Camwyn hesitated before answering and realized he was now on a level with Mikeli, whose mouth dropped open. “I don’t know—” he began, and then he fell, bare feet thudding on the rug first, followed almost at once by the rest of him crumpling in a heap with a loud thump. His hand held no light now, and ached as if he’d plunged it into the winter river. He lay, too tired to move. The candle he’d lit went on burning.

“Sorry,” Mikeli said. “I didn’t really think—”

“Is everything all right, sir king?” came a soft voice from the passage, along with approaching footsteps.

“Yes,” Mikeli said. “Prince Camwyn and I are just talking; I knocked over the stool. We were both restless. Don’t be surprised if I light another candle.”

“Something to drink? Eat?”

“No need,” Mikeli said. “Thank you.”

The footsteps receded. Camwyn felt himself sinking into sleep; as the darkness closed over him, he felt his brother’s strong arms lifting him, settling him in a bed.

When he woke, he was in Mikeli’s bed and Mikeli was nowhere in sight. His head ached. He rolled over. A pillow and blanket were on the rug … but across the passage, he heard a man’s snore and a boy’s lighter one in the chamber that had been his. Outside, he heard a horse neigh, and then another one. The camp was waking. Soon the horn would blow, and servants would come.

Camwyn rolled out of the bed, tossed the blanket and pillow back atop it, and eased the curtain back. No one in the passage. Across to the other chamber … he moved the curtain back and forth. Mikeli’s snores stopped.

“Cam?”

“Yes. It’s morning.”

“It feels like the middle of the night.” Now more noise from outside, muffled sounds from men and completely unmuffled sounds from the mules. “Let me get back to my side,” Mikeli said. “We’ll talk later.”

Outside the sky was already light, the grass heavy with dew. Camwyn and Aris had their assigned chores, readying the tent’s contents for the wagons. Shaking out the bedclothes, folding them; folding up the beds, the tables, the stools and chairs; carrying the lighter things out to the assigned wagon.

At breakfast in the open air—deliciously fresh and smelling of spring—Mikeli said, “You will not ride with me today, either of you. I believe you know why.”

“Yes, sir king,” Camwyn said. Was he being sent back? He stuffed a bite of sausage and bread into his mouth to keep from pleading.