled across the room. "What do you think of her?"

Farelle glanced over at Lady Zavebe, easily locating her vibrant hair amongst the other dancers. "I am not sure," she admitted. "Frankly, I am surprised by my brother's choice. Charsia was a lot more… tame."

"She does tend to say whatever she thinks," said Javen wryly. "Your brother is going to have his hands full." He glanced at the Prince before looking back at Farelle. "Would you like to speak to him?" What with the music and the constant movement, a truly private conversation during one of these events could only take place during a dance. Farelle nodded, and they drew nearer to the other couple.

"Mind if I cut in?" asked Javen gallantly, and Andromis stepped back from his partner. He watched Zavebe as she was whisked off into the crowd.

"I need to ask you something, Andy," said Farelle as they started to dance.

"Mmm?" Her brother was looking over the heads of their neighbours at Zavebe, his eyes never leaving her.

Farelle squeezed his shoulder to command his full attention. "Listen, Andy. I have to ask you – do you know what you are doing?"

Andromis blinked and looked down at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You. Zavebe. Together," she said pointedly. "I cannot figure it out. Are you only with her because of that vision you mentioned in your letter?"

"You think I would do that?" asked the Prince, starting to get angry.

"I do not know! Charsia I understood, because she seemed to fit your ideal and was also first-rate princess material. But Zavebe I do not understand at all. The only explanation is the vision, and it is such a trivial thing to direct your actions."

Andromis was shaking his head. "You did not have my vision. You have no idea what I Saw in Ornell."

"The Sight only shows possible futures," Farelle pointed out. "Your Sight is very weak, Andy. How do you know if what you Saw was true?"

"People with the Sight usually See their deaths, correct? And they never question the significance of those visions, no matter how strong they are."

"Are you likening your relationship with this woman to dying?" asked Farelle sardonically.

The Prince looked up at the ceiling as if asking for patience. "What is going on?" he asked with forced calm. "What is wrong with Zavebe? Do you have something against her?"

Farelle looked over at the other woman, who was talking spiritedly with Javen as they danced. "I'm not sure," she admitted in a low voice. "It just seems so… unusual for you. And her nose, Andy!"

"What's wrong with her nose?" Andromis hissed, and a couple dancing nearby looked over at him curiously. "Listen Farelle," her brother said in an undertone, "I do not care what you think of her, or whether you understand my actions. And you should get used to the idea, because I am going to marry her."

Farelle gaped at him and stumbled as she took a wrong step. "You – really?" she said, peering over at the young woman again. After a pause, she asked, "Are you going to tell father?"

Her brother looked strained. "I do not think so. Not yet, anyway. That was why I wanted tonight's gathering to be only the family."

When the song came to a close Farelle drew back and curtseyed, allowing her brother to lead her from the dance floor. Servants were making rounds with platters of food and trays of drinks, and the siblings seized large glasses of wine as the second dance began. Andromis drained half of his in one gulp. They were soon joined by Javen and Zavebe, who was staring over her shoulder at Sir Falgon. The one-eyed knight was discoursing loudly on the protesters who had gathered outside the palace gates:

"A rag-tag mob just sitting there on the street, holding candles," he was saying. "It seems they have set up a constant vigil to protest the Wall, can you imagine that?" His listeners laughed obligingly, but Farelle noticed that Zavebe was looking furious. "I do not know why they bother anymore," the knight chortled. "From what I hear, the Wall is near completion."

Before Farelle knew it, Zavebe had balled her hands up into fists and stalked over to the group. For a wild moment Farelle thought that Zavebe was actually going to strike Sir Falgon, but instead she planted herself directly in front of him, hands on her hips and eyes blazing with fury. "They do have the right to protest," she burst out, and the nobleman and his audience turned to her in surprise. Farelle exchanged a look with Javen, and Andromis beckoned for a servant to refill his glass.

The knight was quick to recover his composure. "Lady Zavebe," he acknowledged with a graceful bow. "I am Sir Falgon, and it is an honour to make your acquaintance at last. Long has the court desired to meet the woman who has captured our Prince's heart."

Zavebe waved aside the salutation and stood her ground. "I could not help but overhear your comments on the protesters, Sir Falgon," she said through gritted teeth. "You wonder why they bother? Surely you do not expect people to give up their beliefs merely because it seems that the end is near?"

Queen Penemue had strolled over and was watching the confrontation with interest. Indeed, many people were gathering around, and Farelle felt a twinge of sympathy for her brother, who looked as though he wished that the ground could swallow him up.

"I for one admire their dedication," Zavebe was saying heatedly, "that they continue to fight this venture even now."

"It is good of you to admire them," replied Sir Falgon, colour rising in his cheeks, "but right now their actions tiresome and inconvenient. Some people simply do not know when they are bested."

"And you see that as a shortcoming?" Zavebe countered with a ferocity that surprised Farelle.

