Laren Mapstone stood uneasily to attention outside the door to Zachary's chambers. Roused half an hour previously to hear dire news on the night before the Wedding was to take place, she was not comfortable, especially since Zachary, after giving her the ill tidings, had sent for Lord Coutre and asked to be left alone with him. He was up to something, and it set her on edge.

She had been summoned by a frantic looking Green Foot runner who had told her Worren, one of the most junior Riders, had returned from dispatch to the Wall with grave news. Despite the late hour, she followed young Erin to Zachary's private rooms, where Worren was stood in the outer study, standing seriously to attention while trying to surreptitiously gawp at his opulent surroundings. The King, dressed in a heavy heather-coloured robe over his nightclothes, stood on the opposite side of his desk, reading with a furrowed brow a dispatch marked with the winged horse seal of the Green Riders. He looked up when Laren walked in, and handed her the note.

She scanned the dispatch quickly, eyes narrowing with every word. It was grave news indeed.

"Thank you, Rider Thompsal, you are dismissed," she said briskly to Worren, who was started out of his staring. He gave a crisp bow, and exited. The monarch and the Rider Captain waited until the door clicked shut, then Mapstone let out a worried sigh.

"Well, what do you make of it?" the King asked.

Laren looked down at the dispatch again. "Civilians seen crossing the Wall, led by an elderly woman. I don't think there's any doubt –"

"Grandmother." Zachary's tone was grave. Laren gave an involuntary shudder at the name, Grandmother having tortured one of her Riders not six months before, masterminded the kidnap of Lady Estora, and nearly brought the entirety of Sacoridia crashing down. She recalled well Fergal Duff's frightening description of her aura.

"Of course," the King continued, pacing the floor behind his desk, "This means the threat from Mornhavon is greatly increased – given a powerful servant like Grandmother, it would mean that he would have the ability to return to full power." He stopped, and turned to gaze at her. The full weight of his meaning was carried in his eyes; the vision of his country burning.

"This message was sent at least a week ago, if not longer," Laren guessed. By now Grandmother and her flock would be deep inside the forest, hidden from any scouting party that went after them, and, helped by the power of Blackveil, they would be more than a match for Sacoridian soldiers.

"I know. We must hope that Rider G'ladheon's actions last year are enough for the present. Without Mornhavon, Grandmother will have wasted her journey."

"She will wait." Laren saw the light that had entered Zachary's eyes on speaking Karigan's name, but the crisis at hand made it brief, and she would not have caught it if she hadn't known it would be there. Such love was the last thing the country needed.

"And we do not have long," the King agreed. He looked weary, and Laren had pity. Already in his reign, Zachary had had to face attempts on his throne and his life, threats greater than many other Sacoridian rulers had ever had to face, and now he was standing on a precipice, looking over at what could turn out to be a repeat of the Long War, with no idea how to face it. A lesser man would have cracked.

But not Zachary.

"The course of action must be decided. Nothing to prepare can be done tonight, and with the wedding tomorrow –" Mention of his nuptials seemed to drain what little strength Zachary had left, and he sank into his chair, brow hidden behind his hands.

There was silence for what seemed like an age, before he seemed to come to a decision.

"Send for Lord Coutre."

Alarm bells rang in Laren's head. Mention of the father-in-law-to-be in the current context was almost as good as Zachary saying he was not going to marry Estora after all. She should have suspected his lack of a bad mood in the two preceding days. She tried to protest, to say that Lord Coutre could wait to be informed in the morning.

"No, Laren. Grandmother is a threat to Sacoridia, and that means to its King and Queen as well. Lord Coutre is fond of his daughter, and should know what danger she is in. Second Empire has already attempted to kidnap her, and that was before she was crowned. I will see Lord Coutre now." He wore a face that would not be argued with, and the Captain's mouth snapped shut on her words. Luckily Erin, the Green Foot runner, was still outside, albeit sleepy.

So now here she was, waiting outside the door of the King's study like a naughty child sent to the headmaster's office, trying to listen through the aged oak panels while being scrutinised by two Weapons. It always unnerved her when Zachary did something without telling her, and now, what with news of Grandmother, she was more uneasy than usual.

Lord Coutre finally came out, looking grumpy and tired. Laren tried to read the lines on his face, but the Eastern Lord Governor's expression could be concealed almost as well as Zachary's. With a curt nod to the Captain, he trudged off down the corridor, back to his own chambers, the rich blue robe he wore forming an impressive train behind him.

Without waiting for an invitation, she barged back in. "What did you say to him?" she demanded. Zachary gazed at her with mild eyes, making her more suspicious. It was the same look he had worn when he had 'accidentally' loosened the paddock gate when he was nine and had let all the horses escape.

"I simply informed him of the situation, and reminded him of the terms of the contract," replied the King levelly. "Nothing as rebellious as you were thinking, I'm sure."

"I'm sure. Zachary –"

"It is late, and I am getting married tomorrow," he said with a slight grimace, cutting her lecture short. "I would greatly appreciate some sleep before then."

She had no choice but to leave.

The Solstice bell rang at first light, accompanied by the chanting of the priests as they offered veneration to Aeron. In her chamber, Estora woke to jitters of nerves, and allowed herself to be mutely dressed by her attendants, who cooed and clucked around her while she remained as quiet as the moon. She wondered how Zachary was feeling, as he too, would be dressing for his wedding. The thought set her trembling anew.

