Brenna threw her brush across the room when Hannara cautiously confirmed the now assumed fact that no letter from the asylum had arrived in the mail that morning.

"Maybe it's just delayed with all the riots," Hannara suggested.

"It's been nearly a month. There's no way that a letter is taking this long to come back, even if it was delayed," Brenna said. "Either it never made it there in the first place, or they're suddenly more concerned with the royal line instead of money."

Hannara frowned with her dainty mouth, finishing off one letter in her embroidery sampler. She'd been consumed by the project for the past half hour, and Brenna was beginning to be annoyed with the split attention. Marching over, Brenna snatched the hoop away and examined the crosstitching. A prayer of safety, done with the reverence and attention of one who thought that by somehow writing down the words as well as saying them might send the message up to heaven faster.

"Oh, Hannara, really. They haven't been able to breach the palace walls yet," Brenna said. She tossed the hoop back, but turned away before the other girl could see the doubt that crossed her face. While it was true that the walls were holding so far, each day that passed brought them closer and closer to falling. Those in the capital city who supported Afton's heir were many, and they were armed with weapons gotten on the black market. They had blasting powder and guns, and they used them well. Houses of those who supported Robbin were burned and razed, and only a few refugees made it to safety within the walls before the rioters caught up to them. The guards barely patrolled anymore, instead hiding in the depths of the palace and grumbling about the state that conditions were getting to in the besieged building.

"I know," Hannara said, carefully placing her handiwork to one side. "I just thought I might add whatever little bit of help I could."

"I need a letter from that stupid asylum," Brenna muttered, walking to the curtains and peeking out at the approaching night. She was meant to be at balls and parties at this time of day, not cooped in her sitting room. "Then I could show the troublemakers that Morna is on her way home and they could stop this ridiculous sieging."

"It will come," Hannara said. "It has to have gotten delayed."

Brenna didn't roll her eyes, but she wanted to. She walked to her bed, looking down at the side that hadn't been used in days. She pursed her lips and turned to face the guards that stood by her door at all times. "Have you seen the king?" she asked.

They looked surprised to be addressed, and their nervous glances between themselves let her know that they definitely knew something. However, they chose to go the safer route of protecting whatever it was that Robbin was doing. "No, Your Highness, we haven't seen him."

"Hannara. Certainly you know where he is. The rumor mill never halts, even during a war." She smiled bitterly, but Hannara merely looked scandalized at the easy use of 'war'.

"We certainly don't gossip about the king," she stuttered.

Brenna gave her a look and placed her hands on her hips. "Honestly, if you expect me to believe that then you must think me an imbecile."

"No! No, of course not."

"Well?"

Hannara fidgeted and averted her eyes. "I might have heard that Margo saw him heading for the barracks."

Brenna drew in a slow breath. The barracks were located behind the palace, and were long, low buildings that the soldiers and guards lived in. They were basically the palace's own, personal pub, and no one but drunkards and those up to no good went there. And seeing as how Robbin had been about as soaked as a man could be for the past few days, she had a good idea which category he would wind up under.

"Get your cloak. I'm going down there," Brenna said, marching to her vanity and using it to make sure her hair was something a queen could be proud of. She tucked up one loose tendril before Hannara hovered in the background, her face white.

"Oh, but ladies aren't allowed!"

Brenna glared. "I'm the queen. I think I can walk into any building that lays on the lands that I'm ordained to rule over, thank you."

Hannara didn't argue back, but she twisted her hands so hard that her knuckles popped. Her eyes darted everywhere, as if searching for an escape, and Brenna knew she would be useless unless she compromised at least a little.

"We'll bring some guards to keep us safe from the other guards. Happy?"

Hannara nodded mutely.

They couldn't take the two at posted by Brenna's door, as they had strict orders to stay there unless Robbin said otherwise, so Brenna had to order up a pair via the head housekeeper. Unfortunately, since all the guards currently on duty had other jobs to see to, the pair that were assigned to Brenna and Hannara had been asleep in their beds ten minutes previous. They were none too pleased when they entered Brenna's sitting room.

"We're heading down to the barracks," Brenna informed them, and then flounced out the door with a flick of her hair. It was, perhaps, goading them on when they were already in a bad mood, but she was more concerned with letting them know who was in charge. Not all the soldiers were completely loyal to the crown, and only the tentative Soldier's Vow kept them from abandoning their king and joining those setting fires and blowing things up. Brenna wasn't sure she trusted an oath, when it came down to it, so she always made sure the guards that were assigned to her knew that she was not in the least afraid of them.