Andromis let out a quiet groan and put a hand over his eyes as the argument escalated. The Queen, however, was looking thoughtful. "I do hope that the protesters are all right, sitting out there," she murmured to Farelle as they watched the squabble. "Some of them have remained outside the palace gates for days. Do you think they would like some warm soup and bread?"

"Good idea, mother," said Farelle dryly. "Let's feed the dog that bites us."

"You are being most unjust!" declared Zavebe to the knight, gesticulating violently with her hands. "You cannot condemn people for their beliefs!"

"Even if they are the wrong ones?" Sir Falgon retorted, his voice rising in turn.

"Who are you to say that they are the wrong ones?" Zavebe nearly shrieked. What happened next should have been foreseen, but one of Zavebe's flailing arms knocked a tray right out of a passing servant's hands. There were cries of alarm as lords and ladies found themselves showered with wine. Glasses shattered on the marble floor, burgundy liquid splashed onto cloaks and gowns, and the silver tray landed with a deafening clatter.

Farelle's mouth was hanging open in complete shock. The musicians had stopped playing and the dancers were frozen in the middle of the room. Quick footsteps broke the horrible silence, and the crowd parted hastily to let the King through. His grey eyes darted over the broken glass and spilled drinks, over the courtiers and their stained finery, over Sir Falgon who had received a faceful of wine, and over Zavebe who was blushing to the roots of her red hair. "Prince Andromis," the King said quietly, using his son's formal title. "Would you please come with me? And bring Lady Zavebe as well."

Farelle watched her father sweep away, the courtiers pushing against each other to give him a wide berth. Andromis took Zavebe by the hand and followed quickly and silently. "Mother," whispered the Princess. "You can handle this, can't you?" At the Queen's nod, Farelle hurried after them. She was joined by Javen at the edge of the room, and as they followed the others into the hall Farelle gave him a quick smile. "Couldn't miss this, could you?"

Her husband gave a small grin. "Not for the world."

The small group proceeded through the hallways encircled by the King's personal guards, who even Javen admitted were a rather paranoid bunch. They were well-trained, keeping their eyes moving for any hint of a possible attack, and their hands glued to the hilts of their swords. They paid surprisingly little attention to the chaos occurring within their protective ring.

Andromis and Zavebe were simultaneously apologizing to the King's back, but the older man beckoned for Farelle to walk beside him, and she hastened to comply. "You were there," he said quietly, keeping his gaze forward. "How will this effect our relations with the people present?"

Farelle glanced over her shoulder at Andromis who was pleading with their father for forgiveness, but his pleas were falling on deaf ears. "Sir Falgon got the worst of it," she said quietly, "but I would not worry about him. With any luck he will resign from the King's Council and we will be rid of his presence. The Lord of Callibe and his wife were also spilt on, but they are a rather light-hearted couple and a written apology should suffice. Master Bieryn is hardly a guest and puts up with this sort of thing all the time, but an apology would be courteous. And Lady Sophalia drinks so much wine anyway that she may have actually enjoyed the experience."

Behind them Zavebe was now telling Andromis that her behaviour had been justified and there was nothing for her to apologise about, and went on to state how utterly narrow-minded Sir Falgon was, throwing in some well-chosen insults in the process. Andromis was attempting to ignore her, and asking Javen for help in appealing to his father.

"So the situation is salvageable?" asked the King, ignoring his son.

Farelle nodded. "I believe so."

"Very well. See to it." He looked about the hallway. "Now I must address the matter of the Prince and our guest. We need somewhere to talk where we cannot be overheard."

"My rooms are closest," offered Farelle. "We can take a shortcut." She led the way through a small wooden door, and they were immediately assailed by the noises and smells of the kitchens.

"Father!" Apparently having had enough, Andromis was squeezing past two startled cooks and hurried to the King's side. "Father, please stop and listen to me." The King did not even look at him. Andromis set his jaw and moved to plant himself directly in front of the man, placing an impeding hand on his father's chest so that he could not be ignored any longer. The group stopped short. It was a ridiculous setting for such a confrontation: Farelle, Javen, and Zavebe were looking on in surprise and apprehension; the entire group was surrounded by guards who remained alert for assassination attempts; and the cooks pretended to work as they watched their King and Prince, not noticing that the food was burning.

"Father, I apologise," said Andromis seriously, "but I think you are putting far too much importance on this. It was an accident, for Charter's sake!" He took a deep breath, and his next words were utterly composed: "For you, everything is politics, and nobody can act without you worrying over the repercussions. It was politics that made you order the execution of the Freemen and all of their accomplices, and it was politics that forced you to send Javen into battle and caused him to lose his arm." Farelle glanced at her husband, who shifted uncomfortably, but the King's gaze remained fixed on Andromis. Farelle could not remember when she had last seen her father so angry.

"I have been more than generous with you," the King said finally, and his voice was dangerously quiet. "I do not dictate who you may keep company with, Prince Andromis, although I am starting to wonder whether that was a wise decision on my part."

Zavebe looked angry at that and took a half-step forward, but Andromis spoke before she could: "I am going to marry her."

