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princess—”
    Ezren shook his head. “They don’t use that title. They would call her a Daughter of the Blood or Daughter of Xy. And if that’s her name, she is the first female child of the monarch. They use Xy—”
    “Storyteller,” Bethral broke in patiently.
    “Sorry.” Ezren shrugged. “Go on.”
    “The Warprize is a healer and has offered her skills to all of the people of the Plains. But she has left the Plains, along with her chosen . . .” Bethral paused. “Chosen warrior or warlord, I’m not sure which. Haya and Seo can’t seem to agree. But he is named Keir of the Cat. Xylara is pregnant, and she returned to Xy to bear her child in that land.”
    “Understandable, if the child will be the heir to the throne.” Ezren looked at Haya. “I take it that there are no healers here. How far is Xy?”
    Bethral asked. Haya shook her head and gestured off into the distance, talking rapidly.
    “Well, from what I can tell, it’s probably months,” Bethral said. “Apparently there was a senel—a gathering of the elders—and a fight . . .” Bethral sighed. “She’s going so fast, I can’t follow it all.”
    Haya scowled, clearly angry, and made a spitting sound. That caught Seo’s attention, and he glared at her.
    “The senel turned into a fight—and they aren’t agreeing who won,” Bethral said, closing her eyes. “But from what I can gather, the Plains is in the midst of a civil war.”
    There was the hint of strain in her voice. She was hurting, and Ezren was helpless to stop it. “I am fairly handy with languages. I have learned a smattering of tongues, so that I can read some stories in their original version,” he said. “I need to learn this language as soon as possible.”
    Bethral gave him an odd look. “Yes, you do.”
    A young girl darted between the workers, carrying a pitcher and some mugs. It was the girl Ezren had seen hidden in the grass. Her brown eyes flashed to his face, then she concentrated on her task. She handed the mugs to Haya and Seo and poured for them. Ezren caught the scent of kav on the air.
    The girl turned to him and held out a mug. He took it with a smile, and held it out as she poured. “Please tell me this is kav.”
    “It is,” Bethral said. “They call it kavage.”
    “How do I say ‘thank you’?”
    Bethral told him, and Ezren repeated the phrase to the girl, who looked at him, then glanced at Seo.
    Seo gestured, admonishing her.
    The girl nodded to Ezren and spoke, then knelt to serve Bethral.
    “Her name is Gilla, and she says that you are welcome.”
    Ezren took a sip of the hot drink. It was the same as in Edenrich, and yet different somehow. Dark and black, but more bitter than at home. Still, it was kav, thank the Lord and the Lady. He enjoyed it as he watched the tent walls start to rise around them.
    Suddenly the girl jumped, dropping the pitcher, and scrambled back. Haya and Seo both reacted as well, pulling daggers.
    The cat had appeared by Bethral’s head, a dead mouse in its jaws.
     
     
    GILLA’S heart leapt in her throat when the animal emerged from the grasses. She dropped the pitcher, pulled her dagger, and retreated, staying between the beast and the Elder. The animal gazed at her with watery yellow eyes, its mottled fur blending with the grasses. The mouse in its mouth was dead. Gilla could see tiny, sharp fangs.
    The blonde outlander waved her hands. “It’s all right. It’s a cat. Just a cat. It came with us.”
    The cat ignored them, stepping lightly to drop the mouse at Bethral’s side.
    “That is not a cat,” Seo exclaimed. “It’s so small, and yet . . .”
    The green-eyed man asked something as he rose to his feet. The woman—Bethral of the Horse—answered him.
    The animal . . . the cat . . . couldn’t have cared less. It circled around and around, then curled by Bethral’s side. A rough, rasping noise issued from the creature. It seemed rather pleased with itself.
    Haya and Seo just stared at the