Royce was one of the first to reach the spot where the battle was due to happen; he made sure of that. He rode forward from the mass of the army with Gwylim loping at his side and Ember flying overhead. He wasn’t going to send anyone to fight in a place that he hadn’t been before. Yes, he’d seen it all in the Mirror of Wisdom, but with so many lives on the line, he wanted to be sure.
The space south of the village formed a vast open field. By the fading light of the day, he could still see all of it. There was a road leading north and east, toward the coast, and Royce found himself thinking of the message his brothers had received from Genevieve. If the battle were going to happen, he would have to send people to defend against the threat coming from there. Perhaps he would have to anyway, because he suspected that even his friends wouldn’t trust him that much.
“It’s flat,” Mark said, riding up next to him and looking out over it. For the moment, Royce had given him the mirror to look after. It took away the temptation to look again.
Royce nodded. The field was large and only undulated a little with plowing. Through Ember’s eyes, he could see the spread of it, taking in the small high and low spots, the ways the landscape could be used to an army’s advantage. There was a small stream to one side that would slow those trying to cross it, but not stop them, and a couple of patches of woodland to either side.
“That means plenty of space for knights to charge,” Mark said. “We’ll need stakes.”
Neave and Matilde walked up next to them, also looking out at it.
“It looks so peaceful,” Neave said.
“By this time tomorrow, it won’t,” Matilde replied. “There will be so much blood.”
“There won’t,” Royce said. “King Carris will give up his throne.”
“You really think that’s going to happen?” Mark asked.
Royce nodded. “I know it will.”
They didn’t look entirely convinced, but they had at least been there when Royce had demanded that they change course on the boat and had found his father. They knew that his strange demands might have good outcomes, but there were so many others here who hadn’t been with him, who couldn’t see what he had seen.
Behind him, his army was starting to make camp, tripling, quadrupling the size of the village behind it easily. Tents sprang up like mushrooms, while fires became firefly hordes, so many that it was hard for a moment to believe that they had managed to gather so many people there. There were Picti and common folk, knights from Earl Undine’s lands, and even a few minor nobles who had come on the strength of his summons.
Royce could see the ways they might need to be used to make the most of the ground beyond in a battle. If he thought that King Carris wouldn’t step down, it would mean digging pits and running lines to slow down the enemy’s cavalry, setting stakes and preparing ambushes. Perhaps he would have to do it; he could already feel some of the knowledge from the mirror slipping from him.
“Excuse me, my lord,” a man said, approaching. “King Philip asks that you join him in his tent.”
Another king would have commanded it. Royce thought it was a good sign for the rule that would follow. He would be different from King Carris in so many ways. Royce had to believe that things would change under him, and already he could think of all the ways that he would change things if he were in his father’s position. He was sure his father would find a way to bring peace with the Picti, and do away with the cruelty that had gone before. He would stop nobles from simply taking what they wanted.
Royce could see the spot where his father’s tent was going up: someone had found a pure white marquee, and had bedecked it with the stag banner to proclaim its occupant. Royce hurried through the camp, Gwylim following close behind, while Ember landed on his shoulder for the ride. It seemed that Royce wasn’t the only one wanting to hear what his father had to say.
There weren’t guards exactly outside the tent, but there was a small group of mostly older men, wearing the symbol of the stag. They looked like men who were old enough to have fought for his father before, or at least to remember the last time he had still been king. They stepped aside respectfully to let Royce inside.
His father looked so different than when he had been on the island. His hair was shorter now, and he was clean shaven. Royce could see the wrinkles and the weathered skin that spoke about his life as an exile. He was dressed in plate and chain armor now, with a white surcoat emblazoned with the stag symbol. In one corner of the marquee, a two-handed sword sat in its sheath. In fact, he looked just the way Royce expected a king would look.
He stepped forward past Gwylim and hugged Royce, his embrace just as firm as it had been on the island.
“I’m glad that I can be here in this moment,” his father said. “I’m so proud of you.”
“This couldn’t have happened without you,” Royce said. “Everyone is here because the rightful king has returned.”
“They are,” his father said. “But this isn’t about me.”
Royce stepped back, looking at him. “You really do look every inch the king.”
“I don’t feel like one,” his father said. That struck Royce as strange, when his father had been a king before, and soon would be again. He was the beating heart of what they were trying to do. Something like this needed a leader like his father—someone who was going to bring people together and change things for the better.
