“Desperately. It was lost the day the war ended, along with its author. But in a letter to Sephryn, Bran told her that he had found it—or at least discovered its location. I don’t know where that is yet, but when I find out, you can be certain we will be off again. For now, I am making corrections and updates to my book. After reading the original Book of Brin, and speaking to Sephryn, I see that I have several inaccuracies.” She frowned innocently. “No one’s perfect.”

She stared at the pages before her, then got up and walked to the window. She stood where Kile had and looked out at the city. Imperial Square lay below. Farther out, the many buildings of the city rose one atop another, but beyond them, beyond the river, the hills and trees stretched to the horizon.

“How soon will you be going after this second book?” Kolby asked.

“I should stay to make certain Mawyndulë is truly gone and not hiding somewhere. My father will need help putting his house in order.”

“You don’t want to be here, do you?” Kolby asked.

Farilane leaned on the windowsill and looked out at the endless possibilities that lay beyond it. “I hate funerals.”

“He’s your grandfather, and she’s your grandmother.”

“You left out a few greats.” Farilane sighed. “You want to stay, don’t you? Three funerals and a coronation? Pretty big deal, I suppose. How often does such a thing happen? And Ethan was your friend.”

“He was your friend, too, Highness.”

“He was.” She nodded. “You can stay. I’ll be fine without you.”

“Highness.”

When he said nothing more, she turned.

The knight stood as straight and tall as she had ever seen him. “I’ll never let you out of my sight again so long as I live.”

She smiled. “That might prove a bit awkward.”

The joke failed to find purchase against that perfect armor. Then, with words soaked in the sort of sincerity usually accompanied by tears, Kolby said, “No matter where you lead, I will follow, and I will protect you with my life.”

She wanted to make a joke. Felt like she should, if only to crack an emotional window, but the jests that crossed her mind were rendered vulgar and ugly before his simple purity. This was a good man, but that was old news. All of the Teshlors were.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” she said, taking an unconscious step toward him. “You weren’t there when Estermon was killed. But you were with me, and I’m alive because of it. Thank you.”

A knock on the door brought Kolby’s hand to his hip.

Farilane sighed. “Mawyndulë is not going to knock.”

Behind the door, Nordyan stood between two palace guards.

Her brother entered the cluttered chamber and looked around with revulsion, as if it were the first time he’d ever been there.