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Edwin wasn’t entirely sorry to leave Pinburg. For some odd reason, Uncle Lawrence had made him go riding with little Roberta Barras all the time. Not that there was anything wrong with Roberta, but she was almost three years younger, and she only ever wanted to talk about her Wislicshire Corgis, Kuhlbert and Cliona. Edwin felt like he was babysitting, and it worried him that the adults were having meetings and making serious decisions without him. As the king, he had the right and duty to find out what was going on in his name. And also, there was only so much he had ever wanted to know about corgis.
The Duke of Pinshire loaned them a barge—a delicate vessel painted green and silver, with fanciful Immani gods and goddesses carved fore and aft. They made their way down the River Kelwinn, which wasn’t completely frozen over. Every morning, a local pilot came aboard and guided them through the black water between blinding snowy banks.
After only a few days, they arrived at Keneburg, where they tied up at Duchess Flora’s private dock, under the shadow of the huge white walls of the city. Fifty knights in green surcoats lined the pier and the steps up to Dunharvin Castle, the home of the Dukes and Duchesses of Keneburg. Green pennants fluttered from the highest towers, but he saw blue and silver flags, too. Those were the Sigor arms—his arms. And this was the first time since crossing the border that Edwin had seen them displayed openly.
Elwyn noticed this, too, and as they walked up the stairs, she leaned over and whispered, “Looks like Flora is willing to acknowledge us publicly.”
“See?” said Edwin. “And you thought we couldn’t trust her.”
“I still don’t,” said Elwyn. “But at least she’s starting off on the right foot.”
Duchess Flora was waiting for them in the tapestry room, just off the Court of Honor. Her fading red hair was tied up under a silver net set with diamonds. She had on a long green dress with a white fur collar and a silver belt, too.
“She’s lost weight,” Elwyn whispered.
“Oh, yes, I suppose she has,” Edwin replied.
“She looks terrible.”
Edwin wasn’t so sure about that, but the duchess did look older than he remembered. She had deep lines in her forehead now, and around her mouth, too. The bones of her cheeks and her chin stuck out more than they had.
“Oh, my dear Edwin!” said the duchess, rushing over to embrace him. “It’s been so long, and you’re so tall now. I barely recognize you.” She kissed his cheek. “And Elwyn!” The duchess held out an arm, glittering with jewels, and dragged Edwin’s sister into the hug. “Oh, it’s so very good to see you both.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” said Elwyn, in a flat, unconvincing tone.
“Now, of course I know who you want to see!” said the duchess, stepping aside and gesturing toward the crowd of knights and nobles hovering at the edges of the room by the tapestries.
Duke Hugh was there, smiling placidly around. He was the only man in Myrcia who was a duke by courtesy from his wife. Old Kenedalic law worked a bit differently from the laws in the rest of the kingdom. By his side stood Pedr Byrne, their eldest, looking a bit bored.
But Flora wasn’t pointing to her husband or her heir. The duke shuffled aside, and their second son, Andras Byrne, came forward. He was tall and thin, with dark red hair and a huge smile that made you feel important.
“Your majesty,” he said, bowing to Edwin. Then he held out his hand. “Good to see you again.”
Edwin shook it, not caring that this was a breach of protocol. “Nice to see you, too, Andras! I hope we’ll get a chance to spar again, soon.” They had fought a few mock duels the previous year, when Andras had visited Briddobad, and Edwin had enjoyed the challenge.
Then Andras turned to Elwyn, and they grimaced at each other before they hugged and Elwyn gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s been far too long,” she said.
“I’ve been counting the days,” Andras said. He was better at sounding like he meant it than she was.
Everyone applauded, and then Duchess Flora took Edwin’s arm and led him through the Court of Honor to the Great Hall, where a welcome feast was being laid out. “You’re far too thin,” she said. Then she regarded Elwyn. “Both of you are. I’ve got to fatten you up.”
“For slaughter?” muttered Elwyn, but if the duchess heard it, she gave no sign.
They had roast boar and venison, with some sort of potato and curry pie that was so good Edwin had the servants bring him a second piece instead of dessert. Through the meal, Elwyn and Andras sat together barely talking, while the earl monopolized Duchess Flora.
