Alvara Greenbriar was loving being a princess.

She couldn't stop grinning as she looked over the whirling dancers, the breathtaking splendor of the High Court in full revelry. She sipped more wine from her goblet, carved from a huge tourmaline, and smiled at her galaxy of admirers. All around her, members of the High Court pressed near, everyone wanting to see the High King's secret daughter, to exchange words with the hidden princess. Princess Alvara. It had a nice ring to it.

Across the crowd, her father sat on his throne, the Blood Crown glowing on his head. Alvara caught his eye and raised her goblet in a toast, which he returned, giving her a secret smile. Alvara glowed at this sign of Balekin's approval. They'd really done it. They'd toppled the old tyrant, gotten revenge for Alvara's dead brother, and seized the throne. They had it all, and they could enjoy it.

"So you were raised on the Ironside?" a silken-haired Court lady was saying, her glassine wings twitching on her back.

"That's right," said Alvara. "My mother is human, you see. Her name's Lillian."

"Really? And where is she now?"

Alvara felt a pang. How happy Lillian would be to see this triumph, how proud to see her daughter a princess. But Balekin had explained that Lillian could not come with them, that the High Court of Eflhame was no place for mortals. Though right now Alvara could spot a few mortals in the crowd…what were they doing here?

"Back home," she said, pushing her questions aside. "But I'm going to go back and see her soon," she added, cheering up at the thought.

The courtiers exchanged glances. "Is that so?" said an antlered man slowly.

"Yeah. I'll tell her all about what we did today!" Alvara grinned with anticipation. Lillian would enjoy that, she thought. She'll think it's just like Vader killing Palpatine. Alvara laughed a little at the idea. Lillian was a huge Star Wars fan. So, for that matter, was Alvara. Those executions would have been even better, she thought, with some lightsabers. She tried to imagine Balekin with a green Jedi lightsaber, but, honestly, he seemed far more suited for a red.

Another lady approached and the courtiers made way respectfully. Alvara recognized the newcomer from images Balekin had shown her and bowed, just as her etiquette tutor had taught her. "Princess Elowyn. I'm honored."

Elowyn inclined her shining head. She was garbed in summer sunlight, jewels gleaming on her circlet, but despite her brilliancy there was a guarded expression on her face, something almost dark. "There's no need for such formality, Alvara. You are, after all, my niece." Elowyn sipped her own wine, looking Alvara over. "A surviving member of the next generation of Greenbriars," she murmured. "A miracle. One wonders why Balekin never told me of your existence."

"He was trying to keep me safe," Alvara said promptly. "Dain would have killed me."

"Indeed." Still Elowyn's expression didn't change. "Still, I must confess to some disappointment," the older princess said at last, "that my brother didn't see fit to inform me of you. After all, I too have suffered from Dain's murderous schemes. One would think Balekin—excuse me, His Majesty—would see in me an ally. I would certainly have appreciated knowing what His Majesty was truly planning."

A strange, uncomfortable silence fell. Alvara tried to keep her expression blank but was afraid everyone could see her confusion. There were strange currents here, something she didn't understand. But she could certainly sense the danger.

Luckily, there came a buzz overhead. Alvara looked up to see a sprite, his wings whirring. "Princess Alvara," he said, bowing in midair. "The King summons you."

Alvara nodded graciously and handed her goblet to a nearby courtier. "Nice to meet you, Aunt Elowyn. May the Force be with you." Hiding a smile at her aunt's and the courtiers' baffled expressions, she sauntered off toward the throne.

There she executed a perfect bow and came up grinning. "Hi, Dad," she said. "Enjoying being King so far?"

"Show some manners, Alvara," said Balekin, but he was smiling. "I did hire an etiquette tutor just for you, after all. If our courtiers see you displaying coarse manners, they're going to think I didn't get you any kind of education at all."

"Well, we both know that's not true." Alvara sat down on the top step of the dais. She admired the fabulous hall, glittering with magical lights, and the glittering assemblage within. This was just how she'd always imagined the High Court. "What's up, Dad? I mean, you summoned my, my King?" She stifled a giggle.

"There are some people I'd like you to meet." Balekin's eyes went beyond the crowd, to the doorway where some rather tough-looking faerie knights were entering. "I sent a party of knights to detain them and bring them here."

Alvara raised an eyebrow. "Detain them?"

Balekin wasn't listening. He straightened as the knights approached, going to one knee before his throne. "Why have you returned empty-handed?" the King demanded, voice gone sharp. "Where are the Lady Taryn and her daughter?"

Alvara frowned in confusion. Lady Taryn? Who was Lady Taryn? And why did Balekin want Alvara to meet her and her daughter?

"My King." The head knight paused and swallowed. "The former Grand General sent his family out before he…before his execution. We went to his stronghold, but it was empty, all the rooms ransacked. His family, servants and retainers all have fled. Including the Lady Taryn and her family."

"Fled?" Balekin straightened even further, gaze sharp as knives. "Where have they fled?"

"We do not yet know, my King," said the lead knight. "As I said, the stronghold was abandoned. But your brother, Prince Cardan, is also missing."

Balekin looked like thunderstorms were brewing behind his eyes. He sat rigid and muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like, "Kriffing Sith."

Alvara bit back a snicker. Ha, I heard that! Balekin might roll his eyes at Star Wars, but no one, not even a faerie prince, could spend seventeen years with two avid fangirls without the franchise rubbing off just a little.

Still, she was puzzled by her father's reaction. Balekin had told her of his good-for-nothing younger brother, Prince Cardan, royal drunkard, drug addict and general, all-around wastrel. Balekin had said, more than once, that Cardan was a complete and utter waste of time, energy and oxygen. So why was it such a big deal that they couldn't find him now? And who were Lady Taryn and the rest of the Grand General's family? Why were they so very important?

"Of course, Cardan fled with them." Balekin sounded like he was thinking furiously. "He's spent years panting after that Jude girl—and he's a coward to boot. Naturally he'd run off with her the minute he could. Hiding behind her skirts! And that slippery husband of Taryn's…Naturally he spirited them all off. Lysander was always good at keeping himself and his away from trouble…"

Balekin trailed off, thoughts clearly racing. Alvara and the knights held still, watching him and waiting.

"Ironside," Balekin said at last. "They must have gone Ironside. But where…?" He fell silent again, thinking hard.

He straightened with sudden decisiveness. "Commander Tiercel," he ordered, "take your knights and search the former Grand General's stronghold, and the island. See if you can't find any evidence as to where his family might have gone, particularly Lady Taryn, Oak and Philomel. And if you do happen to find them…" Balekin leaned forward, dark with sudden menace. "Bring them to me without fail. Alive and unharmed. Especially Philomel. Or I'll hang your corpse for the crows to pick over."

Commander Tiercel swallowed again, going pale. "Yes, my King."

"Go." Balekin waved Tiercel and his men off. "And waste no time."

Alvara watched the knights back away. "I don't get it, Dad," she said. "Who are these people? Why's it so important that we find them?"

"They are important," said Balekin. "That's all you need to know for now."

Alvara scowled, but her father wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He'd summoned a winged sprite with a snap of his fingers and was now conveying another order to the tiny, buzzing faerie.

"Get the Gascon," the High King said in a low voice. "Tell him I've got a job for him."