“Gwylim,” his father said. “You have been a good friend to my son. I thank you.”
It still seemed strange to Royce that his father would talk to the wolf-thing like that: like another human.
“And you,” he said, looking toward Ember. Royce knew he wasn’t talking to the bird. “I’m still not quite sure what part you have played in this, but still, you have my thanks. Can I ask you both to step outside? I need to speak with my son.”
To Royce’s surprise, both Gwylim and Ember left, leaving him alone with his father.
“You seem to know how to make the people of the magic do what you want,” Royce said.
“I just remember that they’re people,” his father said. “While you… you can make the magic itself respond, even more than I ever could.”
“You were able to use the mirror,” Royce pointed out.
His father nodded but didn’t say anything. They both knew they couldn’t discuss the details of what they’d each seen.
“You’ll need some armor of your own,” his father said at last. He gestured to a stand, where a suit of chain hung with fragments of scale covering the most vulnerable areas. It seemed lighter and more flexible than his father’s armor, obviously pieced together from several separate sources.
“It’s not quite the armor I left in the tower,” his father said, “but it should suffice.”
“It’s perfect,” Royce said. He tried it on, fitting it to himself piece by piece. His father helped him, fastening the straps and ensuring that it sat right. It didn’t feel like the second skin his first set of armor had, but it still fit well, and Royce could move smoothly in it.
“I should have been here for more than this,” his father said. “I wish that I could have been here for your whole life, and brought you up as my son.”
“That would have been a very different path,” Royce said.
“It would have,” his father said, “and I don’t know if it would have led where we all need it to. I felt as though I had no choice but to leave.”
“I know,” Royce said. “I understand. Everything will be as it should be, I’m sure of it.”
His father looked less convinced than Royce felt, even though he had looked into the mirror as well. That was the problem with it: everyone saw something different in the mirror, getting from it what they brought to it.
It looked as though his father wanted to say more, but in that moment, one of the men from outside stepped in.
“Earl Undine, your majesty.”
Earl Undine stepped in without waiting for more, and Royce was glad to see him again after so long. Earl Undine clasped his hand, then went to his father and bowed, before pulling him into a hug.
“It has been too long since we last saw you, old friend,” Earl Undine said.
“And you,” Royce’s father said. “I’m glad you are on our side.”
“What other side would I choose?” Earl Undine countered. “In fact, there is one thing that we should do…”
He fell down to his knees, holding out his sword to Royce’s father, to his king.
“There is no need for this,” Royce’s father said. “You have pledged to me once.”
“And I mean to do it again,” Earl Undine said. “Now, will you ask the question, or do I just say the words without?”
Royce heard his father sigh. “Very well. Earl Undine, do you pledge to be the bannerman of the king? To be loyal to the crown, and to defend the people of the lands you hold from it? Will you serve them as much as me?”
“I will,” Earl Undine said. “I will serve you and your heirs for as long as there is breath left in my body.”
He passed his sword to Royce’s father, who took it and passed it back.
“I give you back your sword with which to serve me, and your lands with which to serve the kingdom.”
Earl Undine stood, and they clasped hands again. Royce waited until they were finished, but even so, he could feel himself growing restless, because as important as this was, there was something—someone—more important to him.
“Is Olivia here with you?” Royce asked. “Or did she stay back at your keep?”
Earl Undine’s expression darkened. “That was what I was hoping for your help with. A grave thing has happened: my daughter is missing.”
“Missing?” Royce said, feeling his heart tightening in his chest.
“She went missing a few days ago, just rode out of the castle and left with a small group of men. I sent riders to try to find her, but she obviously managed to keep ahead of them. I don’t know what she was thinking.”
“Were the men taking her against her will?” Royce asked.
Earl Undine shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think… she was asking people about Genevieve before she left.”
That was bad, and Royce felt an immediate burst of fear at the thought of it. He knew where Genevieve had gone, because her message to him through Jani made it clear. If Olivia had followed Genevieve all the way to Altfor…
He was already terrified for Garet, but now Olivia joined those fears. Royce wanted to tell himself that she would be all right, that she was safe somewhere, having followed a wild goose chase. Somehow, though, he knew: Altfor and King Carris had her.