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to hear.”
    Rina hid a smile behind her hand. Father had already known this information, of course, but letting Zarrik report it would puff up the man’s confidence a bit. The Duke knew people, knew how to handle them. Maybe that’s what her father wanted her to observe more than anything else. Yeah, it was important to know the numbers of troops and all that. But how to handle people, how to get them to do what you wanted and even get them to think that it was their idea—these were the important lessons for a future duchess.
    The Duke’s other advisor cleared his throat pointedly.
    The Duke turned to him, offering a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I haven’t forgotten about you, Giffen. Please make your report.”
    Oh, yeah. Giffen. Rina hated Giffen. As the Duke’s steward, it was Giffen’s job to run the castle, manage the finances and basically keep tabs on all the facts and figures that made a duchy run. This was a tedious job, and in Rina’s opinion, it took a tedious man to do it. He had an unpleasant, pushed-in face and thin strands of greasy hair spread flat across his head. No moustache, but a short, pointy beard. As a little girl, Rina would run around the castle, chasing after the servants’ children, and Giffen would always sneer and accuse her of being “under foot.”
    Now Rina was older. Giffen was forced to treat her differently, but Rina could still detect the sneer behind his forced smile.
    “In some ways we have been fortunate,” Giffen said. “The winter grain shipment from the lowlands arrived just three days ago, so we are well stocked for a siege. Dried fish and potatoes are also in strong supply, and the city wells continue to produce enough fresh water for all even with the sudden population increase.”
    The Duke nodded, digested the information. “Then it seems unlikely they can take the city by force, and we’ve enough food and water to wait them out. I wish we had spies to tell us what their supply situation looked like, but no sense wishing for what we can’t have.”
    The Duke looked at his advisors. “Anything else?”
    “No, my lord.” Giffen bowed slightly.
    “We’re as ready as we can be, my lord,” General Zarrik said.
    The Duke cleared his throat. “Then let’s take our places and see what these damn Perranese have to say for themselves.”
    The Duke took the central throne on the slightly raised dais at the far end of the audience chamber, and Rina took the lower chair to his left. She glanced briefly at her mother in the chair to her father’s right. Mother still looked sickly and gray. She dabbed at a light sheen of sweat across her forehead with a silk handkerchief. She’d had the same illness that had put many of the servants out of commission. She’d been a delicate and frail woman for as long as Rina could remember.
    Rina’s relationship with her mother had been strained the last few years as Rina grew older and more stubborn. Rina admitted it to herself. She’d been a handful. But when Mother tried to tell her with every breath how a lady should walk and talk and dress … well, Rina grew impatient with such things. It was like her mother wanted to make her into some lady of nobility to show off at fancy dress parties without ever considering what Rina might want.
    Rina snapped her attention back to the business at hand as the gilded double doors swung inward, admitting the Perranese delegation. She craned her neck to look past the foreigners and into the wide hallway beyond. Ten soldiers stood at attention on each side. Ostensibly an honor guard to welcome the Perranese ambassador, but Rina guessed they were hand-picked men. Daddy wasn’t taking any chances with strangers in his castle.
    The great doors thudded closed again, echoing through the audience chamber. The Perranese standard bearer and military escort stopped just inside the door. The ambassador proceeded to the edge of the dais and bowed low.
    He rose and said, “I am Ambassador