The break from that likely topic was almost as welcome as the whipping winds and the lovely view as they soared over the lands of Aefric’s duchy on their way back to his castle.

  Lake traffic was busier than usual that day. From what Kentigern had told him, it would grow heavier steadily through the end of summer, then taper off a bit into autumn.

  They got back shortly after midday, landing on Aefric’s large, public floor balcony.

  It was a beautiful day. The summer heat was finally starting to wane.

  Ocheda met them at the door to Aefric’s sitting room.

  “Your grace,” Ocheda said with a bow, apparently unperturbed at her duke’s unconventional arrival. But then, doubtless the Soulfists had made a habit of odd arrivals over the years.

  “Has lunch begun?” Aefric asked.

  “It has,” Ocheda said. “The royal family, the Lady Zhila, and most of your grace’s court.”

  “You know what?” Aefric said. “They don’t need me for this. Send for the knights of my personal guard. At least, whoever of them aren’t at that lunch. They can join me here.”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  It was a simple lunch of cold cuts, honeyed oat bread, and good sharp cheeses, along with good, crisp day beer to drink. Just Aefric and all seven of the knights of his personal guard.

  It was a good, casual lunch. Full of stories. Some of Aefric’s, from his adventuring days. More from each of the knights. Some of those were tales of battle from the Godswalk Wars, or duels, but just as many were of strange situations they’d gotten themselves into over the years, and ways they’d worked themselves out again.

  Some of those were likely tall tales. Like the one about Ser Wardius wrestling an alligator in the moat around Behal Castle. Far as Aefric knew, there were no alligators in Lake Deepwater.

  But by tradition, the stories went unquestioned over the meal. Just enjoyed.

  And finally, as the food and the stories finally wound down, Aefric stood.

  His knights looked up at him. He smiled and began to speak.

  “When Beornric first told me that I had local knights who wanted to join my personal guard, I had trouble understanding.” Aefric shrugged. “I was only newly knighted myself, before the king created me Duke of Deepwater. I had only the life and experiences of an adventurer to draw on. I knew little of the ways of knighthood and nobility.”

  Aefric nodded at Ser Beornric.

  “But I trusted his judgment, and I can’t be happier about that decision. You six — seven, really, as I do include Beornric in this — have proven yourselves over and over. Your skills. Your judgment. Your honor. You are truly exemplars of what a knight should be.”

  They took the compliment in silence, though Aefric could see the pride in their eyes at his words.

  Aefric smiled.

  “As such,” he said, “I feel you need a title better than ‘duke’s guard’ or ‘knights of my personal guard’ or some such.”

  The knights looked back and forth at one another. Maybe trying to see if any of the others knew where Aefric was going with this. But even Ser Beornric didn’t know.

  “And that is why,” Aefric continued, “as of this moment, I am creating the Order of the Lake, and naming you the first seven knights of this order.”

  Eyes widened. One or two knights gasped.

  But then all smiled.

  “You’ll have to re-knight us then,” Ser Beornric said, chest puffed up with pride. “Make it official.”

  And so Aefric did that, at the end of his lunch. Each knight, starting with Ser Beornric, knelt before Aefric and renewed their vows, before each was told, in turn, “Arise, Knight of the Lake,” and given the salute of a noble to a knight. One hand making a fist, the other grabbing its wrist.

  When Aefric finished the ritual for the last of them, Ser Wardius, he called Ocheda out onto the balcony.

  “Send word to Kentigern,” Aefric said. “At my expense I want the image of Lake Deepwater etched into the breastplates of these seven, my new Knights of the Lake.”

  “Of course, your grace,” she said, and bowed. “But I must inform your grace that the king summons you. His justiciar is ready to report about the assassin.”

  Aefric, along with Sers Beornric, Temat and Wardius, descended the many long, private stairs down from the ducal apartments to just behind the great hall, and from there down below the castle to the cells.

  Down here the air smelled of dust and sweat. Down here there was no hardwood covering the gray stone floors, or plaster on the gray stone walls and ceiling. And yet all was brightly lit, evermore, by magic.

