She smiled then, and there was heat to that smile.

  “And lest you wonder,” he said, “I have no ulterior motives in taking you to my bed.”

  “And let me assure you,” Zoleen said softly. “I have no ulterior motives in coming to your bed.”

  “Good.”

  “And I believe I’ve had enough sharabi. Aefric.”

  She leaned in and kissed him. And then Aefric had to dismiss the servants, because Zoleen made plain that she intended to take things much further right there on the couch.

  Later, when they were both naked, perspiring, and panting for breath between lovemaking sessions in Aefric’s bed, she confessed that Aefric was the first titled noble besides her own sister to allow her the familiarity of a first name.

  Of course, he’d long since figured that out.

  9

  Much as Aefric would have enjoyed lingering in bed with Zoleen that morning — perhaps even seeking pleasure with her again — he knew he had to rise, clean, and dress as soon as the servants wakened him.

  He could not even savor a pleasurable breakfast with her that morning. He had too tight a timetable to keep. So as soon as they were dressed — she in her sunset red gown from the night before, he in a navy blue silk tunic and his riding leathers — he kissed her and saw her to the door.

  She stopped him in the doorway of the sitting room on the public floor of his apartments. She twined her arms about his neck and kissed him so long and slow he had to set the Brightstaff down and take her in his arms.

  When the kiss broke at last, she said — not too softly — “Be safe on the road, Aefric. I shall look forward to your return.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Aefric said, matching her smile. “Try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

  “I promise nothing,” she teased, and left.

  Aefric turned. Apparently Sers Yrsa, Beornric and Calder were seated at his couches this morning, along with Kentigern. He’d somehow walked past them without noticing even one of them.

  Ser Beornric, of course, was in his full plate. And Kentigern was in his favored quilted, royal blue velvet tunic, with silver trim, worn over black hose. Ser Yrsa was in full plate as well, that day, though Ser Calder was in a quilted dark brown tunic, over paler brown hose.

  “Did I hear her call your grace by name?” Ser Calder asked, and from both his expression and tone, he disapproved.

  “You did,” Aefric said, turning to Ocheda, who answered before he asked.

  “Breakfast has been arranged as a buffet in the meeting room, your grace.”

  “Thank you, Ocheda,” Aefric said, taking the Brightstaff back in hand as he turned to the others. “Shall we?”

  He led them once more to the round, blackwood table of his meeting room. Though Aefric filled his plate with a selection of sliced fruits and cheeses, along with roast beef, turkey, and honeyed oat rolls from the buffet along the near wall, before filling a goblet of water and claiming his seat at the table.

  The others gathered their food and drinks as well, before joining Aefric at the table.

  “Not sure I like the precedent,” Ser Calder said, still harping on Zoleen’s familiarity. “Next thing, any young noblewoman who shares your bed will be wanting to call her duke by his proper name.”

  “Zoleen only did so after I gave her explicit permission,” Aefric said, tearing a soft roll in half. “In fact, I was the one who broached the subject with her.”

  “Enjoy her company all you like,” Ser Yrsa said in a warning tone. “Marry her, should you so desire. I doubt many would blame you. But keep in mind. She’s a Fyrenn. Never forget that. Because she won’t.”

  “All right,” Aefric said. “If that’s all we need to cover about my love life this morning—”

  “Not quite, y…” Kentigern said, then grimaced and checked himself from getting reminded that Aefric would not stand on formality in his morning meetings. “Not quite. There’s been a rika this morning from Riverbreak. Baroness Regent Byrhta and her ward, Mistress Vercy, request permission to come to Water’s End during their majesties’ visit.”

  “Is there any reason I should say no?” Aefric asked, glancing around the table.

  “I can think of a reason you should say ‘yes,’” Ser Calder said. “Vercy stands to inherit her barony in less than two years’ time, and I have no doubt she’ll rave to their majesties about how well you’ve done as duke.”

  “He has a point,” Ser Yrsa said. “If King Colm is using this visit to check on you, wouldn’t hurt to have a hero-worshiping ally in your corner.”

  “You refer to Vercy or Byrhta?” Ser Calder said with a wry smile.

