Garret rushed into Deirdre’s chambers without waiting to be announced, pushing past her personal secretary and several maids in his haste to reach her. Once there he found her calmly sitting on a couch eating a pickle redolent of garlic and other spices and evidently quite calm. “You don’t seem to be in trouble.”

“Trouble?” His midnight haired love looked up at up him with an innocent expression that failed because her blue eyes were flashing with emotions. “Why did you think there was trouble here?”

“Your messenger seemed to have the idea that your need for me was urgent.” He answered with a sigh of relief at seeing nothing broken and no blood on the carpet. “So what is the problem?”

“Sit down, dear.” She patted the couch next to her. “I have some news you should hear.”

Vertigan looked at the body and asked. “Did this one suicide, too?”

“Yes, my lord.” His lieutenant answered with an unhappy shrug.

“This is what? Twelve now?” Jhalmar’s spy master questioned then waved the answer away and sniffed as the odor clinging to the body told him where this young man had been hiding himself in plain sight. “This one was in the stables?

There have to be more of them here.” Vertigan sighed. “I’ll have the guard on their Majesties, his Highness, and her Grace unobtrusively doubled and all of them on alert. We’ve found twelve who are obviously assassins once we have them so there are most likely more in the castle. We can’t take chances. It will cause problems but round up anyone looking the least bit suspicious or seems to be out of place here. Just do it quietly. And tell those gods be damned mages that we aren’t paying them so lucratively to drink the wine, eat the food, and ignore the incoming temporary help. If they aren’t up to the job we’ll find some who are.”

“As you say, my lord.” The young sergeant bowed while barely hiding his grin of anticipation. Would it be permissible to threaten with the Princess’s future sister-in-law?”

“Mention whoever you like.” Vertigan nodded with a lift of eyebrows that hinted at some humor in the man who anyone knowing the workings of Jhalmaran covert politics respected, feared, or both. “Use your imagination boy just make it plausible enough to make them more careful.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something, my lord.” The sergeant suppressed another grin before leaving his employer’s office.

“Now that one has more than a little promise.” The spy master finally allowed himself to grin.

“You’re…” Garret poured a hefty dollop of wine into a waiting cup and downed it in a gulp.

“Yes.” Deirdre nodded while giving him an uncharacteristic hesitant little smile.

“You’re absolute sure of this?” He set down the cup and favored her with an expectant expression.

“I’ve had three different healers look at me recently, Garret.” Was her answer as she shrugged. “Believe me, I’m as shocked as you appear to be, but things like this happen. Besides, I know I don’t have to lie to you to get your love or to marry me, so yes, love. I’m sure.”

Garret let out a whoop that rivaled his battle cry then swept his future bride up in tight hug and nearly spun around with her before giving her a concerned look and carefully setting her back to the floor.

“You of all people,” she grinned, “should know I won’t break that easily, dear.”

He grabbed her again spun them both around and let another joyful yell.

The whoops along with happy feminine squeals reached the office just to the side of Deirdre’s chambers.

Lenthalis glanced up from his work, nearly let a smile escape his usually serious expression and conversationally told his guest. “I gather her Grace has given the Prince the news.”

“I would think that’s true.” Baron Chance Mul nodded with a grin.

Lenthalis grinned as he poured generous amounts of rich golden wine into a pair of simple pewter mugs then passed one to Lord Mul. “So how do you feel about being a grandfather?”

“Not nearly so nervous as I was about being a father.” The former thief shrugged before sipping appreciatively at the wine. “I’m actually rather looking forward to having a grandchild to spoil.”

“And if the child has it’s mother’s temperament?” Lenthalis questioned with a chuckle.

“Ahh, that’s the beauty of grandchildren from all I hear.” Mul grinned almost evilly. “I’ll still spoil the child mercilessly then send it home for my daughter, her husband and whatever nurse/governess they manage to keep to handle.”

“I always knew you had a mean streak in you, old friend.” The secretary let out a short laugh.

“Indeed I do, my friend.” Mul’s expression went from light to a deadly serious look that had been the last thing many of his enemies had ever seen. “Which brings me to the real reason for this so far pleasant visit.”