  The hall had been cleared of guards and soldiers save two Varondami knights, guarding Lady Zhila, four Knights of the Crown, guarding their majesties — five, if Aefric included Ser Beatritz — and two soldiers bearing both the sigils of Armyr and Taesark, guarding the justiciar.

  Maev wasn’t down here, which made Aefric frown, though he didn’t dare comment on it.

  Especially since Lady Zhila was giving Aefric the kind of look that might’ve been assessing, and might’ve been ready to pass a very lethal judgment.

  The queen mother of Varondam was dressed almost as well as their majesties, in a silk gown with a high-cut, dark yellow bodice and a skirts of burnt orange. She wore a ruby studded gold necklace, and matching bracelets.

  King Colm was in a wine-red quilted tunic, embroidered in gold threat, over dark brown hose. Queen Eppida wore a low-cut gown that was an even darker shade of red than the king’s tunic, and embroidered with silver thread, rather than gold.

  The justiciar, of course, was clad in all brown roughspun, cowl to gloves to boots. And he held his triple-edged greatsword before him, as though in salute.

  “He has arrived,” Lady Zhila said archly. “May we now proceed?”

  King Colm looked as though he’d been expecting to formally introduce Aefric to Lady Zhila. Clearly, though, she was uninterested in the introduction.

  Aefric kept his mouth closed, focusing on the lingering taste of sharp cheese and good beer from the much more pleasant company of his lunch.

  King Colm turned to the justiciar. “All are present. In Taesark’s name, begin your report when ready.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” the justiciar said in that eerily neutral voice. “Would your majesty first like the complete report about Sifwyn Rikassa?”

  “That can wait for now,” King Colm said. “Tell us about the assassin.”

  “The assassin is of the Order of the Severed Dream,” the justiciar said. “He was contracted in the Malimfari city of Wulfport, to infiltrate the royal palace of Varondam at Vaaran Tir and take the life of her highness, Maev Stronghand, Princess of Armyr. No additional funds were provided to ensure suffering, or any specific kind of statement in the process. Simple death.”

  “There’s nothing ‘simple’ about the idea of my daughter dying,” King Colm growled.

  “I speak not of the concept of her death,” the justiciar said. “Only of the contract, which was, in fact, that simple. Death was paid for. Not suffering or torture or any of the additional services the Order of the Severed Dream might offer.”

  “Oh, enough of these details,” Lady Zhila said. “Bring us to the crux of the matter. Who hired the assassin?”

  The justiciar did not look towards her. Addressed the king instead.

  “Does your majesty wish to hear of the crimes and murders committed to make possible the attempt at Vaaran Tir?”

  “Later,” King Colm said. “For now, I agree with Lady Zhila. We need to know who’s behind this.”

  “The assassin believes that payment, through channels, came from the royal family of Malimfar.”

  “I knew it,” King Colm growled.

  “Wait,” Queen Eppida said. “‘Believes?’”

  “That’s correct, your majesty,” the justiciar said. “That is what the assassin believes. He is mistaken. He was led to believe this, by subtle enough means to make it seem true. But truth does not ring out in it. Malimfar is not behind the attempt to take the life of her highness, Maev Stronghand, Princess of Armyr.”

  “You’re certain?” Lady Zhila asked. “But it has to be Malimfar, doesn’t it?”

  The justiciar merely stood there, holding up his shining greatsword.

  “He’s certain,” King Colm said with a sigh. “See how brightly his sword shines?” He turned to the justiciar. “Then who is behind it, if not Malimfar?”

  “I can provide the name known to the assassin,” the justiciar said. “But the name is false. Meaningless.”

  “Who is behind the attempt?”

  “There is no way for me to tell,” the justiciar said. “The threads hang too loose. I cannot pull them tight enough to see that pattern. Without more information, all I can swear to was that the order to take the life of her highness, Maev Stronghand, Princess of Armyr, did not originate from the royal family of Malimfar, nor with the decision of anyone native to Malimfar.”

