The sound of closer hoofbeats reached Brion’s ears, and he turned in the saddle to see who was approaching. At length, a young rider in scarlet silks and leathers emerged from the fog and urged his bay gelding up the hill. Brion watched with pride as the boy slowed his mount to a walk and reined in at his father’s side.

“Lord Ewan says it will be a while, Sire,” the boy reported, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of the chase. “The hounds flushed some rabbits.”

“Rabbits!” Brion laughed out loud. “You mean to tell me that after all the boasting we’ve had to endure for the past week, Ewan’s going to make us sit here and freeze while he rounds up his puppy dogs?”

“So it appears, Sire.” Kelson grinned. “But if it’s any consolation, everyone in the hunt feels exactly the same way.”

He has his mother’s smile, Brion thought fondly. But the eyes, the hair, are mine. He seems so young, though. Can it really be nearly fourteen years? Ah, Kelson, if only I could spare you what lies ahead . . .

Brion dismissed the thought with a smile and a shake of the head. “Well, as long as everybody else is miserable, I suppose I feel a bit better.”

He yawned and stretched, then relaxed in the saddle. The polished leather creaked as his weight shifted, and Brion sighed.

“It’s a pity Morgan isn’t here. Fog or no fog, I think he could charm the deer right to the city gates if he chose.”

“Really?” Kelson asked.

“Well, perhaps not quite that close,” Brion conceded. “But he has a way with animals—and other things.” The king grew suddenly distant, and he toyed absently with the riding crop in his gloved hand.

Kelson caught the change of mood, and after a studied pause he moved his horse closer to the older man. His father had not been entirely open about Morgan in the past few weeks. And the absence of conversation about the young general had been keenly felt. Perhaps this was the time to pursue the matter. He decided to be blunt.

“Sire, forgive me if I speak out of turn, but why haven’t you recalled Morgan from the border marches?”

Brion felt himself go tense, forced himself to conceal his surprise. How had the boy known that? Morgan’s whereabouts had been a closely guarded secret for nearly two months now. Not even the Crown Council knew precisely where he was, or why. He must tread softly until he could ascertain just how much the boy knew.

“Why do you ask, Son?”

“I don’t mean to pry, Sire,” the boy replied. “I’m certain you have reasons even the Council isn’t aware of. I’ve missed him, though. And I think you have, too.”