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    The entire House of Belstrad had been that way. Archibald recalled his father complaining about their ethics. The Ballentynes believed that knights should take orders without question in exchange for wealth and power. The Belstrads believed differently. They clung to an outdated ideal that the ruler—appointed by Maribor—must act within His will to earn a knight’s loyalty. Archibald was certain Breckton would not consider civil war to be Maribor’s will. Apparently, nothing Archibald ever really wanted fit that category.
    Still, he had rocked the regents on their heels, and they would treat him better. He would finally have respect now that they realized just how important he was. The regents would have no clue that he could not deliver his threats, so they would try to placate him with a larger prize. In the end, Archibald would have Melengar and perhaps more.

Chapter 4
Wedding Plans

    The Duchess of Rochelle was a large woman in more than just girth. Her husband matched her, as they were both rotund people with thick necks, short pudgy fingers, and cheeks that jiggled when they laughed, which in the case of the lady was often and loud. They were like bookends to each other. A male and female version, cut from the same cloth in every way except temperament. While the duke was quiet, Lady Genevieve was anything but.
    Amilia always knew when the duchess was coming, as the lady heralded her own arrival with a trumpet-like voice that echoed through the palace halls. She greeted everyone, regardless of class, with a hearty, “Hullo! How are you?” in her brassy voice that boomed off the dull stone. She would hug servants, guards, and even the huntsman’s hound if he crossed her path.
    Amilia had met the duke and duchess when they first arrived. Saldur was there and had made the mistake of trying to explain why an audience with the empress was not possible. Amilia had been able to excuse herself, but she was certain Saldur had not been so lucky and probably was delayed for hours. Since then, Amilia had been avoiding the duchess, as the woman was not one to take no for an answer, and she did not want to repeat Saldur’s mistake. After three days Amilia’s luck finally ran out, when she was leaving the chapel.
    “Amilia, darling!” the Duchess shouted, rushing forward with her elegant gown billowing behind her. When she reached Amilia, two huge arms surrounded the Imperial Secretary in a crushing embrace. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Every time I inquire, I’m told you are busy. They must work you to death!”
    The duchess released her grip. “You poor thing. Let me look at you.” She took Amilia’s hands and spread her arms wide. “Oh my, how lovely you are. But, darling, please tell me this is a washday and your servants are behind. No, don’t bother. I am certain that is the case. Still, I hope you won’t mind if I have Lois, my seamstress, whip you up something. I do so love giving gifts and it’s Wintertide, after all. By the look of you, it will hardly take any material or time. Lois will be thrilled.”
    Lady Genevieve took Amilia’s arm and walked her down the hall. “You really are a treasure, you know, but I can tell they treat you poorly. What can you expect with men like Ethelred and Saldur running the show? Everything will be fine, though, now that I’m here.”
    They rounded a corner and Amilia was amazed by the woman’s ability to talk so quickly without seeming to take a breath.
    “Oh! I just loved the invitation you sent me, and yes, I know it was all your doing. It’s all been your doing, hasn’t it? They have you planning the whole wedding, don’t they? No wonder you are so busy. How insensitive. How cruel! But don’t worry, as I said, I’m here to help you. I’ve fashioned many weddings in my day and they’ve all been wonderful. What you need is an experienced planner—a wizard of wonder. We aristocrats expect panache and dazzle at these events and we hate