Dorrin relented, hoping that was the right choice. “Squires learn by doing, just like the rest of us,” she said. “You can tell me what you see and what you think. I’m not angry. Only we still have a lot of work to do before the king comes.”

“Yes, my lord! What should I start on?”

What could she start the girl on in the midst of a rainstorm? “Your house has hosted important guests,” Dorrin said. “Come with me to the rooms where the king and other nobles will stay; I depend on you to tell me what furnishings may need to be moved.” They started for the stairs. “And you can talk while we work.”

Gwenno’s suggestions sent housemaids scurrying to the attics for items Dorrin had thought useless fripperies. “Pillows,” Gwenno said. “And my mother always put a tapestry screen in front of fireplaces in summer.”

Dorrin nodded, privately thinking that a well-cleaned fireplace with polished hardware was adequate. But now she thought of it, the palace in Vérella had screens over its fireplaces. By supper, all the fireplaces had been blocked by screens and dozens of decorative vases, pots, and boxes awaited cleaning in the upper hall. Meanwhile, Gwenno had proposed a double handful of ideas about the regalia, its origin, the motives of previous Verrakaien dukes, and what she would do if she were Dorrin. Dorrin struggled not to show that the crown answered some of those ideas with enthusiasm. The supper bell came as a welcome reprieve.

Conversation at the meal stayed firmly on weather, crops, livestock, and other estate-related matters, and Dorrin sent her squires off after Gwenno had cleared the table. “I have other work to do,” she said. Once in her office, Dorrin leaned back in her chair and looked down the length of the room, now free of all its magical protections.

Anyone—even the king—could sit safely in any of the chairs. The books on the shelves were just books, not traps. No evil spirits emerged from walls or floors except her own bitter memories, and she did not let them command her. Her people did not live in constant fear, in the certainty of hunger, suffering, punishment, that had held them down so long. She had not done so badly.

Though—she could not let herself rest in that moment of self-praise—she had managed to alienate a large portion of the peerage and get one of her squires cast out of the royal family. “I still make mistakes,” she said to the steady beat of the rain outside.

You are still my Knight.

That was clear enough. Cheered, she went all the way up to the children’s rooms to check the nursery. Three of the younglings were still awake when she peeked in.

“Auntie Dorrin?”