Deep blue eyes surveyed the nobles surrounding him, some perched regally in their seats, others sprawled casually in armchairs along the curves of a plain oak table. To his left sat Thayet, sleek black hair elegantly pulled away from her face – ornate, yet ready for business.

"Gods, Alanna," Jonathon murmured beneath his breath, glancing at the empty seat on his right. Across the room Lord Wyldon cleared his throat, looking pointedly at the magicked hourglass which displayed the time. Jonathon sighed, realizing that he would have to press on without his tardy champion.

"I am sure you are wondering why I have called this meeting of our council." There was muffled agreement throughout the room, as each man and woman sat upright in the address of the King. "We have received news from our sources in Scanra of a re-awakening of sorts. A rebuilding."

The room fell silent, unsure of the consequences of his words. The recent war had sputtered out but weeks after the brave Lady Knight's venture into the foreign countryside, the death of Blayce turning the tides of the war. Since then not a peep had been heard from the Scanrans but for rumors of a crippled economy and a crisis among clans as they struggled to survive the approaching winter.

"A rebuilding?" questioned Wyldon, massaging his arm as was habit.

The king nodded. "A rebuilding. Not of the country, but of the army." He motioned to Myles of Olau, suggesting he share the information he had privately announced that morning. As the rotund man shuffled papers before him, collecting his thoughts, the door to the chambers creaked open, allowing a slight figure to enter and find her way to her place beside the king.

"My apologies," whispered the fiery redhead. Jonathon nodded, preferring to save her scolding for a less public setting.

"Right then, now that we are all here," Sir Myles sent a wink to his adopted daughter, "we must discuss the news of our neighbors. As Jonathon said, a revival of the country's military is currently being orchestrated, despite the lack of rebuilding among the people. Maggur, it seems, has focused his energy entirely on maintaining manpower and replacing those he lost in our most recent war."

"How has he found men to join him?" Raoul questioned, knowing the reluctance of those who had seen war to ever return to its bloody embrace.

Myles sighed. "That is the truly terrible part. He has begun drafting slaves, charming them to fight or to die if they disobey. Among the freemen in the clans he has used the devastation of the war to force them into volunteering men, promising rewards of resources in return for soldiers. The clan leaders have no other option but to send away their forces in order to keep their people from starving, leaving themselves incapable of rebellion."

Disgust sparked in the eyes of the beholders. How could a King punish his people so?

"How big are the Scanran forces?" Wyldon prosed.

"As of now, my sources have reported it to be in the low thousands. Never the less, each day brings new recruits to the city of Hamrking, and new threat to our borders."

Myles sat back down in his seat, letting the information wash over the members of the council. His eyes scanned the faces around him – the King and his spouse, the royal champion, the head of the King's Own, the battered leader of the Northern forces, the head healer, and the powerful mage and his wife. Each face wore grim expressions, a determination to avoid yet another war and yet more losses of life.

Duke Baird sighed, thinking of the many injuries he had tended to just mere months previously. "Is there naught that can be done to prevent this?"

Myles' expression grew solemn. "There is little to do but prepare. I have proposed a mission to His Majesty," the spymaster nodded in Jonathon's direction respectfully, "but there is little hope to it. It is but a shot in the dark."

"It is worth pursuing," the Queen's voice rang out, not to be forgotten.

"What is it?" Alanna demanded, determined that all measures be taken to protect her country.

"It is extraordinarily dangerous," Myles began, looking around the room warily. "And would require a selfless individual willing to sacrifice his or her life, likely, in the end. I have a contact in Hamrking, a wealthy merchant with ties to Maggur's administration, and he has proposed that he could arrange the placement of a slave among the palace. With the right maneuvering and a great amount of luck, the slave could rise to the position of serving him, allowing for a direct threat at Maggur's life. The chances of all going smoothly are not good – Maggur is a careful man and trusts very few. But it is worth a chance, if nothing else our slave can describe to us details of Maggur's campaign, buying us time to build our forces before his inevitable attack."

The council members nodded grimly. "Who do we send?"

Myles shook his head. "That is where I am of little assistance. My men are spread too thin already and cannot abandon their places among the clans."

"I do not wish to say it, but perhaps a female would be best," Raoul's deep voice rumbled slowly and with regret. "She will have a better chance to be alone with Maggur. To kill him."

