Sylvia sat at her desk in the parlor of Yearling Brook main manor house. The fire in the fireplace was low against the changing seasons. Missives had risen in scope and breadth over the past days as the final tallies of fields and manors came to their warm conclusions.

Bereft of their Baroness, the manor at Seansloe had begun to worry over her return in subtle tones of entreaty. It would not be longer that she could put them off and keep to the happy routine of her refuge. It was of a time to turn the staff about again, and to this task she set her mind, scratching away a feather nub pen against parchment leaving behind its trail of ink.

Commanding the lives of others, to will them here and there had been a troubling spot in her parried down by time and need. Now, it was only a matter of justifications and prudence. That, too, could cause its headaches, and she set aside the half done task to its brethren stack on her desk and took up another message sealed by the hand of the Palendies's High Prince Maelgwn.

It was his strong formal hand set in finer print than a man of his bold nature would be perceived to master. The writing itself held less shock than the words they formed. The rumors now given weight in the permanence of ink and paper. The King's illness worsens and movements begin in the courts and council of barons. It was hidden in pleasantries among distant family relations. How the ties of the family of Yransea wove far and wide to tug her, a bastard born foreigner and the Prince of a distant Kingdom into confederacies.

Folding the letter, she placed it in the coin pouch at her hip. Two swift notes alike in form and manner were signed and sealed in haste. With a rushing stand that scuttled her chair behind her like a startled animal, Sylvia went to the door and called one of the new guards out to training in the cool of the afternoon. "Take this swift to Master Corinsson and Mistress Buie. Find them and do not delay."

"Yes, m'lady," he gave a bow and dashed to the stable in order to provide expedience to his task a moments delay in getting a saddle to a horse would be spared.

Sylvia returned to her desk, drawing the chair beneath her slow as if to comfort it after such harsh treatment. Fingers steepled before her mouth as elbows rested on the desk in faint support of a mind weighted with concern.

Concerns that a stern mind soon coddled back into their infant slumbers not to be given full growth until warranted. Sylvia turned her eyes to the next message and the request that rested therein.

Sylvia had walked, without a guard, down the sparsely traveled road into town. Like stepping into a whirlpool, when she passed beneath the city gates, the liveliness sprang all about her. But her intentions were firm upon the meeting she had arranged at the Inn. Sylvia patted Guido's arm as she passed inside and turned immediately where she anticipated the two she was meeting to be.

And that is where she found them, at Ewan?s favored table. Ewan stood at Sylvia's approach.

Nodding to both in turn, she took a seat and, upon Ewan regaining his chair, began without preamble; something unnecessary for both now at table with her. ?His Majesty is ill.?

Green eyes filtered into dark brown, as the minstrel?s gaze carried a weighted phrasing from one to the other before she spoke. ?It has been rumored for some time.?

?And more than rumors,? Ewan corrected with his own, covert information. ?I think now, though, if there are formal notes being sent to the baronies, it is coming to its end.?

?My thoughts as well,? The baroness gave a solemn nod, wary of the implications. ?Things will be moving swift in the courts. I fear the frailty of Yransea in those maneuverings.?

?You know the Circelus will only get involved should we be invited to by others. We cannot take sides in your kingdom's politics.? Kiema warned of her limitations, though it irked her to do so after all they had been through. But the Changlings of the Circelus were mediators, peace seekers, not spies.

?Yes, I am well aware of this, but also the Circelus, and you in particular, hear things earlier than others. You know my concerns. I would not ask for more than your help in keeping my children safe.?

?I think Yransea is in a very stable position within ourselves, but I do worry for the others.? Ewan?s tone was laced deep with the tumbling of thoughts.

Sylvia gave a slow shake of her head, understanding is vague reference. ?Things go poorly for Marghaid again. Their line stands on the brink of failing.? The hurt to speak so plainly of her sister-in-law?s suffering was shadowed in her eyes. ?They clung close to us in our dark hours, and that may have marked them as a vulnerability to us.?

