Tosten smiled blindingly and laughed. “When you hear respectful tones from a Shavig lord, it’s time to run,” he quoted smugly. “Ward, don’t you know you’ve given Shavig a hero for the first time since old Seleg died and the dragons died with him.”

“Hero?” I choked. “If Orviden calls me a puppy one more time, I just might bite him.”

Kellen stared at me for a moment. “The council meets, I believe, next month. Can you get them all together sooner?”

“You are well-informed,” said my uncle approvingly. “But my son Beckram and Ward’s sister, Ciarra, just had a new baby girl, the first of her generation. Reason enough to hold an informal celebration at Hurog.”

“Fine,” I said. “To celebrate my niece’s birth I’ll see to it that the lords of Shavig attend. If they understand what Jakoven holds, they’ll see that they have no choice.”

Rosem said, “Alizon has the support of most of Oranstone—but they are tired of warfare there. Things are better since the Vorsag were driven out, but there are still many Oranstonian lords who have very little power over their own lands.”

“Avinhelle is behind Jakoven,” said Tisala. “But there are a few men I believe will support Kellen where they haven’t supported Alizon.” She turned to Kellen. “Remember, we haven’t told them that we intend to put you on the throne rather than Alizon, yet. Seaford will split, I think, from what my people have overheard. And there are several powerful Oranstonian lords who are making noises of support for Alizon, but may not support Kellen.”

Kellen raised his cup to me and said, “May we all outlive this year.”

Soberly cups were raised and drunk.

IDREAMTIWAS BACK AT THEASYLUM THAT NIGHT,but fortunately I woke up before I woke anyone else. The camp was quiet when I got up and went for a walk.

When I got to the broken wall that looked out over Estian, Tisala was already there.

“What keeps you up so late?” I asked, careful to keep my face in the deeper shadow so she couldn’t see the remnants of my nightmare there.

She glanced at me, and then returned her gaze to the city below us. She shook her head. “Have you ever felt like you’ve stepped into someone else’s story?”

“No,” I said, intrigued. “Whose story have you stumbled into?”

“I’m not sure right now. Kellen’s? Oreg’s? Yours?” She looked at her hands where they lay on a broken stone block, capable hands that could wield a sword with rare skill.

But she wasn’t seeing what I did. She was looking at her left hand. The scarring was bad—even in the dim light of stars and moon I could see that.