All seemed to be in order. New snow blanketed the Starsingers Grove, and a jeweled night sky bore witness to the midwinter tribunal. Elves clad in nightfall blue stood about in small groups, talking softly as they awaited the queen's call to order. Tonight they would learn who had triggered the Thorn's alarm and pass judgment on the traitor they'd sought for many years. A slim hand rested on his sword arm. He looked down into the serene white face of the Forest Queen. "You are as restless as caged cats," she said. "Are you uneasy without a sword at hand, or are you contemplating your reunion with my sister?" "The two feelings are not unrelated," he said in a dry tone. Asteria, Lady of Mistheim and queen of the forest folk, responded with an inelegant snort. Her amusement soon faded, and with it, her resemblance to the warrior who was her twin-born sister. Most elves would say Asteria and Ziharah were as alike as two raindrops. Nimbolk, who from his boyhood had worshipped the future queen and wrestled in the leaves and mud with her sister, saw no resemblance beyond a similar shape of face and feature.
