The throne room, had been transformed beyond recognition. This was a rare occurrence. The last time he had seen it dressed in such finery was on the day of his wedding to Mirena—the loving wife and mother of all his children. The darkened stones of the walls, usually overtaken by roots and sprouting flowers, were now covered in drapes. Each drape was a different color, but all were trimmed with the same golden borders, which ended in small tassels that blended seamlessly with the one below. The symbol of their kingdom—two brother wolves—was displayed on each drape, the design varying with the cut. On some, the wolves faced each other, on others they stood side by side, looking forward. On still others, they were rearing up like cats on their hind legs, poised for battle, their fierce eyes chasing away enemies.

  The floor of the hall was covered in long carpets that concealed the thick cracks beneath, some wide enough to swallow a child's foot. The candles in the room were twice as many as usual, making it brighter than Severin preferred. He liked the darkness, it gave the hall a more mysterious air and, in his mind, shielded him from prying eyes. Or so Severin believed.

  Severin stood at one side of the long carpet that stretched from the entrance of the throne room to the steps below his throne. The carpet was red, with golden borders along which, at regular intervals, was painted the head of a wolf, perhaps howling. It was clean and gleaming as if no foot had ever touched it. Mirena stood beside him, holding his hand gently, as she often did in the past. At that moment, he realized how much he missed this simple gesture. But now, he only felt her touch when she was anxious or when they had something important to face together.

  Opposite them, on the other side of the long carpet, were their children. Bromir stood proudly, directly across from him. He bore Severin’s features, something not only he had noticed—everyone said so. The sword hanging at Bromir’s hip was polished to perfection. This was the most important thing for a king’s son: to be clean and presentable. After that came the skill in battle, and finally, being a good father. Severin believed he had succeeded in all three, especially as he looked at them now. Next to Bromir was Borin, and beside them, Sofia. It was a miracle they had managed to convince her to come. Her temperament was entirely her own; neither her mother nor Severin had ever behaved as she did. Sofia often ran away from home, fought with the youths in the dirty streets, and frequently dressed like them. Her hair was black and short, and if she didn’t smell so good and if the women of the kingdom didn’t make her bathe, she would have looked just like the peasant boys.

  Lilit, on the other hand, was like a baby. She stood next to Sofia, third in line, blonde like no one else in their lineage, with the face of a ten-year-old, though she was nearly sixteen. Her hair was braided and hung down her back, and she wore her favorite white dress. Severin had learned about her preference for the color from the women of the kingdom, as it wasn’t something he concerned himself with. And finally, there was Ariela.

  Severin blinked twice deliberately.

  Yorik gave the signal, and the guards opened the two large doors. The guests entered slowly.

  "Sir Uther," Severin stepped forward and shook his guest’s hand, then that of his wife. "Belfira!" He remembered her name. It was a warm name, quite unlike the harsh names of the North from where her husband hailed.

  Uther, in turn, greeted Mirena with the traditional hand kiss, while his wife curtsied.

  "Artan."

  "Drevan."

  These were two of their sons. Following them were two more:

  "Keldor."

  "Nortel."

  Severin and Mirena greeted them as well. The fifth son entered with Loren, whom they already knew.

  "Silvand, and this is our sister, Loren."

  Her black hair flowed freely, and she curtsied shyly. She resembled Mirena in her youth, something Severin had noticed long ago. He watched to see if she would approach Bromir, but she did not. Although traditions were becoming outdated, they still observed them to some extent, keeping the young ones from mingling too freely, even though they were all in the same hall.

  Yorik seated the guests, and after them, Severin, Mirena, and their children took their places. For a moment, silence fell.

  The table, where he usually dined alone with Mirena or discussed matters of the kingdom with Yorik, was now draped in a long cloth of royal blue. The goblets and plates were gold-colored, though not made of gold. In the center of the table, a headless calf, freshly roasted, was proudly displayed, ready to feed him and his guests.

  Two ladies—Clara and Vivian—stood silently against the wall at the other end of the hall, waiting for orders and ensuring that nothing was missing from the table. They were ladies trained by his wife, Mirena, and she assured him they were the best in the kingdom. He trusted her. He did not want to embarrass himself before the House of Jar. They would be part of the family in the future, so first impressions were important. Though, when one is a king, even that is enough to command respect from all. And though the Jar family did not have a kingdom and were not of a great lineage like his own, there were still things he could gain from them. After all, he was giving them his son, albeit conditionally.

  Severin sat in the central place, as he did even when not hosting important meetings or noble dinners. To his right was Mirena, and to his left, Bromir. Next to Bromir sat Borin and Sofia, while on the other side, where his wife sat, was Lilit. The seat next to Lilit was empty, reserved for Ariela.

