((Takes place between the events of To The Victor, The Spoils and Filled With Promise.))

October 3rd, 1613

When a country is at war, it is the duty of all men close to the crown to advise and impart wisdom to the king. When the Frankish army marched north, with their king at their head, to meet with the heretical Coimbrans on the field of Beresford, it was the queen who was appointed regent, and the chancellor who was trusted above all. But war is a time of opportunity, and some men fail to grasp the true consequences of those opportunities.

Of all the men in the realm, the one man upon whom King Christian had believed he could depend in his absence had proven false. Cardinal Bereth, the appointed chancellor of Francia, had chosen the king's absence to act against those members of the court who were in opposition to him, manipulating the pious Queen Romola to have those men and women imprisoned; some of them burned as heretics within days of their arrest. His plan might even have succeeded, were it not for his own belief that he could no longer be touched.

When word reached the common people of the city that the king's own sister, Duchess Cecile, and her daughter, the Lady Alys, had both been arrested on charges of heresy and imprisoned, there was uproar. Rioting erupted in the streets, protesting against the chancellor and his corruption, demanding the release of the king's own blood, and even the Queen, who had been so amenable to this point, began to listen to the call of the people, no longer allowing Bereth to manipulate her into signing any more warrants, be they for deaths or for arrests. Yet she did nothing to release her sister by marriage, her niece, and still the people clamored for Bereth's removal.

As battle was joined in the north, word reached King Christian of his domestic troubles, snatching the joy from his victory over the Coimbran army that had invaded his lands. He had difficulties of his own to deal with now, difficulties that had been allowed to fester for too long. Within hours, he had dispatched the Duke of Lonnare to the capital with orders for the release of his kin and the arrest of Cardinal Bereth. Injured, he would have to return more slowly, but by then, order would be restored. He hoped.

When Charles heard of the arrest of Lady Alys and her mother, he was livid, to say the least - eager to kill Bereth for what he'd done and save them all the trouble of a trial. Thankfully, the King chose him to act in his stead, issuing orders for Charles and a retinue of soldiers under his command to return to the capital forthwith, demand Bereth's arrest, and free the King's sister and his niece, who had recently been married to Charles in secret. Charles and his men wasted no time in obeying his King's orders, rushing back to the capital city of Martel as quickly as the horses would carry them. Flanked by six of the King's most trusted men, Charles marched straight to Bereth's chambers upon his arrival, giving the man little warning and no time to escape. He issued orders in Christian's name to have the Ladies Cecile and Alys released immediately and for them to be escorted to his private chambers where they were to be kept under close watch until he was able to join them.

Their arrival was swiftly noted by the crowds of people in the street, whispers and rumors declaring that the king had sent his good friend, Charles Beauforte, to deal with the Cardinal personally. So too was noted the deputation that left the castle to push their way through the streets to the great fortress prison, and slowly, the chaos on the streets began to calm. With the arrival of the Duke of Lonnare, order was being restored.

Within the palace itself, new voices were raised in fury as the Cardinal was marched from his chambers toward the royal reception room. "You have no authority over me, I am a Prince of the Church of the Goddess and Chancellor of this realm," he declared, fighting the soldiers who held him every step of the way. "Release me, damn you!"

Charles did not presume to take the throne, but he had made it clear that he was there at the behest of Christian and possessed all the proper papers to prove his claim. By the time he heard the Chancellor's voice echoing through the hall on his way there, his patience had already reached its limits. He was pacing the floor, slapping his gloves against the palm of his hand while he awaited word of Alys' safety and the arrival of the Chancellor to the reception room. He had not even spared a moment to clean the dried blood of battle from his clothes or the caked on mud from his boots. He looked weary and as dangerous as a viper ready to strike.

"Take your hands off me - !" There was a moment of breathless indignation as the Chancellor was pushed roughly forward to stand before the Duke, in front of the entire court. Bereth glared daggers at Charles, still believing him to be nothing more than a new man. "How dare you have me arrested," he demanded in fury. "By the command of the king, I am his lawful chancellor, and you, your grace, have grossly overstepped your bounds!"

The muscles in Charles' jaw bunched, but somehow he managed to maintain his composure as he turned to face the one man he considered more than any other to be his personal nemesis. "I think not, Chancellor." He gestured with a hand toward one of his men. "Would you read Christian's orders aloud for the court and show them the signature and seal of the King?"

