The eastern delegation arrived at noon.
Fifty riders in matching armour, their banners snapping in the spring wind—the silver wolf of the royal house, the crimson rose of the eastern provinces. At their head rode Elowen, Princess of the eastern provinces, Governor of the east, sister to three kings. She had changed since leaving the palace—leaner, harder, her face tanned from the road, her eyes sharper. She wore riding leathers instead of court gowns, and a sword hung at her hip.
Seren waited in the courtyard. Beside her stood Lysa, pregnant and exhausted, and Rowan, his hand on his sword. The triplets were inside, greeting other guests. A flock of servants hovered near the gates, ready to escort the delegation to their quarters.
Elowen dismounted. Her boots hit the cobblestones with a solid thunk. She pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her belt.
"Sister-wife." She nodded, formal but not cold. "You look well. The palace agrees with you."
