It would have been very easy, back in those days when Kordas was a hostage in the Imperial Court, for Hakkon to have eliminated Kordas by simple neglect. It was possible for bastards to succeed to a title; it just needed the Emperor’s approval, and that probably would not have been hard to get. Had Hakkon lusted for the Ducal coronet, the opportunity to snatch it had been right there.

But he had never been anything other than Kordas’s faithful protector and advisor. He had never even once given Kordas bad advice.

No one would ever have guessed that Hakkon was Kordas’s cousin; Hakkon was still tall and strong and muscled like a muleteer; he didn’t allow himself the “belly drift” of most courtiers. His hair and impressive beard were a startling white-blond, and he kept both in neat braids.

He never missed anything—perhaps as a result of being Kordas’s watchdog for so long; even though Kordas was still in the shadows of the doorway, his cousin spotted him, and signaled with his eyebrows and a tilt of his head toward the empty seat.

Kordas acknowledged him with a nod, and made his way through the bowing pages to join his family.

“Well?” Hakkon asked, as he took his seat.

“Well, the foaling was successful thanks to Delia, plus there was a second Sweetfoot born last night. I gave Delia the Gold foal because she earned it, so she will be starting her filly’s early training today, and yes, please put Restil in the pages, he’s old enough.” Having gotten that out of the way, he turned to his breakfast, listening in to Delia and Isla’s conversation. As he had expected, it was about Delia’s filly, who apparently had been named “Daystar.” Isla was giving her advice on the filly’s early training, and Delia was doing more listening than talking. Kordas buttered some bread with a broad knife imprinted with the white and blue winged horse of Valdemar, and turned back to Hakkon.

“I expect to hear from the Emperor that he wants his tribute quite soon,” he continued, “since the fact that I was doing my own foaling last night is bound to come to his ears as a hilarious anecdote.”

Hakkon snorted. “I don’t know how you put up with being thought a clown. I’d have broken some noses over it if I was in your shoes.” Then he laughed. “So it’s just as well I never wanted your shoes.”