"By the divine right of the Goddess, I, Christian, King of Francia, do hereby strip Cardinal Joseph Bereth of all rank, wealth, and titles formerly given by my hand and the hand of my father before me, and order him arrested on a charge of high treason, to be held in the fortress gaol until such time as judgment may be passed upon him."

As the soldier read aloud, Bereth's face whitened, until it seemed almost as though he was merely a skull looking at the world from beneath a thin, stretched layer of pallid skin, but still he rallied himself. "By what evidence am I to be imprisoned" I am a Prince of the Church. No secular law may hold me."

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Chancellor, as you can see that the King himself has heard of your betrayal and has sent me here to arrest you and to free those who have been wrongly accused of treason by you. How dare you presume to arrest the King's own kin, while he is away at battle" By what authority do you dare to do such a thing" You are not the King, Cardinal, and you are the one who has overstepped your bounds!" Charles said, moving to step in front of the man, blue eyes flashing with barely-controlled rage. "You are fortunate the King has only asked for your arrest and not your execution, Chancellor," he told the many quietly, so that only those closest could hear him.

"Those orders were signed by the queen's hand, in her capacity as regent to the realm in the king's absence," Bereth snarled, refusing to be cowed by the furious man before him. "On my authority as a Prince of the Church did I order the arrests of those heretics within the court, and -"

But whatever else he might have said was drowned out by a sudden protest from the courtiers around him. They had watched as he had winnowed through their numbers and removed his enemies, placing his allies in positions of power. They would not stand by and let him condemn princesses of the royal blood to death by burning for crimes they did not commit.

As enraged as Charles was, he would not allow the man to irritate him further. "The King will deal with the Queen upon his return," he told him quietly, his voice edged with anger and hatred, though Charles had plans of his own for Christian's wife before his King returned so that she would not escape justice. "And you have just sealed her fate, along with your own," he added quietly. He turned his back on the man so that he could face those gathered in the court, friend and foe alike. "By the authority given me by order of King Christian, I order this man's arrest until such time as the King has returned to court and can see to his trial. As for the Queen, I order her detained and confined to her private quarters, and I also order the release of all prisoners accused of heresy or treason during the King's absence." He turned back to Bereth, eyes flashing once again, almost daring the man to give him a reason to finish it right then and there. Charles' fingers twitched as they rested upon the pommel of his sword, almost daring Bereth to force his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, his expression at last changing, softening, the worry and concern obvious in his eyes and on his face, along with fatigue and even a little pain. Though he had suffered no serious injuries, there was the usual round of minor wounds to annoy him. "I got here as soon as I could," he told her, having made the 200 mile trip in a matter of days.

She had been expecting him to protest at her greeting, to argue with her in some way. To have her passionate husband apologize to her was the straw that broke the camel's back. After weeks of imprisonment, finally Alys' strong will broke. "I was so scared," she admitted in a wavering whisper, moving to embrace him, uncaring that he still wore his chainmail and his enemies' blood. "I thought I was going to be burned."

Nor did he care that she was still clad in filthy rags, though it hurt him to see her that way. He opened his arms to her to take her into the safety of his embrace and hold her close, not caring about anything in that moment but her safety. "I know. I'm sorry. Had I known ..." He trailed off at a loss for words, his throat closing with emotion. Until that very moment, he had not realized just how terrified he'd been at the prospect of losing her. "If Christian had known ..."

She clung to him, neither one of them caring a jot for the way they looked or smelled. He had been gone from Martel for two months, on campaign with the king, and Alys was only too glad to have him back in her arms once again. "He might never have known until after the fact," she admitted in a shaken whisper. "Had not Bess risked her life to beg the messenger to take back news to the king, you might not have known for weeks, and ..." Her breath caught in her throat as she swallowed hard. "Mother was to be burned tomorrow. I-I do not know when he planned to do away with me."

Charles clenched his jaw at the thought that he might have lost her so easily to Bereth's betrayal, stifling a shudder to know he had only just barely managed to make it back in time to save her mother from a death that was too horrible to contemplate. He pushed aside his rage and hatred of Bereth for the moment to focus his attention on comforting and caring for her. "You're safe now, and I swear to you, no one is ever going to hurt you again." He kissed her brow, holding her close, safe in his arms, reluctant to let go now that she was there. He'd been gone too long, far too long, and he wasn't going to wait any longer. "As soon as Christian returns, we are going to be officially married and you are coming with me to Lonnare." Lonnare, where he would be able to keep her safe and away from the King's Court, with its politics and backstabbing gossip.

