He was not a man who was used to feeling foolish. Under King Stefan, his father had amassed a large fortune. The king had required large quantities of iron, which their mines could supply in exchange for gold and other favors. Ulstead, too, had been an excellent trading partner. When Alain had inherited his father’s title, it had seemed like a simple thing to retain their wealth, especially with a chit of a girl come to the throne.

In fact, the new queen had seemed like an opportunity. But dressed in fresh clothing and presenting himself to Lord Ortolan, Count Alain felt far younger than his twenty-eight years. He was embarrassed and furious, and even more furious because of his embarrassment.

The old advisor’s chambers were luxuriant, hung with tapestries and imported silks—a reminder that he had been in power for a very long time, guiding events behind the scenes. Count Alain’s own father had dealt favorably with him.

“Have a seat,” Lord Ortolan said.

A servant brought in a silver tray containing brown bread and butter, along with a pitcher of cider.

“Once, when you were a mere boy,” said the advisor as soon as they were alone, “your father was here at the castle, standing before the bed of a dying King Henry. He would have been chosen as the next king, and had that happened, you would be king now. Do not lose the chance to rule again.”

“You should have warned me,” Count Alain complained. “I didn’t expect that tree monster!”

“You were supposed to charm Aurora,” said Lord Ortolan, settling himself in one of the chairs, “not start a fight.”

“Did I not arrange the hunt to please Aurora? Did I not endeavor to have my sister pay her courtesies? I thought this would be a simple task.” He stood up, restless, and walked to the window. But even looking down on the courtyard made him remember the feeling of hanging in the air, sure he would die. “Aurora is very innocent. That should have been to my advantage.”

“And I primed her to be distrustful of that Prince Phillip,” Lord Ortolan said. “Really, it’s impossible to think how you failed.”

Count Alain turned toward him in scorn. “You did me no favors with your warnings. And they didn’t work. All Phillip had to do was ask about the Moors and she was swept into his conversation!” Count Alain threw up his hands.

Lord Ortolan fixed his gaze on the count. “You know the Moorlands exert an influence over her.”

“They are more dangerous than I thought,” said Count Alain, “and that is saying nothing of that creature who slew King Stefan.”

Lord Ortolan did not look particularly impressed by this declaration. “Find a way into Aurora’s heart. Marrying her is the only way for you to become king.”