He propelled Kelson toward the door leading to the dressing room, but the boy paused there and looked back at Morgan suspiciously.

“So I’m meant to have dressers, eh? How many?”

“Oh, six or so, I should imagine,” Morgan replied, raising an innocent eyebrow.

“Six!” Kelson said indignantly. “Morgan, I don’t need six dressers!”

“Is this a rebellion?” Morgan retorted, unable to control a grin.

He knew how Kelson felt about personal servants—and he, too, hated being fussed over. But there were times when it couldn’t be avoided. Kelson knew that, and his expression confirmed that he recognized that fact, too. But there were also signs that Morgan had not had the last word.

As the boy opened the door and started through, he suddenly turned and looked at Morgan with an expression of mock indignation. “I still think,” he said haughtily, “that you planned all this deliberately.”

“I’ve been planning deliberately to make you a king!” Morgan retorted, his patience wearing thin. “Now, get in there!”

He made a motion as if to chase the boy, and Kelson ducked on through the doorway. The door closed with a note of finality, but not before Kelson had poked his head back through and stuck out his tongue.

Sighing, Morgan rolled his eyes heavenward in a silent appeal to whatever saint controlled the whims of royal princes. Kelson’s maturity of the previous day and of the night seemed to have disappeared entirely. He hoped it was not going to set the tone of the entire day.

Before he could decide on the next course of action, there was another knock on the door.

“Who’s there?”

“Derry, m’lord,” the familiar voice replied.

Morgan crossed to the door and shot back the bolt to admit Derry. With the young lord were two squires bearing hot water, towels, and fresh clothing. Derry himself looked rested and refreshed in his crisp new livery. The sling was gone from his left arm, mute reminder of the night before.

“I’m glad to see you’ve fully recovered,” Morgan remarked.

“Yes. Strange thing, wasn’t it, sir?” Derry replied dryly. “I don’t suppose you’d like to—”

“Later, Derry,” Morgan interrupted, shaking his head slightly as he stood aside to let them enter. “Right now I feel the urgent need of more mundane repairs—such as a hot bath.”

“Yes, m’lord,” said Derry, taking the hint and gesturing to the two squires accompanying him. “Now if you’ll just follow me, gentlemen, I’ll show you how His Grace likes things done.”

Morgan shook his head and chuckled as Derry took things in hand, then followed them into the room. At least he wouldn’t have to show up at the coronation looking like the legendary Wild Man of Torenth now. And explanations to Derry would have to wait until they had some privacy.