Her fingers grasped at the mail he still wore as he kissed her brow, unashamed to seem a little weak when it was only his eyes that saw her. In just a few hours, she would have to appear in court once again for the evening meal, and be the Lady Alys, the king's niece. But for now, she could be simply Alys. "I am glad," she told him as he shared his plans with her. "For I have other news to share with you." She looked up at him, her fiery eyes soft as she gazed into his, one hand rising to touch his cheek tenderly. "Charles ....I am with child."

He wasn't about to take no for an answer this time - not from Alys or William or Cecile or Christian. They were already married anyway, though few knew the truth. This was just a formality and one he would not be refused. He blinked down at her, clearly shocked by the news. It had been two months since he'd seen her, but he had no doubts that the child - if there truly was a child - was his. "A child?" he echoed, one hand moving to her belly, which was not yet swollen with child. "Are you certain?"

"I am." She nodded, glancing down as his hand covered her womb. They were lucky that the campaign had been so short - any longer, and Alys would have had to have called upon Lady Bryant to present the evidence of her married state to Bereth, in the hope that he would honor it and postpone his death sentence a while longer. "I have had sickness and I have felt a small growing when I lie still upon my back. Dear heart, we are to have a child."

"Oh, my love ..." Charles pulled her against him, needing to hold her close, a lump of tears forming in his throat, though he didn't want her to see such weakness from him. He felt a mixture of joy and terror and rage that Bereth had dared harm her. "I swear I will never let you out of my sight again," he told her, though he knew he would be unlikely to keep that promise if war came to Lonnare. He clung to her, holding her tightly against him, as though he was afraid to let her go, which, in all truth, he was. Tears of anger and joy and relief burned in his eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut to force them away. "I do not know what I would have done if anything had happened to you."

"Nor I, had anything happened to you," she answered him truthfully, rising up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. "I am glad you have come through well and whole, my dear Beau." Her fingers stroked through his hair gently for a long moment as they lingered together, each achingly as aware as the other that their lives had hung in the balance far too easily in each other's absence. But at the same time, it did not do to linger on such things. Alys drew in a short breath, lowering back to her heels to look down at herself once again. "Though if I am to present myself to the court this eve, I should, perhaps, wash."

"The hell with court. You should stay here and eat dinner with me. We can make our excuses. I have only just arrived back, and you ..." He trailed off, leaving the rest of that thought unspoken, as if it went without saying. Of course, there were still appearances and certain protocol that needed to be maintained, but he thought all things considered, they both deserved to dispense with all that for one evening. "I have sent for Bess. You may use my chambers to bathe and change. I can have send for food if you're hungry." As for himself, he was exhausted and starving, but he, at least, had not spent time in prison.

"Well ....my mother will certainly make enough of an appearance for the three of us," Alys admitted in a comical tone, glancing toward the door as a quiet knock sounded. She knew that knock, smiling as she called Bess into the room.

Her maid entered, her arms filled with fine clothing, and curtsied to them both. "Milady, I've ordered a bath drawn," she said quietly. "Shall I have them attend to it here?"

Alys glanced up at Charles with a faint smile. "Yes, Bess, please do," she told her maid. "And find Cedric, wherever he is, and make sure he bathes and eats before he attends upon his grace, the duke."

Charles did not disentangle himself from Alys when Bess entered, as Alys' maid was one of few people who knew the truth of their marriage. "I suppose I shall have to let go of you," he said, though he was in no hurry to do so. He wasn't sure if Bess had been allowed to visit Alys while she was imprisoned and knew about the child, but it wasn't going to be long before it became obvious. "I want to kill him for what he's done, Lys," he told he quietly, the rage like a fire that burned inside him, barely held in check, but only for her sake.

They were forced to step away from one another as other attendants entered with the bath and steaming kettles from the kitchens to fill it with. Alys kept her voice low as she moved to the window, away from the bustling workers. "You may have to live with the knowledge that he is alive somewhere in the world," she warned Charles quietly. "My uncle is unlikely to risk the anger of the Dalai by executing a Prince of the Church, and men of Bereth's talents are difficult to find. It could be that he will be recalled to Gelre and stripped of his rank within the clergy, but kept on in some small job where his talents may be best used."