The women of the council shivered at the implications of the burly man's suggestion, but they knew he was correct. Maggur was well known for engaging in pleasure with his slaves, a private time in which no guards would be present, and thus the agent could approach the Scanran king one on one.

"I will go," volunteered Alanna, accepting her duty as a knight of the realm. Jonathon eyed her with shock, flashes of concern in his eyes.

Myles simply shook his head. "That will not do. You'll be recognized too easily."

Alanna opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by the king. "We will need you here to defend our borders."

"Then who do we send?" she snapped, running through lists of potential females in her mind and finding no match.

"Sir, if I may?" Wyldon said, waiting for the king to acknowledge him. Jonathon waved for him to continue. "Keladry of Mindelan."

"No. Absolutely not," Raoul roared, banging his fist on the table, causing the dishes upon it to shake and tremor.

"She has been to Scanra before," Wyldon continued, ignoring the death threats Alanna and Raoul shot him from across the still trembling table. "She was successful, too. And she is selfless. Mark my words she will agree to this."

The king rose, ignoring the heated snarls of his companions at the idea of sending their close friend into the trials of death. "I will ask Keladry immediately. We will meet again tonight."

"Damn it all," Raoul grumbled, defeat boiling up in his barrel-like chest. He had known as soon as it was proposed that his ex-squire would agree to the arrangement, sending herself away from her life and away from his protection.

Daine reached out and touched the knight's forearm, seeking to calm him. "It is her duty," she reminded him. "And she will not be alone. My animals will be with her to bring us news, to help her keep watch. I promise."

Raould nodded, still feeling daggers deep within that accompanied the thought of losing the woman whom he fully considered to be family. Turning to the king and his spymaster, Raoul posed one last question – "Will she be alone?"

Jonathon turned to look at the spymaster, knowing this to be his jurisdiction.

"The fewer we send the lesser the chance of discovery."

Numair, having been previously silent, stirred from his corner of the room. "I recommend we send a mage. It is unlikely Maggur will be without magical protection. Not to mention his previous association with Blayce. There is a possibility of a successor."

The room shuddered, thinking of the killing machines, and drawing signs against evil upon their chests.

"Nealan," Alanna spoke softly, regretting that she must suggest the newly married man who had once been her squire.

Duke Baird's eyes watered slightly, yet he nodded, accepting that his son would be the best choice. "He will protect Keladry and the realm, I'm sure of it."

Jonathon nodded gravely. "So it is that Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan and Sir Nealan of Queenscove will depart into Scanra as soon as the last snow has melted."

The council nodded its approval and specifics were arranged – travel, training, and stories to cover up the disappearance of two of the nation's most well-regarded knights were constructed as the darkness of night turned to morning.

"Kel?" rapid knocks succeeded the inquiry, and the brunette rushed to open the door to her rooms before a battering ram was secured and put into action.

"What, Nealan?"

For once Neal did not pull a face at his full name, instead stepping inside her room, closing the door, and magicking a barrier around it.

"His Majesty told me of our assignment," Neal murmured.

Kel's eyes widened. She hadn't realized she would have company.

"You're coming with me?"

Neal nodded. "Of course".

Kel reached over to her friend, pulling him in for a tight hug, relief spreading through her. Although she despised the thought of her best friend joining her in what was to be sure death, she selfishly allowed feelings of thankfulness that she would not be entirely alone in enemy territory.

"I love you, brother," she whispered into his ear.

"And I you, sister," he responded, before pulling back to regard the lady knight that stood before him. Tall and lean with muscles, her brown hair falling to her sensible shoulders, and her hazels eyes glimmering with determination, Kel was a force to be reckoned with, and Neal knew that no better person existed to tackle this impossible task.

"Practice courts?" Kel asked, breaking Neal from his thoughts. The bookish knight groaned but agreed, allowing the green magic that surrounded the door to fade before following his comrade and her deadly Yamani blade.

Kel sighed into her porridge, struggling to keep her eyes from shutting and pulling her back into Gainel's realms. Next to her, Neal did the same, his typical chattering self reduced into silence as he fought to keep from slouching over upon the great table of the dining hall.