  Uther Jar sat at the other end of the table, facing him, with his family seated similarly. The only difference was that Uther had five sons and one daughter—Loren—for whom they had gathered.

  "Artan, Drevan, Keldor, Nortel, and Silvand," Uther indicated each one with his gaze, proudly introducing them to Severin.

  "I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting them, Lord Uther. On my side, let me introduce you to Bromir, whom you already know well," he glanced at his eldest son. "And this next to him is my second son, Borin."

  "Borin?" Uther raised his goblet. "Loren tells me you love ships."

  "Yes," Severin answered before his son could. "He’ll be setting sail soon. Well, if it were up to me, Lord Uther, I’d never let him go, but you know how boys are. Once they’ve set their minds on something, nothing can stop them."

  "I remember my younger days, before I met my lovely Belfira. I was as passionate about hunting as your son is about ships. I was always out with my crossbow, seeking prey. And from one hunt to another, I caught the biggest prize of all," Uther gestured to his wife Belfira, who smiled innocently.

  "Hunting? Then we must venture into the Wolf's Wood sometime. Believe me, Sir Uther, there is much to see there. But only with me. The wolves fear the King of Volkar. They sense his blood. They feared my grandfather, and my father too. They smell the royal blood, and when they do, they flee like pups."

  "I’m sure that’s a wonderful story, King Severin," Uther smiled, "but those hunting days are long behind me. I haven’t held a crossbow in ages. And in these peaceful times, what would I need it for? By the way, my lord, speaking of which… my son Drevan has taken a liking to weapons. He’s very eager to see your armory. It’s said to be one of the largest in the more powerful kingdoms, like yours."

  "As a man grows older, he begins to value the weapons he’s kept more than the women he’s had. Of course, he can see it, but let’s wait until the evening progresses."

  "Of course, we’re here for something else. But to continue your point, I can’t boast of either. Fortunately, I’m too young to have fought in any battles. And Belfira is the only woman in my life."

  Severin’s smile faded. For a moment, he felt ashamed and took a drink from his goblet. He didn’t want to look at Mirena. He could feel that she didn’t want to see him either. The words of the two men flew across the table, while the others watched, as if forced to remain.

  "Are you still under the control of Ishold, Sir Uther?" Severin decided to change the subject. He already knew the answer, but it would steer the conversation in a different direction.

  "Control is a strong word, my lord. We’re within Ishold’s lands, but not under the direct control of their lord. We remain the only northern city that hasn’t joined any of the kingdoms."

  "That’s true. But you’re also a tempting target for the foreigners from the East."

  "Foreigners? The Eagle’s Bridge is so well guarded that we’ve never had any trouble. And the taxes we pay to Ishold are so high that they’d send their best warriors to protect us if needed."

  "Speaking of the bridge, has its restoration been completed? I even sent two of my architects, and many builders went to help. The pay was double."

  "The bridge was completed in almost a year after the battle there. I passed by daily, and each day it came closer to completion. Of course, it still needs more fortifications, both in materials and men, but for now, it’s peaceful."

  "Last time was peaceful too, Sir Uther. But then they attacked."

  "No one can tell you what lies beyond the bridge. Those who return have different opinions. Some say the settlements there are peaceful, just like here, and life goes on as usual. Others claim that violence and hatred have taken over, and the peaceful folk often suffer."

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  "To be honest, I’d believe both. I don’t think only evil reigns there, but I also don’t believe there are only good people. Especially not the three who caused so much turmoil in the kingdoms."

  "King Zoran lost both his sons."

  "He truly lost the most," Severin agreed.

  Sir Uther’s long, thin hand reached out, and he speared a piece of lamb. Severin watched as it seemed to melt on Uther’s fork. Uther placed it on the plate before him, poured more wine, and drank thirstily.

  "And you, my lord, are you preparing for the next Great Battle? I suppose your warrior is well-trained and eager to face the other four? In fact, my lord, if you don’t mind, I’d like to meet him. Perhaps tomorrow."

  Severin’s eyes opened wide. It was already dark outside, and Tiberis was likely asleep, as was Tristan… Despite paying him and being his superior, Severin didn’t want to disturb him. It was hard enough to see him during the day, let alone at night. To send someone to wake him? Better not.

  "Let’s indeed make it tomorrow, Uther. It’s already late today."

  Sofia was boldly talking to Sir Uther’s sons, and while she smiled quietly, they laughed almost aloud. Sometimes, Severin wondered if she should have been born a boy and something had changed at the last moment. She drank wine more often than they did, but he felt awkward scolding her, so he would have the ladies reprimand her instead. Yet she seemed to do it deliberately, pouring more and drinking again and again.

