“No. I must.” She sighed. “I hate it, but it is my inheritance. I am the legitimate duke—and every duke I know of killed, and killed family members. That is not power I ever wanted to inherit.”

“What about the orchard? That is a fruit orchard isn’t it? Alyanya’s preserve, a place of peace?”

“We can hope,” Dorrin said.

Together they wrapped the little limp bodies in linens and carried them out of the house to the orchard, and Dorrin cut their throats. A detail of Phelani dug the graves at one end; it did not take long, since the bodies were so small. Selfer spoke a Girdish prayer for their rest, and Dorrin spoke both the Falkian prayers and the traditional Verrakaien farewell.

As they walked back up the orchard paths, Selfer said “Children! How could they use children so?”

“I know. It’s disgusting in ways I can’t even describe. Those children—the real children—having their lives taken away …”

“I was never convinced the Verrakai were evil until I saw this,” Selfer said. “I knew you—fought beside you—and if anything you were more committed to good than even Kieri—the king.”

“I had memories of this place, and the fear that I would become like them,” Dorrin said.

“Not you,” Selfer said. “Ever.”

“Now that I have the power, I feel its temptations,” Dorrin said. “Anyone with power, magical or not, Selfer. You’re a captain now—has it started for you, yet? You speak and others obey … how does that feel?” She kept her voice light; Selfer had been a good squire and junior captain.

He said nothing for a few paces, then: “I know what you’re speaking of. And when I was first a squire, I thought how grand it must be, to have a cohort or a whole company at my command. I felt a thrill of pride, even though I had no right. But the Duke taught me, you taught me, all you captains, that being a commander was not about that. Do I like it, when the cohort does what I command? Yes, of course. But I must command well, for that pleasure to be … to be honorable. It isn’t all about me.”

Dorrin punched him lightly on the shoulder. “So I thought. You are a good captain, Selfer, and we’ve all seen that coming as you grew into it. But there are temptations at every level of power, temptations to take the easy way. Even Kieri—even the king, that last year in Aarenis.”

Selfer nodded, then said, “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Wasn’t anything you could do. We captains couldn’t do anything; he was beyond reason for a while. He dragged himself back from being even worse. But anytime you have power, you will have temptations. You know that; always remember it. We are not gods; we make mistakes, we judge wrongly. If you can keep in mind ‘I might be wrong’—”

“But doesn’t that slow your thinking in emergencies?”

“Indeed.” Dorrin kicked at a withered pear on the ground. “It nearly killed me, just now. Trust the gods, trust your experience of Gird, but when you have time, don’t trust yourself too much.” She stopped; Selfer slowed and turned to face her. “It’s not easy, Selfer—it’s not ever easy, or it wasn’t for me. But if I can do what the prince wants, what the realm needs, what the honest remnants of Verrakai need—it will be by my understanding that I am not always right, and my willingness to admit that, face the consequences, and go on trying.”