Edwin was left to make conversation with Pedr Byrne, which wasn’t much of a chore. Pedr was a great talker, and he told all sorts of stories of the battles he had fought out west. This was back when he had served under the command of Broderick Gramiren, the usurper, but Pedr didn’t seem to realize the stories might be offensive, and Edwin was too entranced by the tales of war and chivalry to take any offense.
After the meal, for some reason, Pedr took Edwin up to a small blue parlor in the family apartments, and then left him there, talking to the two youngest Byrne girls, Sophie and Lauren. Both were older than Edwin, and they didn’t seem terribly interested in hearing stories about Briddobad. But luckily Sophie had cards, and they spent a few hours playing Karnoffel together.
It rained for a while, but then the sun came out, and it got warm enough in the parlor, with the fire in the hearth, that Edwin got up to open the window. When he did, he saw down into the Noon Court, where Andras and Elwyn were walking through the duchess’s formal gardens. Other people were there, too—courtiers and knights and groups of ladies giggling and gossiping. Edwin noticed that whenever Andras and Elwyn passed other people in their walk, they drew closer together. Sometimes Andras would put a hand on Elwyn’s back, or she would loop her arm through his. Once they were past the other people, and thought no one was watching, they would step apart again.
Even at this distance, Edwin could feel Elwyn’s discomfort. He saw how her shoulders were hunched, and how her head was thrown back. He could see how her hands were clenched into fists. This wasn’t easy for her, and he felt very guilty that it was all on his account.
Several days of awkward, forced conversations went by. And then a pair of surprise guests arrived at Dunharvin Castle. The first was Lord Rodger Cuthing, the son and heir of the Duke of Keelshire, there to pledge his father’s support. But the second guest drew the most attention: a tall man with long auburn hair secured with a simple string, and sharp blue eyes half-hidden under thick brows. It was Lord Caedmon Aldred, the famous hillichmagnar.
Caedmon had been the court sorcerer to generations of rulers. He had fought at the side of the first king, Edmund Dryhten. He had defeated the dark hillichmagnar Kuhlbert the Magnificent, and he had helped to build Wealdan Castle, the seat of Myrcia’s kings. He had also helped Edwin and Elwyn escape from Leornian. And before that, he had helped them flee the capital when the usurper first took over. As long as Edwin lived, he didn’t think he would ever forget the great man kneeling to him and calling him, “Your majesty.” That had been the first time Edwin had really thought of himself as a king.
When Elwyn saw that Caedmon had arrived, she gave one of the few warm and genuine smiles Edwin had seen from her since leaving Briddobad.
“If you’re here,” she said, “then I know we’ve got a chance.”
“I shall do my best, your royal highness,” Caedmon said, smiling back.
Duchess Flora was thrilled, too. “Oh, Caedmon! You got my message. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t agreed to join us. We’re finally going to make that damned usurper pay, aren’t we?”
The great sorcerer’s smile faded as he turned toward Flora. “It is my duty to serve the rightful king, your grace.” Then he gave her a quick bow and hurried away to speak to Uncle Lawrence and Duke Hugh.
Later, after yet another welcoming feast, Edwin went into Elwyn’s bedroom for a chat. The big, fussy room was filled with flounces and embroidery and throw pillows. Nothing could have been less suited to Elwyn’s tastes.
“It seems like Caedmon doesn’t like Flora,” Edwin said, pulling up an overstuffed cushion by his sister’s bed. “I wonder why.”
“Probably he doesn’t trust her,” said Elwyn, with a smug grin.
“Why not? She says she wants to make Cousin Broderick pay.”
“That’s because Broderick threw her over. She was perfectly happy to stab you in the back and then warm his bed for five years, until she got too old and wrinkled for him.” Elwyn shook her head. “Finster’s balls. Can you imagine being her husband? I think I’d kill myself if I were Duke Hugh.”
“That’s not very nice,” said Edwin.
Elwyn laughed and mussed his hair. “I know. I’ll try to be nicer tomorrow.” They hugged, and then Edwin slipped back into his own room to sleep.