At his words all activity in the kitchens came to a halt, and everyone held their breath and waited for the King's response. Farelle had to admire her brother, who resolutely stood his ground. As for their father, he had been struck speechless by the news. After a very long moment he jerked his head and brushed past the Prince, walking out of the kitchens.

The rest of the group followed, and as the door closed behind them Farelle heard a sharp babble break out among the kitchen staff. The news was going to be all over the palace in a few hours' time. She could only imagine what people would say.

The King stormed over to Farelle and Javen's quarters, and the guards posted there had barely enough time to bow before he threw open the double doors. The King's guards moved to stand on either side of the entrance, and Farelle went in to see the startled nanny leap up from her chair. "It's all right," Farelle assured her. "We just want to have a private discussion." The nanny took one look at the King's hard expression, bobbed a curtsey, and scurried out of the room.

"Listen, Andy," Zavebe was saying to the Prince as he closed the doors behind them. "If I have to watch every word I say, I'm not so sure I want to live in this palace."

"You're the one who once accused me of forgetting courtly manners," snapped Andromis, his temper flaring up.

Watching the two of them bicker, Farelle began to understand the dynamic that existed between her brother and his intended. As for the King, he was pacing back and forth as if determined to wear a hole in the carpet. The disturbance seemed to have woken up the baby, as a faint wailing cry was heard. Javen ducked through a door and soon emerged cradling a little pink bundle in his arms. "Allaric is asleep," he whispered to Farelle, who breathed a sign of relief. Only one awake, then. At least something was going right.

"So Sir Falgon is allowed to belittle the protesters, but I am not allowed to say what I wish?"

Andromis threw up his hands in clear frustration. He glanced over at Javen, and hastily said, "Look, a baby!"

Zavebe stopped in mid-argument. She turned, and her expression unexpectedly softened. Farelle was astonished by the change this made to the other woman's appearance. Her nose did not seem quite so beaky, and now that she wasn't glaring, the lovely shape of her eyes could be appreciated. Farelle watched as she moved to stand by Javen's shoulder, practically cooing over the infant, who reached out with a tiny hand and grabbed a curl of her red hair. "What's her name?" Zavebe whispered, enraptured, and her voice was gentler than Farelle had ever heard it.

"Eligora," said Javen. "She is five months old."

Farelle took advantage of the sudden quiet to approach the King, who had stopped pacing. "Father?" she said hesitantly. "The situation really isn't that serious."

The King glanced at her, then turned to Andromis and inclined his head. "I apologise for my behaviour," he said stiffly, and Farelle suppressed a smile; she knew how difficult it was for her father to say that. "You were right, of course. About everything. Lady Zavebe?" The woman looked up from little Eligora, and the King cleared his throat gruffly. "I welcome you to our family."

Zavebe grinned self-consciously and spread her arms. "I probably wasn't what you were expecting."

The King raised his eyebrows. "Frankly, I like you better than Charsia. At least you will keep my son on his toes."

Nearly everyone laughed at that. "I'm afraid I am not cut out for life at court," Zavebe admitted, "but I have a fine manor house in Ornell, and you are all welcome to visit."

Their conversation was cut short by a sharp knock on the door. A breathless messenger entered, sweeping the plumed hat from her head. "Your Majesties," she panted, bowing. "I bring news from the border. Master Felio of the Wallmakers sends word that the construction of the Wall is complete."

Farelle glanced at her father who looked as stunned as she felt. After all these years, after so much conflict, it was over at last. The King recovered his composure quickly. "Go on."

"The Wallmakers request the presence of the Royal Family to witness the final spells," said the messenger. "You are expected at the Eastern end of the Wall, at dawn on the longest day of summer."

"Only a week from today," Javen muttered as Farelle moved to stand beside him. She fussed with the blankets around Eligora's face.

The King was frowning. "Have the other Bloodlines been notified?"

"Messengers have been sent to the Clayr, the Abhorsen, and the Moot in Ancelstierre."

Farelle barely noticed her father dismissing the messenger, as she was immersed in old memories of her grandmother Tirelle describing the making of the Great Stones. The part of the story where the Wallmakers disappeared had always given Farelle the chills. Would it happen again? Would Felio, and Nehima, and old Ghidreth, and all the rest of them vanish? Without even leaving a body behind for the final rites? She shivered involuntarily.

Her father noticed her unease. "We are going to witness this," he said firmly. His gaze encompassed everyone in the room, and Zavebe nodded and took Andromis' hand. "The Wallmakers may very well make the ultimate sacrifice for their Kingdom, and we must acknowledge that."

Farelle bowed her head in assent. She was a Princess of the Kingdom, and the least she could do was pay homage to their most valiant and noble subjects and their greatest creation. She would honour the Wallmakers, whatever fate awaited them.

A/N: My, I wonder what's going to happen next? Oh Zavebe, what is the Kingdom going to do with you? And I rather liked Andromis in this one. Kudos to him for standing up to the King! We have only two chapters left now; hard to believe, isn't it? As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. And I apologise again for leaving this update so long.