It was the 44th day of Fall's Beginning, the eve of Harla's Day, and Ilhovin was no closer to obtaining Macca's consent to marry him, or so it appeared. The prince would flatter, and the princess would deflect. He would flirt, and she would utter one of those infuriatingly dry quips that were either insulting or flirtatious, he just couldn't tell.

For her part, Macca was in no hurry. The last few months had been enjoyable. Ilhovin had started out assured of her consent and compliance and equally assured of his country's and his own right to have whatever they wanted, and bit by bit she had brought him around to the reality of things, at least as far as she was concerned. Watching a self-assured and naively arrogant young man become more and more flustered around her was the most entertaining courtship she could imagine, but she was nearly ready to have mercy on him.

For Ilhovin, it was nearly too late--at least as far as the Earl of Belleth was concerned.

"You can't seriously want to continue this pursuit," said Henrik as he rode with Ilhovin over the rolling country near Cordeneen, Creithig's main stronghold. "She hasn't given you the slightest inkling that you're succeeding."

"We can't go home until the treaty is signed," said Ilhovin.

"We can't sign the treaty until you give up Macca," retorted Henrik. "It's clear we'll never get everything we want as long as you're dangling after her. She is falsely reluctant by her father's orders. Mark my words, Hov, as soon as we give in to their demand that we relinquish the Nijan silk trade entirely, she'll suddenly become quite friendly."

"Mm." Ilhovin shook his head. "I believe we've established a good exchange already. We give Sairland exclusive access to the silk markets, which they nearly control already, and we take trade in this new tea plant as our exclusive. I don't know about you, but I've grown extremely fond of that drink since we've been here."

Henrik waved his hand impatiently. "You'd exchange the silk trade for leaves?"

"May I remind you, once again confidentially," said Ilhovin quietly, "that our agents have smuggled silk worms and their food trees from out of Nija, and that we are even now secretly establishing their culture in the southwest? The silk trade will be worthless in a matter of--"

"Leaves for silk! She's driven you mad, and I don't wonder that it was Creithig's intention from the beginning!" said Henrik, and he spurred his horse into a full gallop. Ilhovin sighed and charged after him. They rode hard the rest of the morning, jumping stone walls and wooden fences alike, their lithe Sairish horses taking the jumps without a single misstep.

Ilhovin signalled Henrik to pull up, and they slowed to a trot, then a walk. "One more thing, Henrik. With this treaty, we have cemented our rights to Belleth, your own earldom."

"And given up our claim to the Far Isles!"

"Which we've never been able to control and haven't occupied in 200 years. Henrik, you're my best friend. Support me in this."

"I've already given you my counsel, your highness, and you've seen fit to ignore it," said Henrik stiffly. He rode off in the direction of the stables.

Ilhovin let him go. He watched until Henrik disappeared around a bend in the road before pulling a parchment from his doublet and unrolling it. Drawn on it in fine, precise lines was an odd face, young, beardless and unlined, but with old eyes. "Teacher, hear me!" he called in a loud voice.

"You don't have to shout," said the drawing immediately. "I'm always listening for you, your highness."

"My apologies, Teacher. I hope I haven't woken you? It must still be quite early in the morning there."

"Or late at night, depending on which direction one approaches it, but I am always awake at this hour. What news, your highness?"

"The treaty is nearly concluded," said Ilhovin. "We gain clear title to Belleth and the tea trade in exchange for the Far Isles and the silk trade."

The drawing nodded its head in approval. "Well done, your highness. And the marriage?"

"I have had less success concluding that," he sighed. "I'm at a loss, Teacher. I've even gone through the stories you've told me for advice without finding any. Creithig has left it entirely up to the princess, and she's absolutely frustrating."

"Do you wish to continue your pursuit?"

"Yes! I wish I didn't. We could just come home, then." Ilhovin lapsed into thought, then continued. "But I find myself rather hopelessly ensnared, Teacher. Henrik--Belleth suggests I be more forceful with her, even physically, but that doesn't strike me as a good idea."

"In fact it would be the quickest way to lose her interest entirely," said the drawing.

"I'm not sure I have her interest to lose, is the problem."

"Has she actually turned you down?"

"No, not actually," said Ilhovin slowly.

"What has she said to your proposals?"

"Proposals? Well, any time I ask her to go walking or riding, she readily agrees. I've gone hunting with her a few times--damndably odd things, falcon hunts--but I've stopped proposing chess games because she beats me so thoroughly."

"I meant marriage proposals."

"I've asked her father half a dozen times, at least, and he keeps saying it's up to Macca."

"For a bright young man you are exceptionally dim," said the drawing, almost patiently. "No, I meant your proposals, when you've asked Princess Macca herself to marry you."

"Oh!" said Ilhovin blankly. "Directly? That seems rather blunt, under the circumstances. I can't tell if she's encouraging me or making fun of me, and the last thing I want is to ask her and be turned down!"

"The lady's wit is legendary, as is her reluctance to keep company with fools. If she still tolerates your company after all these months, you have caught her interest, though if you haven't asked her to marry you at least once by now she must be reassessing the 'fool' part."

"So I should just ask her."

"The sooner the better," said the drawing, nodding its head.

"Harla's Day is considered rather unlucky for these things, though. I'll wait a day or two, then I shall follow your advice, Teacher."

"You may have to ask her more than once, you understand."

"Yes, yes, I understand now," said Ilhovin. "Thank you." He rolled up the parchment mid-sentence and thrust it into his doublet again, dug his heels into his horse's side, and galloped back toward Cordeneen.

He could not arrive too quickly, for while he spoke with the Teacher, Henrik of Belleth was busy with his own plans.