The joyful tumult followed Amara all the way across the square to the palace gates, where her family awaited. Xanthus beamed approval and pride. "You have them eating from your hand already!" Laughing, he drew her into the palace's sheltering coolness away from the growing morning heat.

Within the columned receiving hall, he turned to her, face growing serious. "The people's hearts matter more than court platitudes now. Hold their faith and all else follows." He broke off as Velkan entered from an interior passage.

"Emissaries from the merchant enclave request audience, father." Velkan's tone was neutral, but strain showed around his eyes.

Xanthus grunted. "Ah, the jackals circle already, thinking us still adrift." He turned to Amara. "Come, you should learn their measure." Apprehension stirred anew in her breast but she kept her composure.

"Of course. Please show them in." She would meet the coming test steadily, even if doubts gnawed within. Much depended on gaining the trust of all Cerulean's fractious factions. But she had not expected a trial by fire so soon. Gripping her pendant discreetly beneath her robes for comfort, she moved to stand before the wolfish supplicants.

The ornate heraldic banners and oiled beards of the five merchants who entered and bowed obsequiously only partially distracted from their calculating gazes.

Amara inclined her head graciously as custom required. "Greetings, gentlemen. I am at your service on this fine day." Her formal words reverberated in the cavernous chamber.

The eldest of the envoys stepped forward, hands clasped over his prosperous paunch. "Greetings, your Highness. We are gladdened by your return to the kingdom's court." His unctuous tone reminded Amara abruptly of Bane in his guileful moments. She pushed that unfortunate thought firmly aside.

The oily man went on. "In your absence, loyal merchants have helped maintain Cerulean's dignity, order, and trade. Always in your family's best interests." The hinted request for gratitude—and repayment—showed plainly beneath his honeyed words. Amara schooled her voice to match his smooth cadences. This contest would require delicacy.

"Gentlemen, your stalwart efforts in trying times humble me." She nodded graciously. "But now we must rebuild together. All Cerulean's people must stand as one against the coming storms."

The envoy's smile grew taut around the edges. "Just so, your Highness. And yet, each part of the body serves the whole best by keeping to their ordained purpose and place, as scripture teaches." His glare warned against upsetting comfortable hierarchy.

Amara kept her tone mild, peach-like. "Perhaps, good sir. But even scripture says the feet must sometimes lead where tradition has not tread." She cocked one brow silently as if inviting their next gambit. Xanthus hid an approving smile.

The head merchant flushed, for the first time looking less than perfectly assured. He exchanged glances with his confederates. Amara waited placidly, hands demurely folded atop her ornate sleeve hems. She had spent enough time bargaining in crowded bazaars to sense the tenor of this exchange. When the envoys looked back at her, their manner had grown more respectful. Amara smiled. Balance might yet be achievable.

At her gentle but pointed encouragement, the talk turned slowly toward cooperation and rebuilding. By the time farewells were exchanged sometime later, a foundation of understanding had been laid, if not yet fully cemented. Amara knew the worth of patience. But the first delicate threads of a new unity had been woven. She prayed silently they would strengthen into bonds to serve the kingdom.

That hope buoyed her tired spirit as the day wore on through other audiences and familiarization with the decaying grandeur of the palace. She longed for salt breezes to clear the stale air from her head. But she remained attentive, learning names and observing undercurrents among the seemingly interminable flow of courtiers. Many even Velkan did not recognize. It would take long to unravel all the knots in Cerulean's fraying social fabric.

It was fully dark before Amara was able to slip away unobserved to the sheltered garden terraces overlooking the harbour. The sea's rhythm soothed her frayed senses. She reclined on cool grass beneath the Stars' chartless course. Their pure light reminded her of inner radiance that ambition and intrigue could not obscure or claim. No matter the morrow's trials, she carried that truth inside always.

Soft steps approached, but she did not turn, recognizing her visitor. Rhys's rough voice, more hesitant than she was used to, hailed her softly. "The court has not worn you through yet, I see."

She smiled, patting the sward beside her. He lowered himself awkwardly. "Court politics look simple beside pirates' quarrels." Her wry tone drew a chuckle from him. They sat in easy silence as breeze stirred the trees and distant waves. This man's presence held no demands or need for playacting. He offered only steady companionship for her weary spirit. It was enough.

"I would stay." His rough words echoed her thoughts. She turned her head, studying his silvered profile. He stared fixedly out at the variegated sea. "This city could use a few new dogs yet, I'd wager." His scarred mouth quirked.

Amara impulsively clasped his broad calloused hand. "If that is your wish, none here has the right to deny you." She swallowed, sobering again. "But I would not have you cage your spirit on my behalf."

He just grunted ambiguously in reply. Amara sighed inwardly but did not press him. She knew too well the tension between yearning for anchors and wide horizons. For now, his presence was boon enough. Let time carve their uncertain fates.

They sat communing wordlessly until coughs from the terrace guard warned of talk amongst the servants. Amara rose regretfully, brushing grass from her skirts. There were proprieties even a prodigal princess could not ignore. But Rhys's steadying companionship would remain through all that followed. Of that she had no doubt.

She bent impulsively to brush his nose with a kiss before withdrawing back into the pool of lamplight spilling from the high palace windows. He did not speak, but she glimpsed his crooked grin and took its meaning to heart. A quiet promise hidden from prying eyes. However lonely duty might become, she was not alone while he yet stood guard under foreign stars. That knowledge alone must guide her through the coming trials.