She would have loved to spend more time talking to Aly about her adjustment to being Queen. She had never been Queen, of course, but it wasn’t something she was unfamiliar with. Not that she’d spent loads of time with her mother, but she’d spent enough to know something. Had heard plenty from Corbin of what their parents taught him about becoming King. She might not be able to help Aly much, but she would be an understand ear, certainly. Instead, she gives her friend only a sympathetic nod, and adding briefly, “If you ever want to talk…” and leaving it at that, the implication in her meaning clear enough. Lyanna was here should her friend ever need someone to simply rant at.

Tembovu joins them at the opportune time, and it all goes to hell quickly. Apparently Alysanne does not know what Toulouse has been up to, and Lyanna’s first choice of words were poor at best. Careless. She’d been afraid to insult them as if they didn’t know, thinking first of the challenge and then of the meeting. Iona knew, certainly, and she thought Tembovu, though maybe she’d been entirely wrong. Maybe Iona had meant someone else entirely, which would be a whole new level of trouble. Though she didn’t think it was someone other than Toulouse.

She doesn’t reply to this one, figuring it best for this particular question, she keep her mouth shut. To be fair, she would simply leave if she could, because suddenly she feels far too much like she’s back in Morham, standing in a room as her parents argued over what to do about a bit of information Lyanna had just told them. It was such an uncomfortable position, standing there not really belonging in the conversation, and yet not dismissed either. She feels like a child again, standing there waiting for Mom and Dad to let her go play in the woods again.

But Alysanne’s eye flicker to her, which is new. Her parents never looked at her when they bickered, but simply ignored her until they were done and she was dismissed by the sheer fact they forgot all about her. “He did not hide the fact he knew Glasgow and myself, so if they did not know he was from the Edge before, they likely could have figured it out. I gather he pretended to be drowning and innocent, but I’m not sure Maren is stupid enough to fall for it. Not completely, anyway.”

She pauses, thinking about what they knew, and what might have happened that day in the Throat. “If I may?” she asks, though her mind is already wheeling and the words tumble out now. “Let’s assume they know he’s from the Edge. Whether they suspect he was lying about drowning or not, a member of the Edge clearly broached their border. You don’t start drowning in the sea on the way to the Throat if you are not trying to get to the Throat. Which means what they know is a member of the Edge was trying to get into the Throat, even if they don’t know why. That is the situation to deal with, and I would argue caution in ignoring it. There is no good way to handle the situation, but if you are at least mostly honest and let them know he’s being dealt with accordingly, they are less likely to blame the Edge as a whole. If they do find out, and it seems unlikely Toulouse will be able to keep his secret forever, and find out you covered it, then they have every right to break whatever alliance stands now.”

And then she falls silent, realizing perhaps her opinion was unwanted too late. Old habits die hard. Though her parents rarely asked her opinion, her brother often did, and she’d grown used to thinking through issues. Though she’d never had enough time with him to feel confident in her diplomatic abilities, it is at least not entirely foreign.