“Yes, the sudden influx of strangers in and around the palace, many of whom are requesting audiences with your daughter.” Lenthalis let out a troubled sigh of his own. I understand, my lord.”

“Normally I wouldn’t worry about this.” The baron nodded. “People have been trying to kill my dear Deirdre since before I got reacquainted with her, mostly with results that could best be described as rather spectacular failures, I’m happy to say.

I trust you to keep your own eyes, ears, and senses open, even though her own bodyguard is exemplary, but still, a father worries.” Taking another, longer drink of his wine the baron favored his long time friend with a contemplative expression. “And you know which eyes and ears I am talking about. We both have more contacts with ‘unsavory’ elements who enable us to be aware of possible threats even Vertigan and his redoubtable operatives might be missing. I am using mine.”

“As I am.” Lenthalis answered soberly. “Never fear that.

“Besides.” He grinned. “This is the best honest work I’ve ever had, I would hate to see my employer killed before I can become completely honest.”

“You’re honesty was never in doubt you double dealing snake.” Mul laughed. “Just your methods at times.”

“Pot, Kettle.” The other shrugged.

“True, true, and I make not the slightest protest about it.” Mul laughed too, but turned deadly serious again as he finished. “Just keep your considerable skills and bountiful friendships in dark corners working to keep my daughter alive. That ‘s all I ask.”

“Even if I didn’t like her grace,” Lenthalis answered simply. “I would do that simply to make sure you didn’t come after me.”

“I’m glad we still understand each other so well.” Mul chuckled. “Now about those accounts…”

“Ohh, move back, won’t you?” Deirdre irritably waved a hovering maid away while she continued wiping Garret’s shirt with a damp cloth. “I’m sooo sorry, dear. I really didn’t mean to do that.”

“I’ll just consider this a carrying through of your shipboard threat and in future remember that you don’t do all that well with sudden pitching around.” Garret sighed then chuckled. “At least now, I’m sure that you’re eating.”

“I suppose that’s true enough.” She grimaced and shook her head. “No, this shirt is a complete loss.

Esmeralda.” She turned to address another of the maids in the room. “Please go fetch the Prince a clean shirt.”

“At once, your Grace.” The girl curtsied and hurried out of the room without another word.”

“I think she was relieved to get away for a few moments.” Garret observed with a grin.

“Not at all, Esmeralda is quite used to me by now.” Deirdre smirked. “No, she was only overjoyed at the chance to be the first to tell her friends that the Duchess of Lindsay just threw up all over the crown prince.”

“Steady, my love.” Garret whispered to Deirdre as the priest droned on about the sacred nature of marriage and its importance in the continuation of too many things, both obscure and blatantly obvious. “I see steam leaking out of those shell-like ears of yours and it wouldn’t do to brain or skewer the high priest simply because he took the ‘honor’ of instructing us in our duty to each other and everything else in creation.”

Wearing the patient expression that anyone with even a bit of experience with her knew meant a storm was about to burst upon them while seeming to respectfully listen to all the cleric said she returned the whisper when that worthy turned in search of another volume holding some undoubtedly obscure anecdote or homily to plague then with. “We already know what we’re doing, why we’re doing it, and our obligations to each other and the entire damned world. Sitting through this is just a bit much, dear.”

That last word was hissed out through gritted teeth and Garret sighed while tightening his grip on his beloved’s hand — just in case. “Patience, darling, he’s nearly finished. Then we can get to the real rehearsal.”

“Just how much trouble would I get into for braining both the high priest and crown prince all in one fell swoop?” She mused while flashing a sweet, innocent appearing smile.

“Let’s not find out, please.” He winked. “I know all too well that your ‘braining’ is highly effective not to mention more than a bit painful when one wakes up. Ahh, see, he’s putting his books away now.”

“About time.” She grumbled under her breath.

“And now, my children.” The elderly high priest, fortunately totally oblivious to just how perilously close he had been to mayhem gave the happy couple a benevolent smile. “Let us proceed to the chapel.”

“With pleasure, your Grace.” Deirdre gave him her most charming smile as Garret helped her stand. Mainly because he still retained a firm grip on her delicate hand.

“Our thanks for taking the time to speak with us, your Grace.” The crown prince gave his wife-to-be a subtle warning look then led her out of the chamber to follow the old man into another ordeal he had been dreading more than combat.

