“It was given me by my father,” Arcolin said. “I have not worn it since leaving him, until today, when I was told Samdal awaited me.”

“And you didn’t show—” Samdal began, but stopped when the dragon turned to look at him.

“I asked you once if you were wise,” the dragon said to Arcolin. “And you claimed no special wisdom. Yet to be of the House of Dragon and not claim that connection … that was wisdom indeed. As, I perceive, was your choice today to bring that ring from hiding.”

“Sir … Camwyn,” Arcolin said, using the name the dragon had used in Vérella. His heart pounded. What if the dragon insisted he accept the throne? Could he gainsay a dragon? This dragon? He searched for a distracting topic. “If I may ask—what of the sergeant?”

“He is well,” the dragon said. “I do not visit often, you understand, but he seems content and is well liked. He would not wish you to know—”

“I do not ask,” Arcolin said. “Only of his welfare, not his location.”

The dragon bowed, this time. “Such care is worthy of you, Count. But now—this ring—”

No help for it, then. “My father was a king, as I believe you know. The Lord Chancellor here tells me other heirs have died, and so he sought me out. But as you know, I am oathsworn to Mikeli of Tsaia and also have responsibilities to…” His voice trailed away; that lay too near what the dragon might wish kept secret. “I told the Lord Chancellor: I cannot accept this honor.”

“And so the ring is no longer on your finger, and you would give it to this Chancellor to be returned to the treasury of Horngard?”

“Yes,” Arcolin said. He stared into the flame-golden eyes, hoping the dragon could not see the division in his heart—still that yearning for recognition, still that plea he must not hear, from the boy’s heart eager for a throne for the wrong reasons—and the older, harder determination to do his duty without seeking for what could not be his. That side of him had long given up resentment that he would not be king.

The dragon nodded. “I see honor and wisdom in that, but not the whole of wisdom. Let me ask this: have you considered the fate of those you disclaim?”

Arcolin felt his brow furrow. “I am not sure I understand,” he said.

“If you will not have them, whom will they have?” the dragon asked. He turned to Samdal. “Lord Chancellor, he names you. What is your lineage?”

Samdal gaped a moment, then said, “My lord, I am the son of Veldan, Chancellor before me, and he the younger brother of Selmar, Chancellor before him. The lineage goes back to Vaskarin, at the founding of Horngard.”

“A notable heritage,” the dragon said. “Tell me, Samdal Chancellor of Horngard, are you wise?”

“Wise? I … am accounted wise in Horngard.”