"Aren't you two just balls of sunshine this morning," said Dom from Kel's other side, taking in the bags under his friends' eyes and the paleness of their skin. Neal simply grunted in acknowledgement, Kel choosing to shrug instead, neither able to muster the energy to speak quite so soon into the day. Dom shook his head, confused by his friends' states yet knowing they would yield little information while in such a mood. He settled for reaching across Kel and snatching a choice piece of bacon from his cousin's plate, crunching into it with satisfaction while Neal at least had the spirit to shake his fist at the thief. Usually such a dispute would lead to name-calling and wrestling until at last a victor could be crowned, but today there was naught but a brief scowl to mark that the event had even happened. Dom filed this information away, knowing that something had to be up between his two closest friends. Had it not been for Neal's recent wedding and infatuation with his bride, he would have suspected an affair – the two had been spending late nights together, disappearing suspiciously off into the city, and presumably lying about their activities. The thought of Kel with another man caused Dom's heart to beat just a bit faster, but he dared not trust his emotions, knowing that the friendship he saw between the two was what it appeared to be, and nothing more.

"Well, I'm off to training," he announced, pushing his now clean plate away from him. "I'll see you guys…" he trailed off, unsure of when he would see them next.

"Tonight?" Kel responded, not sure if their training would be finished by then but suspecting that Myles would allow for it after such a gruesome week.

Dom nodded. "Tonight." He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss upon it. "Until then, my fair lady."

Beside Kel Neal perked up animatedly. "But Dom! What about my goodbye? Surely I deserve one!"

Dom grinned and repeated his previous actions, kissing the back of Neal's hand and bowing in a flourish as he bid his cousin good day.

Kel and Neal lingered at the table for a touch longer, before gathering their utensils and exiting the dining hall in search of Sir Myles' office.

"What do you think we'll be doing today?" Neal said quietly in Scanran – the language he and Kel had taken to speaking when alone together in preparation for the mission that lay ahead.

Kel shrugged. "I don't know. More history, perhaps."

Neal perked up, pleased with the concept of more book learning. Studying the myths and folklore and the concrete history of their Northern neighbor never failed to peak his scholarly interest. In contrast to his previous beliefs, he was finding Scanra to be a country rich in culture – a far cry from the barbarians many accused them of being.

"I just wish we could get out in the field already," Kel grumbled, uncharacteristically complaining due to her lack of sleep. The previous night she and Neal had embarked in a practice excursion through the depths of the city below, each taking on a new character and back story and pretending to be another human for the night. Neal did not respond to her comment, instead letting himself be carried away in his thoughts until they reached the wooden door marked with their teacher's name. He raised his hand to knock in the special pattern they'd rehearsed and waiting for Myles' voice to beckon them in.

"You look like you've seen better days," Myles said in fluent Scanran, looking over the crumpled clothing and tired faces before him.

Kel nodded. "Yes, sir. As you know, we had a late night."

Myles smiled gently and gestured for them to take a seat on the love seat that faced his armchair, pouring some rejuvenating tea into two mugs.

"You'd best get used to it. The life of a slave is not a restful one."

Kel and Neal's eyes sharpened, determination shining through and pleasing their teacher. He had not seen a harder working partnership than the two that sat before him, and had been pleased at how quickly they had adapted to the rigorous training the mission called for.

"Your Scanran is improving," he commented, giving praise where it was due. For the past three weeks, ever since their meeting with the king, Myles had forbidden the two from speaking Common in his presence. All of their lessons were conducted in Scanran, but for those involving the assistance of any other members of the palace. Secrecy was beyond important and it would not do for anyone else to overhear them speaking in the language of the enemy.

"I think that today will be the last of your history lessons," he mused. "Instead, my son-in-law will continue your instruction in the city. He is… skilled in the arts of deception."

Kel nodded eagerly, a stark contrast to the pouting of Neal beside her.

"That is not to say that you cannot continue your reading outside of these meetings," Myles continued, a twinkle in his eye as he regarded the bookish mage. "I have no doubt that it will prove helpful in the future."

Neal puffed out his chest, his eyes meeting Kel's as if to say I told you so. This interaction caused the spymaster to chuckle, his belly jiggling cheerfully as his abdominals flexed.

"You two will never cease to amuse me," he stated, realizing with a jolt how much he had come to care for the two young souls. Sending them off into the heart of Scanra would be more difficult than he had intended, knowing the chances of their survival. Sobered by the thought of the mission before them, he sat up and began to instruct the two on the history behind the Scanran Midwinter festivities that were similar, yet varied enormously from their own.

A/N: Alright guys, thanks so much for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoyed it and pretty please leave some reviews and feedback for me! I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible :)

Also, in case you've been living in a cave for the last... forever? then you will know that, of course, this wonderful world in which I write belongs to Tamora Pierce!