“Overall, that went quite well, I thought.” Mina grinned as the wedding party began filtering out of the chapel and towards the waiting feast to celebrate a successful dry run of the next day’s nuptials. “Even if Melinda thinks you deliberately tripped her, your Grace.”

“I did NOT deliberately trip one of my personal bodyguards.” Deirdre indignantly countered then gave the small group a looking over with eyes that sparkled with mischief. “But if she prods me with the hilt of her sword one more time, I could consider that as an option.”

‘I’ll pass along your apologies for the accident, my lady.” Mina shook her head and grinned.

“Please do that for me, Mina.” Deirdre grimaced and shrugged. “And just remind her that I have several really valid reasons for being a bit cranky and jumpy at the moment. I’ll personally apologize once things settle down some, I promise.”

“What’s this?” Chance Mul grinned at his wife, then at his daughter. “The already legendary Hellion of Jhalmar is actually going to apologize to someone? Where is my daughter and what have you done with her, imposter?”

“Father, you know full well I am capable of making amends when I’m in the wrong.” Deirdre sniffed with a regal lift of her chin then gave a little moue of despair. “I’m just not in the proper frame of mind for apologies at the moment.”

“Is her sister going to be like this for her wedding?” Mul idly questioned Leila.

“Let’s get through this one first, love.” Deirdre’s mother answered while patting her husband’s cheek gently. “We’ll worry about Ilene’s after this one, all right?”

Bridget spared one hate filled glance at her nemesis before hurriedly leaving the feasting chamber as the wedding party entered. Her disguise was excellent, but she wouldn’t put it past the little raven haired bitch’s luck to expose her if she remained to savor the coming end of her enemies before the fact.

Instead she would carefully make her rounds like the dutiful maid she was disguised as, disgusting as that was and make certain that all the assassins were ready. She hoped Vertigan’s people hadn’t managed to round up any more of those, the ones remaining were going to be spread thin as it was.

Even more troubling was that some of the men and women sent to finish off any hope for a dynastic stability in Jhalmar had simply vanished as if they’d never existed.

But by tomorrow night, that worry would be gone, along with that raven haired pretender, her overblown lover, and with luck, a large part of the truly effective nobility of Jhalmar.

Bridget, formerly of Velcum, now of nowhere, and known traitor, smiled in anticipation.

“These,” the young sergeant, who’s name Vertigan remembered was Roldi, gestured to the gruesome collection spilled on the floor, “were left early this morning with this note.”

Jhalmar’s spymaster ignored the severed heads, both male and female he had noted, and examined the note that had come with them. “Hidden how?”

“In a case addressed to ‘Jhalmar’s spies’ the young man flushed at forgetting to have told his leader that bit and passed the label, plain, coarse cloth like the missive was written on, to Vertigan. “Gave some of the new recruits quite a start, I can tell you.”

“I would imagine so.” The spymaster shook his head. “It appears that we are getting assistance from part of our citizenry who prefer to remain anonymous. These weapons also arrived with the package?”

Roldi gingerly picked up one of the small, but efficient appearing crossbows and laid it on his leader’s desk. “Yes, and careful with those points, they’re covered in a particularly virulent poison. We lost Credas because he was careless with one.”

“Well now we finally know that our suspicions were accurate, and even the method that we’re expected to believe will be used to kill her Grace, His Highness, and probably more people.”

“Expected to believe, my lord?”

“Oh, I trust this information well enough, I recognize the scrawl the note was done in.” Vertigan let out a sigh. “I just find it difficult to believe that such cumbersome methods will be all that is aimed at our charges tomorrow. Although these go well enough with the small darts we’ve recovered from others this past week.

Come along lad.” Vertigan moved towards the door leading from his office into the hallway instead of the one to his operations center. “We have some people to talk with and we need to start right now. Bring one each of those things along.”

Sergeant Roldi gathered one of the tiny crossbows, a carefully cleaned bolt, thought for a moment and decided walking through the palace corridors carrying a severed head might not be the best thing to do and left those where they were. “I’m right behind you, my lord.”

The pair stalked through the pre-wedding celebrations like two grim shadows.

Other shadows gathered, waiting for the coming day.