  “Vercy,” Ser Yrsa said, as though the question were meant seriously. “If Byrhta Ol’Caran bows down to our duke, it won’t be for hero worship…”

  “All right,” Aefric said. “Enough of that.”

  “Although,” Kentigern said, slowly, “the sentiment does tie into my point, and a possible caution about allowing them to come visit.”

  “Zoleen,” Ser Beornric said. “Popular as Byrhta is, no doubt she’s heard that Zoleen’s been making a play for the role she wants herself.”

  “Duchess,” Ser Yrsa clarified, as though Aefric had any doubts.

  “Could be a source of conflict,” Ser Beornric said.

  “More importantly,” Ser Calder said, “could give his majesty an excuse to push you to choose one of them and marry her.”

  “I was also thinking about Vercy herself,” Kentigern said. “Yes, she’s young. But she’s made no secret of her aspirations.” He turned to Aefric. “That would mean three women here at Water’s End, all with the same goal, while their majesties are here for a visit.”

  “Are you certain Zoleen wants to marry me?” Aefric asked. “She’s certainly never brought it up.”

  Everyone else at the table laughed.

  Everyone.

  “During your adventuring days,” Ser Calder said, running his hand over his short, slicked-back gray hair, “you sometimes had to kill and cook your own food, I know. But did you ever have to butcher a domesticated animal? Like a sheep, perhaps?”

  Aefric shook his head. “Only hunted in the wild.”

  “A sheep comes to trust the shepherd’s hand,” Ser Calder said. “Shepherd’s the one who takes care of it, after all. Keeps it safe, warm in the winter and so on.”

  “It’s like that illusion rule you mentioned,” Ser Yrsa said. “When it’s time to slaughter the sheep, you distract it. So it never sees the knife coming.”

  “Otherwise,” Ser Calder agreed, “the animal’s fear can spoil the taste of the meat.”

  “And that’s what you think Zoleen is doing?” Aefric asked. “Training me to trust her hand, so I’ll never see the knife coming?” He frowned. “We are talking about marriage, yes?”

  “Arinda certainly considered marriage a kind of death,” Ser Calder said. “And that cost her in the end.”

  “I’ve already told you,” Ser Beornric said. “I think Duchess Ashling sent Zoleen here because marrying you herself might bring too much strife between you.”

  “Has Ashling broached the subject before?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “Yes,” Ser Beornric answered. “Back in the Indecisive River Valley, after Frozen Ridge.”

  “And I told you,” Aefric said. “She was joking.”

  No one around the table looked as though they believed Duchess Ashling had been joking about marrying Aefric.

  “I’m telling you,” Aefric insisted. “She even joked about all the beautiful women who’d line up to share our bed. She was just trying to make me laugh, when I was down.”

  “She wasn’t,” Ser Calder said, shaking his head. “At least, not just trying to make you laugh. I’ve known that woman since she was a little girl, and she never says one thing unless she accomplishes two or three things in the speaking.”

  “Joking or not,” Kentigern said, earnestly. “She mentioned the idea of marrying you. Tying your houses together.”

  “And?” Aefric asked, puzzled now.

  “And she sent her sister here with a gift, not a full season later,” Kentigern said. “Maybe she wants you to marry Zoleen. Maybe she’s having Zoleen test the waters before making a play to marry you herself. Either way, I don’t doubt she’s looking to see you married to a Fyrenn.”

  “Even if Ashling wants him herself,” Ser Yrsa said, “that doesn’t mean Zoleen is without her own ideas here.”

  “I have to sail this morning,” Aefric said. “Do we have anything more pressing to discuss than who wants to marry me?”

  “This topic is important,” Kentigern said. “His majesty made quite clear to us before he created you duke. We were to ensure that you didn’t make Arinda’s mistake, and die unmarried and childless.”

  “And if we’re to discuss it,” Ser Beornric said, “we really ought to revisit the possibilities of the princesses from Caiperas and Malimfar.”

  “Well, not Malimfar,” Ser Yrsa said. “Not given what we know about Wulfport, and what we suspect about those four knights.”

