"The guardsmen say they saw a shower of arrows, but none breached the walls." Yesterday's village headswoman, drafted into Dame Pottage's service, dropped a stack of dirty bowls on the counter. "The morning guard rotation is coming in now."

"To think it would come to this." Dame Pottage wrung her apron. "Lady Cleric, is that double batch of scones ready?"

"Yes ma'am," Selida said as she folded dried currants into a bowl of batter. A light touch was all they wanted—no more than three turns of the spatula or the scones would bake leaden. She murmured a prayer, and the coil of dough inflated, milk seeping into the flour.

"They say they'll use that big crossbow as soon as they have summat to aim it at."

Selida removed a pan of scones from the oven. Her fingers trembled. The long night had left her too jagged to sleep. Ser Kahldar had remained on the wall; she should use this time to hammer her thoughts on parlay into a spear she might wedge sideways into Ser Aegison's prejudices.

What must I say, to make them listen?

The two little girls appeared behind their mother's skirts. As Selida handed them fresh scones, she heard Sir Aegison's footsteps thunder into the great hall. He called for Young Lord Lydris.

Now.

She still did not know what to say. It did not matter; if she waited until blood spilt, parlay would recede beyond reach. Selida forced herself to pause at the edge of the kitchen. Her limbs shook as if she swam with Aluna's coldfire eels. Ugh. She took a moment to smooth her hair, remove her apron, and pick up the basket of scones she'd set aside earlier. Then she took a deep breath and slid into the great hall.

"—makes it clear that The Fox wants nothing to do with the castle, so long as we turn over the treasure." Ser Aegison gesticulated with a scrap of paper that curled as if recently unwound from an arrow shaft. Kahldar stood behind him, face composed into a tree-trunk-neutrality. Selida's teeth set.

Lydris, flushed with excitement, sat in the Lord's chair, his mother beside him. "So he'll just turn around and go away if we give it to him?"

"I would not trust the word of a man who goes under the moniker of The Fox." Ser Aegison smoothed his mustache. "It is likely a trap. If we lean out a window, they'll be upon us like crows, harrying a pigeon."

Selida approached the high table. She used a pair of tongs to offer Lydris a scone she'd topped with rare shavings of orange peel. "I have a question my lord, if you would hear it." She glanced at Emmeline, who was stirring her son's porridge.

Emmeline considered, and then nodded. Her son, watching her, followed suit.

Selida ducked her head. "Thank you. Ser Kahldar has explained to me that the Dominion uses a common currency, so that all coins are interchangeable."

"Is there a question here?" Ser Aegison interrupted.

"Given the state of the harvest and the inexperience of your conscripts, would you consider parlay? You could offer The Fox and his followers a piece or three of treasure; whichever you judge to have the greatest historical value. In exchange, you would ask him to depart peacefully. I am sure he does not wish the people of the coast to starve either."

Ser Aegison gave her a look that could have flayed leather. "You would cheat the King of his due?"

Selida bent over the table to serve Lady Magnus her scones. "You could offer His Majesty coins from Wyvernsvow's treasury in lieu of what you offered the besiegers." She dared not glance at Ser Kahldar, but silently, she urged him to add his voice to the debate.

Ser Aegison did not give him an opportunity. "Your understanding of His Majesty's policies is lamentably narrow." He turned to Lady Magnus. "My Lady. Control your creature."

"Lady Cleric," Emmeline said, deadpan, "thank you for breakfast. You are dismissed."

Selida could not help herself; she glowered at Ser Kahldar. His expression remained tree-stump dead. She tightened her hands on the basket so she would not transform all the wooden spoons in the hall into adders. Then she turned to Lydris, curtseying to give herself a moment to smooth down the raw edge in her voice. "As your mother wishes, my lord. But I beg you: consider what might best keep your people safe."

Sir Aegison snapped a short bow. "Your Lady Mother may be your regent, my lord, but King Harald himself put the safety of your keep in my hands. I promise you I will see all its people through this siege."

Lydris turned intent eyes on Selida. "Ser Aegison said earlier that the arrows can only reach halfway up the wall. That means nobody in the keep should come to harm, even if we do not engage in parlay."

"They may yet find a better angle and outlook for their archers," Kahldar said. Finally. "And they are not likely to tire. Based on their campfires, their numbers swell daily."

"Cheap tricks, belike," Ser Aegison said.
Selida ignored him. "My lord, your conscripted men have little experience yet. If we allow the siege to progress to bloodshed, they will suffer the worst of the injuries, and flagging morale may tempt them to foolishness. A prompt end to this siege, on the other hand, guarantees strong hands for next spring's planting and fishing. Countless mothers, sisters and wives would bless your name."