  “But it has to be the same hand behind the attempt on us,” King Colm said, including his queen and himself with a gesture. “And behind the attempt on Killian.”

  “I sense an echo to those words,” the justiciar said. “There is truth to them. Connection. But the extent of that connection, I cannot swear to.”

  “What does that mean?” Queen Eppida asked.

  “It means that the events connect, and that the hands behind them have at least touched. But I do not know, here and know, if the same hands are behind all three attempted assassinations.”

  “Is there more you can get from the assassin?” King Colm asked.

  “There are no further questions worth asking him now,” the justiciar said. “But that may change, if new information arises.”

  “Then he lives for now,” King Colm said. “And he comes back to Armityr with us. Today.”

  “Today?” Queen Eppida asked, complaint plain in her voice. “The royal entourage isn’t even here yet. They’re only just reaching Behal.”

  “Then they’ll have a shorter trip back to Armityr,” King Colm repeated. “We leave today. At once.” He turned to Lady Zhila. “You may come with us, if you wish, but I would rather you and Maev return to Vaaran Tir and continue the negotiations.”

  “I would rather that as well,” she said. “Too chilly up here for my old bones.”

  “Eppida, Beatritz, make the arrangements,” King Colm said. “Aefric, find us someplace private. I’d like a word before we go.”

  So many meeting rooms in Water’s End. So many places that Aefric could have taken the king for a quick, private chat. But Aefric could tell from King Colm’s manner that speed was of the essence.

  Instead of any of those meeting rooms, Aefric led King Colm out of the hallway among the cells…

  …and into a cell.

  The cells at Water’s End were much nicer than most of the cells Aefric had seen during his adventuring days. But then, most of those had been the decrepit remains of old cells, while exploring one ruin or another. Or sometimes while sneaking into the castle of some evil wizard or despot.

  There had, of course, been a cell or two that Aefric had occupied … against his own wishes. But he preferred not to think about those … simple misunderstandings.

  The cell Aefric led the king into was more or less clean gray stone, if a bit dusty. No mortar in here. Or, really, anywhere in Water’s End. The stonework was fitted together so tightly along the walls, ceiling, and floor, seams were nearly impossible to find.

  The smell of fresh straw from within the roughspun of the corner mattress, and the less pleasant odor of old waste from the midden hole in the opposite corner.

  “Close us in,” King Colm said to his knights. “But I won’t find it amusing if I hear that lock turn.”

  “That lock couldn’t hold me anyway,” Aefric said.

  Amusement flashed through King Colm’s eyes. He shook it away.

  The cell door shut with that sense of finality inherent in all cell doors.

  King Colm gave Aefric a serious look.

  “I erred last night,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let you hear what I told Maev about that alliance.”

  “I can keep the secret, your majesty.”

  “It’s not that,” King Colm said. “It’s no secret I want you married with children on the way. Arinda only ever had the one, and she never acknowledged the poor girl.”

  “It’s true then?” Aefric asked, even softer. “Ser Arras is Duchess Arinda’s daughter?”

  “Doesn’t matter if she is or isn’t,” King Colm said pointedly. “Duchess Arinda never acknowledged a bastard child, so the point is immaterial.”

  “I understand,” Aefric said, but his heart went out to his knight. To have come so close to becoming a duchess…

  But the king was still talking.

  “The point is, how can I expect you to pick a wife while you hold out hope that Maev will manage the Varondam alliance without marrying King Dalius?”

  “I confess, your majesty,” Aefric said. “In my heart of hearts, she is a leading candidate.”

  “A leading candidate,” King Colm said. “Not the leading candidate?”

  He didn’t give Aefric time to answer.

  “Ah, of course. That’s why Zoleen took such steps to keep Byrhta Ol’Caran away from you.” He shook his head. “Don’t blame you for sending Zoleen away for what she did. But bear in mind, she’s young. Only just came of age over the winter. She’ll learn from her mistake.”