Early the next morning, Edwin joined Lady Rada and Sir Walter in the Noon Court, where some soldiers had set up archery targets. Edwin always loved shooting, though he was nowhere near as good a shot as Rada or Elwyn. He could usually beat Sir Walter about half the time now, however, which was something he couldn’t have done a year or two ago.
They found Lord Rodger Cuthing at the next target over, and he generously invited them to join him in a match. During the siege in Leornian, he had been part of Elwyn’s group of friends, and Edwin had rather liked his cheerful nature. However, Edwin had forgotten just what a big fellow he was, perhaps even a little taller than Andras or Pedr Byrne, and definitely broader in the chest and shoulders. His yew bow was enormous, and when Edwin tried to draw it, he failed miserably. “Not to worry,” laughed Rodger good naturedly, “give it five or six years, and you’ll be able to do it.”
Despite the sheer power of the big bow, Rodger still only came in second to Rada, but then she had grown up on the steppes of Loshadnarod, shooting from the back of a horse, and everyone agreed she had an unfair advantage. Not that it seemed to bother Rodger in the least that he’d lost to a woman.
Afterward, they took breakfast in the tapestry room, where the servants had laid out coffee, eggs, and thick pork sausages. As they ate, Rodger told them stories of Keelshire, and he swore that all the common people, from the beggars to the burghers, were squarely in favor of Edwin and the Sigor dynasty. “I doubt there’s ever been a King of Myrcia who made himself so unpopular, so fast, as Broderick Gramiren has.”
“And what about the nobles?” Lady Rada asked. “What do they think?”
Rodger looked troubled. “Most of them want to help. But they’re worried about what the Gramirens will do to them. They need a little more courage, I’m afraid.”
“Perhaps we could send an envoy,” Sir Walter suggested. “I’d be happy to volunteer.”
“Yes,” said Rodger, “but it would mean a lot more if people could see the royal family. The best of all would be if you went, your majesty. If people see you, they will believe in your cause.”
Edwin set down his fork. “Do you mean that you want me to go to Keelshire?”
“Yes!” said Rodger. “All the nobles want to support you. But right now, you’re just a name to them. If they remember you at all, they remember a little boy playing with his toy soldiers in the Wealdan Castle nursery.”
“I suppose that’s true,” said Edwin nervously. He still played with his toy soldiers sometimes, but he wasn’t going to mention that, and anyway it didn’t change Rodger’s main point. “Maybe I should go.”
They talked about the trip for a few minutes, and then the Earl of Hyrne arrived, still in his dressing gown. Once he had some coffee, he joined them and heard Rodger’s proposal. “Holy Earstien!” the earl said. “That’s a dreadful idea! Edwin, you’re not to leave Keneburg, do you understand me? It’s too dangerous.”
“We are fighting a war here, my lord,” said Rodger.
The earl rolled his eyes. “Yes, but if Edwin is captured or—Earstien forbid—something even worse happens to him, then we lose instantly.”
Edwin knew his uncle was probably right, but the idea of a trip to Keelweard had taken hold of his imagination, and he was disappointed to think it wouldn’t be possible.
Rodger wasn’t so easily dissuaded, though, and that night at supper, he mentioned the idea to Duchess Flora.
“Brilliant!” she said. “Edwin, you simply have to go.”
“It’s too dangerous,” said the earl, frowning over his roast duck.
“Don’t be absurd,” said Flora. “People like to know their king has a pair of balls.”
“People like to know their king has the sense not to take stupid chances,” said the earl.
Flora continued. “There’s no quicker way for Edwin to win friends in the north than by showing that he’s willing to risk danger.”
The earl slammed his fist down on the table, making the wine slosh in the silver goblets. “I am Edwin’s guardian, blast it all, and I say he’s staying here!”
The argument lasted through dessert and kept going even after they’d all gone up to the library for drinks around the fire. Edwin felt like he ought to make some contribution, one way or the other, but he didn’t want to contradict Uncle Lawrence in front of everyone.
Eventually, Duchess Flora had a new idea. “If Edwin can’t go, then why don’t we send Elwyn and my Andras?”