"Son?" Charles echoed, turning his head her way, as one boot then the other thumped against the floor. Oh, his poor feet. They were not only sweaty but sore. "What makes you so sure we are having a son?" he asked curiously, wondering if she'd received some sort of portent. It was just then the door opened and Cedric pushed his way inside, looking flushed and huffing the wayward red hair out of his face.

"Forgive me, my lord. I was getting the horses settled in the stable."

Charles sighed and moved to his feet, waving the boy forward. "Yes, yes. Never mind that and get me out of this bloody mail."

Alys opened her mouth to answer Charles, but closed it as Cedric entered, smiling a secretive smile as she returned to washing herself. It was not that she did not trust Cedric, but the fewer people who knew the truth before their marriage was made official, the safer they were. There were no laws against putting a squire to the torture. Confident that both men in the room were engaged fully in the difficult task of removing Charles from his chainmail, she rose from the bath and wrapped her robe about her, calling for Bess to help her wash her hair, and for the attendants waiting there to empty and refill the bath for the duke.

To his credit, Cedric didn't not so much as glance Alys' way, though he could not help but hear her moving about nearby as she scrubbed herself clean and called for her maid. The only reaction from him was the flush that colored his cheeks as he helped his lord from the heavy mail that covered and protected him. If Charles had not been in such a hurry, he might have thought to remove it before he left the encampment, but at least he was protected in case he ran into trouble. Left to his own devices, it would have been difficult for even a man of Charles' size to relieve himself of the heavy mail, but between them, it wasn't long before he was freed of the stuff. While the attendants went about emptying and refilling the tub, which was quite a feat in itself, Charles finished undressing until he was only clad in a linen tunic and pants and hose.

Alys chuckled as he stripped down to his tunic and hose, letting Bess comb the tangles from her hair before they turned their attention to washing the copper mane. "I swear, you seem to have grown by inches since removing that iron shirt," she teased the duke, secure in the knowledge that the servants now knew he had done nothing while she bathed, and that she was decently covered now while he would do the same. They were quick to refill the bath, leaving the water steaming and ready for Charles as the door was closed once again, though this time with Bess and Cedric in attendance.

He arched his brows at her remark, while Cedric went about collecting his lord's soiled clothing and armor. "And just what part of my anatomy do you think has grown, my lady?" he teased back, a small smirk on his face as he turned his attention to the bath. He didn't much care if Alys saw him naked, since it was not a new sight to her, and as far as Bess and Cedric were concerned, they knew better than to comment. He tugged the tunic over his head, nose wrinkling at his own stench, his body riddled with old scars, but no new wounds, other than for bumps and bruises.

She laughed, rolling her eyes at him for his saucy remark in front of her maid, who was having trouble of her own keeping a straight face. "The whole, my lord," Alys countered, wincing only once as Bess tackled the worst of the knots in her hair. "I should be concerned indeed if the wearing of mail were to make that part shrink."

"I have not spent the last two months sitting on my arse, my lady," he remarked, as he peeled the hose and pants from his legs, his back to the pair, mostly for Bess' sake. Though she could not see his face, he was frowning a little to know that while he'd been away at war, she had spent the last three weeks wasting away in a prison cell. It was nothing short of a miracle she hadn't lost their child or become ill. There was no doubt in his mind that if she had come to any harm at all, he would not have been nearly so generous where Bereth was concerned.

"No, you have spent it sitting on your horse," his fiery companion teased him, determined not to allow an argument to erupt in front of her maid. She rose, bending over the basin as Bess poured cold water through her hair, and began to work the soap into the thick mane. "Do you mean to say that your wearing mail reduces your stallion's ability to stud?"

"You twist my meaning, lady," he remarked as he climbed into the bath, sighing with contentment as he immersed himself in the steaming water. He did not wish to argue either, but he thought she misunderstood him yet again - it seemed like a common occurrence between them. He did not want to talk about what she had suffered in prison, not yet - not with Cedric and Bess there to witness. He didn't really want to talk about the battle either or the blood he'd shed there and the comrades he'd lost.

