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caring for protocol. "We have a ceremony in two hours and I have to prepare my son."
    Most of the lords did not know the extent of Sebastian's mental disabilities, but Stowe did, just as he knew how very powerful Arianna was.  Stowe had been near both children since the beginnings of their lives, and had advised Nicholas about them more than once.
    "I know, Sire, but you need to hear this now."  He waved a hand at Sanders, who hovered near the door.  Sanders bowed and backed out, pulling the door closed behind him. 
    Stowe waited until he was gone, then said, "Is this room safe?"
    Nicholas glanced at the door.  Sanders could  —  and probably was  —  listening in.  Nicholas crooked a finger at Stowe and led him through the dressing room into the royal bedchamber.  The room was neat, even though Nicholas had not left it that way in the morning.  The windows were closed.  The room was dark and stuffy.  It had an unused feel which, Nicholas supposed, was appropriate. 
    He hadn't brought any one into his bedchamber since Jewel died.
    "All right," he said to cover his own discomfort.  "What's so hush-hush?  Has Titus done something to disrupt the ceremony?"
    Stowe pulled the dressing room door closed.  "Not that I know of, Sire, but I could check for you."
    Nicholas shook his head.  He already had twelve people keeping an eye on the Rocaan, and another group watching all the Elders.  He wouldn't let the Tabernacle get close to his son.
    "There's no need," Nicholas said.  "Just get on with this."
    Despite his fine clothes, Stowe looked a bit haggard.  In the last few years he had lost most of his hair, and his scalp shone in the dim light.  He also hunched.  Long lines were carved into the skin by his mouth, frown lines, showing his difficult and serious life.
    "A man's come up from the Kenniland Marshes.  He says the Fey have invaded down there."
    "The Fey?" Whatever Nicholas had expected, it wasn't this.  The Kenniland Marshes were on the far southern end of the Isle.  The Fey armies had never gone that far, not even in their first assault on the Isle.  "How did they get there?  We would have had reports of an army moving south."
    "I don't know, Sire," Stowe said, "but the man said they came over the mountains."
    "Over the mountains?"  The sea was on the other side of those mountains.  They were impossible to scale from the valley side.  And the only reports of their far side had come from ships which had circled the Isle trying to get in. 
    Large mountains with sheer cliff faces, disappearing into a treacherous sea.
    A chill ran down Nicholas's back despite the heat in the room.  He had seen the impossible ever since the Fey arrived on Blue Isle.  Before they arrived, he thought that holy water was benign, that the body was a stable mass of tissue, and that Blue Isle was impenetrable.
    Stowe was watching him.  The lines on Stowe's face seemed deeper than they had even moments before.
    "This is not an internal attack then," Nicholas said.
    Stowe shook his head.  "Our people watching the Shadowlands have seen no real changes there.  An occasional Fey leaves, but always returns."
    "And what about the enclave south of Jahn?"
    "The Outdoor Fey?" Stowe said, using the nickname those Fey got from their own people.  These Fey weren't able to suffer through life in the Shadowlands any longer.  They had to live outside of it.  "The enclave split up nearly five years ago.  They've spread out all over the Killeny Bridge area."
    "And they haven't gone south separately, then attacked?"
    "Sire," Stowe said, his voice lowering.  "The man says every village in the Kenniland Marshes is overrun.  He says he's seen hundreds of Fey on the mountains."
    Nicholas clenched his fists.  His children's people.  His wife's people.  Invading.  "How do we know he's sane, Stowe?  Is there any proof that he's telling the truth?  We've heard these tales before only to discover they were warped visions from a