“I’m sorry, but what?” said Elwyn, looking up from the book she was reading.
“You and Andras can go to Keelweard together,” said Flora, beaming. “Think how romantic it would be.”
Elwyn glared at her. “I’m sorry, but have you forgotten that....” She stopped herself, and no doubt she had been on the verge of saying something like, “forgotten that the betrothal isn’t real.” Instead, she said, “It would be highly improper, your grace. I fear for my reputation.”
Flora laughed, and it wasn’t an entirely nice laugh, either. “Oh, Elwyn. I don’t think you need to worry about that, darling.”
Andras, who had been reading at the other end of a long window seat from her, piped up. “If it’s all the same to everyone, I’d really rather stay here.”
The earl got up and paced around the room for a minute, running his hands along the spines of the books and tapping the writing desks with his fingers. Finally, he stopped and said, “Alright, then. Elwyn and Andras can go talk to the Keelshire nobles. Is that a good compromise, Rodger?”
Rodger said it might work, so he and the earl and Flora started talking about the exact route the “young lovers” could take. Poor Elwyn kept trying to make them listen to her, but she might as well have been mute for all the good that it did.
“The princess will be so popular with all the noblewomen,” said Rodger.
“I’ve never been popular before,” said Elwyn. “What makes you think I’ll start now?”
Edwin had rarely seen her so miserable. And he hated to see her miserable. She was being forced into this, like she’d been forced into the fake betrothal, entirely for his benefit. In the end, he knew she would do it, too. She might swear and stomp around and grumble for a while, but she would do it, because she loved him.
Duchess Flora gave Elwyn and Andras a leering little grin and started talking about how the trip might even be a “honeymoon,” if Elwyn were willing. Andras turned pale, and Elwyn looked as if she might throw up.
“I can’t let them do this,” thought Edwin. This was too much. Elwyn had been humiliated enough.
He stood up and said, “No. Elwyn and Andras will stay here. I will go north and talk to the Keelshire nobles myself.”
His uncle shook his head angrily. “I thought we’d settled this. You’re staying here, Edwin.”
“No, I am not. You’ll have to lock me up to keep me here.” Edwin crossed his arms, tossed his head back, and tried to give them all a look of royal disdain. All except Elwyn, and he smiled at her. “You’ve already done so much. I really should do some of this for myself.”
Her lip quivered. “Thank you.”
Rodger cheered and poured more wine for everyone. The earl grumbled that he still thought it was a terrible idea, but he seemed to realize he had lost the battle. Duchess Flora gave a toast to “Brave King Edwin,” but also said she would send an entire regiment of cavalry as an escort.
“A whole regiment?” said Rodger, looking a little less enthusiastic now. “That’s going to be pretty noticeable. We’re not going to be able to sneak around much if we’ve got a whole regiment with us.”
“And why would Edwin be sneaking around?” said the earl suspiciously. “I thought you said everyone in the north is foursquare behind us.”
“Ah..., well...you see, when I said that, I perhaps may have exaggerated slightly.”
“You mean you lied,” said Elwyn, crossing her arms and scowling at him.
“Better make it two regiments, then,” said Flora.
“That’s not really going to help,” said Rodger.
They seemed to have reached another impasse, when suddenly, from a darkened corner of the library, hidden behind an ancient wooden shield with a badger, someone cleared his throat, and a deep voice said, “Pardon me, but I believe I may have a solution.”
A second later, Caedmon Aldred wandered out into the room. He had on a plaid dressing gown, like he had been doing some reading before bed.
“Have you been there the whole time?” asked the earl.
Caedmon ignored him and walked straight up to Edwin. “Are you certain that you wish to do this, your majesty?”
“Going to Keelweard?” said Edwin nervously. He looked over at Elwyn, then back at the famous sorcerer. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“The king must be protected,” said Caedmon, looking around at the others now. “But too large a party will draw unwanted attention. Is this correct?” They all nodded, and Caedmon turned back to Edwin, smiling. “Therefore, I shall go with you. I offer my services as a guide and bodyguard.”