"Of course I do." Like Charles, Alys did not want to talk about battles or prisons, especially not in front of their closest attendants. It had been Cedric's first battle, and Bess had not even been allowed to visit her lady following the arrest. Neither one of them needed to know precisely what had been said and done by their lord and lady in that time. "I am simply glad to have you safely home again. And to know that my brother will soon be back to his usual antics in court."

"And I am glad to be home," he replied, though this was not really his home - not anymore. Lonnare was home now, and it was past time he claimed not only his bride but his dukedom. He said nothing of that yet though, worried she might not want to leave her family behind.

Taking over the squeezing of the water from her hair as Bess moved in search of a linen to dry the red mane with, Alys sighed softly, beginning to feel a little more human now. "I hear that Marianne's betrothal to the prince of Pomerania has been finalized," she commented, clearly fishing for more information. The town criers she had been able to hear from her gaol cell had been frustratingly vague on the subject.

He wasn't sure he felt like discussing such things at the moment, but with Cedric and Bess still in close proximity, it was a safer subject than some. "So I hear. I met him briefly at the encampment. He and Christian are acquainted. He seems a worthy ally."

Alys clenched her teeth against an impatient response. She was trying to avoid talking about anything upsetting to anyone in the room, but her lack of information over the past weeks meant that she had very little she could actually bring up in conversation. "I am glad he has at least met his father-in-law."

"Perhaps you should speak with her before she leaves for Pomerania, assure her that he is a good man. He and his men fought well in battle, and both Christian and Will seem pleased with him. From what I have heard, she will do well by him, Lys. Try not to worry," he assured her, though he knew just because a man was brave in battle didn't necessarily make him a good husband. He sank down in to the tub to dunk his head and for a moment, could not be seen. Cedric finished tending to his master's armor and clothing and waited for Charles to emerge so he could ask if he was needed further.

It was a relief to hear that. The Princess Royal, Marianne, was only newly turned seventeen, after almost eight years sequestered in her own household under the instruction of tutors chosen by her mother. Alys did not doubt that her young cousin would be looking to the marriage with a mixture of expectation and terror, much as she had looked to her own marriage years before. It was good to know that Prince Stephan seemed to be the man he was rumored to be. Smiling, Alys took the linen from Bess, gently dismissing her maid with the promise that she would call for her if she was needed. But what she wanted most of all was to be alone with her Charles.

"Charles, I know it is hard, but you need to let this go," she told him firmly, her hands slipping from his back to rest against his chest as she looked up at him with quite serious eyes. "The king will deal with Bereth when he returns, and it is highly likely that every man who is known to have been in Bereth's service or pay will be arrested and interrogated themselves as to the man's behavior and intentions, to garner evidence for his trial. That includes Sexton and Riesling, and everyone else who has come down hard on the cardinal's side. They will be punished, one way or another. But I will not have your hands bloodied because of them. They are not worth the risk."

"My hands are already bloodied, Alys," he pointed out, though murdering Bereth and his allies was not quite the same thing as killing Coimbrans in battle. He sighed, giving in, as he always did where she was concerned, and he wrapped his arms around her once again, his body warm against hers, even as damp as he still was. "I promise I will not raise my sword against them, but I will not allow them to go unpunished for what they've done," he added quietly.

Wrapped up warm in his arms once again, she relaxed as he conceded the point. "They won't go unpunished," she promised him. They both knew that Christian would go above and beyond what was necessary to ensure than no one would ever dare to abuse his trust again. "Will we go to Arindale?" she asked softly, tilting her head back to look up at him. "I do not want to have our child here at court. Too many curious eyes looking in at my labor."

He would follow her to the ends of the world, if she but only asked it of him. She held his whole heart in her hands, and the smile on his face and warmth in his eyes spoke volumes of his love for her - only her and always her. "As soon as we are wed and Christian gives us our leave," he replied. And the sooner the better. As much as he craved revenge on Bereth, he didn't really want her there to witness it. He tipped her chin upwards, though she was already gazing up at him, if only to touch his fingers to her face. "I promise you that, too," he said, before leaning close to touch a kiss to her lips, the first of many to be shared now that he'd returned.

Her lips were curved in a tender smile as he kissed her, sharing her relief, her joy at seeing him hale and whole, at having been saved from a terrible fate by his arrival, but most of all, the love she bore for him. Her arms rose, curling about his neck as she leaned into him; they had not been intimate since the night of their illicit marriage, unable to take the risk before he had left for war. There was every chance that the child she carried had been conceived on the night of their wedding itself. "A-aren't you hungry?" she murmured to him, though she could happily have ignored the rumble in her stomach to kiss him some more.

