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less violent solution to this problem.”
    And that observation struck home, as well it might.
    “There is nothing wrong with being a woman, gentlemen,” she continued, still cold. “Being female doesn't make me weak. If it did, would God have seen fit to put me on the throne? Helfred?”
    Helfred looked up. “Majesty, you are where God intends you to be.”
    “But not yet doing what God intends you to do,” said Rudi, stubborn to the last. “If you won't send soldiers against Kyrin and Damwin, what will you do to end their defiance?”
    “That's a fair question,” said Alasdair. “And we must have an answer.”
    Rhian bit her lip. Was she the only one who could hear the tension in his voice? They'd not discussed this. Some things – like planning for the coronation, or the day-to-day grindstone of the kingdom's business – she happily talked over with him at night, in bed, pillowed on his chest. But not this. It was too important. Touched too closely on her fragile sovereignty. It hurt him, she knew that, but it couldn't be helped.
    As she stared them down, the dukes of her council and her prolate and her husband the king, words she'd tried hard to forget echoed loudly in her mind. The words Zandakar had spoken to her as she stood over dead Ven'Martin, the knife that killed him in her hand.
    You want be queen? This is queen. To kill bad men and be wei yatzhay.
    She had rejected his assertion then. She rejected it now. She would not be a queen of blood and steel.
    Not unless Damwin and Kyrin back me hard against a wall.
    “I'll give them a final chance to come to their senses,” she said. “If this must end in violence I won't let history show I refused these foolish men every hope possible of averting disaster. Helfred…”
    “Majesty?”
    “Will you and the Court Ecclesiastica act as my emissaries? Will you travel with all solemn ceremony to the duchies of Hartshorn and Meercheq and use every persuasion in your power so their dukes might see reason?”
    Helfred smoothed his prayer beads through his fingers. “Of course.”
    Bless you. “I'll have letters drawn up for you to present to the dukes in person.”
    “Letters saying what?” demanded Adric. “And promising what retribution should they fail to recognise Ethrea's lawful queen and council?”
    Rhian looked at him in silence for a moment, then nodded at the venerable whom Helfred had granted her as secretary for both private and council matters. Middle-aged, pedantic and a swift scribe, he was faithfully recording every comment in a secretive church notation that later was translated into legible Ethrean.
    “You would have me dictate to you my royal correspondence, Adric? Perhaps you tire already of ducal duties. Do you wish to take Ven'Cedwin's place? It can be arranged.”
    She spoke sweetly enough but her threat was plain. Adric darted a glance at his father, temper mottling his high, sharp cheekbones. Rudi said nothing but his eyebrows lowered in a warning frown.
    Yes indeed, Adric, do have a care. My patience is rubbed precarious thin.
    “Majesty,” said Helfred, releasing his prayer beads. “The Church stands behind you without reservation. Defiance of you is tantamount to defiance of God. It won't be tolerated.”
    He reminded her of Marlan when he spoke like that. The others heard it, too. Spines straightened, jaws tightened. Knuckles whitened in suddenly clenched fists.
    “I think we've had enough of interdict for the time being, Helfred,” she said quietly.
    Helfred's eyebrows rose. Despite their recent hardships he remained a soft man in his body, but something in his eyes had changed. He was tempered now. His soul was steel. “Majesty, it's not the Crown's place to stand between a man and his soul. That is the Church's domain. God has put us there, and there shall we be until God decrees otherwise.”
    She wasn't about to engage in a theosophical debate with him. Not with the rest of the council listening. And especially not