  Lilit, sitting close to her mother as always, stared ahead, lost in thoughts that concerned only her. Severin knew them all, even though the older they got, the less they sought him out, but in the end, they always did. And those were some of his most pleasant moments.

  "If we’re lucky, my lord," Uther’s voice sounded again, "this won’t be our first such meeting."

  Severin sensed where this was going but waited for him to finish.

  "I have five sons. And you have daughters."

  "It’s too early to speak of this, Sir Uther. Let’s first successfully unite your Loren and my Bromir. And in time, when your Loren has settled here, we’ll think about the future. No offense, but my daughters aim for the larger kingdoms before considering yours."

  "It’s true we’re not a large kingdom, but outside the Five, we’re the largest. Both in territory and renown. Hundreds of ladies vie for my sons. And to be honest, Ishold would never ally with you, Meihar is ruled by women, Ajax has a son with a dubious reputation, and Zoran has lost all his sons. So, who do you have in mind when you exclude us?"

  Uther was clearly offended, though Severin hadn’t intended that. And Uther was right. Severin looked over his sons, and none of them struck him as someone to whom he would give his daughters. Lilit? She was so delicate, and Uther’s sons were big and rough, nothing like their father. And indeed, there was no choice among the others, but Severin had another in mind. Someone everyone forgot but was above them all. Soren. Soren was the King of Kings, but he too had children. And they were born in Solis and raised in the capital, Shilan.

  "Regarding that, my lord, I’m ready to discuss it alone, as men, without the ladies having to listen," Uther broke the silence.

  Severin looked at Mirena, his wife. He read agreement in her eyes. Uther was raising his goblet again. Sofia did the same.

  Bromir stood up.

  "Father, I’ll take Drevan to the armory. I’ll show him what we have and what will protect his sister," he glanced at Loren and smiled, "then we’ll return if you need us."

  Severin nodded to him. Drevan waited for permission and then rose with Bromir, and they left the hall.

  "Ladies?" Severin didn’t want to pressure them.

  The women seemed to know this moment would come, though they were slightly surprised it had arrived so quickly. All except Sofia stood and moved toward the door of the throne room.

  "Sofia, you too, dear."

  "What do you have to discuss that we can’t hear? Are we lesser than you because we’re women?"

  Mirena shrugged in the distance. Sofia was like that. She was a girl, and a beautiful one at that. But in her thoughts and behavior, she seemed like a boy. And she loved weapons even more than her brothers. And she acted more arrogantly than they did.

  "Please, Sofia," he repeated, hoping it would be the last time.

  She looked around. All eyes in the hall were on her. This seemed to make her change her mind. She slammed her hand on the table and walked out.

  Uther was tall and lean. Loren had his face but her mother’s beautiful eyes. It was somewhat surprising that with so many brothers, the daughter had inherited most of his features. Uther sat in the chair where Mirena had been sitting moments ago, close to Severin, clasped his hands, and leaned forward. Severin did the opposite, leaning back in his chair, his hands resting by his sides. Yorik also joined them. Severin knew he would be needed now.

  "Sit down, Yorik, and listen."

  He had already done so.

  "Your daughter has quite the fiery spirit," Uther began.

  "That she does. I expected Borin or Bromir to be the wild ones, being boys, but they’re good lads, Uther. But Sofia… Sofia has a temperament that should belong only to a boy. I don’t know how I’ll manage her."

  "Only a man can handle her. And that’s how it will be here, believe me," Uther looked around before continuing, "I could lose my head for this, but I want to give you more information about the warrior of Ishold."

  Severin leaned forward. He hadn’t expected this from Uther, but it intrigued him.

  "A warrior? But why?"

  "We’re about to form an alliance with you, Severin. I don’t want Bromir’s father, the husband of my daughter, to be anything less than a King of Kings. And it will benefit me as well, I suppose."

  Severin looked up. He wanted to make sure no one was listening. He saw Yorik’s approving glance. The two women serving them were too far away. There was no one else.

  "Rest assured, once our children are married, my rise will be yours as well. Now, speak, Uther."

  "Ishold is not resting, Severin," Uther’s politeness suddenly disappeared, but that didn’t bother Severin. "Their warrior is named Ulrich."

  "Ulrich? How do you know?"

  "Ulrich stayed one night at the Sunny Cliffs. They were heading to the Eagle’s Bridge with the king’s sons."

  "The Eagle’s Bridge?"

  "Yes. They wanted more men for Ulrich’s training."

  "We have a similar problem here," Severin shook his head and took a drink. "There aren’t enough opponents."

