“Of course not, your grace,” Countess Siburh said. “But the key there is ‘lands not their own.’ A proper claim is a proper claim, no matter when it’s pressed.”

  “By that logic,” Aefric said, “how much worse is it if those vassals press an improper claim at such a time?”

  Countess Siburh frowned, but did not answer.

  “Oh, but this is an easy one, Siburh,” Ashling teased. “It takes a villain to press a false claim when her liege lord is not in a position to stop her.”

  “A false claim, I suppose,” Countess Siburh said.

  “Which is key here,” Aefric said. “Neither of the two counts involved had any proper claim to the Threepeaks. Which they knew well. They acted because wanted to steal Arinda’s mines. And so they moved when she couldn’t stop them. And their greed was such that they warred with each other over who would steal the greater share.”

  “Your grace continues to assert that their claims were false,” Countess Siburh said.

  “They were,” Aefric said. “Unquestionably. Elbar’s Blood, one set of those claims were penned while the land theft was underway.”

  “But this was years ago. They took and held that land for quite some time,” Countess Siburh said. “They mined its mines, paid their taxes, and defended those lands during the Godswalk Wars.”

  “All based on a false pretense,” Aefric said.

  “Nevertheless,” Countess Siburh said. “It was done without objection or even complaint from their liege. Not at the time, nor in the years that followed. They took that land. Held, worked, and defended that land. For years. Even if the initial claim were later called into question — as you say you’ve done — they earned a claim by right of blood, did they not?”

  “Tell her, Aefric,” Ashling said, locking eyes with the countess.

  “There are a number of ways I could address that question,” Aefric said. “But I’m going to raise two points. The first is that, by your own logic, the Threepeaks are mine because I took them back and my vassals couldn’t stop me.”

  Contess Siburh nodded, as though accepting that point, but otherwise unconvinced.

  “The second is, in my opinion, even more important. And it’s something I emphasized as I took back those lands.” Aefric leaned a little closer. “Theft or abuse from my vassals will be punished. Such punishments might be delayed, if they act while my attention is needed elsewhere. But when the hammer falls, they will know who swings it.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Ashling said, smiling at Countess Siburh. “Shall we move on to the main course?”

  The main course that night was boar. Apparently there’d been a boar hunt during the prior aett, and enough boars had been killed that — after given time to cure — they could feed even the vast assemblage of Ashling’s court in Kivash.

  The boar was finely roasted with spices that managed to bring out the flavor of the meat, without any of its gaminess. And Aefric didn’t know what culinary magic those cooks had worked, but the flesh of that boar practically melted in his mouth.

  Marvelous.

  The boar was served with a delightful mixture of corn and tara, and a heavily buttered rye bread.

  Although Aefric’s time with his soup had been foreshortened, he got plenty of time with his boar, because Ashling and Countess Siburh seemed to be involved in their own conversation. One that involved only occasional words — apparently unrelated to anything else around them — interspersed with significant nods towards a noble here and a merchant there, throughout the main floor of the great hall.

  It seemed to be half a verbal fencing match of sorts, and half a united front against some of the others in the room. If Aefric read the cues right.

  Not to say that Aefric was left entirely to himself. He spoke of local military matters with Ecgnoth and Ser Yrsa. Enough to give him a sense that Kivash was more settled than he’d been led to believe.

  The locals might still be finding their equilibrium under Ashling’s leadership, but the two largest pockets of local resistance had been quelled in the last several days. And there were indications that, barring significant funding from outside Kivash, the back of the remaining resistance might be broken.

  Nothing would be certain until early autumn, but Ecgnoth seemed to think that Kivash was finally coming to accept that it was part of Armyr and Merrek now.

  Aefric even had the chance to exchange a few pleasantries with Zoleen, who maintained a reserved tone and expression.

  She did glance speculatively at Cyneswith, though, every time the page refilled Aefric’s wineglass, or brought him anything.

  Still, compared to that discussion at the end of the soup course, the main course was downright peaceful.

  Aefric even had time to appreciate the music.

  Of course, the music hadn’t actually started until the main course, but even so, he was glad of it. Six players, all with lutes. Two with lutes tuned well down into the bass range, two handling the middle ranges, and two working the upper registers.

  As they played, the players sang wordlessly, letting their harmonies tell their stories for them.

  The music they made was hauntingly beautiful.

  Before Aefric knew it, the main course was finished, and followed swiftly by dessert: roasted apples, served with honey and cinnamon.

  As Aefric was finishing his dessert, Ashling said to him — in tones loud enough to carry — “Properly speaking, I should welcome your grace to Kivash with a feast. Dancing. Perhaps a hunt.”

  “Certainly I would so welcome your grace,” Countess Siburh said, “should he visit me.”

  “And so I would,” Ashling said, smiling as though she’d expected Countess Siburh to say exactly that, “were these normal circumstances. But given the excitement your grace has been facing in taming the wilds of Hrafnvigi, needing spell and steel both. Well. I would have to be a selfish woman to demand that you socialize following a day of such trials.”

  Wait. Was Ashling letting him off the hook for the post-dinner gathering? Certainly she was performing for the crowd. There was no other reason for her to call him “your grace.”