  “But will she learn the right lesson?” Aefric asked. “Or will she just try harder next time to conceal activities I’d disapprove of.”

  “Too early to say,” King Colm said with a shrug. “I’ll say this about Fyrenn women, though. Individually, they can be delightful people. And clever enough to see things you miss, which can make them great partners. But when it comes to Fyrenn matters, they’re as single-minded and relentless as werewolves.”

  He shook his head. “Loving a Fyrenn can be difficult at times. But worth it.”

  “I’ll … try to keep that in mind, your majesty.”

  King Colm laughed. “I know, I know. Your heart is already full of Maev and Byrhta. Hardly any room left for poor Zoleen. But I do advise you to give her another chance.”

  “So long as I get time and space first.”

  “Fair enough,” King Colm said, and nodded. “Not that Zoleen is the only other candidate you should consider. Nor is Maev the only princess.”

  “Does your majesty refer to Princess Astrid or Princess Xenia?”

  “Neither of them,” King Colm said with a grimace. “Malimfar might not be behind those assassination attempts, but I can’t believe Eadred doesn’t have something in mind, after his failure in the spring.”

  King Colm shook his head, as though shaking away that line of thought.

  “And as for Xenia, it occurs to me that Caiperas might’ve been behind the assassination attempts, hoping to push us into war with Malimfar. That would be extreme, for them. But I can’t rule it out yet.”

  “What about Varondam?” Aefric asked.

  “What about Varondam?”

  “How much better terms could they have gotten for this alliance if Armyr felt an urgent need to strike back at Malimfar after attempted assassinations? Or worse, if one or two attempts were successful?”

  King Colm frowned as he considered that.

  “Doesn’t track,” he said. “There was an attempt on Maev, and I have no other daughter for them to marry.”

  “That attempt was stopped before it started,” Aefric said. “They might’ve planned to be ready when the strike came, to either foil it, or quickly save Maev’s life. But Sylkanis might’ve foiled the plan, by sniffing out the assassin before he struck.”

  “A devious thought,” King Colm said. “I hope you’re wrong.”

  “As do I,” Aefric said, only half-honestly. After all, if he were right, Maev wouldn’t likely be marrying King Dalius.

  “I’ll have to keep it in mind, though,” King Colm said. “Mention it to Beatritz. Get her opinion. I’ll also have to discuss the possibility with Maev. See what she thinks.” He gave Aefric a half-smile. “And yes, I’ll tell her you suggested it.”

  “Thank you, your majesty.”

  “But I was referring to other princesses. Rethneryl has a few. Hatay has one as well. Crown princess, I believe. And Shachan … I forget. But now that Malimfar and Caiperas have sent princesses to see you, you can believe that other nearby kingdoms will as well.”

  “I will be happy to receive them, your majesty.”

  “That’s half a lie,” King Colm said with a smile. “But do your best. And consider them seriously. While I may agree, as a father, that you and Maev would make a great match, as a king I’d rather see you married to someone else’s princess.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  King Colm laughed. “That’s not an order, your grace. Just a point for consideration. And if it turns out you can’t have Maev as your bride, and none of the other princesses suit you, I just might be willing to provide an appropriate dowry for Byrhta Ol’Caran.”

  “Really?” Aefric asked, more than a little surprised.

  “Really,” King Colm said, with a smile. “Do you know what Beatritz has been doing since we crossed into Deepwater?”

  “Checking up on me?” Aefric asked.

  King Colm laughed. “Very good, Aefric. She has indeed. Not with your vassals. They’ll bring anything good or bad they have to say directly to the queen and me. No. Beatritz has been checking with the people. Your staff, your vassals’ staffs, your citizens. Seeing what they have to say about their new duke.”

  “And?” Aefric asked tentatively.

  “Reports have generally been quite positive.” King Colm smiled at the hesitation on Aefric’s face about the word generally. “You’ll never get better than that, Aefric. It’s never true that all of the people are happy with their rulers. Someone always has complaints. Sometimes even justified complaints.”