  "I imagine so. It’s usually like that in the final years before the battle. The warriors grow too strong, and their opponents too weak."

  "What is Ulrich like? Strong, weak?"

  Uther laughed.

  "I know you wish it, king, but he cannot be weak. Especially after their last defeat twenty-eight years ago. But now they’re not relying so much on strength."

  "On what, then? What is Ulrich’s strength?" Severin felt like a child who couldn’t stop asking questions, but this was important.

  "Ulrich is as tall as I am and slight of build. He has a long neck and shoulder-length hair."

  "That doesn’t help me."

  "He wields an axe and a hatchet."

  "That’s not surprising. They’re masters of those weapons. But if he’s slight, I assume he’s fast."

  "I wouldn’t say he’s fast. But his blade is always cold. And when it cuts you, you feel nothing. So they say—I can’t confirm it. Rumor has it that the cold freezes the blood, and you only feel pain once you see your massive wound. But those are just legends."

  "That’s nothing special, more like stories. Did you see his weapon? Is it really icy?"

  "Believe me, Severin," Uther sometimes spoke respectfully to him, sometimes his tone shifted, "they’ve come up with something with the king of Ishold, and his axe almost always burns with ice."

  "Burns? Ice burning? Still, Uther, I’m not hearing anything impressive. We have Tristan. No magic will stop him this time."

  "Let me guess. Another big, strong warrior without any special powers."

  "His sword is bigger than his hand."

  "My lord, times are changing. There are sorcerers and some rather unique alchemists who are getting better at studying natural materials. Here, wolves reign. It would be a true loss not to invite one of them to study the essence of the wolf and help Tristan. You wouldn’t believe how much they can boost his strength."

  "The essence of the wolf? I don’t understand."

  "You and Chernoval have the same problem; times are changing, and you’re living in the past. It doesn’t matter how strong Tristan is or how well he cuts down his opponents in training. If you don’t consult an alchemist to help you, you’ll have trouble. Ishold is already doing it, and I hear Ajax is heading that way too."

  Severin thought. He wasn’t worried about the external powers of the other warriors; he still considered it nonsense. He was more concerned about Ulrich and the princes. It made more sense for someone to bring Ulrich’s opponents to the kingdom than for them to travel to the Eagle’s Bridge. Was something happening there? Foreigners hadn’t come to the kingdom in a long time. But to send their warrior there to solve royal problems? And several years before his battle?

  Uther ate a lot for his frame. After another bite, he continued:

  "Still, we’re here to unite our families. Besides my daughter, I’ll grant you full access to our harbor, down below the cliffs. You’ll have free and unrestricted access."

  "Free?"

  "Any foreigner who docks must pay a silver coin. That won’t apply to you."

  "I have a harbor, Uther. I’ve never charged anyone."

  "Maybe you should start. Make money from everything, king. After all, you give plenty."

  "But to reach you by ship, we’d have to sail around all the Lands, Uther. Still, thank you for that, but…"

  "It’s two days by road to Shilan. And from there, no more than another two by ship. Why sail around?"

  "Still… we barely use ships. Except for Borin. They’re new to him. But he’ll be leaving soon."

  "So you see, it has some use."

  "But won’t you have trouble with Ishold over this?"

  "No. As I said, they don’t watch us. Especially if we pay our taxes on time. We take from the people and give to the people. Our harbor is the finest in the Middle Sea. I can say that without having seen the others."

  "I offer you my kingdom, Uther. I could send you heaps of gold, sheep, or even some of my best men to serve you well. But I think the freedom for you and your sons to come here freely and have everything at your disposal is much better."

  "Look, we’ll sort out the details another time. I trust you, you’re one of the last honest kings. I believe you’ve raised Bromir well. But there’s something more important." Uther reached into his tunic and pulled out two medallions on a chain hanging around his neck. He separated them and handed one to Severin. "This is an ancient tradition of our family. This medallion belonged to Belfira’s father. He passed it to mine before their wedding. But my father is no longer among the living, so I must pass it to you. And I hope one day it will pass to our children when they marry their sons and daughters. Please accept it as a sign of our union."

  "Wouldn’t it be better at the wedding?"

  "No. This is personal. I prefer to give it to you in private," Uther glanced at Yorik. "On the wedding day, this place will be full. The magic won’t be there. But the magic is here today when we’re uniting our families."

  Severin took it and clenched it in his hand. He looked Uther in the eye. No more words were needed. The palace was silent. A wolf’s howl echoed from the forest. Uther turned, but Severin was used to it. The two women were clearing the table, and Severin and Uther finished their last drinks. Almost nothing more was said that night. The candles slowly burned out, and the wolves’ howls grew more frequent and seemed happier.