  “I’m not convinced they were serious about marrying their crown princess to our duke here,” Ser Calder said. “It’s believable enough, but until we know why those four knights are here, we must assume that Princess Astrid’s mission was scouting, not marriage.”

  “And that Princess Xenia was here to keep an eye on Princess Astrid?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “Seems likely enough,” Ser Calder said.

  “Enough,” Aefric said, slapping the table. “This topic is now closed for today. I have a lot of miles to go, and two monarchs to guard. Is there anything pressing I need to address before leaving?”

  “One thing I can think of, though it might be able to wait,” Kentigern said. “I’m not sure.”

  “What is it?” Aefric asked.

  “There was an escape in Ajenmoor late last night. Captain Brusi of the Gull’s Bride.”

  “A known confederate of Nelazzi,” Ser Yrsa said. “Wonderful.” She grimaced. “At least Gwawl is right where we put him. I checked not an hour past.”

  “Any details about the escape?” Aefric asked.

  “None yet,” Kentigern said. “The matter is under investigation.”

  “Not even any idea of how he escaped from that mastless ship out in the harbor?”

  “He wouldn’t have been kept there,” Ser Beornric said. “You gave that to the city, but he was the prisoner of that councilman.”

  “Galdiff Reteka,” Ser Yrsa spat. “Slimy bit of filth. Probably left the keys where Brusi could find them, then got his own guards drunk.”

  “Speculation,” Ser Calder said dismissively. “It’s more likely that the pirate queen herself is behind the escape than an Ajenmoori councilor.”

  “What about Gwawl then?” Aefric asked. “Should we expect a breakout attempt here?”

  “I shouldn’t use the word ‘impossible,’” Ser Calder said. “But near enough. This isn’t Ajenmoor. Even our worst cells are stronger and better defended. And you put Gwawl in one of the special, wizard cells. I’m not sure anyone short of Kainemorton himself could get past those locks.”

  “Increase the guard anyway,” Aefric said, “and watch the rotation. Treachery can be more powerful than magic, and Nelazzi’s reach is long.”

  “I’ve personally trained every soldier in this castle,” Ser Yrsa said. “I’ll guarantee them myself.”

  “Then the guards themselves deliver Gwawl’s food from here on out,” Aefric said. “And if he was allowed any visitors, he is no longer.”

  “You can’t just keep him there forever,” Ser Calder said.

  “I can keep him there at least until I speak with their majesties. I’ll figure out what to do with him after that.” Aefric turned to Kentigern. “Anyone else escape?”

  “No,” Kentigern said. “And the mayor of Ajenmoor assures us that they’ve doubled the guard on the remaining prisoners, and that they’re trying to recapture Captain Brusi.”

  “Lovely,” Aefric said. “Anything else? Calder?”

  “Small matters only,” Ser Calder said. “I can handle them myself.”

  “Thank you,” Aefric said.

  “I’m putting our warships on maneuvers near our coastal port cities,” Ser Yrsa said, “and I’ll be checking the readiness of our soldiers. If Malimfar tries anything big, we’ll be ready.”

  “Very good,” Aefric said. “Kentigern?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.”

  “Good,” Aefric said. “Beornric?”

  “I’m just here to escort you to the Duke’s Hand when you’re ready,” Ser Beornric said. “Though I do have a thought about Ajemnoor that might be worth hearing.”

  “Oh?” Aefric asked.

  “It occurs to me that you sent Ser Deirdre to Ajenmoor. If she hears about an escaped prisoner—”

  “She will,” Ser Yrsa said. “Assuming she’s not the one who stole him.”

  “—and if she can do so without jeopardizing her mission, I suspect she’ll go after Brusi herself.”

  “Well,” Aefric said, smiling. “Then maybe we shouldn’t count him as having escaped just yet…”

  He finally took a sweet bite of that honeyed oat roll, and realized that, alas, he’d have to rush through his breakfast.

  The Duke’s Hand was crowded as it sailed down Lake Deepwater toward Behal, at its southern tip.

