“No,” Aefric said. “First, the bracer also turns aside blades.” He frowned. “It might turn away maces and other weapons. I’d have to check the magic. But second, you’re overlooking a key difference.”

  Yrsa stared, stonily, as she waited.

  “The spell is a decision. I have to cast it. Which means that before I cast it, I have a moment in which I could decide if I’m about to follow the right course of action, or the wrong one.”

  “Ah,” Yrsa said, long and slow. “I see it now. The bracer would encourage your old instincts.”

  Aefric nodded.

  “And now?” Yrsa asked. “Now that you barely survived an assassination attempt that might have been prevented entirely by that little chunk of spelled bronze? What is your grace’s opinion about the bracer now?”

  “I need to wear it,” Aefric said, remembering what Duke Wylyn had told him only a few aetts ago. “After all, it’s the attack I don’t see that could kill me.”

  “Beornric, Karbin,” Yrsa said, “I believe we’ve made our point. Shall we leave our dear duke to his rest?”

  Karbin and Beornric readily agreed, and all three left, looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

  But in the moment, Aefric couldn’t care about that. He was too busy falling back asleep.

  After one more check from Bebara, Aefric was allowed to dress and return to his own rooms. Though that was a long enough walk up so many flights of stairs in the immense castle that was Water’s End that it might’ve counted as exertion.

  Of course, flying definitely would have counted as exertion. So walking it was. With breaks at every landing.

  Took longer than he liked to think about.

  He dined in his own rooms that night, and he slept in his own bed. In fact, the only thing of any significance that he did over the remainder of that day was personally thank Leppina and Temat for their roles in saving his life.

  Of course, like Deirdre, they’d been inclined to blame themselves for the attempt, rather than accept thanks for foiling it. But Aefric was pretty sure he got the point across.

  The next morning, Aefric dressed in simple clothes, for a duke. A navy blue tunic over Deepwater gray hose. Belt and shoes of dark leather, with the usual accompaniments.

  He did intend to return to work in a limited capacity, though. Starting with his customary daily meeting with his advisers. Although rather than its usual location — the meeting room in his apartments — he held it out on the large balcony on the public floor of his apartments.

  After all, it was a beautiful day. Warm, but not too warm, with a gentle breeze that suggested rain would come by nightfall. A suggestion emphasized by the storm clouds coming up from the south.

  Those clouds weren’t here yet, though. Up above, the skies were pale blue and beautiful. An interesting contrast to the perfect navy blue of the castle walls, shimmering as they did as though they were sculpted from the depths of Lake Deepwater down below.

  Plenty of traffic out on the lake that day. Ships coming and going from the port down below, while smaller fishing boats and pleasure craft set about their own business.

  They all looked so small from here. Aefric’s apartments were high up in the keep itself. Nothing on the Seven Great Spires around him, of course, but still, a couple of hundred feet above the docks.

  His balcony on this level was large enough that he could have thrown a decent party without it feeling crowded. And the furniture was elegantly carved greenwood, with the chairs comfortably padded.

  He was sitting on one of those chairs, at a large, round table, when his advisers began to arrive.

  Yrsa and Beornric first. Yrsa in dark riding leathers and a dark leather doublet over a light tan tunic. As usual, she wore both those huge maces of hers, one riding on each hip.

  Beornric wore a dark red quilted tunic over dark orange hose, with his longsword hanging from his leather belt.

  Both wore their customary heavy boots.

  Kentigern Ol’Klimath, Aefric’s seneschal, followed, accompanied by Ser Garnotin Artaretek, Aefric’s new castellan.

  A position Aefric had needed to fill after he learned that his last castellan — Ser Calder, who’d served going back to when the Soulfists ruled Deepwater — had been stealing from the nobility and passing shipping information on to the pirate queen, Nelazzi.

  Calder had managed to flee capture. For now.

  Kentigern wore a quilted tunic of royal blue, trimmed in silver, with hose the color of dark mustard, and those low, soft leather boots he favored, because they had silver thread among the black, turned-down cuffs.