  “No,” she said, with sadness that Aefric could tell was entirely affected for the crowd’s benefit. “Much as I would like to let my court have the chance to converse with you at length, to hear your astute opinions on whatever matters they find most pressing, I cannot bring myself to demand this of you.

  “In fact,” she said, voice getting a little louder now, “I believe I know you well enough to say that, even exhausted as you doubtless are from your efforts today, you are such a good guest that you would want to meet my court and laugh and drink with them late into the night. Or am I mistaken?”

  She raised a sculpted raven eyebrow at Aefric, who knew a cue when he heard one.

  He smiled and nodded.

  “Your grace is most perceptive,” he said, hoping he knew where this was going. “As your guest, I feel a responsibility to be available to your court. And as I now have a castle here in Kivash, I can hardly deny the local nobles and merchant lords some of my time.”

  “Ah,” Ashling said, “I knew your grace would be so kind as that.” She shook her head with mock sadness. “But may I give your grace some advice, from one who has held her title just a little longer than he has?”

  A few of the nobles at the nearby tables chuckled appreciatively at her understatement.

  “Of course,” Aefric said. “Your grace knows I welcome her opinion. Even if I often plunge ahead along my own path all the same.”

  That got a few appreciative laughs as well.

  “As do we all,” Ashling said with a laugh. “But my advice would be, forgo gracing my court with your presence for this visit. Your grace has a great deal to do, and a castle that puts forth more resistance than it should. I would hate to see your grace’s reactions slowed tomorrow because of his goodwill tonight.”

  Never before had Aefric honestly felt the desire to kiss Ashling. But she was letting him off the hook for a night of dealing a room full of manticora.

  All right, they were only nobles and merchants. But they were certainly as deadly as manticora, in their own way.

  He sighed. “I fear there is wisdom in your words. But I would not wish to seem a poor guest.”

  “Have no fear on that account,” Ashling said. “My court will understand. They know that your grace’s life and health must come first, for the good of all Armyr.”

  She stood and raised her wineglass. “Armyr.”

  Everyone in the room stood and confirmed the toast before drinking.

  A clever maneuver of its own, since even the locals were forced to confirm that toast, or be seen not doing so…

  Ashling made a show of draining her goblet then, so Aefric matched her.

  She turned to him. Took his hands.

  “When next you visit Kivash,” she said, “we will feast and dance and hunt. We will play games, and talk late into the night.”

  She shook her head. “But for this visit, we must all put our selfish desires behind our duty to Armyr, and insist that your grace rest for the trials his new castle sets him.”

  Aefric forced a sigh.

  “Then I shall look forward to the pleasures of that next visit,” Aefric said. “And for tonight, I shall take my leave.”

  “I trust your grace won’t be offended if Cyneswith here sees you safely to your rooms?”

  That set the room buzzing with speculation.

  But up at the main table, Countess Siburh gave Aefric a considering glance, Zoleen glowered at her sister, and Cyneswith blushed a pretty shade of pink.

  “Not at all,” Aefric said.

  “Then I bid you goodnight,” Ashling said, and kissed Aefric on both cheeks.

  The first time she’d done that — this past spring — Aefric hadn’t known what it meant. He’d since learned that it was a public declaration of friendship between nobles.

  So he returned the gesture this time, which increased the buzz of the crowd.

  Aefric then turned, took the Brightstaff in hand from where it stood beside his chair, and followed Cyneswith out of the great hall.

  Aefric and Cyneswith were followed through the castle by all of his knights save for Ser Deirdre. She must’ve opted to stay behind and see something of Ashling’s court in Kivash.

  Aefric hoped she didn’t cause too much trouble.

  As Cyneswith led Aefric out of the great hall and down a hallway to the first set of stairs, she showed a marked contrast to the playful girl of the night before.

  She was quiet. Subdued, even.

  Could she have been nervous about Ashling’s implications?

  Did she think Aefric was expecting her to do more than escort him to his rooms? Perhaps even remain with him for the noble privilege?

  Aefric considered that as they reached the first stairway. A broad, marble thing, with a calinwood handrail etched in gold. The echoes were bright as they started up those stairs. The hard soles of his knights’ boots sounded like an entire company of troops on the march.

  Aefric decided that the clamor would work as cover for conversation.

  “Don’t let Ashling’s words trouble you,” Aefric said. “I expect you only to guide me to my rooms.”

  Cyneswith shook her head and looked at him, eyes puzzled. She ducked her head in a quick bow.

  “Please do excuse me, your grace,” she said. “My mind was elsewhere, and I missed your grace’s words.”

  Well, she didn’t sound as though she were expecting Aefric to make sexual demands of her. That was good, at least.

  “What troubles you so?” he asked.

  “My mother,” Cyneswith said with a sigh. “I should not admit this, but I fear she is overmatched against her grace.”

  “I take it that the Ol’Cynerstan family has an old claim to Kivash?”

  “Mother says we do,” Cyneswith said, “through a larger claim to this part of the Indecisive River Valley.”

  “And Ashling disputes this claim, I expect.”