  The sun was only just rising in the east, and the overnight chill felt good. Alas, it would burn off soon enough. Aefric had been advised that, after midsummer, the days would slowly begin cooling on their way toward autumn, but that hadn’t happened yet.

  Made the cool of the morning a refreshing change.

  Aefric sat in his comfortable, fixed wooden chair on the afterdeck, with Ser Beornric beside him on a canvas folding chair. The other six knights of his personal guard, in their full plate and their Deepwater tabards, milled about the afterdeck as well.

  The ship was just too crowded for them to be anywhere else.

  The twenty-four soldiers of Aefric’s personal guard stayed belowdecks to keep out of the sailors’ way.

  A drum boomed a steady beat, keeping the oars in time until the wind could pick up and fill the sails. Captain Sikel had assured Aefric that the wind would pick up soon, and that they’d reach Behal before midmorning.

  Behal the city, not the castle. The plan was to sail past the delta and into the mouth of the Haven. Aefric and the others would disembark near the bridge over the Kingsroad.

  Wouldn’t save much time over stopping at the castle. But after that morning meeting ran long — which Aefric blamed on all the marriage talk — he wanted to save every minute he could for travel.

  Plus, this was an advantage to the rika system. Kentigern had already sent rika ahead to Behal. When the Duke’s Hand put in, horses would be waiting for his knights and soldiers, and supplies would be waiting for all of them.

  Aefric had considered either riding a magaunt — a phantasmal horse he could summon — or having a horse provided for himself as well. But it had been Queen Eppida who gave Windsong to Aefric, so he felt it would make a better statement if he met their majesties mounted on his gift.

  Rikas had also been sent ahead to ease the way at their planned stops. Speed would matter here. He couldn’t likely meet their majesties by the Kerrik Forest. It was too late for that.

  But if he and his used their time well, Aefric could make Tafarac in Felspark that night, and meet the royal party at Norrtarr before dusk the next day.

  Not as good as meeting them at the forest. But it would still be meeting them before they lodged for the night with one of his vassals. Surely that would be enough to make a good impression.

  He liked the idea of making a good impression before they reached Water’s End. Assassins or no, Aefric was a little concerned about this “check” King Colm was supposed to be making.

  And since Aefric had given permission for Byrhta and Vercy to come to Water’s End, Aefric wanted a couple of days in their majesties’ presence before the subject of marriage was broached.

  Seemed safer that way.

  And the first day of that trip went well. The Duke’s Hand reached the Kingsroad Bridge at Behal just before midmorning. Behal’s castellan, Ser Grey, was there and waiting, with a company of soldiers.

  A crowd had gathered to greet their duke — mostly with cheers, though Aefric thought he heard a couple of requests in the shouts — but the soldiers held a good line. Aefric had no trouble disembarking, and his personal guard got their horses and packs sorted easily.

  Then, with a wave, a smile, and a few words for the crowd, Aefric and his guard took to the Kingsroad.

  The Kingsroad was wide and smooth and well-maintained. Aefric had made sure of that. He also had begun the process of having the road bricked. The project was underway, but hadn’t reached the bridge yet, which made Aefric worry that it might not be finished before the rains came in earnest.

  Then they were riding the Kingsroad between the barony of Riverbreak and the county of Goldenfall. They passed mostly farms, at first, but by midday they’d passed construction on two new towns, one on each side of the road.

  On the Goldenfall side, this would be rebuilding a town razed during the Godswalk Wars, but the construction was all new on the Riverbreak side.

  Odd that Vercy and Byrhta hadn’t mentioned it. Probably wanted it to be a surprise. As though Aefric weren’t expecting something like this. Byrhta had been irritated that Riverbreak had never taken enough advantage of Kingsroad traffic, leaving most of it for Goldenfall.

  Goldenfall, of course, was her father’s county. No doubt the Riverbreak towns she was building along the Kingsroad were a statement to Aefric that she put the position he’d given her ahead of other considerations.

  Aefric wondered, though, how well received her decisions would be by her father and older brother…

  Traffic was better along the Kingsroad, now, than it had been even this past spring. Plenty of local peddlers and farmers, of course, but also merchant caravans coming and going. Local petty nobles, with small entourages about their business.