  He was one of those rare Armyrian nobles with tanned skin, which might’ve been part of the reason he wore his dark beard so think and full. To lend him a little pallor.

  He wasn’t wearing his black velvet cap today, which Aefric took as a good sign. Kentigern always seemed to have bad news when he was wearing that hat.

  Ser Garnotin was a dark-skinned man of middle years. He’d be tall in most rooms, but he wasn’t quite as tall as Aefric, and certainly not as tall as Yrsa.

  Like Beornric, Garnotin held his age well, and still looked strong enough to hold a bridge against a small army. As rumor claimed he’d done once, in his youth. Certainly the warhammer he wore on his back looked menacing enough.

  His tunic today was a bright purple, over dark orange hose.

  Elkari Ol’Nuval, Aefric’s historian, arrived next, carrying stacks of scrolls in her ink-stained hands,as she did so often. Though one of those hands was pushing her dark hair out of her eyes.

  Odd, that. She usually wore her hair quite short.

  Elkari wore breeches and tunic today, in dark browns that went well with her dusky complexion.

  Last to arrive was Karbin, in his robes the colors of sand and dusk. Today he carried his obsidian rod in one hand, and he wore no wands on his belt at all.

  Once everyone was seated — without any of the formality games, for Aefric eschewed formality at his morning meetings — Aefric said, “Let’s start with the assassins. What do we know?”

  “Very little so far,” Yrsa said, frowning.

  “A rika arrived from Armityr this morning,” Kentigern said. “His majesty has declared the attempt on your grace as related to the recent attempts on the royal family.”

  “So the royal investigator will be handling it then?”

  “Yes,” Kentigern said, visibly struggling not to add Aefric’s courtesy. “Although your grace is, of course, permitted to assign someone to assist and coordinate with the royal investigation.”

  “I think they’re wrong,” Beornric said. “The method was different. The other assassins had all been placed in positions to get close to their targets. The assassins in Asarchai weren’t part of any detachment.”

  “Do we have any reason to think they were or were not affiliated with the Order of the Severed Dream?” Aefric asked.

  “They weren’t,” Beornric said. “Neither assassin was carrying the signature flame-shaped dagger.”

  “Then what makes his majesty think the attacks are related?” Aefric asked. “All the other assassins used that dagger. Or at least had it on them.”

  “Unknown,” Beornric said. “Perhaps his majesty has information we do not?”

  Garnotin scoffed. “Or perhaps his majesty is playing politics with his grace’s life.”

  “His majesty values our duke’s life almost as highly as his own,” Beornric said.

  “The link is obvious,” Yrsa said, drawing the attention of the others. “Outside of the royal family, his grace is the most prominent noble in Armyr.”

  That brought a quick round of disagreements and debates from Aefric’s advisers about the influence of Duke Wylyn and the sheer power and history of Duchess Ashling, but Yrsa came in over the top of them, vocally.

  “Let me speak.” When she had silence, she continued. “His grace has held his title for a little more than a season, and he has already won a war for Armyr. Without any losses on our side. Then he proceeded to save the lives of the king and queen. Shall I go on?”

  No one spoke.

  “Matters of wealth, influence and power may be debated,” Yrsa said. “But right now, our duke’s name is spoken farther and wider than that of any other Armyrian noble.”

  “Which makes him a target,” Garnotin said, nodding. “I agree.”

  “Besides,” Yrsa said. “The same person can hire masons from different guilds for different jobs. That’s no less true for assassins.”

  “Nevertheless,” Aefric said, “we might be wise to consider the possibility that someone else was behind the attempt on my life.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Yrsa asked.

  “I think we should assign a knight to aid the royal investigation. Garnotin take your pick for this from the younger knights who show potential.”

  “I have someone in mind already,” Garnotin said with a nod.

  “Meanwhile,” Yrsa said, one eyebrow raised, “you intend to assign someone else to investigate the attempt?”

