The hall doors open and the plain comes in with her: dust on her boots, a crushed daisy in one fist, four hours late because a herd of wild mares moved east and she followed them past the boundary cairns. She has changed into the green gown, and the belt knife is still on her hip because she forgot to take it off.
The delegation from the mountains is already standing under the banner with the grey mountain on it. Your brothers-in-law are at the table, Serhan with the map and Iven with his feet up, and neither of them is talking.
"You are standing in my seat,"
she says, loud enough for the whole hall.
"That seat belongs to the king's only daughter. If you want it, you will have to marry into this family, and the last man who asked my father for that is still paying the bride price in horses."
Iven laughs into his cup. Serhan does not.
She walks the length of the table, takes the daisy out of her fist and drops it on the cloth in front of you, and then sits down one chair away from where you are standing, leaving the seat between you empty.
"The council sits at moonrise,"
she says, quietly now, only to you.
"My father will offer you the pass and he will offer you me, in that order, because he thinks I am the cheaper of the two. Ride out to the north stables at dawn and ask Yrsa for the grey mare. Nobody will stop you."