“Not completely, I fear. But I’m glad he gave permission—nay, encouragement—for you to continue learning about your magery.” She would not tell him now about the king’s presentiment that she herself would leave with the crown that spoke to her, and her oath bound her not to tell him about Camwyn.

“What about Gwenno and Daryan? You did not want me attempting any magery in their presence except the dinner candles.”

“I still think that’s wise, and not so much for secrecy as for their protection. Your magery appeared without warning, with no indication at all that you might have it. If they have the same potential, we do not want to waken that by accident.”

“You think—? But they couldn’t. Their families never married into Verrakai.”

“I think no one knows where the old strains of magery went or how they might rejoin. No one knows who might have had buried magery two or three or more generations back. So we will not shake the box to find out if its contents are breakable.”

Beclan nodded. “I see the wisdom in that, my lord.”

“All Gwenno and Daryan need to know is what they already know: you’re studying with me. But beyond that, it is our business. Family business, if you will.” She paused. “Have they been asking you about magery?”

“No, my lord. Gwenno said you’d asked them not to, and they haven’t. It’s—it’s really strange to see Dar’s thumb growing out, though.”

“It is indeed,” Dorrin said. “And I think the other one’s going to bud, as he hopes.”

“He feels better about his family after his father’s visit. I’m glad for him; it’s hard to be separated.” Beclan’s voice sounded husky on that last.

“Well,” Dorrin said. “You had that time in Chaya. Another may come. Now: let’s get to work.”

Beclan had been practicing, she found, but despite his increasing strength, Prince Camwyn’s magery was much stronger.

“Have you thought more about Falk?” she asked, when he could do no more.

He looked worried. “My lord—must I change allegiance to Falk?”

“To become a Knight of Falk, Beclan, yes. Right now you are barred from study with the Knights of the Bells, as you know, and I had thought the Knights of Falk—”

“But they were enemies, weren’t they? Falk was a magelord, and Gird hated magelords.”

“Falk was not in Gird’s time,” Dorrin said. “Nor here in the north. Falkians and Girdish have been allies before, you know.”

“I know, but … I grew up Girdish.” That in a low voice.