  “I see no reason not to. The person I have in mind shouldn’t interfere with the royal investigation.”

  “She certainly does feel motivated,” Yrsa said, clearly knowing who Aefric had in mind.

  “I advise against this,” Kentigern said. “The investigation has been declared the province of the royal investigator.”

  “An order that arrived today?” Aefric asked.

  “Yes, your grace.”

  “Pity, then,” Aefric said with a smile, “that I assigned her this task as soon as I awoke yesterday. Now, of course, she’s unreachable by rika, and I’m not sure where she is.”

  Beornric, Yrsa, Karbin and Garnotin all nodded agreement. Elkari simply frowned, considering. But Kentigern looked as though he’d eaten bad mussels.

  “Risky,” he said.

  “She has my complete confidence,” Aefric said, then sighed. “And I think his majesty may be looking in the wrong direction this time.”

  “Why?” Kentigern said, then quickly added, “If I may ask?”

  “Nelazzi,” Yrsa said, and Aefric nodded, so she continued. “She’s been trying to expand her piracy into slavery, and our duke here has been interfering. And now she doesn’t even have her informant at Water’s End anymore, because Calder had to flee.”

  “And the last thing she would have known for certain from Calder’s reports,” Beornric said, “was that your grace intended to attend the Feast of Dereth Sehk.”

  “That’s my thinking,” Aefric said. “Any disagreements?”

  “Only one,” Karbin said, and all eyes turned to him. “Either give me this assignment, or allow me to work with her.”

  “Close, old friend,” Aefric said with a smile. “I want you to approach this from the other direction. Investigate Nelazzi’s activities and her people. Coordinate with Deirdre by spell, and together you should be able to bring back answers without tripping over each other’s boots.”

  “I have worked with people before,” Karbin said, drolly. “Perhaps you remember?”

  “I do, of course,” Aefric said. “But both you and Deirdre are both used to handling this kind of investigation alone. This is an instance where more might not be better.”

  Karbin opened his mouth the answer that, but Aefric raised one hand.

  “But,” he said quickly, “let me offer this compromise. You and she will talk before you both leave. Work out for yourselves how you can best make this work. I want results, and I want you both back alive. Even if it means wounding your pride in the process.”

  Karbin acquiesced with a nod.

  “Now,” Aefric said, rubbing his hands together. “What’s next?”

  That morning meeting lasted all the way through lunch. There was just too much to cover. From the usual preparations for the coming harvest — and attendant Harvest Festival — to the rebuilding efforts.

  Especially along the coast, where the storms would be worse, and the threat of Nelazzi’s ships worse still.

  But his advisers were gone about their tasks now, the day was beautiful, and Aefric found his greenwood chair on his public floor balcony quite comfortable, for a man who needed rest more than he wanted to admit. Combined with the lingering taste of delicious roast duck from lunch, all in all, he felt full and relaxed.

  So when Deirdre arrived in response to his summons, he welcomed her there on the balcony.

  Deirdre seemed much more herself today. Her braid sharp, her new badge of office — the Deepwater sigil, done in gold — pinned to her dark maroon armor, near the left shoulder. She had a little color in her cheeks, and a playful smile in those jade eyes as she knelt before Aefric.

  “You want me, your grace?” she asked.

  They were alone, so Aefric chuckled at her phrasing, which made her smile.

  “Have a seat, Deirdre,” he said, gesturing to a chair.

  She lingered on her knees for a moment, smiling as though she considered saying something, but took the offered seat.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Thirsty? I can have something brought.”

  “Nothing for me, your grace.”

  “His majesty has decided that the attempt on my life is part of the series of attempts that were made on the royal family.”

  “His majesty … knows best, of course,” Deirdre said.

  “I think his majesty may be mistaken in this case.”

  “So do I, your grace,” she said firmly.

  Aefric chuckled again.

  “So,” he said. “His majesty has assigned the matter to his royal investigator. I have Garnotin assigning some competent young knight to coordinate from our end.”