Parlay, she willed silently. Parlay, parlay, parlay.

Emmeline held up a hand: "Ser Aegison, is it not true that the King's men will be on the road before the month ends?"

"Absolutely true, milady."

"And even if our stores run low, do you think the men on the road are a danger to our fishing boats?"

"Absolutely not, milady."

Lady Magnus sat back in her chair, and glanced pointedly at Selida.

Selida softened her lips. "Fall storms may yet hamper both their reinforcements and our fishermen."

"Your storms are nothing as compared to the Dawnlands' blizzards," Ser Aegison said.

"Then I believe we are done here," Emmeline said. She took up her spoon.

Flushing, Selida curtseyed to the table before turning back towards the kitchens. As she passed Ser Kahldar, she shoved the basket of scones into his hands.

She savored his one, surprised inhalation before the great hall disappeared from view. Citrus, she remembered, was one of his favorite scents.

Ser Aegison's voice rose over the heartbeats thundering against her eardrums. "Rest assured, my lord: They are treasure mad. We must not trust anything they say."

***

"Well, sounds like you did your best, Lady Cleric" Dame Pottage placed a basket beside Selida's workstation. "Put the choppings here when you're done?"

Selida lined the onions up under her cleaver, and blinked away the smarting. Her tongue trembled with all the things she now wished she had said differently.

"Ser Aegison's a frustrating one, he is." Then: "If you chop any harder, you're like to leave gouges in the wood."

Before Selida could promise to mend it later, she heard the rest of the kitchen fall into silence. When she looked up, young Lydris was standing in the doorway leading to the hall.

"Please continue," he said, his high voice cutting through the fragrant air. Then, followed by his mother, he bounced down to Selida's station at the long table.

Selida put down the knife, wiped onion tears on the stole at her shoulder, and bowed her head.

"My lord?"

His brown eyes searched her blotchy red face. "Are you still upset, Lady Cleric?"

Selida glanced at Lady Magnus.

Emmeline's expression was proud. See how wise my son has grown?

"Yes, my lord," Selida managed. As much as her heart wished this child free of the castle, the siege, and the coast, his wishes did, indeed hold weight. "I am worried that if we do nothing but wait for rescue, our people will feel terrible hunger."

"The Royal Taxmen will be here before that happens," he said. "But because you are upset, I will write a letter asking for more aid, and send it by pigeon today."

"Ser Aegison says a show of force might persuade the bandits to scatter," Emmeline murmured.

So he and his ilk can round up the survivors and string them up in all our town squares? Her people could never match the Dawnlanders' appetite for escalation.

She curtseyed. "Thank you for your consideration, my lord. If you do write, I beg you stress haste. If reinforcements arrive before fighting starts in earnest, the Fox may stand down. He seeks your treasure, not a bloodbath."

"I shall use your words directly."

She swallowed. "It does my heart proud to see you grow into your responsibilities."

He straightened. "I have something else for you. Perhaps this will cheer your thoughts." As she watched, his smile broadened to fit his child's face. "Give me your hands."

Selida wiped them on a towel. The boy reached into his velvet surcoat and dropped a single gold coin into her cupped palms. It was heavy and oblong; nearly the size of her thumb. A woman's profile graced on one side, with long pointed ears and curling hair. The metal edges undulated in the ancient elven style, delicate work once common in coin from across the sea. She imagined it melting, Aluna's likeness blurring into King Harald's.

Tidemother. Do not make me long to hurt them.

Lydris bounced on his toes. "We no longer allow anyone to see the treasure, but Ser Aegison let me keep this piece. There are many others like it below. You may study it, while you remain here."

Selida glanced at Emmeline, who nodded. She turned back to Lord Lydris and curtseyed. "You are too kind." Gently, she turned the coin over. She could still smell the salt of the tidepools on it. On this side, tiny ships chased waves and dolphins.

"Perhaps if you pray to Aluna, she can tell you stories about it?"

"I will let you know if she does."

Lydris's voice dropped into childish longing. "Can you show me the snakes now?"

Behind her son, Emmeline shook her head.

Selida paused. "Now that the siege has started, I'm afraid I may need Aluna's servants to heal your men should the fighting become dangerous."

"Oh." Lydris's golden head drooped. Then he perked up. "May I have another blandishment instead, then?"

Selida blinked. "Pardon?"

"That is what Ser Kahldar said you distribute." He sent a pointed glance at a tray of scones cooling over the stove. "Maybe one that is plain? I don't like dried fruit."

Selida swallowed a smile. "Certainly."

Lady Magnus looked amused. "Is that what we're calling them now?"

He would hate it.

"Evidently," Selida said.