Marcus heard the note of respect in his father’s voice, and that warmed him more than the poppy syrup. His only deep regret was that the lives of thirty good men had been sacrificed in order to gain it. Marcus had taken a solemn vow, with his hand on the Holy Scriptures, that if he survived this battle, he would build a chapel and dedicate it in their honor, as well as form a new order of knights in their memory, an order that would be known as the Lions of God.

“I don’t know the answer, Father, and neither does Draconas. He believes, however, that this attack was a feint, a ruse, to draw us away from Ramsgate,” Marcus said. “Draconas thinks the dragons have something more devious in mind.” That long speech cost him two pain-filled gasps.

Edward frowned at the mention of Draconas, but he could hardly say anything disparaging, since the dragon had been responsible for the fact that the king’s army had not been utterly wiped out.

“Where is Draconas?” he asked.

“Keeping watch over the movements of the dragon army.”

Edward rose abruptly to pace the room. “He could destroy them with a breath.”

“Father . . .”

“Oh, I know what you told me about him. How he will not kill humans in cold blood,” Edward said impatiently. “I suppose I must honor him for his stand, but it is damn hard on us!”

Marcus tried to raise himself off the pillows. “Father—”

Edward saw what he was about to do and hastened to his side. “You must not move, Marcus. You’ll undo all the work that the leeches did for you. Lie back and rest easy. I agree with you and with Draconas. I will ride to Ramsgate with all haste. I’ll leave this day.”

Marcus propped himself up on his good elbow. “I’m coming with you,” he said through teeth clenched against the pain.

Edward looked down on him with affection and some amusement. “My son, you cannot even sit up in bed, much less ride a horse.”

“Then fill a wagon with straw and haul me back like a sack of wool,” said Marcus. “You need me, Father! I may not be able to lift a sword, but I have another weapon—the magic.”

Edward said nothing. He glanced away from his son and looked out the window. Marcus saw a nerve twitch in his father’s jaw, saw his face go dark and closed, as it always did whenever Marcus brought up his magic. In the past, Marcus would have let this ugly subject drop, let it fall to the floor, then kick it into a corner, so that both could pretend it wasn’t there. Now Marcus held fast to it, held it up so that his father had to look.