  “Oh?” Deirdre said, and a smile played about the corners of her mouth. Perhaps she saw where this was going.

  “Yes,” Aefric said. “Unfortunately, his majesty’s orders didn’t arrive until today. But when I first awoke yesterday, I immediately assigned my best investigator to find out who was behind the attempt on my life. You left at once, of course.”

  “Of course, your grace,” Deirdre said, preening a bit at the praise. “And naturally I have to stay out of touch during the investigation.”

  “Naturally,” Aefric said.

  “I have a friend who can get my name on the passenger list of a ship that left for Ajenmoor yesterday,” she said. “Just in case anyone checks.”

  “Not Ajenmoor,” Aefric said. “I could reach Ajenmoor by rika to within an hour or two, and it wouldn’t be believable that you’d left there already.”

  “Good point, your grace.” She chewed her lip a moment, and Aefric was surprised how fetching he found the little gesture. “Make it Behal. So many boats and ships travel between here and there that no one could prove I didn’t. Plus, by the time his majesty’s orders came through, I’d have been well gone by horse, leaving no word about where I was going.”

  “That will work,” Aefric said. “One other thing.”

  “Yes, your grace?” she asked with an eager look.

  “Before you actually leave, speak with Karbin. I suspect Nelazzi’s hand may be behind this—”

  “My thoughts exactly, your grace.”

  “—and he can approach the question from the other end. Finding out what Nelazzi and her people have been doing of late. With him working that end, and you working from the assassins themselves…”

  “We should have an answer even faster,” Deirdre said, nodding. “And he knows the contact spell, so we can coordinate safely at predetermined times.”

  “So you don’t mind working with a partner in this?”

  “Not where your grace’s safety is involved,” she said, her tone serious. “Speaking of which, should we suspect Kefthal?”

  “Not at this point,” Aefric said. “I think they’re playing a deeper game. Just sending assassins after me feels too … simple for them.” He shook his head. “But don’t rule them out. I don’t want to limit your thinking.”

  “Understood,” she said. “Is there anything more?”

  “One thing,” Aefric said, and quirked a half-smile. “Do whatever you have to, to come back alive. I don’t want to lose you over this.”

  “Yes, your grace,” Deirdre said with a small smile.

  “I guess that’s it then,” Aefric said. “You should probably get going.”

  “Of course, your grace,” she said, standing, but then hesitated. Frowned just a little.

  “Is something on your mind, Deirdre?”

  “Yes, your grace,” she said, chewing her lip again for a moment before adding, “may I speak freely?”

  “Don’t you always?” Aefric asked with a chuckle, but then said, “Please. By all means.”

  “I know full well that I could never be a fit bride for your grace,” she said. “I have no wealth. No title. No family name worth mentioning. I could boast a great deed or two, but I couldn’t pretend that would be enough. Not to mention how terrible I’d be at all the politicking and socializing.”

  She laughed, but not with humor.

  “But I will promise your grace this. I will keep both eyes on whatever bride he chooses. So that if she ever betrays him” — her jade eyes glistened — “if she ever betrays you, Aefric, I swear by all the gods that she will answer for that betrayal. Even if I must hunt for her through every one of the thirteen hells, and carve my way to her through a horde of demons.”

  “Thank you, Deirdre,” Aefric said softly, touched by the depth of feeling in her words. “For what it’s—”

  “Please, your grace,” she said quickly, “don’t. I don’t need a response to that. I … I just needed your grace to know.”

  Aefric nodded.

  She quirked a half-smile then that managed to dislodge a tear and send it trickling down her cheek.

  “Of course,” she said, “your grace also should know that if he ever desires the noble privilege, I shall most happily ruin him for all other women.”

  “That’s quite a bold claim,” Aefric said through a chuckle.

  Deirdre cocked an eyebrow and a hip. “I make many bold claims, your grace. Which of them have I failed to fulfill?”