“Greetings, Grand Master,” I say, making no attempt to hide the weariness in my voice. “The hour is late, I had expected to see you earlier in the day. I hope whatever business you need to discuss at this hour is brief in nature.”

“Greetings, my Queen,” he replies. “It does my heart good to see you so well recovered from your mysterious ailment. I'm afraid the matter on which I have come is urgent and I apologise for the late hour but it has only just been brought to my attention.” He smiles that obsequious smile of his but the hint of sarcasm in his tone when he refers to my “mysterious ailment” is not lost on me.

“Go ahead,” I instruct him and he can't help himself from smirking at the note of resignation in my voice.

“Your Majesty, it has come to my attention that an emissary from Ellerban is a guest of the castle. Is this correct?”

I nod. “Yes, it is.”

He feigns shock. “Your Majesty, this is most unusual, no prior notice was given of any emissary coming to Ardvalla fromEllerban. Do we know on what business he comes? Has he expressed the purpose of his visit to you?”

He stands before me, slightly bent, wringing his hands together, with his head cocked to one side. I'm sure the idea is to give me the impression of servility but, try as he might, he can't hide his annoyance at not being officially informed of the presence of an emissary from Ellerban in the castle. If there's one thing the Grand Master prides himself on, it's knowing everyone's business before they know it themselves.

“He has not,” I reply. “I'm sure you are aware the Emissary and his men were set upon by bandits on their way here, and two of his men were badly injured and are being cared for by Myreena. I wished to give the Emissary a chance to recover from his journey and this traumatic event before questioning him as to the purpose of his visit. I intend to dine with him this evening and hope to discuss it with him then.”

“This is most unusual, my Queen,” he informs me. “Perhaps I should attend this dinner with you?”

My stomach churns at the very prospect. “I don't think there will be any need for your presence, Grand Master.”

“But Your Majesty, I can’t stress enough how unusual this situation is. I hope he hasn't come here with the intention of taking advantage of your unfortunate position and making an offer of marriage. It’s rumoured the elder Prince is feeble of mind and they may think they can pass him off to you. They may believe that in your desperation to deal with the situation in relation to Lord Greythorne you might be prepared to marry in haste and not observe the proper amount of courtship time, thereby not realising you have a dud on your hands.”

I think of the prince and consider if he is a dud then he’s the kind of dud I prefer to all the Ardvallan duds that have been presented to me so far. I also consider how much I’m looking forward to dining with him this evening and spending time in hiscompany. I've only spent a few days with him, but I find I have already become quite accustomed to his presence. All I need to do now is get rid of the odious creature in front of me.

“Grand Master, do you mean to insult my powers of perception and good judgement?” I ask, in the most regal tone I can muster.

The fool lowers his head, flaps his hands and flusters. “No, my Queen, that is not my intention, not my intention at all! I simply wish to be present as your counsel with this emissary so that I may figure out his true purpose.”

“Why don’t we give him a chance to just tell me? Could it be, Grand Master, there is no nefarious purpose to his visit? You spend so much of your time looking for dark intentions in others that I believe you see them where they don’t exist.”

He bows his head in an effort to pretend he is apologetic for his words, but I see the anger burning in his eyes. “You’re right, Majesty,” he says in that scraping voice of his, “I apologise.”

He is about to say more but I cut him off. “Grand Master, I need to prepare for dinner. You’re dismissed.”

He does well to observe the curtness of my tone and bows deeply. “Very well, my Queen,” he says before he turns and leaves the room.

A sharp sigh of relief escapes from my lips to be rid of his presence, but his words have made me aware that I need to put the next part of my plan into motion. My discussion with the Grand Master has made it clear there are already questions around the castle regarding the supposed emissary of Ellerban, and it's only a matter of time before word reaches Greythorne as to his presence here. There's no telling how he may react but I fear there's a high probability of him bringing his deadline for my hand in marriage forward.

A sense of urgency spurs me on and I hasten back to my chamber, where I’m surprised to find Kes waiting for me. “Kes, good evening,” I greet her. “Is all well? I had not expected to see you this evening.”

“All is good, my Queen. The two Ellerban soldiers are greatly improved and this has considerably raised the spirits of the prince.”

I allow myself a small smile. “Good, I'm glad to hear it. How did the prince fare last night after I left him?”

“He had a small amount to eat but mostly partook of the ale. He spent the greater part of the night staring into the fire and at times humming what sounded like lullabies. Eventually he fell asleep and was found this morning with his head resting upon his arms on the table.”

I'm slightly concerned at this report and the words of the Grand Master echo in my ears, specifically, “feeble minded” and “dud”. My concern must be etched across my face as Kes purses her lips and says, “I'm afraid there's more, my Queen.”

“Go on,” I urge her.

“Greythorne’s man knows who the prince is. Thankfully, he is being kept in isolation in the Khaleeni camp and therefore not in a position to make anyone aware of this. However, he is clear that Prince Ronan is the prince who is not of sound mind. Specifically, he referred to him as, ‘the crazy Prince’.”

Her words hang in the air like the ominous tolling of a bell and I wonder if I have somehow got myself into an even worse position than being Greythorne’s bride.

“Did he say anything else?” I ask. “Did he give any explanation as to why the prince is considered crazy?”

“No, my Queen. He simply laughed.”

I pause for a moment and lean on the table, in need of support and some space to help calm my racing mind.So, the prince is crazy,I muse,but he doesn't seem crazy.Admittedly,there are moments when he seems a bit off and others when he seems incredibly sad, but crazy? I'm not really seeing it. But the rumours are widespread so there must be something to them. And what do they mean by crazy anyway? Does he offer living sacrifices to the gods or does he simply like to bathe nude in the lake? What do these people mean when they call him crazy?