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at that careless bit of information. Athonites here… forever?
    “Too many uprisings in the area,” Idalla prattled on. “The prince is here to take a firm hand with the… natives.” Her friendly smile died when she realized who she spoke to. “My apologies.”
    “It’s all right.” Seri stirred her stew and gave her a faint smile. “Common folk like you and I have nothing to do with the wars of the nobility.” She mentally stored the distressing tidbit and wondered how to tell Rilen. He’d be terribly upset once he found out that the prince’s visit was not to be a visit after all. A permanent residence meant troops and guardsmen by the hundreds crawling all over Vidari lands. Forever.
    Her heart sank, and she forced herself to spoon another mouthful of the delicious stew to her lips. It didn’t taste quite the same now.
    Idalla pulled up a stool next to Seri. “I told my father that I wanted nothing to do with the new castle, but he likes to serve the prince—one of his stable masters, my father is—and so if the prince is off to the wild lands, well, so are we.” She nodded as if that was decided and took a warm biscuit in her hands, tearing it apart and taking a bite out of one side. “So what brings one of your kind to the midst of ours? I can’t think you’d be happy to see us here.”
    “I’m not,” Seri agreed with a faint smile. “But Lady Mila offered me three dru to be her servant for a few days, so I could not pass up the offer.”
    “Three dru ?” Idalla whistled. “That’s a hefty sum, though I imagine it’s cheap change to one of her kind. They say her father owns more lands that the king himself, though I can’t see how that’s possible. So you’re just here until the ceremony, then?”
    Seri nodded and wiped a bit of spilled stew off the front of her good woolen gown. Servant garb though it might be, it was finer than her own homespun article, and she felt obligated to keep it in fine shape. “I’m afraid that the whole ceremony is a bit mystifying to me. Lady Mila and Winna are not very clear about what it means. Just that it’s important.”
    “I imagine so. Got ice in her veins, that one.”
    Seri chuckled. “Which one? Lady Mila or Winna?”
    Idalla snorted. “Both, if you ask me.” At Seri’s returning smile, she continued. “So you haven’t heard about the betrothal ceremony for the Eterna? Do they not do such things amongst your people?”
    “I don’t know what it is, so I’m afraid I cannot say.” Seri shrugged. “We have special ceremonies for births and deaths and handfastings.”
    “I imagine it’s a bit like a handfasting,” Idalla said, leaning in and lowering her voice as one of the cooks brushed past her and gave her a particularly vicious look. “The prince hails from a long line of the Athoni Blood.” She gave Seri a serious look. “The royalty, the Blood… they… they’re different from you and me.” Idalla blinked, studying Seri’s face. “Do you understand what I am saying?”
    “Oh, I know,” Seri said. She’d seen from a distance how different the Athonites were from her own people. An Athoni noble? As different as night and day. “I’m still adjusting to the fact that everyone sleeps in the daytime and stays up all night.”
    Idalla looked relieved—and a bit surprised—at Seri’s easy acceptance. “They told you? You know? All right, well, the princes of the Blood only produce sons. Every ten years, a ceremony is held to determine who the prince shall marry. The ceremony is a betrothal.”
    That seemed odd to Seri. Only sons? Perhaps the Athoni nobles had bred too close for too long. Strange, but what wasn’t strange in this candlelit castle?
    At Seri’s perplexed look, Idalla continued. “The holiest priests of the land are brought in for the Eterna ceremony, and the most eligible ladies of the court as well. The prince stands and awaits the goddess’s blessing as the priests call down, begging for her favor to