The crown prince was in his office, with armed guards at the door and inside both. Though it had been almost two years since Arcolin had seen him, Arcolin had not expected to find him looking so much more a king. Arcolin bowed.

“My lord prince.”

“Captain Arcolin! I’m glad to see you arrived safely. Did you have any trouble on the road?”

“No, my lord. But then, I traveled with a full cohort. When I left the Duke’s stronghold, I knew only that he had been proclaimed king of Lyonya.”

“You know about the assassinations?”

“Only what your Royal Guard told me.”

“You will need to know all of it; please sit down.” He looked at the guard carrying Arcolin’s weapons. “Return Captain Arcolin’s weapons to him; I know him personally and he is not a threat.”

Arcolin sensed the guard’s reluctance and ventured a suggestion. “Perhaps you would prefer that my sword, at least, be in custody?”

“No, no,” the prince said. “If we had not been armed, we would have died. You are known to me, and I will be happier when I see that sword on your hip.”

Arcolin belted it back on, rearranged his other weapons, and sat down where the prince indicated.

“My Council would agree to my coronation being advanced,” the prince said. “But I have chosen to wait until Midsummer, as is traditional. However, I have taken over additional powers in this time of emergency. Let me brief you on what happened.”

Arcolin listened, horrified but fascinated, as the prince explained everything from Duke Phelan’s arrival at court, having been summoned by the Regency Council, to the present. And all while he, Arcolin, had been up at the stronghold, unaware.

“Did you, did anyone in his Company, have any idea of his parentage?” the prince asked, finally.

“No, my lord,” Arcolin said. “I was with him twenty years and more; we all thought him remarkable, but as for this—born to a throne and half-elven—it’s hardly believable.”

“If I had not seen the sword come alight in his hands, I would not have believed it myself. I cannot—I cannot comprehend the years he was lost, or how he was found, and once found, not recognized.”

“Nor I, my lord.”

“Well. You know most of what has happened here. To complete the story, we discovered lairs of Liart’s worshippers in the Thieves’ Guild, and with the help of the city granges, these were exposed. Certain of the Thieves’ Guild have cooperated with the Crown … not all were happy to have overlords of any kind. That appears to be mostly through Paksenarrion’s influence with a thief—or Thieves’ Guild enforcer—she met in Brewersbridge years back.”

“That would’ve been after she left us,” Arcolin said.

“Yes. He’s the one who got her out after … well, after what happened.”

“I don’t understand how she survived.” He wanted to hear that, not what had been done to her.

For the first time the prince’s face relaxed into a smile. “Nor does anyone else except Gird and the High Lord’s favor. Witnesses say her wounds healed, slowly enough to watch and fast enough that in minutes she was whole again, broken bones mended, bleeding wounds but scars—or in some cases, no scars at all. It terrified those watching; they fled. She had been branded on the brow: she now bears a silver circle, the High Lord’s mark.”