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both du Mer and Sir Gerard made her snap her mouth shut. She dipped her father a careless curtsy, then spun on her heel and marched off, her back ramrod stiff, her chin thrust out.
    "There will be trouble from this, Gunter," Guy du Mer prophesied. "The lad will surely demand some form of satisfaction from us."
    The Master-at-Arms shrugged. "I think not. The boy is understandably upset, but he puts the blame where it lies."
    "On my conniving daughter," Gunter lamented.
    Gerard folded his arms over his chest. "If it were left up to him, he would not mention this to his father."
    "By the gods," Gunter breathed and leaned back in his throne. "The father. He will murder us all if he finds out!"
    "If the boy doesn’t want it mentioned, then can you not oblige him?" du Mer asked. "Can you not keep Aidan Cree from finding out?"
    Gunter shook his head, then ran a hand over his tired face. "Not and uphold what little honor we have left." His troubled gaze latched on du Mer. "What if she has conceived?"
    Du Mer blanched. He had obviously not thought of that. He looked to Gerard and it was also obvious that stalwart warrior had not considered the possibility, either. Both men let the situation sink in, and neither could voice an answer.
    "The Cree’s emissary will have to be told and the matter of what to do about this left up to him." Gunter groaned and his chin sunk to his chest. "We may have to go to war with the Chales once the news reaches Cree."
    "I’d rather not," Gerard said. "There is no way—even given the strength of men in the Outcountries surrounding Vent du Nord—we can defeat the berserkers of Chale."
    "What will you say to the emissary, Gunter?" du Mer asked, his face displaying his worry. He stood to lose as much as any if the Chales attacked.
    Gunter closed his eyes. "I will throw myself and my daughter upon his mercy and hope he can find a smidgen of it in his heart to grant us." He opened his eyes and looked unseeingly across the throne room. "What more can I do?"
    * * *
    Guy du Mer hated seeing his childhood friend so distraught. There had been only two times through the years when Gunter had worn the look of helplessness that had now settled on his lined face. One had been the death of his beloved wife. The feud with his cousin, Dolph, which had resulted in Dolph’s defection to Virago, had been the other. To see such hopelessness in a strong man was difficult and du Mer would have done anything to alleviate the pain his friend was undergoing.
    "Let me speak to the boy," du Mer said. "Perhaps if he can be made to understand you had no part in this, we could—"
    "He knows that already," Gerard said quietly. "I told you he has put the blame where it duly lies."
    "Aye, but surely what he will say to his father when he returns home will be of some help in this," du Mer argued.
    "What is it you want him to say?" Prince Gunter asked. "What can he say that will help?"
    Du Mer looked about him, as much in the dark as was his prince, but he knew there had to be something the boy could do to take the brunt of the sting from the scorpion on his way to Vent du Nord. He thought he might have the answer and was about to speak his mind when there came a sharp rap at the throne room door.
    "Come!" Gunter called.
    "A Chalean ship has been sighted, Your Grace!" the messenger said, eyes wide with fear. "She is The Banshee ."
    Gunter de Viennes came to his feet. His face drained of color. The hand he clutched to his heart had a definitive tremor. "Cree’s flagship."
    "You are sure of this?" du Mer asked.
    "There is only one black ship sailing the seas what flies black sails, Duke du Mer," the messenger reported.
    "Doesn’t mean Cree is on board," Gerard said.
    "He’s on board," Prince Gunter said, his words a mere shifting of air rather than sound.
    "The gods help us," du Mer breathed.
    "Someone had better help us," the messenger quipped, "because there be four ships sailing with The Banshee !"

Chapter 5
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    Aidan