Marriage. Kieri scowled at Garris. Did even Garris have to bring that up? He would marry—he had said he would marry—but he would do it in his own time. With someone the right age, the right temperament, who was not ambitious or coerced. His mind drifted to the King’s Squires on the schedule Garris had brought. To one particular Squire. No, he must not. They were young, and he was a king, and he must be careful not to exert any pressure. “I’ll let you know first, shall I?” he said to Garris with some asperity. “You and Hanlin of Pargun are two of a kind.”

“Not so,” Garris said, hand to his heart.

“Nearly. She’s written me several friendly notes, always mentioning Pargunese princesses.” He had answered politely but without much warmth. “She says they’re beautiful. I expect they’re as sly as Hanlin and as difficult as their father. The Lady wants peace, but I doubt she’d be happy to get it by way of such a marriage.”

“I’m not urging that,” Garris said. He scowled.

“And there are more important matters than my finding a wife,” Kieri said, tapping his pen on the schedule. He mentioned one he could share with Garris. “Gods grant Mikeli made it safely through his coronation.”

“You think he might not?”

“Verrakaien,” Kieri said. “They didn’t want me king in Lyonya; they won’t want Mikeli king in Tsaia.”

“But they’re under attainder—”

“And Dorrin warned us they can take other bodies. The prince—the king now—survived one attempt on his life. I worry about another.” He blew out a long breath. “I should trust the gods, I know that. Falk’s Oath, I’ve been faithless so long, it’s hard to practice that discipline.”

“About the only one you don’t practice,” Garris said. He poured water from the flagon for Kieri and a goblet for himself. “I understand—we need a strong ally to the west. Prealíth—”

“There’s trouble in Prealíth?”

“No, not trouble there. Rumors of trouble in Aarenis. You know—or maybe not—of the river trade to their ports and the sea trade around the Eastbight from Bannerlíth to the Immerhoft ports.” Garris paused; Kieri nodded. “Rumors from Immerdzan and suchlike of increased pirate activity and a pirate king building a castle right up the great river.”

“That would be Alured the Black,” Kieri said. “I know him too well. Started as a pirate, turned to brigandry in southern Aarenis, with some story about being the lost heir to the old duchy of Immer, which had been vacant more than a century. He was our ally for a while against Siniava. In Tsaia, we heard of unrest in Aarenis the last couple of years.” He cleared his throat. “Someday I’m going to have to do something about him.”

“You? You can’t seriously think of returning to Aarenis—” Garris’s voice rose.

“Someone must,” Kieri said. “He could be worse than Siniava, and I’m the one who supported his claim to Immer—worst mistake I made. According to Paks, it’s one reason the Lady thought I might not be fit to rule.”