“You did not tell them who you were?”

“I did not know, by then. The baron told me a short version of my true name over and over, until it was all the name I knew. I was too young—I had a few memories, but no way to describe them to anyone and all I had learned told me it was dangerous to try.”

The king chewed his lip for a long moment. “I heard a tale,” he said finally. “I am a king; kings have spies; you will not despise me for that—”

Kieri shrugged. “Of course not. Any man of war must have spies.”

“Good. Then—I heard a tale, brought by a spy from Tsaia, that you said something like this to that Council, and were believed.”

“Some of them believed,” Kieri said. “Some did not. But their belief or unbelief does not affect the truth of it.”

“It is a tale someone might tell,” the king said, “who perhaps had been orphaned and mistreated, and wanted to think himself a lost prince.”

“Indeed,” Kieri said. “But I had no thought of being a lost prince: not then, not later. I knew I had come from a good home, and had found myself in a bad one: that is all. When I came to Halveric—” It had been in this season, with the trees losing their leaves, the nights cold, the days crisp, and harvests gathered in. “—I came in autumn, having gone inland from Bannerlíth—something drew me; I knew not what. But having found scant employment, and none with winter drawing in, I came to Halveric Steading a starveling beggar. And they took me in, as your folk had done, and fed me and would have had me a house servant, as I had been trained and was neat in serving at table.”

“From servant to squire is a long step,” the king said.

“All praise to the Halverics for giving me every chance they could,” Kieri said. “And that is a very long tale to tell. But it is due to the Halverics that, again, I lived—lived through that winter when I would otherwise have died, and lived years with them to relearn what a good home is, and then a good commander. You have spies in Aarenis, you said: they must have told you about Halveric Company.”

“Yes. Good fighters, well-disciplined, and not such as we wanted to meet. Yours the same. But both of you use women badly, and do not protect them.”

“Some women do not want to be protected,” Kieri said.

The king snorted. “Oh, some girls are wild and think they want adventure; they little know what war is. They are brave enough, our women, but their blood should be shed only in the marriage bed, bearing strong sons.”

“And daughters,” Kieri said.

“And daughters, yes. We must have daughters for the people to have children and live on. That is why a brave woman’s death in war is a waste.” He paused, staring at his hands on his knees, a man clearly trying to think of something else. When he looked up, he said, “The tale I heard included a magic sword … made by elves, the spy told my advisor, but you might as well know we think elves are but magelords themselves.”