"I'm hungry for you, love. Food can wait." And with that said and a lecherous smile on his face, he swept her up in his arms and carried her over to his bed, where he intended to demonstrate what she'd been missing for the last two months in no uncertain terms.

And food did wait, for several hours, until there was nothing that could induce Alys to stay entwined in Charles' arms unless he fed her. Languid with loving, she eased from the bed, shameless before his eyes, to fetch a plate piled with the simple stuffs that had been left for them before returning. "You, your grace, have an unparalleled appetite," she teased him as she crawled back onto the bed, the plate balanced preciously on the sheets.

Now that they had satisfied the immediate hunger of the heart, there was the hunger of the body that needed satisfying. Charles' gaze followed Alys as she slipped from his arms to fetch a plate of food, while he sprawled lazily against the bed. "I will not deny that," he said as she climbed back onto the bed. His heart ached to see how she'd suffered under Bereth, and yet, there was that tiny swell at her abdomen that was proof of their child, and the love and affection she never failed to shower upon him. He knew she was talking of a different kind of appetite than that of food, but only where she was concerned.

"However will you survive when I grow so big with child that we cannot play?" she teased him laughingly, easing back under the covers to lean against him, the plate held between them. It was not much, true, but she doubted her stomach would hold much comfortably after her incarceration, more concerned with seeing him fed and rested.

He turned onto his side to face her, head propped against a hand, a smile on his face, happy to be home at last and glad for the few days of quiet before the king arrived. He made a mental note to send a courier with a letter in the morning informing the king of what had taken place and assuring him that both his sister and niece were safe and well. Perhaps a second letter to Will informing him of the same. There was much he had to do in the morning as the king's loyal servant, but there was nothing so pressing that it couldn't wait until morning. "There are other ways to play, my love," he replied with that lecherous smile of his again, blue eyes shining with mischief.

"You will have to show me these mysterious other ways," she laughed. They both knew she was more than aware of a few other ways herself, thanks to the education of her first marriage, however unhappy it had been. "But no man can live on love alone. Not even you." She smiled, her brown eyes tender with loving affection as she pushed a roll of beef between his lips.

Ah, but she had not been married to Charles, and they had hardly had much of a chance to explore much in the ways of love before he'd had to accompany the king to battle. "It's a wonder I survived without you these last months," he told her, just before she fed him the beef.

"A battlefield is no place for a woman," she smiled, propping herself against the pillows to smear butter over bread before taking a bite. "Well, no woman born outside Edessa. I remember wondering, when I was a child, why Edessan noble women are expected to learn the sword and bow, and every other noble woman is refused the opportunity. Have you ever considered that?"

"So long as I do not have to meet a woman from Edessa on the field of battle, I do not worry about it much," he replied, leaning close to take a bite of her bread, too lazy to butter his own. "And I do not wish for you to endanger yourself in such a way, but if you would like to learn how to defend yourself, you might be able to convince me to teach you," he told her with a smile, as he licked a bit of butter from his lips.

She laughed in protest at his pilfering, smearing butter on his nose for his cheek. The thought of Charles coming up against an Edessan woman on the field of battle was a comical one, right up to the point where she realized he would not be able to bring himself to raise his sword against such a woman. And yet they were among the finest mercenaries in the world. It was an odd juxtaposition. "Oh, my darling, I know a little of how to defend myself," she assured him. "Though court protocol denies me the means I was taught. I cannot go about armed in the king's residence."

"Do you?" he asked, arching a curious brow as he wiped the butter from his face. "Do you remember the games we played as children?" he asked further as he popped a hunk of cheese into his mouth. It wasn't a meal fit for a king, nor would it hold them forever, but it would do for now. "What would you think about having dinner here?"

"I remember a lot of running around after you and Will and always being left behind because I was a girl in skirts," she chuckled, licking crumbs from her fingers. "I also remember a lot of sending you both howling for mother or father because I had kicked you." She smiled, relaxing where she lay comfortably as they ate. "Dinner here" Was that not the order you laid down to me earlier, that we should not present ourselves at court until tomorrow at the earliest?"