Down in Rider barracks, the finishing touches were being made to tack and uniform, the horses all gleaming as they stood by their Riders to await a final inspection by Ty and Captain Mapstone. Karigan had awoken numb at the first tolling of the bell, and said nothing while she saddled Condor, closing her ears to the banter of her fellow Riders as they attended their mounts. When the sun rose, all the soldiers, Weapons and Riders would be assembled on the Grand Parade that led to Sacor City's oldest monument, a great line of monoliths aligned exactly from north to south, with the two largest acting as a throne for the midsummer sun at noon. It was reserved for great state occasions – coronations, weddings, funerals. At all other times it was avoided as a place where the gods' eyes shone upon the world, and Karigan was uneasy about having to stand in such an arena for most of the day. Her father's old advice – don't attract divine attention – rang loud in her ears as she mounted and followed off in line behind Tegan.

All that could be heard as the sun climbed higher overhead was the occasional snort or stamp of a horse or the creak of leather as soldiers shifted their feet to work out the pins and needles. Zachary and Estora had started their procession at the bottom of the long hill, and their progress was marked by the cheers of the commonfolk who lined the roadside. Eventually they came into view, followed by a mass of Weapons with gear gleaming in the sun, the King dressed in elegant robes of black and silver, the colours of the Sacoridian banner, looking as regal and dignified as he ever did. By his side, her hand resting daintily on his, Lady Estora Coutre was resplendent in a dress of dyed silk in her clan colours, seeming to float on the breeze as if she were Aeron herself, the spun gold of her hair richly braided and set with sapphires. But she too kept a serious face, not the happy expression supposed to be worn by a bride.

A bead of sweat rolled down Karigan's neck, the layers of her formal uniform too much in the summer heat. Her neck and back ached with sitting upright for most of the morning, but she dared not turn her head or move for fear her mind would come back to where she was, and what exactly was happening. To keep the tears away, her mind strayed into the cool eaves of the Green Cloak, where she could gallop or walk as she willed, where there was no sun, no Solstice wedding, and no one to care if she cried or not.

Her eyes held steady and looked straight ahead as the royal couple passed, her face set as stone. The final irony was that the material for their attires came from the finest textile merchant in Sacoridia – her own father. Had she the courage to look down, her merchant's eye would have appraised them as goods of the highest quality. But she did not look down. Karigan's gaze kept carefully three feet above the King's head.

Zachary had seen Karigan. How could he not notice her, though she was clothed in green and among her fellow Riders? To him she glowed like the sun, more so than the high-bred lady walking next to him. His heart grew heavier with every step he took, and he kept the corner of his eye on Karigan, in case she should look his way. It saddened him that she did not, in these last moments of his bachelorhood, but it nearly broke his heart to see the expressionless visage she had put forth, as blank as ice, and to know that he was the cause of it.

They reached the dais, the honour guard fanning out on the steps beneath the great monoliths, a line of black separating Zachary and Estora from the assembled nobles and the soldiery beyond. Ahead lay their fate. It was now or never; the final move of intrigue. Here Zachary would either emerge victorious, or forever be dead to the world. He turned to Estora, who looked upon the twin thrones beneath Aeron's Seat with quiet trepidation.

"My lady," he said softly. "I have the feeling you do not wish to be here – that your heart and mind are far away with thoughts of somebody else."

She stared at him. "Oh, no, Sire, I –" she began furiously, blushing.

"You need not put on a brave face for me," he told her in the same gentle voice.

"I have always respected you, Zachary," she replied, halting slightly over his name, as though she feared its power. "But you are right. I am in love with somebody other than my future husband. But what good is it to say so now?" Her gaze dropped dejectedly.

He caught her by the chin, gently. "It is never too late. We are not yet married, and the contract is only binding if you willingly agree to be my bride." There was an almost desperate note to his voice now, as he rushed to say all that he needed to before it was too late. The priest had summoned them, and they walked up to their thrones as lambs to the slaughter.

"Are you willing when your heart belongs to somebody else?"

Estora could sense the earnest tremor in his voice. It was a side of him she had never seen before, far from the collected King Zachary respected by everyone he met. "But my father –"

"He can do nothing if you do not agree."

Estora bit her lip, her thoughts flying to Xandis, his grey eyes, the self-confident smirk and easy-going manner that was never a part of Zachary's character. She loved him almost painfully, a feeling not felt since F'ryan's death. And she knew she could not marry the King.

"I can still do nothing," she protested meekly. "If he does not return my feelings then I shall be cast off with nowhere to go! I will be disgraced. I still marry you willingly." The beginning of tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

"Fear not. He loves you as ardently as you do him."

"How do you know?"

Zachary smiled. "One man in love can always tell another."

Lord Amberhill was at this moment watching the exchange with bated breath. Zachary's plan – and his own happiness – swung on Estora's willpower. Strong woman that she was, Xandis knew she would choose to defy her father. He hoped she would.

He had also seen the Green Rider in question sitting to attention, looking like she had come more to a funeral than a wedding. The King had chosen to divulge his secret to Xandis, and the young lord admired him for it. He personally thought Karigan G'ladheon a good match for Zachary, a natural leader and a fiery beauty, though a tad too touched by the supernatural for his tastes.

The priest was now approaching to fasten the hands of the couple on the dais. Zachary was still talking. Time dragged on, slowing the collision of the one who would complete this marriage and those who would stop it. From her position atop Condor's back, Karigan, unable to help herself, watched the priest with mounting dread, cold gripping her limbs despite the heat of the day. If only she were invisible.