?There I can do some good. I think,? Kiema cast a glance to Ewan and then looked back to Sylvia, ?you agree that it is too early for Ewan to leave his family unattended.?

He glowered at the implication. ?I am still loyal to Yransea and Palendies, and if I am required somewhere, then it is there I will go.?

? No,? Sylvia frowned and shook her head, tucking back a lock of black hair. ?No, Ewan for now, I would rather you remain here. In fact, I want it known you are still here. In the next few days I will return to Yransea and learn what more I can. When I return we will speak further, but I want you both listening to things spoken at the warehouse and around Yearling Brook. Word will travel.?

?And usually faster than we would like,? Kiema agreed, her brown eyes lightening to a calm sea blue once more. ?Very well. I will remain and finish my work here with the Wildling.?

It still felt ill in the heart of him to be kept at bay from his duty. ?I would feel better if you let me come with you, my lady. There are things I can learn in places you cannot.?

?I do not deny that, Ewan, but I would rather keep hold of some schemes. There may be more ahead of us than we know, and I will not use all to my advantage yet.?

?As you wish,? he gave a nod and accepted her request with no further argument.

?I thank you both for meeting here. It seemed...equitable to all.? A well humored glint sparked in violet eyes as she rose. ?I need to return. Good night to you both and keep to care.? In her passing to the door, she gave out belated waves of greeting mingled with waves of farewell.

A slow slide of his eyes to Kiema, Ewan questioned, ?Are you sure the Circelus will not mind you taking a hand in the other baronies??

? If I am careful in that hand, they need not know. Yransea is too well watched after all that has happened, but I think I can make some subtle tuning of the melody, so to speak.? Her smile was like deliciously whispered secrets. ?Now, then, is the hour too late for me to come see your son??

?Kellan,? he began as he stood from the table and offered his arm to escort the minstrel, ?will most likely be sleeping, but you can watch him slumber. There is very little difference currently in the two states of being.?

Kiema took his arm. ?Kellan is it? Oh, I do like the name. It is hoped he will be brighter than his father.? She laughed at her tease, not clarifying which bright of hair or mind she referred, as she walked out the door with him.

It was the first snowfall of the season. Cian and Aidan sat at the window of the family?s room and watched the thick carpet of clouds release their tiny crystalline feathers to the ground. The days had been cold for weeks now, preparing the ground to support the snow without melting it away. Only the tracks of those passing below diffused the dusting of white.

Sylvia sat beside them holding Beata and watching the horizon so soft in its transition from green treetops into cloudy, white nothingness. Beata had snuggled up with her floppy lamb and her mother to babble into the random chatter of her brothers about the weather and what they would first do out in the snow.

The arrival of the Prince had been delayed because of this same weather front and the small group had made no rousing fanfare in the late hour of the night before. In fact, at this hour just after the midday meal, Sylvia had still not seen His Highness. Nyla had assured here they were all settled. Captain Lyana agreed that the escort had suitable accommodations. Still, he had not visited.

Rian may have been consuming a great deal of his time in the morning. It had been trying to adjust their daily routines to her requirements. Compromises had been made over dining and riding schedules, attendants? quarters, and most of all Miriam.

Miriam had been Rian?s nurse when she was young, and the Princess was eager to have the lady take up the position for her own child while she was there. The contention had been most felt when Beata had woken from a nap to a stranger attending her when Miriam had been confiscated to attend the young lord and heir. That had been too much, and Sylvia with as much politeness as she could muster, required that Rian use the nursemaid she had brought with her who was more aptly suited to the already set schedule of the young child.

The communication between her and Rian, which had been strained already, was all but absolved. They kept civil when required to be in the same room together, but mostly avoided each other all together. It had made things worse when Marghaid wrote more often to Sylvia about her difficult pregnancy and the troubles of the barony than to Rian. She tried not to press the point when it came up, nor say anything when she found the letters on her desk already opened and clumsily resealed.