  “Her grace…” Cyneswith sighed and shook her head. “Her grace has pointed out that if prior claims were being considered, then the Fyrenn family’s has precedence.”

  “Of course,” Aefric said, then lost his train of thought as they rounded a landing, and slipped through a small, side door into a narrow passage Aefric didn’t recognize.

  Walls, ceiling and floor were all bare white stone here. Well swept, but without any of the decorative flair that Ashling had been showing through the rest of the castle.

  Not even the smell of flowers in the air here, but the vague scent of old stone, and oil from the lamps they passed every twenty steps or so.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Forgive me, your grace,” Cyneswith said with another duck of her head. “This is a more direct route to the stairs that lead to your grace’s tower. It’s less pleasant to look upon, but—”

  “More direct is fine,” Aefric said. “Especially if we’re less likely to wander into, say, any wandering nobles who disagree with Ashling’s decision about freeing me from social obligations for this visit.”

  “Another brilliant move on her grace’s part,” Cyneswith said, wincing slightly.

  “How so?” Aefric asked. “I mean, obviously Ashling wanted me in front of her court when your mother raised the question of the Threepeaks, but what else are you seeing here?”

  “Your grace,” Cyneswith said, looking forward and not at Aefric, “has a reputation for honesty and directness. There are … many small matters here in Kivash that remain in question.”

  “Ah,” Aefric said. “And the locals all wanted to put their questions to me, in the hopes that I would see things their way, not Ashling’s. And thus, weaken her hold. Which would open the way for your mother to gain more local support, helping her own claim.”

  “Just so, your grace,” Cyneswith said.

  Huh. Apparently Aefric had been learning a few things about politics over the last season or so.

  “And now, even if any of the nobles or other locals get to speak with me, they won’t get to do so publicly.” Aefric shook his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect Ashling gave me a castle she knew would be full of trouble.”

  “Oh, no, your grace,” Cyneswith stopped just shy of a tight spiral staircase, urgency in her brown eyes. “Her grace was furious when she learned that your knights had been injured exploring a castle she gave you.”

  Aefric chuckled. “She just didn’t let that stop her from finding a way to use that fact to her advantage.”

  Cyneswith sighed and began leading Aefric up those stone, spiral stairs.

  “And that is why Mother will lose,” Cyneswith said, sadly. “Her grace can find advantage in setback as no one else can. Everyone in the great hall tonight knew that she gave your grace Hrafnvigi. Her grace made sure of that. And then to have your grace’s knights take injury there, most would totter and fall after such a mistake. But not her grace.”

  Cyneswith shook her head. “Never her grace.”

  They continued in silence for a time, but a question flitted back into Aefric’s mind.

  “The Fyrenn family claim you spoke of,” Aefric said. “That goes back to the principality of Fyr?”

  “Yes, your grace,” Cyneswith said. “The whole of the Indecisive River Valley was part of Fyr, and under Fyrenn rule. As well as other lands north and south of it.”

  “But that was centuries ago, before Armyr existed,” Aefric said. “Which is your mother’s point, I take it? That this is Armyr now, and only Armyrian claims should matter?”

  “Yes, your grace,” Cyneswith said, turning and looking hopefully at Aefric. “Would your grace care to issue an opinion on the topic?”

  Aefric’s knights halted a respectful distance back, just far enough back down the spiral staircase that Sers Beornric and Yrsa could keep watch. Just in case.

  “I can’t,” Aefric said, heart sinking to so disappoint Cyneswith’s hopeful eyes. “But not because Ashling is my friend, or my hostess, or any other such reason.”

  “Then might I be permitted to ask your grace why your grace will not issue an opinion? For surely your grace is entitled to one.”

  “I don’t know enough,” he said. “This is the sort of question I would put to my historian, to find out what precedents have been established.”

  Aefric gestured for them to keep moving, and spoke again as they started up those stairs once more.

  “You see, I know what my instinct would be. But this is not a matter of instinct. This is a matter of law. And I would rely on my ducal historian to tell me what rulings have already been made by the kings and queens of Armyr on the subject of the precedence of prior claims. Most importantly whether or not past kings and queens have accepted claims which predate Armyr itself.”

  “Your grace is as direct and honest as his reputation,” Cyneswith said, and led them in silence for a time.

  Up a great many flights of stairs, in fact, before one landing led to a door. This led to another hall that had not yet seen the blessings of Ashling’s eye as a decorator. Plain stone and oil lamps in sconces.

  That hall led to a door, though, and once through it, Aefric recognized the stairs they mounted as those that led up into the tower where his rooms were.

  As they mounted those stairs, Aefric frowned at Cyneswith’s silence.

  “I hope I haven’t upset you,” he said.

  “The situation upsets me, not your grace,” Cyneswith said, giving Aefric a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mother is in a difficult position, and I fear I see no good way out for her.”

  “You make it sound as though she stands to lose more than Kivash.”

  “Mother has challenged her liege lord,” Cyneswith said. “Does your grace understand what that means?”

  Aefric thought about that for a flight of stairs.

  “It means that she’s staking her reputation on this issue,” Aefric said. “If she loses...”